A slight tremor runs through me as I glance out at the unfamiliar territory. But there’s something else, too. Faint light breaks through the waves here and there. The water isn’t as murky as I expected, with optimum visibility. The blue-green depths are clear all around us. A craving takes hold, rippling through and flooding my whole being until finally every cell tugs at me with longing.
I’ve missed speeding in the water terribly. Would it be so wrong to just escape all the confusion by doing something I love for a few minutes? I wouldn’t be wasting too much time—we’re already out here.
“Oscar?”
“My lady?” The Navigator hovers above the dashboard.
“I’m taking the submersible for a swift sprint. Keep the Kabul right here, and we’ll be back soon.”
“Very well, my dear. Bon voyage!”
Ari shakes his head, his mouth set in a straight line.
“I want to know what it’s like out here,” I say. “I need to feel it.”
Leaning forward, I ensure Jojo’s strapped securely to Ari’s chest and silently curse the rush of color to my cheeks as my hands brush against him. Oh great. I’m completely losing the plot.
I slide the joystick forward, and we descend.
The welcome hint of civilization greets us as the seabed comes into view. The solar spheres on the surface light up the depths, bathing the city in a gentle blue-white incandescence. Illumination pulses and beams from structures, traffic, and the lit-up orbs rooted deep into the ground below. Though the Path of Light is now seventy years old, thanks to the ingenuity of Old World engineers, the huge orbs remain our main source of light along the seabed.
There are far fewer submersibles around here than in the capital. It would make for a fab racing ground. My heart expands as I move the throttle all the way forward and the sub speeds up. Freedom.
I navigate the city. Oh, how I missed this. Ahead, the well-lit white train station is vast. Its high-dome center and eight terminals sprawl out on the seabed like some never-ending octopus.
I sail on the current, circling old high-rises and office blocks, and loop-the-looping a dilapidated walkway, much to Jojo’s delight. I flip the vessel several times. When I right the craft, I feel Ari’s gaze on me and turn to him.
His face is relaxed, his eyes bright beneath the thick, dark lashes. The corners of his full mouth are slightly curved up, softening his sharp angles. Shoulder-length hair, damp from his shower, falls in waves around his face. Heat radiates through my chest, warm and blissful.
And then I suddenly imagine him with gills.
I draw my head back swiftly, gulping away the warm feeling. What on earth is wrong with me? He’s one of them!
I shake my head and force myself to focus on the surroundings instead of Ari’s expression just now.
For just a brief and glorious moment, I’d forgotten. He wasn’t one of them, and things hadn’t changed between us. I sigh and press on.
The sub dives into a street of individual and clearly wealthy homes, all the exteriors cast in gold and titanium. Each dwelling is designed to resemble a house from an ancient era. They totally look like Old World homes that just miraculously never decay. Some even have mock chimneys and picket fences around them, reminding me of Camilla’s house. The chief historian’s home also has a coveted late Second Elizabethan park bench in the front garden.
Jojo barks. She stiffens in Ari’s lap and growls.
“Over there.” Ari points.
“Oh my God, are they Anth—”
“No,” he says curtly, then runs his hands through his hair, sighing.
I frown and bite back a response. Traveling with him is going to be a very long journey.
I move the sub closer. Next door to the Victorian-style home is a house with mock Tudor beams along the exterior. The garden features a washing line, complete with clothes hanging and swaying on the current. Beside the washing line is a bench. In the center of this bench sits a child holding on to a doll’s pram. They rock the pram back and forth. On the other side of the garden, another child holds on to a kite, swinging their arm to and fro as the kite drifts along. A toddler sits on a tricycle, knees rising alternately as they pedal.
I clear my throat. “Projections?” I whisper.
But they aren’t projections either. I move in closer. The sub hovers above the garden.
“Dolls . . . Oh my God, they’re dolls.” I shudder. “But why? Why go to all that effort? They’ll have paid mechanical labor a ton just to have that done.”
“They refuse to accept the reality,” Ari says, his voice so very low now and dripping with scorn. His eyes turn cold, his mouth pinched. “They live in the Old World.”
I shake my head, my mouth open. “What a strange and utterly sad place.”
“There are many more like it.”
Something moves inside the pram. A bulky, ghostly pale creature that looks like a gigantic insect rises out of it. Its huge shell is made of overlapping segments, and its antennae twitch away. It drifts toward the toddler on the tricycle and feasts on a fish trapped in the child’s hood. The toddler continues to smile and pedal. Bloody hell. I grimace.
Wiping my clammy palms, I push the throttle all the way forward and speed down the street and around the corner.
And stop in my tracks.
A light beams down in front of us. A lone submersible, its small wings resembling the airplanes of old, tilts as it descends. The fluorescent-
checkered design on the body glimmers.
The police.
Oh hell. Have they spotted me? As slowly as possible, I duck down and reverse. I turn just as laser beams flash all around us to indicate an inspection. Damn.
“We can’t be stopped by coppers,” I say. “We just can’t.” And then I realize: If they stop us, Ari probably has even more to lose than I have. My chest tightens.
He shakes his head. “Why do you have to be so stubborn? You could have been safely back on the sub.” He lifts his chin. “You’re my responsibility, so let’s do things my way now.”
I straighten in my seat, gripping the throttle and joystick. “Let’s bloody not.”
The coppers are just visible behind me when I push the throttle all the way forward and set the propeller at full speed. I pull back on the joystick, and the sub rockets out of their way.
A quick peek behind. No. They’re on my tail.
I wipe my sweaty palms and race on, before diving toward the city seabed. Lights flash in an underground tunnel as a train whooshes through. I dip lower, ducking beneath the tunnel. Curse the sub’s ground and fore lights. Whichever I select, it casts illumination around me and will attract attention. I need something more discreet. The sandstorm beam.
I select the sharp but short beam and switch all other lights off. Oh crikey. It will have to do, though. Using only the beam’s limited glare, and the muted glow coming from the tunnel above me, I glide on as fast as I dare. My stomach heaves. I focus on the ocean floor as I skim it. Are they still following me?
I come out from beneath the tunnel, and Ari curses as we both spot another police car in the distance. They really are determined, dammit.
“Let’s try this once more,” I say.
I ram the throttle and set the propeller at full speed. Jerking the joystick back, I soar above the police car. I keep rising until the current becomes too volatile for the submersible, then I speed away.