Chapters (42)
- TITLE PAGE
- COPYRIGHT PAGE
- DEDICATION PAGE
- CONTENTS
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Only a week ago, I would have joined him. I would have put my arms around him, and he would have welcomed my touch. Even this dangerous mission had felt possible because we were together, and no one and nothing could get between us. And now … there were so many things blocking my path to him, and I had no idea how to get around them, or if it was possible at all. Watching him there, so close yet so far away, the loneliness of it hurt like an open wound. I crept back up the stairs and drove myself home.
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-ONE
MONDAY DAWNED GRAY AND wet, fat raindrops streaming down windowpanes and into flowerbeds, where the tiniest green shoots were starting to appear. It was a professional development day for the teachers, so Jim, Malachi, and I spent our free hours training, and tracking our friends while trying not to seem creepy. The baseball players had a long practice and were headed for an away game that afternoon, so I had an extremely uncomfortable phone call with Ian about keeping an eye out for the van and warning his teammates to do the same. He kept trying to ask me how I was, and I kept deflecting him. I think we spent more time in awkward pauses than actual conversation.
At lunch, my Guards hit upon the topic I’d tried to avoid thinking about for the past few days: my visit that afternoon with my “mother.” It was the best chance we’d had in a while to track the Mazikin back to their new nest. While Malachi and I were meeting with her, Jim and Henry would patrol outside. We’d text them at the end so that they could follow her when she left. As far as we knew, the Mazikin only knew about me and Malachi, so they wouldn’t recognize the other Guards. If all went well, we might be finishing this thing tonight. The guys seemed grimly determined as usual, but Malachi kept giving me these cautious looks every time I mentioned my mom. Knowing he might be worried I’d do something emotional again set my teeth on edge, and I spent an extra half hour in the training room, beating on one of the wire-and-cloth mannequins to get my frustration out.
When Malachi and I arrived at the Department of Children, Youth and Families building, Jen Pierce was waiting on the front steps, huddled all frumpy and frizzy under a broken umbrella. “Lela,” she called out as we approached. “I wanted to check in with you before you went inside.”
Jen gave Malachi—who looked even more imposing than usual because he had the hood of his black jacket pulled low over his face—a somewhat wide-eyed look, and then shook his hand. I introduced him as a friend who would be translating.
“Rita is already here,” she said. “She’s been here for almost two hours, actually.”