“That’s because she is the woman from your dreams,” Rosalyn whispered, afraid to take another step toward the epicenter of all this destruction. But it really was her friend. They shared a birthday, a passion for work, a love of singing silly songs to her kids over video chat. Strange flashes of familiarity, almost déjà vu . . . “The poems, the rhymes, the smell of lemons? Parts of her were in your head. Angela. She was a mother, a mother who took this job so far away from her children. God, no wonder she wanted to convince you all to join some family.” A shocked sob escaped her throat. “We would go out together sometimes . . . and get lemon drops. That’s why I seemed so familiar to you. You recognized me because she did.”

Rosalyn felt her knees buckle. More of it slotted into place in her mind. Edison had used a saying she had only ever heard from Angela. Her kids, her family, were everything to Angela, and leaving to oversee the first Belrose lab in space had torn her to pieces.

“We did this,” Rosalyn breathed, seeing but unseeing, feeling more of her heart break each time she looked at Angela’s soft, blue face. She had a cherubic look, always, curly blond hair and plump cheeks, a permanent, wry smile and pixie chin. “Our company did this.”

“No,” Edison managed through clenched teeth. “She did this. This lab did it. It’s all around us; they had no idea what they were experimenting with, but they sure found out. You couldn’t have stopped it, not if you stayed, not if . . . agh.”

“Edison!”

He collapsed, both hands clamped over his helmet. His mouth dropped open in a contorted scream, veins bulging from his temples. Misato didn’t budge, frozen, still in a prayer position. Rosalyn dropped down next to Edison, trying to force his hands back down, wiping her hands over his visor. But his eyes were shut against her, and his scream drowned out the lilting children’s song drifting up from the choking vines.

“I’m here! Edison? Edison? Come back to me! I shouldn’t have brought you this close, I shouldn’t have . . . Angela! Let him go. Let him go.”

His screams abruptly ended, and his hands dropped to his sides. Going still and calm, his face relaxed and then his eyes opened, a blazing, terrible silver.

42

A hush fell over him, and everything was quiet. The hospital smelled like pain and antiseptic, a smell he would always associate with death. He wouldn’t step foot in a hospital again unless it was life-threatening; just one whiff of that air and he wanted to run.

“Eddie, baby, you’re here!”

“Of course I’m here.”