I look to Jude, wondering if he’ll call bullshit or not, but he’s just staring at Gunnar in confusion. Unsure how to react, I default to sarcasm. “Oh, sure. Well, obviously, I buy your story without any questions. Sorry I ever doubted you.”

“It’s not that simple. None of this is simple! I asked you out because I was lonely, all right?” Grimacing, he shoots a humiliated glance at Jude. “I’ve spent months watching you hang out with your friends, and flirt with me, and do funny things when you didn’t know anyone was looking. And I was sad, because everything sucks—and then … then you left your book at the café.” He tosses his arms out and lets them slap down at his sides. “It was a bad idea. I know that now. But I wanted one night to pretend everything was different, and I thought … I thought I could give you that, too. Just in case everything is about to end.”

These final words linger like the chill in the air, and it’s Jude who musters an embittered retort. “How selfless of you.”

Irritation brings my voice back with a quickness. “You’re one to talk—you’ve been using my fears against me since you got here. ‘Come into my secret laboratory, August! The Syndicate’s bloodthirsty, undead scientists will definitely work on a cure for you!’”

“Is that what he’s been saying?” Gunnar emits a bark of unpleasant laughter. “Wow. Well, then, let me assure you that ‘everything he’s told you’ has not been ‘the truth.’”

“What does that mean?” I look at Jude, but he avoids my eyes.

“Think about it. The prophecies have been around for thousands of years … Do you really think there’s anything the Syndicate hasn’t learned yet that they’re suddenly going to figure out now?” Gunnar shakes his head. “What could they possibly learn from studying you in Romania that they couldn’t learn by sending their scientists here, instead?”

My insides are cold again, my heart a dead weight. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t stop the Corrupter,” Gunnar finally says, his expression etched with sympathy. “He’s not a disease you can study under a microscope, or treat with antibiotics—and nobody even fully understands how the Ascension works, to begin with.” He rubs his wrist, the wound already closed again. “I’m really sorry, Auggie, but the prophecy can’t be prevented or undone. The future has been written, and it’s only a matter of time.”

18

Only a matter of time. It’s what I’ve told myself, what I thought I believed. But now that someone has said it out loud, chaos barnstorms my nervous system. My heart races, and my arteries are freezer-burned with a surge of adrenaline. You can’t stop the Corrupter.