“Not just that. Can you imagine two years of this? Always looking over your shoulder? Going more and more into hiding? I watched the change in you. Toward the end, before you returned to the States, anything having to do with the Scions, the diary, the Progeny was the last thing you wanted to talk about. You were tired of the underground, the hiding. Even of your own gifts—the persuasion, charisma. You would have gotten rid of them if you could, if you didn’t need them to survive. By the time you made up your mind, persuaded your way into the trial at the Center, there was no point in talking about any of it at all. It was going to go away. It was like watching someone prepare to die. When all you do are the most normal things you can. Eat a meal. Watch the sun set . . .”

I look at him sidelong, his profile illuminated by the gauges on the dash. And even in the darkness, I think he looks haunted.

“Why did I decide to trust you again?”

He’s silent for a moment before he says, “You said you missed me. You were tired of being suspicious all the time, with everyone. You wanted one person who really knew you that you could trust, and barring that . . . you didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Live.”

Luka’s eyes are hollow. I turn my face toward the shattered windows, welcome the blast. Close my eyes.

After a few miles, I say, “Why didn’t I leave the information with you, if you were in on the decision and I trusted you as much as you say?” Even as I say it, I see any hope I might have had of a normal life—a life without centuries-old myths and killers and people with strange powers—slipping away from me. Quiet backwoods Maine must have seemed like paradise to me before I gave up my memory. It still does.

“Who do you think is the first person the Historian would turn to if it came out you weren’t dead as I reported? I took the credit for your accident. You couldn’t leave anything with me. Besides, apparently you did leave something for yourself.”

“Ivan’s number.”

“Names would defeat the whole purpose. And any locations you knew are useless because the Progeny move. A single lifeline, though, would be enough, assuming Ivan could stay alive to hold on to it. You knew what you were doing.”

I hear Clare’s voice again. Trust your decision.

But it’s hard to trust anyone you don’t know. Especially when that person is you.

*  *  *

We stop at a twenty-four-hour convenience store near Hammond, pick up a prepaid phone, a couple of prepaid credit cards, some Advil, and a baseball cap for me. Luka’s concerned about my apparent concussion. But that’s the last thing I’m worried about.