Seeing Alya’s haunted expression, however, he understood now why Professor Selandyn and Jae and even Emory were so adamant he let this go.
The dead move on and so must we.
So why couldn’t he?
* * *
Baz lingered outside the Veiled Atlas, feeling utterly dejected. He threw his head back against the stone wall and let the cool night air wrap around him. In the distance, the Aldersea was a dark, impenetrable mass, its faint whispering drowned out by sounds of laughter and music coming from busy taprooms and restaurants.
He’d never felt so alone.
Vera emerged from a side door. She wore a tweed coat that was two sizes too big and had a cigarette hanging from her mouth. Baz watched her take a drag and tilt her head up to the sky, mesmerized by the cloud of smoke that blew past her lips. He didn’t think she’d seen him, but then she cracked an eye open, looking straight at him.
“The other Eclipse-born who came by,” she said casually. “He a friend of yours?”
“Why?”
Vera shrugged, flicking her cigarette. “Figured you must be classmates, at least.” She took another drag. “He seemed to have a pretty vested interest in your sister’s plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“The dream thing. When I told him what Romie said about trying to find Adriana, he got this wild look in his eye. He stood up so fast Alya spilled her martini and cursed up a storm after him.” She crushed her cigarette under a booted foot. “He hurried out of here like a man possessed.”
If Kai had known Romie was trying to find Adriana and the epilogue in dreams, he might have attempted the same. Might have found something in the sleepscape that would explain everything.
Baz suddenly recalled a moment between Kai and Romie he’d never been able to explain. He and Kai had bumped into Romie outside Obscura Hall, and she’d frozen up at the sight of Kai.
“Dreamling,” he’d said in that chilling voice of his, blocking her path. A single, innocent word, yet nothing had ever sounded quite so loaded.
Romie had narrowed her eyes at him. “Out of my way, nightmare boy.”
Baz remembered Kai’s dangerous smile, Romie’s defiant glare. Kai had finally stepped aside so she could stomp away from them without another glance, and that was the end of that—but there had been something so odd about the exchange, Baz had never dared to ask Kai about it.
Always too afraid to speak his mind, to ask questions whose answers might upset the delicate balance he strove for.
He was so Tides-damned tired of it all.
Baz pushed off the wall. “I need to see him.”
“Didn’t he Collapse this summer?” At the quizzical look Baz shot her, Vera shrugged. “I keep tabs on everyone who comes inquiring after the epilogue. If he’s at the Institute, you won’t have much luck getting in this late.”
Baz wasn’t sure a cab driver would be willing to drive him all the way out there at this hour either. He swore. This inexplicable sense of urgency had him thinking this couldn’t wait, but it would have to. At least until the morning. He could find Jae then and take them up on their offer to go to the Institute together, trust that they could get them in past the Regulators.
“I can help get you in. Tonight, if you want.”
He stared at Vera. “How?”
She smiled at him like a cat as she shuffled toward a clunky motorbike leaning against the side of the building. “Let’s just say I know my way around wards and magical trip wires.” A wink as she hopped on. “I might not have enough Unraveler magic to bear my house’s sigil, but I always thought the drop of it I do have made me into a bit of an engineering genius.”
The engine sputtered to life beneath her, so loud Baz thought he misheard her next words. “It doesn’t hurt that I studied Institute buildings back at Trevelyan University. I can get you in and out without anyone ever knowing you were there.”
He barely caught the helmet she threw at him, too shocked to form thoughts. Vera looked at him expectantly.
“So do you want my help or not?”
For once in his life, Baz didn’t question it. He hopped on behind her.
13 EMORY
THE OLD LIGHTHOUSE STOOD AT the very top of the cliff that overlooked the Aldersea, half crumbled and ridden with vines of ivy. Warm, golden light flickered in the small glassless windows that dotted the tower, and though Emory saw shadows moving inside, the only sound that permeated the night was the deafening crash of waves below, as loud as the pounding in her ears. She felt like she was going to be sick, her skin flushed despite the cool bite of the wind.
She regretted having that wine.
Virgil must have sensed her apprehension. He nudged her gently, saying, “You’ll be fine.”
Emory was glad for his presence. Things had been tense since the greenhouse, with Lizaveta glaring at Keiran so intensely that it was a miracle she didn’t burn a hole in his skull, Nisha throwing Emory sidelong glances that felt loaded in a way she didn’t understand, and Keiran… Well. Keiran had quickly recovered and affected his usual cool demeanor, as if her presence didn’t bother him in the slightest and this was all part of his plan. Which irked her to no end. Virgil, at least, seemed wholly unbothered by it all. He’d stuck by her side and made pleasant conversation as they both sipped wine, and though it might have been a diversion to keep her from eavesdropping on the others’ hushed conversation, Emory was grateful for it all the same.
“What are these grand soirees usually like?” she’d asked him.
“Now, now,” Virgil had crooned, “that would spoil all the fun.”
As they stood in front of the lighthouse door, staring at the wrought-iron details of carved moons that formed a ring in its middle, Emory thought they must have very different ideas of what fun entailed.
With a grating sound, the full moon on the door suddenly slid upward, revealing a bright green eye peering at them through the opening.
“Marks,” came a honeyed voice.
The others lifted their wrists so the person could see their spirals. Emory followed suit. The eye blinked at them, and the full moon shutter closed over it once more.
A beat, and the door opened to reveal a woman in an elegantly flowing sage dress. The top half of her face was covered with a porcelain mask of Anima, Tide of the Waxing Moon. A mass of luscious dark curls fell down her back, studded with pearls that looked like stars. She grabbed each of their right hands in turn and ran a manicured finger along the slightly raised ridge of their spiral marks, as if to attest they were real. She then wordlessly handed each of them a porcelain mask of the Tide corresponding to their respective lunar house: a cherub-faced Bruma for Emory, a pair of rosy-cheeked Animas for Nisha and Lizaveta, motherly Aestas for Keiran, and the ever wise, wrinkled Quies for Virgil.
No Shadow masks, Emory noted with a hint of relief. They must all still honor their original lunar houses despite the Eclipse powers the spiral mark gave them.
Once they’d donned their masks, the woman ushered them inside and pointed to a narrow staircase. Nisha and Lizaveta went up first. Keiran looked at Emory expectantly. She couldn’t bring herself to move, suddenly feeling hot despite the cold porcelain on her skin.
Virgil appeared by her side, an easy smile on his lips. “Shall we?”