“Your body is with mine. Only I can tell you what’s happening in the Real World. You really want to leave me behind?”
“We’ll set up a communication system.”
“What, letter delivery by owl?”
She looks at me in surprise, then shakes her head. “Nerd.”
“I won’t tell you the coordinates unless you take me with you.”
“I guess our bodies will die then.” She rounds the corner of a house and climbs atop an old barrel to reach the edge of the roof. It seems to take all her effort.
She grips the edge with her fingers and moves to haul herself up, but one arm slips. She tries again, but her body works about as well as a damp piece of paper. I form a step with my hands and give her a shove that would tear my shoulder open if this were my real body. It propels her atop the roof.
She doesn’t offer me a thank-you. Or a hand up.
In fact, she walks out of sight. I hurry to haul myself up behind her, even though my lungs are on fire and the stretch pulls my muscles with a bungee cord of pain.
On top of the roof, her phoenix rests with its head tucked under its wing. It’s enormous—the biggest nightbeast I’ve seen. But instead of being dull-toned and shadowy like every creature Luc or I make, its feathers are a shiny gold and brown with rich red accents that are stark against this dim night.
Stunning.
“Stranna.”
Her shoulders tense.
“I’m trying to save your life. If I’d wanted to kill you or betray you, I would have done it already. Come on . . . have faith.” It’s a low blow, manipulative, but it works: just like it used to work on Nole and Mom. I feel guilty that they did have faith in me, yet I am still the prodigal they always dreaded.
I don’t want to be a prodigal. I want to believe like Nole did, have faith like Stranna does, but not in the weak way I always tend to see. Why does it seem like “to have faith” means to abandon all strength and gumption? Turn into a doormat or let people punch you without retaliating.
Stranna sighs, then unties a cloth from around her wrist. It’s dirty and stained, but she holds it out to me.
I take it. “What’s this?” Some sort of token to let the hound sniff the next time I need to find her?
“Blindfold.” At our voices, the phoenix’s head pops up. It stretches its wings and nearly knocks me off the roof.
I take the blindfold, not daring to say anything more and risk her changing her mind. I’m about to tie it around my eyes, but a nagging at the back of my mind stops me. I take her arm as carefully as I can. This time, she doesn’t yank away.
I have to ask. One last time. “Did the Spores kill my brother?”
“We don’t even know who your brother is.” She eases her arm from my grasp. “My guess is that he died in the Tunnel.” Her voice is gentle. “I’m so sorry, Cain.” She takes the blindfold from me and ties it around my eyes.
A lump forms in my throat, surprising me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt any sort of gentleness. Gentle touch. It has nothing to do with it being Stranna. But it makes me think of Mom and all the things I’ve lost.
“Thank you.” For telling me. For tying the blindfold. For taking me with her.
Her exhale touches my cheek, and her hand finds mine, leading me to the great phoenix. “The Spores don’t tend to kill people, Cain. I hope you can believe me.”
“That’s not what Luc says. And it’s not what I saw during the attack on the Tunnel cart.”
“Oh, and is the Emperor in the habit of leaving things alive?”
I think of my tiger. Sure he killed it, but he spends every Arena Game reuniting children with their families. He’s not the evil overlord she seems to think he is.
“My brother’s name was Nole Cross. Luc had a ledger with the cause of death next to each deceased citizen’s name. It said he was Spored.”
“I didn’t realize your brother was a citizen.”
I stop. Nole wasn’t a citizen. He would have told me about the coliseum. Only now do I wonder why and how Luc had Nole’s name in that ledger. No one in Tenebra took down my name when I first exited the Tunnels.
If Luc can make a forest or living room from nothing, couldn’t he have done the same with the leger?
Stranna climbs onto the phoenix in front of me. It rises unsteadily, and I grip her around the middle. I barely make out her next words over the increase of flapping before we take off.
“Spores don’t kill. We die.”
The air is cold as we fly. It’s the first time I notice the temperature in Tenebra. And it seems odd since my physical body is likely overheating in the Real World. Or maybe burning with fever. Is that why I’m cold? Is it even daytime up there? I wouldn’t know—I can never keep track of time here in Tenebra.
I think that’s how Luc wants it.
Though why I’m now thinking he can control this place is a testament to how deep I’ve let Stranna’s words take hold. I need to keep my wits—don’t be swayed by Luc. Or Stranna. Draw my own conclusions.
Is this another side effect of being Spored?
We don’t fly for very long, but Stranna directs the phoenix left and right, circles and dives to ensure I’m thoroughly confused. The phoenix doesn’t seem to like it. I feel the creature strain against her direction, and her body strains back.
Then her body loses its tension for a moment. She slides a little to the left. I grip her waist in a sudden panic that she’s about to fall off. My touch seems to wake her up. She straightens, and shoves my hands off her.
