Crixus stands behind him in the shadows, but not enough to be invisible.
I’m on my feet, facing them in moments. I don’t give an apology because I’m not sorry. No explanation because I have none.
“Luc, what did you do?”
Luc’s eyebrows rise as though the answer should be obvious. “I rescued you, Cain.”
I almost slam a hand against one of the bars before I remember that they’re blades that would slice deep into my palm. “Rescued? We talked about it beforehand! I was there to see if the Spores could save my body!”
“And to find their base,” he reminds me.
“Yes! And to bring that information back to you!” Which, I admit to myself now, I wasn’t going to do. “There was no plan involving you attacking the catacombs with me in them.”
Luc waves a bored hand. “And yet, here you are. Unharmed.”
“In a cell,” I spit. “Should I even ask what you did with the kids?” Did they get Heidi? Everett? Equally important, I want to know about Stranna and the other Spores, but I still possess some awareness that such a question would be foolish to ask right now.
“I rescued them, Cain. That’s what we do.” His voice is weak and papery. Each sentence seems to send him out of breath.
He’s deteriorating quickly. I’m hit with a pang as I realize he’s using what are probably his final weeks in Tenebra trying to save the kids and reunite them with their families. Maybe Luc and the Spores do have the same goal and just don’t realize they’re on the same side.
“Where are they?” I imagine little Heidi in a cell like mine and feel sick.
“Somewhere safe where the Spores can’t get them. We’re in the process of collecting their information in the hopes of reuniting them with their parents.”
His story has stayed the same since I met him, but my faith in it has dwindled. I can’t pinpoint why. Maybe it’s because he had me followed. How else would they have found the catacombs? Did they see me at the golden wheat field when I found Heidi? I don’t know why, but I hope not. That place brought me joy, and I want to keep thinking of it as my own—as a refuge of sorts that I can go to someday if I need to. It promises safety, even if it doesn’t make sense.
“We got my father,” Luc says. It takes me a moment to realize what he means. “We got him out of the Tunnel.”
Galilei. The cure. “So he’s still alive.” Then why doesn’t Luc look happy?
“I fear we’re too late,” he states.
“No, we’re not. I still have one Sleep left. If the Spores follow through with what they said, then I can get the cure information from Galilei, take it to the Real World—”
“Not too late for him, Cain. Too late for you.”
I try not to let my confusion show. The statement hangs in the air, waiting for me to piece things together. Luc is the only route to a LifeSuPod—to life. I need to salvage this.
“I’m not quitting on this job, Luc.”
He shakes his head. “You’re infected. I can see in your eyes that you don’t trust me. You’re not on my side.”
I almost laugh. “We’ve never trusted each other! We only used each other. And it’s worked so far. You’re trying to save your father, and I’m trying to save myself.” And the rest of the world. “Let’s finish the job.”
For the first time I wonder if Luc doesn’t want us to get the cure from his father. After all, what life would Luc be going back to? A body with Stage IV cancer? Tuberculosis?
“You stink, Cain.”
I glare at him. “Sorry, I haven’t showered enough for you.”
He laughs, but it turns into a wheeze, and his arms tremble as they grip the sides of the chair until the cough passes. “What I mean is that you stink like a Spore.”
I actually sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything different.”
“You wouldn’t. Because it’s coming from you.”
“Are you implying I’m a Spore sympathizer now?” Anger bubbles inside my chest. “I risked my neck to find their base so I could save my own life in order to save your father’s. And now I’m being punished for it? You gave the okay. You sent me out there.”
He sighs. “Look, I’m not against you. Otherwise I’d have had my tirones kill you. Instead, I sent them there to rescue you, Cain.”
The scene clicks together in my mind. The tirones looking through the attacking Spores. Spotting me. Calling me Icarus. Dragging me out, but not killing me.
“We were trying to get you out before you got Spored.”
“I’m not Spored,” I insist.
“Tell me then, what did the catacombs smell like?”
“Dust. Dirt. Stone. What do you expect?”
“How about . . . cinnamon?”
I freeze. He sees the response in my body language, but I don’t care. My mind spins. He’s right. The Spores got to me. Their tunnels did smell like cinnamon when I brought Heidi in. Cinnamon rolls. I thought they were baking when really they had infected me.
I’ve been standing here defensive. Distrusting. Doubting every word from Luc’s mouth. But logic kicks back in. He said the Spores could weasel their way into my mind and change my very thoughts. I lift up my foot to inspect the roots that have been there the past several times I’ve entered the Nightmare. They’re weak and brittle and small.
“I’m trying to help you, Cain. But I need to know the extent of the damage. You need to know.”
