Chapter 45

The ribbonsof light guide me across the scarred terrain. Randy has been busy carving up the island, weakening it for the showdown when he uses me to sink it into the sea. Liam's root system is still in place, holding things together, but I can't imagine it'll last for much longer without him to bolster it.

Birdcalls and burbling water loosen my taut nerves and tell me I'm nearly there. When I scale the ridge that overlooks the Garden, I pause to breathe in the sweeter air. In the hollow below, fronds and plumes spill over the brick walls as if nothing has ever disturbed its peace. The Garden is always where I need it to be.

But my stomach twists. Behind these walls, Evan's body lies beneath a blanket of blossoms. High above, the helicopter's steady purr drones on. And I suddenly wonder if, with Randy's power on the rise, the wards that cloak the Garden itself have disintegrated.

Once I'm within the walls, the light ribbons sink into the ground and vanish. The sky, a warm deep blue, reflects none of the day's horrors. Evan's body rests cold and still beside the Oak Heart Tree. Though the ground is soft enough for me to scoop out a shallow hole big enough for him, I can't bring myself to do it.

Instead, I ask the Garden spirits to lift him so that he floats, suspended on a bed of air. I'm not sure why I do this. Maybe a small, stubborn part of me hopes I can bring him back. I couldn't save Tyler, but maybe I can still save him. Or maybe I just need more time to let go. The loss of all three beautiful brothers is just too much to bear.

At the Garden's center, the fountain burbles. As night falls, Randy's helicopter is the brightest star in the sky. Can he see the Garden now? Or is he missing, his minions searching for him? I shiver at the uncertainty. Of how alone I am.

The faceless phantoms materialize from the shadows, their voices a comforting hum, easing my solitude. Their light strands swoop and twist, neon-bright against the star-strewn sky. Dipping into the ground and reemerging, their pale yellows, lavenders, teals, and magentas intensified, they race between the blooms and vines, which rustle as they pass.

The mark of the Hand on my palms throbs with each surge of energy. I puzzle over how to use the dancing lines and long for Lila or Liam's guidance. It's tempting to believe I'm safe here.

But I'm convinced: Randy and his followers are just waiting me out so they can use me to destroy this island and raise Atlantis from the sea.

The helicopter circles closer, calculating the right moment to swoop in. Despite my best efforts to remain vigilant, I let the ribbons of light ease me into a deep sleep.

* * *

Diffused light leaksthrough my eyelids. The voice beside me is gentle. "Well played, sweetheart. You don't suppose I've gone to all this trouble just to kill you?"

The light strands are gone. Lit by the pale morning sun, Randy, flanked by five men, their assault rifles pointed at my head, has somehow breached the Garden.

Here we go again.

I jump to my feet. "How did you get in here?"

"Ahh, yes. My, how things have changed. Your boyfriend's pesky little wards are finally gone, so there's no place left to hide from me. But, I must say, I do admire your defiance." Randy takes a step forward. I try to draw away, but I'm backed to a wall. "However, I have ways to make you beg for me to kill you."

"You don't scare me," I lie, my voice cracking.

"It doesn't have to be this way, sweetheart." Randy moves closer, his blue-green eyes blazing like a beacon. At his signal, the men lower their weapons.

His deep voice resonates inside my chest and rattles my teeth, his powers amplified inside the Garden. I want to rip his face off, but I'm disoriented and dizzy from the intrusion. I wonder if Randy is also a Siren. And if Lila's rejection is what set him off. If this is how he won my Aunt Millie's doomed devotion—until she saw through his ruse. How he persuaded my father and Tyler to believe his cause was worthy.

"You and I can work together to rebuild the great empire these fools let collapse into ruin." Like velvet smoke, his voice wraps itself around me. How easy it would be to fall into his arms, protected by a strong father figure at last. "Fate brought you to me for a reason."

My defenses are crumbling. Bleary-eyed, I struggle to gather my tattered resolve. "To do what?"

"We're destined to lead."

I flex my hands and regard him, the full heat of his gaze bearing down on me. The ground vibrates, sending up intermittent jolts of strength. "We?"

"We're a matched set. One cannot prevail without the other. Haven't you realized this by now? Did you think all the power you've been slurping in came from Casper the friendly ghost and his friends?"

What is he saying? That the strength and power I've drawn from the twisting cables of light haven't come from the spirits of the dead alone?

They've also come from him.

Repulsed, I take a step backward.

"We're stronger together than apart," he says. "Why not talk about this as allies rather than adversaries?"

I straighten, hatred burning through my daze. "The right time for talking was before you killed the people I love."

Randy lets his arms fall to his sides and closes his eyes as if deep in meditation. When he opens them, they are full of pain. "There are others who seek the same as I do and will not rest, Rosalie. They're all searching for the same conduit to help them unseal the Five Pinions. But only I care enough about you to protect you from them. You need me."

"If you've caused so much trouble with the power you have, no way am I giving you more," I manage to say before the fog of his charm overwhelms me again. Where once I could resist him, he's become too powerful in this Garden. Or I'm too weak.

Randy's gaze bores into mine, diamond-sharp. "I'm sorry you refuse to look at this with an open heart. It is, I'm afraid, a result of being so successfully brainwashed by your relatives."

"What are you talking about?" I clench my fists, my nails digging into the flesh of my palms. The rune symbols on my palms burn fiercely, but there's still no sign of the spirit ribbons. "No one brainwashed me," I lie. Maybe it's even true. "I grew up in California—I?—"

But even as I speak, as if he's triggered them, memories of overheard conversations, odd things glimpsed and forgotten, come charging into my mind. And I know that my recognition of Randy at the cemetery was no accident. I had met him before, at least once.

He introduced himself to me at my father's funeral. And my mother was furious. How could I have forgotten?

"Your mother is quite the skillful memoratrix," Randy says, watching me.

"Memoratrix? What the hell is that?" I narrow my gaze, and the puzzle pieces fall into place. Erasing memories—that's my mother's power. And she used it on me. "Wait. How well do you know my mother?"

Randy smiles. "Your esteemed mother is well-known through her good work in the Institute—but also in some lesser-known circles. I doubt she was expecting the charming professor from Nova Scotia"—he gestures to himself— "to sweep her off her feet. She never connected me to her estranged sister, since they hadn't spoken in years."

"What? What the hell are you saying?"

"Few women are immune. It's not a Siren's power, but something far more useful. It only takes a few moments to plant an idea or compulsion once the defenses are lowered." Randy smiles, eyes like slices of aquamarine sea. "And what better way to lower them? Alicia thought she'd done everything to protect you. To protect Tyler. She didn't guess that she herself and your confused, lovesick father would provide the opening I needed."

My heart pounds in my ears, heat rising up my neck. The Garden, lush and dewy in the morning mist, feels like a nightmare. "My lovesick father? Lovesick for whom?"

Randy smirks, eyes twinkling. "Me, of course. Your mother, your father… Other than that foolish bitch Lila, few can resist. Even the celebrity scholar. Anything for the cause, sweetheart. The man was an open wound. Just a little suggestion here and there, and he fell hard."

I spit at him and the guards raise their guns. "You bastard!"

Unfazed, Randy continues to smile. "Your mother is a lovely woman. Like her daughter. Your father is a weakling. He led me straight to Tyler. And more importantly, to you. But that's another story."

I gnash my teeth, fire behind my eyes. If I could grow a set of fangs, I would gladly rip his throat out. I suck in air to try and rein in my outrage. I'm guessing Randy wants to throw me off balance for a reason.

"But let's talk about you, Rosalie, the subject of all my planning and maneuvering. You are quite the prize. I have to admit, I was surprised to find you hiding in plain sight in one of the Hand's most prominent assimilated families, working diligently to save the planet while the solution was right under your nose."

Randy retrieves a phone from his pocket. It's my phone, the one I thought I'd lost in the boat explosion. On the screen is an image of my terrorized father, a knifepoint trailing a thin red line along his neck. Sweaty, one eye swelled shut, he stares wildly at nothing through his broken glasses. Beside him is Aurora, gagged and bound. There's no sign of Mrs. Bailey.

Randy turns to me, eyebrow raised. "Such a noble man. Destined to serve the same fools who punished and restrained us from taking what is rightfully ours."

I blink away tears, fear for my father and Aurora tearing at my heart. "So, you want what I've got? Your threats won't work—you'll have to take it from me."

"You're good and mad, aren't you? Hopping mad."

If I give in to my rage, I'll be killing all of us, because my fury is what Randy wants. I shudder and close my eyes, reopening them to meet his terrifying gaze. "That's putting it mildly."

Liam's words, the ones from Aunt Millie's story about the girl and the pearl necklace, the ones with which I destroyed Etchmick Island, reverberate in my mind in strange combinations. As I speak them, the strands of light rise from the ground and coil around me like vines.

They are mine alone to command.

This is the power Randy wants.

The rune on my hand burns and glows as the light tendrils encase me, their thin filaments tingling. Nizedha—control. Yunakti—connect, I murmur under my breath. Energy charges through me as if I'm a human battery.

"Very nice display," Randy says. "But do you know what to do with all that power? Shame to see it go to waste at the hands of a novice."

"I know what I'd like to do with it," I say through clenched jaws.

Nizedha—control. Yunakti—connect.

It's becoming impossible to speak as the power builds inside me. My eyes roll up into my head and I fight the urge to swallow my tongue. Prickles of heat blast up my arm and flare at the runes on my palms. The pain is so intense, it's as if I'm catching lightning. I try to shout, but no sound can get past my locked jaws. I hope I can take Randy with me when I explode.

I feel rather than see the phantom figures that sift out of the thickets. Hundreds of them flow around me, like mist.

"Power in the hands of the uninitiated is dangerous!" Randy cries.

"Power in the hands of a skilled practitioner is even more dangerous," speaks a voice behind me. A voice I recognize.

I wheel around and blink. Instead of ghostly entities, three robed figures advance toward me. Council members. Behind them is an army of spirits. The Garden walls dissolve, revealing endless open fields flowing with undulating stalks of salttain.

But the power is pulling me apart. In moments, I'll rip open with the heat of a thousand suns and blow this place to smithereens. I'm shaking violently from the strain. If I let go, everyone here is coming with me.

Ignoring Randy, the Council members form a semi-circle around me. "Be brave, daughter," one of them says. I swear, it sounds like…

"Nice try," Randy snarls. "You think you fooled me with your little game of smoke and mirrors? You and these idiots have tried to stop me so many times, and each time it ends with more of you dying."

"Does it?" the same Council member asks, her voice unmistakable. I'm either hallucinating or…

My gaze snaps to the robed figure. "Mother?" I gasp.

The shadowed hood pulls back and Alicia Bouchard Gatell smiles fiercely back at me. "Hold fast, daughter!"

Randy Lambert barks a laugh. "Nice try, old friend. I knew all along it was your brat who held the key. I'm always a step ahead of you Bouchards."

"Are you?" asks the Council member beside Mother. The hood pulls back and it's Mrs. Bailey, hair wild and free, with an expression I've never seen on her prim face.

This time, Randy's turquoise eyes go wide. "What? How can this be—you—you're…"

"Stuck inside a tree?" asks Mrs. Bailey. And then, as I struggle to keep my gaze focused, Clarice Bailey transforms into a replica of Mother.

"Aunt Millie?" I choke out.

"Focus, child," Aunt Millie says. "Tether your energy to its source. We're all here behind you."

"How is this possible?" In my mind's eye, glowing tree roots branch into intricate linear patterns, layers of webbed and straight lines that intersect and overlap each other. Symbols race across their flank like an interactive map. Each layer of lines has a distinct color, vibrating with its own frequency. The result is a three-dimensional weaving, indescribably beautiful and elaborate.

"Randy never realized your aunt was a shapeshifter," my mother says. "Not only was she able to transmogrify herself into a tree after her own body died, but when poor Clarice Bailey took her own life a week ago, Millicent borrowed her image. In death, my dear sister can take on the appearances of others who have also died."

Clarice Bailey killed herself? Wh-what— I shake my head to clear it, to try to speak my question—one to which I think I finally know the answer. Who sent me those books?

Aunt Millie seems to hear my thoughts. Be still, now, Little One, she says inside my head. I had the books sent to you, of course, by Lila. I forced your mother's hand. She's never listened to me, but finally realized she had to. But look.

Like beads strung on a thread that snakes between the layers, a sequence of runes twists and bends over itself like the double helix molecule for DNA.

Nizedha—control. Yunakti—connect. Vimukti—release.

The linear networks glow brighter, overlaying my surroundings. Infinitesimal symbols flow through the lines like water through pipes.

Nizedha—control. Yunakti—connect. Vimukti—release.

From each of the layered grids, a strand snaps loose and weaves into a single thick cord.

Hanti—destroy.

With a shock, I see a jet of current shoot from my hand. Randy laughs, reeling it in like the current is a lassoed bull.

I can see little, but I can see him, a dark shape against a brilliant aura. A matching rune glows on his outstretched hand. The angrier I get, the more I'm feeding him power. This is what he wants—for me to attack him. When I destroyed the boat, it only made him stronger.

The ancient words hiss through my mind. I feel Aunt Millie guiding and instructing me. My mother's voice joins the urgent chorus behind me, and the Garden's boundaries expand even further. Walking through the fields of salttain are hundreds of spirits, their palms raised, hands glowing with the light of their marks. The cord of light crackles and sparks. It takes all of my will to keep it from striking Randy.

"Let it go!" he screams.

Runes flash and blink in the space around me—warnings. Every fiber of my being wants to release the cord, to let it slam into his palm. It stretches and tugs against my restraints, and I can't hold on much longer. The runes multiply, clouding my vision, clogging my ears. The voices lift into a humming drone. Somewhere in the distance, there are drums.

"Rise, People!" I hear my mother shout. "Rise!"

Cakati. Resist. Aunt Millie's voice rings in my ears.

My eyes fill with light, my ears with sound. I'm operating by touch. A fierce wind howls, lashing my skin.

Cakati. Resist, I repeat.

I strain to visualize the cord, now bloated with suppressed power.

"Let. It. Go!" Randy bellows.

But no. There's another way.

Instead of pouring all of the power I can drain from the earth into Randy, I pull back on his. I have no idea what it will do to me, or to the island beneath my feet.

I send my apologies to the wind for what's about to happen.

The gathered crowd spins around me, faster and faster, like a whirlpool. Somewhere, distinct among the blurred faces, I spot Tyler.

And he's smiling.

Guns go off as I scream—Cakati—with all my strength and yank the power from Randy. I wish there was another way. The eruption may be the last thing anyone within miles of Salttain Island will ever know.

But with luck, the Pinion will hold.

Silence blinds me as I fall, somersaulting in slow motion like a tumbling leaf. A burning sensation sears my side. Below, the braided light cord has unfolded into a radiant blossom, a rainbow-hued net of glowing lines to catch me.

I hit with a gentle bounce. The net cradles and supports me. In its embrace, I am safe. But the pain nags, an icy cold that settles in my bones.

Muted shouts ring out. Beneath me, the ground rumbles, churns, and grinds. My body heavier than the densest metal, I sway in my cradle of light, suspended above a deep chasm.

Above me, there are screams. Bodies plunge into the crater and flail past me, swallowed along with the debris that pours in. My mouth and eyes clog with dirt. The light of the multileveled matrices snuffs out. Buried, all goes still and silent.

The Garden has become my tomb.

Better this way, I think, my thoughts fading to cinders. The flaming pain in my side dies along with them.

A giant geyser of water erupts beneath me. I'm thrust upward, propelled through the ground like a projectile, until, airborne, I crash face-down onto rock.

I lay still, shattered and broken, unsure if at last I'm finally dead, until I hear someone whisper beside me.

"Everything's going to be okay, Rosalie. It's all over."

I'm confused. Maybe this is what happens after you die.

A wild wind buffets me, flapping at my wet clothes and drowning out the voice. I feel myself lifted and carted off, and can't help but wonder if they send helicopters to deliver you to the afterlife.