Tandem (27 page)

He reached for me again, and this time he made contact; his hand was a soft weight on my shoulder. “Okay,” he said, a sigh carrying his words along. I jerked my head up, shocked both by his touch and his answer. He glanced around. “Not here, though.”

“The library,” I said. I grabbed his hand without thinking and stood, tugging him along in my wake. His eyes narrowed in surprise and his mouth hung open, as if he was about to say something, but apparently he thought better of it, because he followed me in stunned silence as I guided him by instinct to the one room in the Castle I’d always wanted to visit.

TWENTY-ONE

The library was empty. The door creaked as it slid open, and the air in the room had a musty smell, as if the windows hadn’t been cracked in weeks. The surfaces were dust-free—the domestics at the Castle were nothing if not fastidious—but the library had all the hallmarks of a space that was mostly forgotten. I got the impression that the room missed Juliana. It was one of her favorite places in the Castle, after the gardens; it had featured in many of my dreams. There was an enormous vaulted ceiling covered in sky-hued frescoes and floor-to-ceiling shelves packed tight with multicolored leather spines in various states of wear. The floor was parquet with an elaborate inlaid herringbone pattern, and the whole place was illuminated with warm light emanating from hidden sources atop the bookshelves. On the opposite side of the room there was a globe tall enough to reach my waist. I went to it, eager to give it a spin. I let my fingers wander over its miniature topography as Thomas stared at me, waiting for an explanation, but the words stuck in my throat.

After a long silence, Thomas ventured a question. “How did you know where the library was?” He had that look in his eye again, the one that meant he was trying to decipher me like a code. He must have spent a lot of time doing that, trying to figure out what people were thinking and planning, searching for hidden undercurrents in their words and in their body language. It must’ve been part of his training; I wondered if he knew he was doing it with me, or if it was just instinct.

I took a deep breath, pressing harder on the tiny ridge of the Alps to steady myself. “I saw it,” I told him. “In a dream.”

“What?” He looked baffled, for which I couldn’t blame him. And yet, he’d seen plenty of unlikely things, and done some pretty unlikely things as well. I didn’t even consider the possibility that he might not believe me. “I don’t understand.”

I laughed, a sharp sound that ricocheted off the ceiling. “Me neither.”

“No, seriously,” Thomas said.

“Maybe you should sit down for this,” I said, gesturing to a nearby armchair. Thomas’s face was easy to read. All his emotions—interest, concern, and slight anxiety—showed in his eyes, in the crease of his brow, in the grim set of his mouth. He could mask his feelings, of course; I’d seen him do it. But that was a choice. This was pure Thomas, shining out from within like the beam of a lighthouse.

“All right,” he said. “I’m sitting. You’re sitting. Now
talk
.”

“I think I know where Juliana is.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I could tell that it wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. His entire body pulled away and he raised his eyebrows in what could only be shock.

“What do you mean, you know where she is? How do you know? Where is she?” The last question came out strangled, and I had to fight against a wave of jealousy. Of course he wanted to know where she was. She was his assignment—she was his friend—she was his … Of course he’d want to know.

“I think she’s in Farnham,” I said.

“What makes you think
that
?” His tone was accusatory, and I found myself insulted by it.

“Because, I … I saw Callum’s ring just now, and it was the black phoenix on a red background, and I realized I’d seen it before, at the house where they’re keeping her, on a flag … The flag of Farnham, it must be … !” My voice broke under the strain of trying to say so much at once and not being able to say enough. I hadn’t realized until now how much this bizarre power—this extraordinary gift—frightened me, how deeply I feared I was going insane, and how desperately I wanted him not to mirror those same fears.

“Hey, hey,” Thomas said, covering my hand with his own. I looked up and our eyes caught. He smiled tentatively, as if wanting to reassure me but not knowing how, under the circumstances. “Slow down. What do you mean you
saw
it?”

I swallowed hard. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I … see her. See through her, really. Mostly when I’m asleep. Okay, always when I’m asleep, and I don’t usually remember very much, but sometimes details come back to me—”

“Sasha,” Thomas said firmly. “I think you’re going to have to start from the beginning.”

I took a deep breath. I told him how I’d always had these dreams of Juliana’s life, from a very early age, as long as I could remember. That I’d always assumed they were just my imagination running wild while I was asleep, that I never knew any of it was true before I came to Aurora and realized what I was seeing. And that I knew now where Libertas was keeping Juliana: in a large farmhouse somewhere in a foreign country, behind enemy lines. As I spoke, I watched Thomas’s thoughts pass over his face like the aurora sweeping across the sky, one emotion after another, none lingering long enough for me to catch hold and orient myself.

When I was finished, I sat back and waited for him to say something. He rubbed his face vigorously, as if trying to bring himself back to some kind of reality he could get a firm grasp on.

“That was …” He paused, searching for the right thing to say. “… not what I expected you to tell me.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know.” He gave me a weak smile. “Not that.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” I said. “But you believe me, don’t you?” I tried to ask as if I didn’t care about the answer, as if I was so convicted about my story that not a doubt lingered in my mind, but the tone faltered, because I really, really needed to be believed.

“Yes,” he said, with a finality that I found comforting. “I believe you. But I’ve got to be honest—I don’t know where that leaves us. Juliana’s in Farnham, but where? It’s a big country. And you don’t know what they’re planning to do with her?” He wanted more from me, and I wanted to give him more, but I couldn’t. I understood his desperation; I wanted more from me, too. This wasn’t a parlor trick; it was a real thing, it came from somewhere, and if it didn’t exist to help me—to help
us,
Juliana and me—then why did I have it at all?

“At least we know she’s alive,” I pointed out. “That’s something.”

“It’s a relief, for sure.” He kneaded the back of his neck with his fingers and I had to smile; in his unguarded moments, he was so predictable, you could set your watch by him. “Why did you tell me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know I’ve asked you to trust me,” he said. “But I’ve given you plenty of reasons not to. Good reasons. Reasons that you keep reminding me of. So why now? You’ve known this since when?”

“Since the Tower,” I admitted. “When the General told me her name.”

“And you didn’t tell me then.”

“How could I? I knew that something was up, but I didn’t understand it. And even if I had … I couldn’t tell you until I was sure.”

“Sure of what?” he asked, his voice going soft.

“That you would help me,” I said. This was the point of it, after all, the reason I’d told him. Because I thought I finally had some useful information to bargain with. But you can only barter for your freedom with someone who wants something else more than keeping you trapped.

“I see,” he said, a bit coldly. “Why don’t you just tell me what you were thinking, then? Get it all out in the open.”

“Thomas, what if I could control it?” He looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. “Wait, listen. Obviously I’m connected to Juliana. I don’t know why, but I do know that it’s not an accident. It’s been happening my whole life. There has to be a
reason
. If I could control the visions—if I could force them to happen instead of just waiting for them to come to me when I was asleep—I might be able to figure out where they’re hiding her. And if I could do that—”

“Then we could bring her back,” Thomas finished. “And you could go home.” His voice was flat, and I could see him pulling away, receding behind his KES mask. The way Thomas was reacting made me feel guilty, like I was turning my back on him, which was ludicrous. I didn’t owe him anything … did I?

“The General’s not going to let me go,” I said. “I need to find another way.”

“You don’t know that,” Thomas insisted.

“Six days,” I reminded him. “
Six days
. That’s what he told me. That’s what he promised. But you said it yourself: the KES has no idea where Juliana is. How can he be so sure he’ll find her before my time is up? He’s planning something, Thomas.”

“Like what?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. You’re the expert. You tell me.”

There was a long pause while Thomas sorted through things in his head. Finally, he said, “So what do you want from me, then?” The connection I’d felt forming between us had all but vanished, and I sensed that he was creating the distance on purpose. He was talking to me like a stranger he was haggling with over a trinket, not … whatever I was to him. Maybe I was nothing. Maybe it was—and had always been—just in my head.

“If I can tell you where Juliana is—
exactly
where she is—I want you to promise you’ll get me home as soon as possible. No matter what.” I held my breath, waiting in agony for him to respond. This was it. The only chip I had to play. I hoped I’d played it right.

“Fine. You help me find Juliana, I’ll make sure you go back to your own world, even if it’s against my orders.”

“You’d really do that?”

“It’d be worth it, to bring her back. To make things right again. Besides,” he continued, with a resigned shrug. “What can he do to me? I’m his son.” Something in the tone of his voice told me he didn’t quite believe that, but he was trying very hard to convince himself it was true.

“Right.” I stared at my hands. “Now all I have to do is figure out how the hell I’m going to do it.”

“Actually,” he said. “I might know someone who can help you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and so do you. Come on,” he said. “We’re going to see Dr. Moss.”

TWENTY-TWO

“Dr. Moss … the doctor who treated me last night?” That incident seemed so long ago. I’d nearly forgotten it in the hubbub surrounding Callum’s arrival. I glanced at Thomas’s wrist, hoping to catch a glimpse of his watch, but he caught me looking and raised his eyebrows with a hint of comedy that I was glad to see.

“I’ll have you back in plenty of time for dinner,” Thomas promised. “I’d rather face down a squad of ten Libertines than Gloria when her schedule’s been compromised.”

I laughed. The tension that had gathered up in my shoulders melted a bit. I took a deep breath to center myself. We’d crossed over from the Castle to the Tower via one of the glass sky bridges that connected the two buildings and were now standing in a circular elevator bank. Each elevator was marked with the floors it served, but the one we were waiting for simply said
DOWN
, which struck me as more than a little ominous. When it arrived I stepped into it beside Thomas and watched him hit the button labeled
SUBBASEMENT F
.

“Dr. Moss is your friend with all the theories about analogs, isn’t he?”

Thomas nodded. “About Dr. Moss,” he said cagily, tugging at the cuffs of his suit jacket. “He’s not technically a medical doctor.”

“What are you talking about? He gave me a shot!”

“I couldn’t call a real doctor,” Thomas explained. “Dr. Rowland, the royal physician, wouldn’t have been satisfied with giving you a little antihistamine and going about his night. He would’ve been suspicious; he would’ve wanted to do blood work and all kinds of tests on you, and I think you know what that might’ve yielded.”

“Would it have proven I wasn’t Juliana?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas shrugged. “But it’s possible. I knew the General wouldn’t want to risk it, so I took the liberty of calling Dr. Moss instead.”

“What kind of doctor
is
Dr. Moss?”

“Theoretical physicist,” Thomas said with a wry smile, perhaps thinking of my “family business.” My stomach dipped with the impact of a sudden sadness at the thought of Granddad and my parents, but I did my best to put it out of my mind. I couldn’t allow myself to fall apart with missing them, not when I was so close to getting answers about my mysterious ability and its implications for my quest to return home. “He’s completely brilliant, Mossie. He invented the anchors. He knows everything there is to know about parallel universes and analogs.”

I fiddled with the anchor. Most of the time I forgot it was there. “Mossie?”

A shy grin transformed his face. “I like Dr. Moss. And you’ll like him, too.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” he said with confidence as the elevator arrived at Subbasement F. “The General hates him.”

The F level contained only a short hallway with one steel door opposite the elevator. A sign on the door read:

SUBBASEMENT F

HIGHLY CLASSIFIED

NO
ONE
BELOW
LEVEL
6
CLEARANCE
ADMITTED
WITHOUT
A
DOD
ESCORT
.

The LCD screen next to the door wasn’t green, or even blue, but bright red and pulsing, a very clear sign that no one was welcome down here, me included. But Thomas had Level 6 clearance; his handprint changed the screen to blue, and the code he punched in unlocked the door. It swished open, revealing a large, slick laboratory just beyond the threshold. Loud music blasted out of unseen speakers, and strangely enough, the song was one that I recognized.

“Mossie!” Thomas shouted. I glanced around the windowless laboratory, taking in several imposing machines, digital boards covered with hastily scribbled mathematical formulas, and tables cluttered with all manner of things: burbling Bunsen burners, stacks of files, and piles and piles of books. There was one thing missing, however—Dr. Moss.