The Gathering Dark (41 page)

If she hadn’t already been sitting down, Keira would have fallen. She couldn’t see anything except the symphony of starbursts that danced across her vision. But what did it matter if she couldn’t see? The verdict had sliced her future off at the neck. There was nothing ahead of her anymore.

Walker knelt in front of her, and her vision cleared as his hands cupped her face.

“Keira.” His voice broke when he said her name.

A sob worked its way through her chest. Nothing had ever hurt her like this. It was beyond pain. Beyond imagining.

“Walker,” she whispered back, trying to be strong enough to say good-bye.

He smiled at her, but tears slipped down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I promised to keep you safe from all this.” His head dropped toward his chest.

She reached out and caught his chin. “You’re the one who always called me stubborn, right? I made my own decisions. You can’t save me from myself.” Her voice shook.

The tears glistened on his cheeks. “You’re not mad?”

Keira half laughed. “I’m furious. But not with you. You’re—” The lump in her throat grew, trapping the words that rose behind it. She swallowed, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“I love you.” Her voice shone with strength as she said it. “That doesn’t seem like nearly enough. You gave up everything to try to save me.
Everything.
But—”

“Shhhh.” Walker rose from his knees. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead against hers. She felt his curls tangle in her hair the same way they had that first day, when they’d cracked heads in the music store. The memory had too many sharp edges. Keira shoved it away, unable to carry any more pain.

Walker pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. “Giving up everything
for
you is better than having everything
but
you.
I love you too. I have since the very beginning. Why else would I have done all of this?” He tried to smile and failed.

Keira tightened her grip on him.

“Is there anything I can do?” she whispered.

Walker nodded, slow and sad. “Play,” he said. “Play for me, one last time. I want you to do the thing you love most—I want one more memory of you at the piano.”

Keira sobbed. She couldn’t think of a single piece of music she’d ever studied. Not a single trill, not a solitary chord. The finality of the moment had stripped it all away.

“I’m not sure if I
can
,” she said.

“Play something you composed,” he said. “Play something that’s just for me. Just for us.”

She couldn’t deny him. Not now. Not this. Keira turned to slide back onto the piano bench. Scooting to the very front of the seat, she pressed herself against the piano, like she was saying good-bye. How could she play, knowing it would be the last time?

In her memory, she saw her own six-year-old hands, struggling to stretch over the keys. She felt her little kid legs, swinging above the ground as she sat on the bench, her feet too short to reach the pedals. The way it felt, when she was just beginning. Only it had always seemed like the beginning, no matter how many times she’d played.

All the hundreds of days that she’d practiced had stacked up into years, and still it had never been enough. The only thing she’d ever wanted was more hours at the piano.

And now this was it. Her time was up.

Poised above the keys, her hands shook like a ship’s sails in the wind. She could feel herself faltering. Failing. She looked over her shoulder at Walker.

“Help me. Please. I can’t do this by myself.”

There was no hesitation. In one motion, he swung his leg over the piano bench, wrapping himself around her. His legs braced hers and he twined his arms around her middle, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

The trembling in her hands slowed. She remembered the day he’d taken her to the shore, the first day she’d ever composed something of her own. She didn’t even have to think about the notes—the music was there, in her memory. The strange, dying sound of the notes against the Darkside air didn’t even register in her hearing.

She began to play, her eyes falling closed. She didn’t need to see the keys. She didn’t need to think about the notes. She remembered the day she and Walker had climbed up the point on the coast. The image of the encompassing fog and that first almost-kiss was enough. This music was with her—
in
her—no matter what. She’d still have it when they took away the piano.

It would be with her until they took her breath, too.

As she bent over the keys, Keira felt Walker’s mouth brush her ear.

“I love you, Keira Brannon,” he whispered. His lips came to rest against the back of her neck.

The moment he kissed her, the air in the room shifted. The music poured from the piano, the notes pealing though the air with the same tone and feeling that they had in her mind. The sound was richer than anything she’d ever heard. It was tangible—she could
feel
it, soft as velvet, against her skin. Behind her, Walker froze, his mouth still pressed against her neck.

An enormous snap reverberated through the room and Keira’s eyes flew open.

Something had changed.

Chapter Fifty-Three

T
HERE WAS A SHOUT
from one of the guards and the Tribunal rose in unison.

Keira’s fingers slipped from the keys as Walker lifted his head. The silence in the room was the loudest thing she had ever heard. She half turned to Walker.

“It sounded just like . . . ” She couldn’t even say it. It was too big a thing to wish for.

He nodded.

“It’s gone,” one of the Reformers cried. A gasp rose from the guards. “The old tear in the corner is gone.” He looked over at Keira. “What did you do differently? Why did it work this
time? Have you been hiding something from us?” His voice shook, hopeful. Furious. Greedy.

Keira opened her mouth, searching desperately for an answer that she did not have.

Walker’s arms tightened around her.

His arms.

Of course.

When she’d closed the rip between Darkside and her living room, Walker had been sitting on the bench with her. She shut her eyes, trying to remember the details exactly.

She’d been playing her own music then, too. And he’d kissed her. That’s when it had happened.

Just like now.

She glanced at him and saw the same answer shining in his eyes. “It’s us,” she whispered. “Us together.”

He nodded, barely. “Your music.”

“And your kiss,” she answered.

The realization was too huge to put her arms around. They could fix the rips, which was everything the Reformers wanted. But it had to be the two of them, together. The musical ability that was supposed to save Keira would be the thing that saved them both.

“Speak up!” the Tribunal commanded. “What do you have to say about this?”

Keira slid off the bench and faced them with Walker by her side. He wrapped his hand around hers and she squeezed it hard.

“I wasn’t keeping anything from you.” There was too much stubbornness in her voice—too much indignation. She heard it. They heard it. She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, grateful that she still could. “I wasn’t intentionally keeping things from you,” she said more calmly.

“I knew that my playing had somehow closed the barrier between the two worlds once before, in my living room, but I didn’t know how I’d done it. Right after that, Walker and I found a message from Dr. Sendson scratched into the bottom of my piano. That’s why we went to find him. We thought maybe he would know how my musical ability was supposed to work—how it was supposed to help Darkside. Before we could talk, though, the guards came.” The anger crept back into her voice.

“Then the guards knocked us all out and brought us here. There was no
time
for me to figure it out, much less try to keep it from you.”

Walker squeezed her hand with a quick warning pulse. Stopping her before she antagonized the Tribunal into killing her anyway.

“And now you know?” the female Reformer asked.

“I think so, yes,” Keira said. “Both times that the rips in Darkside were mended, I was playing music that I’d composed.”

For the first time, the murmur that went through the Tribunal sounded pleased instead of angry.

“But that wasn’t all,” she pushed on. “It was Walker, too.”

Heat washed over her and she knew she was blushing fiercely. She hated having to reveal something that felt so personal—so
intimate
—but she didn’t have a choice. “When he kissed me, that’s when we fixed Darkside. Both times.”

The Tribunal shifted restlessly.

“So, you see,” Keira said, her voice ringing with truth, “you can’t kill either of us. We can fix the Hall of Records—make it stable again. You’ll have all of your information back. But I can’t do it alone. It has to be the two of us together. Me and Walker.”

Pike sank to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked back and forth, giggling like a madman. But at least he looked happy. Keira hoped he understood what was happening.

The central member of the Tribunal held up a long finger. “Stay where you are. We must return to our chambers to discuss this highly unusual development. Guards?”

The guards stepped forward in unison, tightening the circle around them. The one closest to Pike recoiled slightly as Pike let out a fresh wave of laughter.

The Tribunal swept out of the room.

The moments passed slowly while the Tribunal deliberated. The seconds seemed to hang suspended, clinging to Keira like drops of dew on spring grass. She burrowed into Walker’s arms and he tucked the top of her head beneath his chin, his hand tracing the curve of her neck.

She couldn’t lose this. She couldn’t lose him. Not now.

There was no guarantee that the Tribunal would let them go, but at least there was room for hope now. Keira shifted so that she could see the spot in the far corner, where the rip had been. She let the ocean drift into view around it, staring at the place where the wound had been. The freshly healed bit of Darkside was as tight and shiny as a new scar.

Keira shivered as she looked at it. There was something unsettling about not being able to see through that part of Darkside anymore.

“Cold?” Walker asked, tightening his arms around her.

Keira shook her head against his chest. Part of his shirt flaked away beneath the press of her cheek.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” She tried to put a little space between them, but Walker pulled her tight against him.

“Where do you think
you’re
going?” he asked. His voice bounced with playfulness, and Keira knew he was hopeful too.

“I didn’t want to accidentally undress you in front of a roomful of people,” Keira offered.

“Hmmm . . . ,” he answered, distracted.

She turned to see what he was looking at.

It was the door to the Tribunal’s chambers. Someone had opened it.

“They’re coming back in,” Walker whispered.

Keira slipped out of his arms and stood next to him, watching the doorway. Everything hinged on the conclusion the Tribunal had reached.

Everything.

Walker reached out and caught her hand. Their fingers twined together like tree roots, keeping both of them from flying apart.

The Tribunal shuffled into the room at an ancient pace. Each step sent a fresh jolt of anticipation through Keira, which built like static electricity. By the time the Reformers had arranged themselves in front of the bench, the air itself crackled with anxiety.

“Stand,” the guard closest to the bench commanded.

Keira and Walker were already on their feet. It was only Pike who remained on the floor, huddled up in a ball. His mouth moved aimlessly, like he’d run out of words but had forgotten to stop talking. In spite of the order, Pike made no move to rise. The guard closest to him stepped forward and prodded Pike with the end of the staff he carried.

Pike yelped and shot forward along the floor.

Keira started. She’d assumed the staffs were only used for hitting and smashing. But from Pike’s grimace and the jerky way he got to his feet, Keira suspected she’d been wrong in her guess.

Very wrong.

Keira resisted the urge to look behind her, to see exactly how close the other guards—and their staffs—were.

The Tribunal sat down. They folded their hands.

Every inch of Keira dreaded their verdict but at the same time, she was desperate to hear it.

The centermost Tribunal member raised his hand, his palm facing the room, his unnaturally long fingers stretching above it.

“We have decided,” he announced, his voice scraping through the room. “That if the Experimentals can repair the Hall of Records, then they will be allowed to live.”

The declaration shot through Keira. It swept out her fear, dragged away her tangled thoughts. For a moment, she felt utterly empty. Her terror had left a vacuum that joy had yet to fill.

And then she felt Walker’s fingers, squeezing hers. A thousand thoughts and feelings and questions poured into her at once. It was like being buried alive.

“You may live,” the Tribunal member amended, “but you will remain in our custody. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.” Walker sounded like the Reformers might as well have condemned them.

Keira blinked. The Reformers were going to keep them Darkside? Forever?

“No,” she said.

The guards stepped forward in unison, their staffs pointed at Keira.

“You do not understand?” the smallest Reformer asked.

“I understand,” Keira said, locking her knees to keep them from shaking. “But I can’t stay here. I’m not a Darkling.”

“This is not a matter in which you have a say, Experimental.” The voice of the Reformer ripped through the room.

“I think it is,” Keira said firmly. “Because I won’t play—I won’t fix the Hall of Records—unless you agree to let Walker and me go once it’s repaired.”

The Tribunal members all reacted at once, their gasps and oaths filling the room with a static so loud Keira could feel it in her fingertips. The guard nearest to her hefted his staff, ready to attack her.