Betrayals in Spring (2 page)

Griffin. I’d give my eyeteeth to know what his angle is in all of this. He found us this cabin, got Lucas back, but I still don’t know if we can trust him.

“When I first woke up there, in summer, I panicked. I didn’t know you had gone to winter, and only had Cadi’s message assuring me you’d made it out of autumn, too. First I escaped into the Wilds and found a canyon with a lake in the middle. I had enough provisions from the Kendrick’s house—my summer family—to make shelter and fire, and keep myself fed. I tried traveling, too, but it didn’t work.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “I wasn’t scared for me, but I worried a lot about you.”

The words trail away as though he simply runs out of them, as though maybe there aren’t enough to describe the emotion of it all. We were alone so long—our whole lives, essentially. The memory of those desolate days in the cabin outside Des Moines, before Wolf arrived and eased the loneliness, scatter through my mind like autumn leaves. To the three of us, sometimes I think being alone again would be more painful than dying.

The rattle of Pax’s breathing worsens, and when it doesn’t settle back down after two or three minutes, I reluctantly leave the perfect temperature Lucas and I create and go back to the couch. When my hand rests on Pax’s chest, his breathing returns to normal and the crease between his eyebrows smooths away.

Cold air hugs my back, letting me know Lucas stands over us. “You care about him.”

“We’ve been through a lot. We care about each other, I think.” There’s no point in lying, even though the admission scrapes the back of my throat a little. Maybe because Lucas could hear a different kind of confession in the words, all of the things I should tell him, or maybe because the possibility of losing Pax frightens me.

Lucas leans over me and presses a hand to Pax’s forehead, his chilly touch eliciting a violent head spasm. “It’s not good, the fever. Maybe we should give him more of those pills.”

“Okay.”

We were lucky to have found bottles of medicine behind the mirror in the wasteroom. One of the labels promises
temporarily reduces mild pain and fever
. I doubt Pax’s pain is mild, but it’s the best we can do.

Lucas leaves, then returns with a bottle of water. He lifts Pax up gently, though not perhaps as gingerly as I would have, and together we manage to get him to swallow four more of the pills. Double the recommended dosage, but the container is jumbo sized, so there are plenty. I absently pull my thick, dark red hair into a bun on top of my head while waiting for Pax’s muscles to relax, for the sheen of sweat on his upper lip to evaporate.

Night falls outside the curtained windows, and my eyes grow heavy despite the potential terror of sleep. The Prime Other knows how easily he can get to me through my mind, and sleeping is the fastest way to vulnerability.

The first night we arrived I rebuilt the wall to my sinum—my own alcove in the Others’ hive mind—figuring it was best to get at it right away while they were still dealing with the chaos in Portland. It’s not a very strong structure; I slapped the bricks together in less than fifteen minutes. They’ve already been working on knocking it down, but at least the pieces aren’t tumbling into my bones this time. My ribs and back still ache from the beatings, and the deep, partially healed cut that runs from my hairline past the outside of my eye throbs through its scab. I need more time to heal, and the wall feels strong enough to keep them out for a couple of days, at least.

Lucas tries so hard to protect me, or at least he used to, that I’ve tried my best to hide my winces and grimaces. We haven’t spoken in detail about what happened to me in the Observatory Pod, about Ko or Greer, or that Natej said the Broken might still be alive. I’ll have to tell him everything soon, and the thought spreads dread through me. Talking about what happened between Pax and I, and about everything I went through, will hurt Lucas.

I lower the flames for the night as Lucas crawls back into the recliner and pops up the footrest. I curl into a mat made of blankets next to Wolf, taking what comfort exists from his companionship and the earthy scent of him.

The loneliness in my center yawns wide. The desire to be held close, for Lucas to tell me everything will be okay, tries to turn into words and push past my lips. I swallow them and snuggle closer to Wolf.

I do want Lucas’s arms around me. I want to feel the crisp coolness of him, smell the pine needles on his skin, and for us to be as we were in the autumn. But even if Pax’s worsening breathing hadn’t interrupted the moment earlier, doubt stops me from telling Lucas how I feel about him. He’s hesitant, and the things he might be secreting away worry me.

Not to mention the things I’m keeping from him.

It’s going to be hard enough to be together in the same house, wanting to touch him all the time just to make sure he’s really here. It would be unbearable to reveal those wants aloud and have him turn me away.

So I say nothing, and as the sun rises on the third day, I sleep.

CHAPTER 2.

“Althea, wake up.” Lucas’s rough voice shakes me out of a dreamless sleep. At least, no memories of dreams follow me into daylight.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

His lips pinch as he looks away, tightening worry in my chest. “No. But the fire’s about to go out, and it’s probably best for him to stay warm.”

Him
. Lucas doesn’t call Pax by name if it can be avoided, but the fact that he’s concerned for our third’s safety speaks volumes. His obvious jealousy annoys me, but when I put myself in his shoes, if our fourth was a girl and she and Lucas had spent last season crossing the planet together, I wouldn’t be any happier about it.

I crawl to the fire and heat the fresh, frost-covered logs Lucas must have brought in until they crackle and pop. Lucas settles back into the recliner, reading what appear to be the final pages of
A Wrinkle in Time
.

The way he studiously avoids meeting my eye or holding a conversation says that although we might have inched toward understanding last night, our relationship hasn’t returned to its previous ease. I try to ignore the twist in my stomach at the realization. It doesn’t matter how badly I want more from him, it only matters that we can work together. Lucas, Pax, and I. Three of the only four Dissidents.

This morning I vow to try harder to focus on our goals, to be cheerful, and to not give Lucas any reminders of how he’s been all alone while Pax and I have had each other. When he sighs and closes the book several minutes later, I grin. “Well?”

“Well what?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be difficult. What did you think of the book?”

“I think…it was good. Weird, to read for a purpose outside of learning, don’t you think?” When his eyes meet mine, Lucas looks as though he wants to turn away but can’t. Like an invisible tether binds us together across the room.

We need this, the time to sit and talk about our lives and what they could mean on Earth without the interruption of the Others or Pax. Not that it’s good Pax can’t talk, or that we can’t set out to get Deshi right away. But the chance to be alone, to rebuild some trust, fills me with a little bit of hope.

“At first, it did feel strange. I love it, though. I love all the books.
Anne of Green Gables
is my favorite, but you might not like it so much.” I don’t say that
Wrinkle
is Pax’s favorite, even though the thought crosses my mind. “What was your favorite part?”

“Hmm. Honestly, the whole thing. The way everything is made up and not at all like reality, but the people still feel real. Like one of the stupid movies the Others make us watch, only better because my mind describes the words in more detail. Does that make sense?”

I’ve almost forgotten how Lucas thinks. It’s so deliberate and encompasses all of the thoughts I’ve had and a million more I haven’t. The way his brain strings them together always makes perfect sense.

“Of course. Maybe we should write a story about our grand adventure to rescue Earth.”

He returns my smile, both of us acknowledging my feeble attempt at humor. It’s hard to laugh while blinking back tears.

“We’d have to know a lot more about ourselves, I think. And how this all ends.”

“Maybe not. We could make it up. Might be more interesting than the truth,” I say.

“It’d be happier, that’s for sure.” Lucas sounds so sad; the words rumble out of his chest like a waterfall of tears. His smile slips out of his eyes, and the unexpected regret that takes its place doesn’t quite make sense to me, even in the context of our conversation.

I change the subject, needing to recapture our playful banter, to put the dire consequences of our existence onto the back burner, if only for another few hours.

“How about the ending of the book?” Okay, so maybe it’s not my favorite part, but it’s certainly the most relevant. My favorite part of the book is when Calvin kisses Meg, but now’s probably not the right time to bring up that particular moment.

Lucas glances away, tugging on his ear the way he does when he thinks. The gesture, so familiar I ache, warms me from my heart down to my toes.

“It’s weird to see that this book was written in nineteen-sixty-two. More than fifty years before the Others came here. Yet…” He raises his eyebrows, not needing to finish the thought.

The date caught my attention, too. As if the woman who wrote the story somehow knew what would come to pass. I shiver despite the fire. “The Others will torture us until we give up, too.”

“Maybe they’re not all as bad as we thought.” Lucas’s voice comes out so softly it barely reaches my ears, but still it shakes loose my good mood.

“Why would you say that?” Shock numbs my reaction. In all of our conversations about humans and whether or not we should help them, if we could figure out how,
I
had been the one unconvinced of our duty to save them. Not one of those conversations had ever suggested Lucas thought the Others were anything other than the enemy. “You were the one who defended the humans, who said they had a right to their emotions and their own choices.”

He shrugs, as though I’m asking him why he didn’t put a new roll of wastepaper on the holder. “Maybe I was wrong. That’s all I’m saying. We don’t know a whole lot about how things were before, and this could be better.” He pauses, shooting me a quick look, maybe to gauge my reaction. “And we don’t know everything about the Others. Even if it’s
not
right, what’s happening here, maybe our place isn’t on Earth.”

The suggestion rattles my brain harder than Zakej ever did with his beatings, the seed of doubt over Lucas’s subtle change sprouting tiny leaves. Ever since we learned that being Dissidents meant we have one Other parent and one human parent, it’s seemed clear that one side is right and the other wrong.

“Where is this coming from?”

Before Lucas can answer, Pax groans from the sofa, stealing my attention. When he doesn’t calm down on his own, I go to him and brush the hair off his sweaty forehead. The smell of him, normally smoky and spicy-sweet, barely registers over the reek of sickness.

That’s the moment the whole scene hits me as a potential threat. Dread falls through me like a boulder, and no matter how I try to explain it away, it only grows.

While Pax lies unconscious, his place in the hive mind sits unprotected.

Since the Others know I have a sinum, they’ll assume we all do. And they’ll be searching for the boys’ as well. Pax has never been to the hive, but if I have an alcove, he has an alcove. The Others can find it eventually, the way Fire found mine all those years ago, before I knew a hive mind even existed.

Pax’s body is dealing with enough right now without the Others getting hold of his mind, too. More than that, though, if they get into his alcove while he’s too weak to protect information, they could find us.

They could find out what we can do, if they haven’t already put two and two together after the debacle in Portland. The Others’ intelligence rates too high to accept the massive number of shed veils on the same day Lucas and Pax arrive to save me as a mere coincidence. That cat is probably at least halfway out of the bag.

I turn to express my fears to Lucas, then remember I never told him anything about our spots in the hive. Last autumn I hadn’t wanted him and Cadi to know my mother talks—talked—to me in my mind. If only I’d said something sooner, perhaps Cadi could have shown us a better way to protect ourselves.

Lucas’s face hardens into stone at my expression. He must only see a girl panicked over Pax’s health, which, while not untrue, isn’t what’s making it hard to breathe at the moment. Instead of feeling desperate over his misunderstanding, white-hot anger flares again at the way he’s clinging to petty concerns. The three of us have one another; we can trust no one else. Pax is fighting for his life, Lucas has been afraid and alone for weeks, and half of Portland is Broken, which is
our fault
.

It’s ridiculous for him to be angry at Pax, or me, for last season.

I fold my arms across my chest, unclenching my teeth enough to spit out, “You have to stop this. I thought we settled it last night. What happened last season is over. It’s done. Maybe nothing will ever be the way that it was, Lucas, but it’s time to look forward, not back.”