Lark Ascending (32 page)

“Come with me,” Gloriette said quietly. “You want to get to the Machine? I'll take you there myself.”

My mouth tasted like ashes. I'd expected to confront Gloriette and force her to take us to the Machine; I'd expected her to fight me every step of the way. The mere thought of working
with
Gloriette, the figure who dominated my nightmares, who had planted this darkness inside me—it made my eyes burn, my thoughts scream protest. But isn't this what I'd wanted? To talk to the Institute, not to fight them?

“Give me a moment,” I said, my voice emerging with no more human inflection than Nix's. Empty, wrung dry. “Let me talk to my friends.”

Gloriette hesitated, her eyes flickering from me to Kris and Oren. Then she nodded and turned away. I watched her as she walked back toward the door and then stopped there, waiting. Her eyes were on the metal panel containing the glass fuses, which Basil hadn't bothered to close.

“You can't possibly be thinking of doing this,” Oren broke in first, agitation drawing a few inky filaments of shadow to his cheeks, like a colorless flush. “After everything they've done to you, how can you trust them?”

“I'm inclined to agree,” Kris said slowly, eyes downcast. His mouth drooped, making him look older; almost as tired as I felt. “Gloriette is a manipulator, you know that. There's a reason she came alone, even though you have every reason to want her dead.”

I glanced at Basil, who was still silent. For just a moment, I wanted my big brother back. I wanted him to make the decision and tell me what to do. I wanted him to hug me and whisper,
Don't panic.
Instead he met my eyes for a long moment without speaking. Then he just lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I trust you,” he said simply. “You haven't led us wrong yet. This is your call.”

I let my breath out, the air heavy in my lungs. Two votes against, one abstention. I glanced down at my shoulder, craning my neck. “What about you?”

“I believe she is offering to take us to the heart of the Machine that caused all of this,”
said Nix, its voice so quiet I wasn't sure the others could hear it.
“Whether we do as she asks or not, we will be where we wish to go.”

I glanced at Kris, who was watching Nix on my shoulder with a frown. When he saw me looking, he sighed. “Sometimes I wish I hadn't programmed it to think for itself.”

I grinned, taking that moment to breathe again fully for the first time since the Administrator had walked into the archives. Straightening, I raised my voice. “All right, Gloriette. Take us down.”

The path Gloriette took mirrored the one I'd used when I was wandering the Institute, half lost, before my harvest. If she was doing it on purpose to set my mind at ease, it wasn't working. The memories of that day were screaming through my mind, calling alarm and danger, warning me away. It was discovering Eve at the Machine's heart that sent me fleeing for the Iron Wood. Maybe if I'd never come here, I'd be home now, with my parents, living a blissfully dull life.

At first the corridors were dark, still part of the abandoned section of the Institute. We had only Kris's lantern for light, making me wonder if Gloriette had come to find us in the dark. The corridor was narrow enough that we walked single file, which felt eerily as though we were marching to our own executions. Nix stirred now and then, whispering remarks in my ear to remind me I wasn't alone, even though I couldn't see my friends behind me.

Then Gloriette opened a door at the end of the corridor, and light flooded in. These lights were more stable than the ones we'd hijacked for the records hall, though even they had a telltale jolt every now and then. Gloriette paused, eyeing Kris.

“You can leave that here,” she informed him.

Kris didn't reply; though he turned the lantern off, he didn't set it down, clutching it stubbornly. I didn't blame him. If Gloriette was trying to play us, at least we wouldn't be left in darkness.

When we started moving again, I recognized the corridor. It was a long, slow spiral, the barely perceptible curve playing tricks on my eyes. Though I hadn't known it at the time, Eve had led me down this very hall, using the lights to goad me farther and farther. This time there was nothing to guide me but Gloriette's form ahead of me.

We'd gotten about halfway down when something tickled at my mind, barely more than a whisper against my thoughts. I paused, causing Oren to stumble straight into me, though he caught himself an instant later. Gloriette hadn't stopped, and no one else seemed to notice what I was feeling, not even Basil. It couldn't be magic, not with the dampening field that shielded the Institute from my senses. I started moving again, but I couldn't shake the feeling—like there were cobwebs inside my mind.

The feeling grew stronger as we descended, until my heart was pounding with it. Flares of sensation in my mind, flashes of light across my vision and whispers in my ears. Nix sensed my tension, if not what was causing it, and pressed close against my neck, mechanisms whirring and ready for quick action.

We were a few yards from the door at the end of the spiral when I stopped, mind spinning. The dampening field made it hard to concentrate, but—

“It's Eve,” I gasped, staggering sideways until I hit the wall for support.

“What?” Kris skidded to a halt next to me.

“She's in there. She's—” But I couldn't describe what she was doing. Flares of magic lanced at my bones. Eve was losing control.

Gloriette was staring at me. “She's inside the Machine?” As I watched, her face drained of color.

I dragged myself upright again and headed for the end of the corridor at a run. The door flew open when I collided with it, and I spilled out onto a catwalk.

Though I'd seen this place a thousand times in my nightmares, nothing prepared me for coming face-to-face with the reality again. The doorway opened into a cavern vast enough that it could have held several reservoirs, machinery and circuits and gears lining every inch of the curving walls. Catwalks crisscrossed the space in every direction. The glass wires dripping from the ceiling no longer held the glowing Renewable, but instead writhed as if in response to a sentient mind; sinuous, intent.

Eve was at the Machine's heart, shining like a miniature sun. Dozens of architects ran this way and that, some heading toward her and others running away. As I watched, a cluster of glass wires lashed out and knocked one of the fleeing architects over the edge of the catwalk. For an instant, Eve's glow lit his face so clearly I could see it from across the cavern as he reached futilely for the railing above him. His screams echoed in the spherical Machine long after he'd hit the bottom three hundred feet below.

“We're paying for our sins.” I don't know how I heard Gloriette's whisper over the echoing shouts and screams in the heart of the Machine, but when I turned to look at her she was clutching at the railing as though it was all that kept her from falling to her death.

“Stay here!” I screamed, glancing from her to the others. I knew they wouldn't listen, but maybe they'd hesitate and buy me a little time.

“She'll kill you!”
screamed Nix, clutching at my collar, refusing to stay. The pixie always knew what I was going to do a second before I did it.

“Probably,” I panted. “But maybe I can stop her first.”

I scrambled away, breaking into a sprint. My feet pounding against the metal sent aching shockwaves up my legs, the clanging of my footsteps rising over the screams.

“Eve!” I shouted when I was close enough for my voice to carry. “Eve, you told me you didn't want revenge!”

She was glowing so brightly that she was encased in a ball of light, too blinding for me to make out her features. But the magic didn't so much as flicker at the sound of my voice, as though she couldn't even hear me.

“Don't let them make you into this!” I drew breath to speak again, but a glass tendril swung my way and I had to throw myself to the catwalk to avoid being brushed into the chasm like a pesky insect.

I craned my neck, eyes watering as I tried to look through the glare of her light. Beyond her, on a catwalk slightly below mine, was a cluster of architects and a man on his knees. He had a hood over his face, but I knew by the bands of iron locked around his arms and feet who it must be: Dorian.

I'd have to run past Eve's position to get to him, but I knew her magic would destroy me before I ever reached her. I ran to the edge of the catwalk, grasping the railing and leaning out as far as I could. I tried to gauge the distance to the next bridge below me, shifting back a few paces until I was lined up.

“Lark, no.”
Nix launched itself from my shoulder to hover in front of my face.
“Self-preservation must come first.”

“Not this time,” I gasped. “Programming only takes you so far, Nix. There are things more important than survival.”

I lifted my eyes again and then climbed over the edge of the railing. I tried to ignore the way the metal shook and shuddered under the stress of Eve's magic lashing out at the architects trying in vain to subdue her. Hands shaking, I lowered myself, glancing down again to judge the amount of swing I'd need; then immediately wished I hadn't looked.

I heard a shout that rang out above the others, and when I looked up I saw Oren sprinting my way. I couldn't let him reach me, or he'd stop me, and there was no way I could explain in words why I was so certain that Dorian's presence would reach Eve in a way mine never could. My gaze met Oren's for a brief second, a moment in which his eyes widened, the shadow crowding in around his features in response to his desperation to reach me.

Hold on,
I willed at him. And then let go.

I swung my body in the direction of the next catwalk down, expecting to feel a moment of calm, of weightlessness. Instead everything happened at once, in a rush of panic and sour-tasting adrenaline. A passing tendril caught my shoulder, knocking me back; Nix's voice screamed alarm as it whizzed past me, too small to help redirect my fall; Oren's face appeared over the edge of the walkway, too late to stop me, helpless eyes meeting mine.

I wasn't going to make it. The tendril had knocked me too far away. The realization hit me in the same moment that I saw Oren's face, sudden and final.

Then a second tendril came at me, colliding with my back so hard my head snapped back; then another, whipping past and redirecting my course. The catwalk came up on me so fast I barely had time to reach out; the railing caught me under the arms, and for a moment triumph flooded through me. Then pain seared through my arms and up into my chest, and my nerveless arms let go.

This time a scream half erupted from my throat; then a strong hand wrapped around my forearm. For a second I was dangling from this savior's grasp, until he swung me back toward the catwalk and I could hook a foot over the edge and crawl through the railing to collapse, shaking, on the metal grid.

I wanted to curl into a ball and sob there, but I didn't have time. I lifted my head, my gaze spinning with the pain of my bruised ribs and arms.

“You're mad.” Caesar's rough face, even more haggard than I remembered, swam into focus a few inches from mine.

“Thank you,” I choked, my voice hoarse from the scream that tore free. Nix caught up to me and flew at my chest so hard I gasped from the impact. The pixie crawled up the front of my shirt, vibrating with wordless fury—and relief, I hoped.

Caesar was still holding onto my wrist, and after a moment his other hand came to enclose mine in both of his. “Little sister,” he whispered, broken. “I'm sorry. They were talking about turning her in. I had to protect her. She asked me to bring her here—I had to take her away.”

I wanted to scream at him. But I scanned his features, the way his gaze met mine, defiant still behind the shattered façade.

“I know,” I replied, raising the hands clasped around mine to press my cheek against them. “Will you help me stop her?”

Caesar nodded and helped me get to my feet. His limp had grown worse, but he supported his weight on one hand on the railings. We headed for the cluster of architects around Dorian.

“The Renewable they've captured,” I explained. “She knew him, before she came here. I think—” I hesitated, glancing sideways at my oldest brother. “I think they were in love.”

Caesar's face barely changed, registering only a flicker. Only his eyes betrayed him, closing for a long moment before he stumbled, catching himself on the railing. “I couldn't reach her,” he said quietly. “This man is worth a try.”

One of the architects saw us and raised the alarm; though I only recognized one of them from my time there, a younger woman with dark hair like mine, they all knew me.

“I'm trying to help,” I snapped, raising my voice in an effort to be heard over the battle raging above and around us. “Your prisoner. We need him.” I saw the hooded man lift his head, turning blindly toward the sound of my voice.

“Absolutely not,” shrieked one of Dorian's keepers, the shrill note of hysteria making my head ache. “He's our only hope of stopping her.”

“That may be true,” I agreed, gritting my teeth. “But you don't know Eve like I do. Give him to me, and I'll stop her.”

The man hesitated, glancing at the young woman I recognized. I couldn't place her name, but I knew where I'd seen her before—she was the guide I'd escaped from the first time I stepped through the Institute's doors. But she had no answers for him either.

“Give him to me,” I said, lowering my voice a little, willing them to believe me, “and he's not your responsibility anymore. You don't have to be a part of this.”

The man holding Dorian's arm gazed upward, in time to see a blinding flash of magic ignite the air, prompting a chorus of screams from the architects trying to fight—or escape—Eve. His eyes snapped back down to meet mine, and after only a split second longer, he shoved his prisoner at me. He said nothing, only grabbed the girl's arm and tugged her back down the catwalk until they could break into a run for the exit.