Lumière (The Illumination Paradox) (25 page)

P
art
T
hree

T
wenty eight

Eyelet

The Vapours only lasted a few days—thank goodness.

I don’t think I could have stood more.

We wait another two weeks, until the day after the first steamplough whistle fills the night, delivering a fresh batch of discarded humans—sacrificial lambs from Brethren dropped off as food for the Turned—before solidifying plans to head off for the Academy in search of my father’s journals.

I can barely sleep that night, haunted by the ghostly voices of the Infirmed who survived the Vapours howling up through the trees as they devour the brains of those who were cast from the steamplough. I shudder, imagining their shadowy bodies disguised by fog, attacking without warning. I turn my head and bury it in the pillow.

Urlick says once they feed they’ll be satisfied for a short while. Then, and only then, will it be safe for us to travel the woods. If we leave too soon, we risk becoming their dessert. Too late, and the Turned will be hungry again.

The thought of meeting up with a Turned terrifies me. But somehow we have to get back to Brethren. I trust Urlick to know what he’s doing. He hasn’t let me down yet.

Another moan belts through the trees. I sit up, unable to sleep, and pull my father’s notebook from my boot.
Lumière
. I run my finger slowly over the writing on the front, then flip it open and scour the pages again. Finding nothing more than I did the first time I perused it. Page after page of detailed ledgers—compilations of scientific data—none of which I can interpret, nothing whatsoever about how to operate the machine. Though I’m sure such a journal must exist somewhere back at the Academy. My father was a very meticulous man.

I sigh, and curl the notebook enough to shove it back down the side of my boot, when my eyes catch on something peculiar. Along the edges of the pages of the notebook is a drawing, an etching done in ink. I release the curl and the drawing disappears. It’s only visible when the pages are fanned. I curl them again and gasp at what I see. A building made of smooth white walls surrounded by forest. A cone of light shines up from its highest point, far beyond the cloud cover. I have no idea what this is or what it means. I’ve never seen such a building before. But I do know that my father drew it. It looks just like the rest of his sketches in the book. But why? Why is it here?

I pinch the pages into a tighter curl, and words appear in tiny print below the drawing:

Find me.

“We leave now,” Urlick greets me on the stairs the next morning.

“Now?” I swallow, trying to look pulled together, a mess of worry and doubt roiling in my chest. “But I thought you said it’d be another day, maybe two, before the Vapours completely cleared.”

“I did, but then the steamplough came last night, did you hear it?”

“I did.” I swallow.

“You know what that means.”

“I do.”

“We’ll just have to carry gasmasks and risk it. I’d rather risk Vapour residue than the Infirmed. How about you?”

I nod in agreement. “So now, then? This very second?”

“Well, you can have breakfast first.” Urlick grins. “Don’t worry,” he says and squeezes my hand. “You can trust me, remember.”

I grin.

He turns and trundles back down the stairs. “Iris, have we any eggs left?”

“I can do this.” I follow him down the stairs, smoothing the sweat from my hands on my skirts. “I can.”

“Where do you think you’re going with that? To battle?” I say, confiscating a strange-looking pair of tin snips from Urlick’s grasp as we pack.

“Perhaps.” He snatches it back. His midnight brow arches over a suspicious eye. I love the way he makes his face so animated.

He turns and stuffs the tin snips in his pack along with several more of his crazy-looking homemade gadgets.

“I thought you said we needed to travel light.” I strain to pick up his pack. It clatters as I shake it. “Only pack the things we really need.”

“Precisely,” he says, adding a combination peeler/ice pick/switchblade to the mix.

I pull it out and wag it at him. “You’ll never get past the Security Sorcerers with this.”

“Security Sorcerers?”

“Edgar and Simon. The security system ravens that watch over the gates of the Academy.” I toss it aside. “They’re trained to detect all weapons.”

“Watch guard ravens?” He almost laughs. “Who thought of that bit of silliness?”

I whirl around. “My father did.”

“Oh.” He bites his lip.

I glare at him as he deflates. “This would be much more useful, don’t you think?” I say, stuffing a bedroll into the pack instead.

“You plan to sleep? On a major mission.”

“We’ll be gone for three days, won’t we? Don’t you?”

“Not while we’re in the woods, that’s for sure.” He turns his back. “And that’s at least forty hours’ venture by cycle.”

“Cycle?” I race around in front of him. “You plan to take the cycle through the woods to Brethren?”

“Well, we can’t very well show up in Brethren by coach and expect to go unnoticed, now can we?” He stares at me. My face flushes red. “What’s the matter?” He leans onto his pack. “You have a problem traveling by cycle?”

“No,” I answer too quickly.

“Then why the panicked look on your face?”

“What panicked look?” I dab the perspiration from my brow, disguised behind a nonchalant wave. I hadn’t planned on Urlick seeing the cycle again quite yet, let alone him using it for this purpose. I’m not sure we should rely on it to function properly on such a dangerous mission, but I don’t know how to say it. Good Lord, why must I always meddle in things? I turn heel and head for the pantry, wringing my hands, hoping he’ll drop the subject.

“Is there something I should know about the cycle?” He chases after me.

Boulders. It figures he wouldn’t leave it alone. I throw myself around, chin up, trying to look confident. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, feeling the edge of my lips quiver. “What would I know of the cycle?”
 

Urlick lowers his brows and stalks even closer until our bellies nearly touch. “You’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell me? Considering where we’re headed.” He stares into my eyes.

I struggle to swallow, imagining the worst, the Vapours, the criminals, the ghostly infirm. “No,” I rasp, my throat dry. “I’m confident everything will be fine.”

Urlick’s eyes narrow, he says nothing. A heavy silence hangs between us.

“Food would be a good thing to pack, don’t you think?” I say, turn my back on him and my attentions to the provisions, ignoring the well of doubt swelling in my mind. Perhaps I should say something? I should probably say something. No. It’ll be fine. I reassure myself, stocking my pack with breads and canned meat. 

Urlick steps closer filling the space behind me, the light in the pantry grows dim.

I turn and scowl at his shadow blocking the doorway. “I can’t really see.” Urlick shifts, but he doesn’t move.

Instead, he crowds ever closer, all but closing the gap between us. What on earth has gotten into him? The pantry is small enough without two bodies in it.

“I said the light, it’s not getting through.” I point past his head.

“Don’t worry about the light.” Urlick grins.

His Cheshire cat smile ignites a frazzled fire of nerves in my belly that slowly tingle throughout my limbs. Flustered, I turn and toss a final tin of deviled ham into my pack, then try to squeeze past him. Urlick steps to the side, blocking my path.

“Can I help you?” I say, growing more and more anxious, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling.

“I dunno”—he whispers—“maybe?” His lips sneer into an awkward sort of smile and the fire in my belly surges. He pinches up even closer, his hot breath falling in lazy sweeps across my chest. What is this? What’s he doing? Why is he acting so gooney? He’s never stood this close to me before, not even in the elevator shaft, when clearly there was a need to. Clearly, there is no need for him to do so now. I swallow.

“Are you all right?” I say, bosoms heaving.

“Never better.” Urlick smirks. The heat between us grows unbearably delicious. Perspiration dots my brow.

Urlick reaches back and kicks the door shut and my stomach lurches. My heart skips a beat. My skin tingles as though I’ve been brushed all over by a feather. I’m both queasy and exhilarated at the same time. He reaches for me cradling my face in his hands and my blood thickens, coursing like sugary syrup through my veins. “What is this? What do you think you’re doing—?”

“You talk too much, you know that?” he whispers.

“I wha—”

Palming my back he pulls me to him. My breasts mash to his chest. He’s going to kiss me. Kiss me. Me. My pulse flashes in my wrists.

Bending his head, he parts he boysenberry lips and I gasp, breathing in the sweet scent of the peppermint tea that lingers on his breath as he lowers his mouth toward mine…

…and then just as sudden his head snaps back.

Light blinds my eyes.