Everland (26 page)

Her glassy gaze flicks toward me, wide with surprise. “Other … children?” she repeats, her voice trailing off.

I pull the military tags from my pocket and hold them up so that she can read the etching engraved into the metal. The name
G. DARLING
dangles from the chain before her beautiful eyes.

The Professor gasps. She takes the chain, wraps her fingers around the tags, and holds them close to her chest. “Where did you find these?”

“Let’s just say it appears Joanna is not your only child,” I say.

Tears spill from her eyes, streaking her pink cheeks. “Gwen’s alive?” she asks, searching my face for answers.

Gwen. The last time I saw her she was chasing Pete’s shadow just outside of Everland.

The Professor turns, clutching the tags close. “Only Gwen was old enough to receive all three doses. She is the true Immune,
if
she survived the bombs.”

Again she appears to search for affirmation of her daughter’s survival in my expression. I give her nothing. My thumb grazes her cheek and she pulls away, clearly disgusted. She is truly beautiful, exquisite, with her soft locks and bright eyes. Perhaps I’ve been looking at her all wrong. Although she embodies everything a mother is, there is something lovely about her. I’ve never received the love of a mother; I never will. However, with humanity on the brink of extinction, perhaps she is more than that.

“What would you say if I offered you a partnership? You and I, together, ruling more than just that measly country my mother controls. No more running from Germany or living in what is left of England. We could be royalty. We could rule the world,” I say.

“Why would I ever align with you?” the Professor asks, her bottom lip trembling.

I tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Professor, do you believe in ghost stories?”

“I don’t understand,” she says, fumbling over her words.

I pull the Professor into me, my lips nearly touch hers. Her heart beats rapidly against my chest. “I believe my pal Pete has rescued another child. Little does he know she is not at all the orphan she claims she is,” I whisper so close to her ear I can smell the hint of lavender.

Gently, I escort her through the door, letting it slam shut behind us. I take her hand in mine. She tries to pull away, but I grip it tightly. “It’s a lovely night for a family reunion, isn’t it?”

B
ella! Bella, talk to me!” Pete says, jostling Bella awake.

“Pete, it hurts,” Bella whispers, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she holds her hand up, revealing blood-soaked bandages around her fingers.

He spins toward Lily. “What have you done to her?”

With shock masking her face, Lily takes a step back. “I found her like this. She almost plunged to her death off Big Ben. I saved her.”

Pete whips his gaze back to Bella.

Lily joins him hesitantly. “She is the worst I have seen in a long time and the Professor has not been in tonight. I’ve been waiting for her to bring in the medicines.”

Pete snatches up his rucksack and pulls out the needle Doc gave him earlier from the side pocket. He uncaps it with his teeth and sits on Bella’s cot.

“Wait! We should consult with the Professor,” Lily protests, but she is too late.

Pete pauses for a split second and then he plunges the needle into Bella’s shoulder. She grimaces in pain. Pete throws the needle in the sink. “Bella? Bella, please talk to me.” She rolls over instead of answering. Her body trembles as she quietly sobs.

“What was that you gave her?” Lily says, pushing Pete away from Bella.

Pete’s shoulders stiffen and his green eyes grow hard. “Let’s hope it’s the antidote.”

I sit on Bella’s bed. “Bella?” I say. She looks at me, her black eye makeup streaking her cheeks with dark-tinted tears. I place my hand on the inside of her wrist. Blood pulses through her veins against my fingertips, as steady as a summer rainfall, a heartbeat that now contains my white blood cells. “You’re going to be okay,” I say, smiling at her.

Bella nods, and the tightness in her shoulders melts into the mattress. She takes a breath and I feel her pulse slow, see her breathing return to regular, deep breaths. “Gwen,” she says in a small voice. “I almost had him. I had Hook in my sight, but …”

“Bella, what were you thinking?” Pete says in a voice so loud it reverberates in the small room. “No one goes into Everland alone. No one! Especially not you! You could’ve been captured, or worse yet, killed.”

I glower at Pete, a silent warning for him to back off. Pickpocket taps him on the shoulder and nods toward the far end of the room. Pete steps back, tripping over Bella’s metal wings, and leans against a far wall, not saying anything more. It is then I notice the mangled copper and jagged film of her left wing. I suck in a breath, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. Her beautiful wings … broken. Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back as Bella’s fingers graze my arm.

“I thought if I could take him down, then maybe I could get Joanna, and no one else would have to risk their life,” she says, blinking with tired eyes. “I wanted to prove that I’m just as good as any Lost Boy.”

“Shh,” I say, taking a cool, wet cloth from Lily and brushing Bella’s forehead with it. “That was very brave, the bravest thing I’ve seen anyone do, but you don’t have to prove yourself. I knew you were extraordinary the first time I saw you.” Bella forces a small smile. “You need your rest,” I say.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispers. “I’m sorry about what I said. I don’t really hate you.” Bella closes her eyes.

“I know. Try to sleep now.” I lean down and embrace her, grateful for the opportunity to provide her comfort. Comfort I wish I had given Joanna the last time I saw her. I wish I could give it to her now. As my pulse slows, fatigue sets in, and I want to lie next to her to rest for just a while, but there’s no time for sleep. Not until Joanna is safe.

Mole looks worried. “Is she going to be all right?”

“I don’t know,” Doc says, starting to remove the bloody bandages from her hands. “When will the Professor be here?”

“She should have been here already,” Lily says, glancing at the delicate gold pocket watch hooked to a broken chain-linked belt. “It is not like her to be delayed like this. Something is wrong.”

“Then we should go find her,” I say, standing. “Bella needs help now. And Joanna is somewhere inside the palace.”

“We can’t do that,” Lily says, stripping her latex gloves from her hands and replacing them with black warrior gloves embellished in gold. “The door is locked from the inside of the lab and is covered by a cabinet. There is no way to get in there from this side without a key. Only the Professor can open the door.”

Standing, I turn to Pickpocket. “Can you get us inside?”

Pickpocket grins and pulls his lock-picking multitool from his pocket.

A wrinkle of curiosity forms on Lily’s brow.

“Show me the door,” Pickpocket says, extending a hand for her to lead the way.

“Mole, you stay here with Bella,” Pete says.

Doc continues to remove Bella’s bandages. “I’m staying here as well. I want to take a look at Bella’s hands.”

Mole bites his lip, suddenly appearing younger than his twelve years. I wrap my arms around him and lean my cheek on his tousled brown hair. “We won’t be long,” I reassure him. He squeezes his arms around my waist.

“Promise?” he whispers.

“I promise,” I say, kissing the top of his head. Again I feel the sudden pang of loss. I miss Mikey. I miss Joanna.

Lily motions for us to follow her and, with a gas lamp in her hand, she leads us to a walk-in closet on the far side of the room. Inside are metal shelves stacked with sheets, pillows, and other bedding. On the back side of the closet is a steel door much like the one at the entrance of the infirmary. Only this time there is a single slot for a key.

Pickpocket manipulates the tool into the lock, and within seconds the latch releases. “You’d think for a secret door in the palace, they’d have a harder lock to pick,” he says.

“Impressive,” Lily says. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Pickpocket places the tool in his breast pocket. “Let’s just say I’ve seen more than my share in the clink. You learn a thing or two during your stay,” he says, winking.

“Ah, I see. You’re one of those bad boys,” Lily says, winking back at him.

Pickpocket smirks, watching her with a dreamy countenance. I roll my eyes. Her smooth, exotic accent grates on my nerves as I watch Pickpocket practically melt in front of her.

Pete turns the knob. The door swings inward. A wooden wall blocks the entry into the room. Pete gives us an apprehensive glance before he places his hands on the wooden panel.

“Wait!” Lily whispers, stepping between Pete and the back of the cabinet. Her hand rests on his chest. Their faces are close enough that it would take only the slightest of movements for them to kiss. A stupid grin flashes across Pete’s face. I look away, frustrated with Lily’s flirtations, first with Doc, then Pickpocket, and now Pete. Next to Lily, who is flawlessly beautiful, clever, and exuberantly confident, I feel plain. She is everything I admire in Pete: selfless and willing to put her own needs aside to rescue strangers. I, on the other hand, have turned others away, even fought them over supplies. I wouldn’t blame Pete for choosing Lily over me. Worse yet, I ought to be worried about rescuing my sister instead of fussing over a boy.

“We need to be careful,” Lily continues. “The soldiers could walk in at any moment.”

I shove myself between Lily and Pete, slide the cabinet open just a crack, and peek through the opening. “I don’t see anyone in there, and we’re not going to get anywhere standing out here.”

Lily starts to protest, but I ignore her, heave the door open, and step through.

“You do know what the Captain will do to you if he discovers you in the palace?” Lily says from the doorway. She folds her arms across her chest, defiance radiating from her stern expression.

I mimic her stance, holding my ground. “No, but I don’t intend to find out,” I say a little too abrasively. “Pete, are you coming?”

Lily places her hand on the bronze hilt of her sword and hesitates. “If the Professor returns to the lab, more than likely she will be escorted by the Captain’s guards. I’m coming with you.” She pulls the blade from her belt.

Pete glances at the sword, its blade etched with intricate carvings. He whistles. “Now
that
is not a butter knife,” he says, pointing at Lily’s weapon.

Lily smiles brightly.

Another twinge of resentment prickles at me and my cheeks grow hot with jealousy.

“It’s almost as fine as those daggers Blade gave to you,” he says, smirking at me.

Reaching my hand out, I pull Pete into the room, feeling vindicated.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Pete asks in a quiet, mocking tone.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I retort.

I hesitate, stealing a glance at Lily. Her eyes dart from Pete to me, and she gives me a slight knowing look. Pete chuckles but lets me lead him into the lab. Pickpocket and Lily follow behind us.

The dimly lit room is empty other than a metal gurney and huge incinerator.

“This is the crematorium,” Lily says, nodding to the oven. “Follow me.”

She takes the lead, climbing two stairs at a time up a narrow concrete stairway. When we reach the top, we step into what looks like a doctor’s laboratory. It smells of disinfectant and something else, something floral and familiar. The white walls, tile, and counters give it a sterile appearance. Gadgets fill the room, each piece rigged with wheels, levers, gears, and pedals. Cabinets line the walls, revealing bottles, containers, bandages, and other medical supplies behind their glass doors. A gurney stands in the middle of the room, its sheets disheveled. Lying on the white pillow is a brass bracelet: buttons from a military uniform. My father’s uniform. Joanna’s bracelet.

The metal buttons clink as I pick up the band. I rub my thumb over the military insignia, remembering how brightly they shone on my father’s jacket, carefully cleaned and polished. My heart leaps at the sight of the tarnished buttons.

“Joanna’s been here,” I say, glancing around the room.

Pete rests a hand on my shoulder. “At least we know for sure she’s in the palace.”

“Or she
was
here,” Pickpocket says, peering into a glass cabinet.

I smell the faint hint of the lavender wafting from the sheets. Its scent reminds me of the lotion Joanna took from my mother’s room the night we left our home. “It was recent,” I say, scanning the room.

“Look at these supplies,” Pickpocket says. He pulls out his multitool and picks the cabinet lock with ease. Pete joins him, and together, they stash supplies in their rucksacks.

“What do you think you are doing?” Lily says indignantly. “Those are the Professor’s supplies.”

“Look,” Pete says, whirling around to her. “I have an entire city of kids I’m responsible for. We don’t have access to supplies like these.”

I step away from the cot, noticing the floral scent isn’t just on the bedding. Feeling like Mole, I follow the smell. I open the cabinets near the bed. They are full of linens and bandages.