Lumière (The Illumination Paradox) (42 page)

“A miniature drawing.” Urlick gasps. “Of the Core—” He stares at me.

“Who drew this?”

“My father.”

“Why?”

“Fan the pages again, only squeeze it tighter.”

He squints. “Find me,” he reads.

“I discovered it as I stuffed it in my boot back at the Compound, but I had no idea what the drawing was or what it meant. Until now.”

He looks at me, astonished. “Go get the other journal. The one that contained your father’s note.”

F
orty eight

Eyelet

I disappear into the hallway and race to the bedroom, pulling the journal labeled
Noir
from the depths of my pack and fly back up the hall.

“Let me see.” Urlick fans the pages as I stare over his shoulder. A drawing of the Illuminator appears—the small one at first, then the giant one next to it. Bolts of lightning connect them. In between the machines, the hands of two men struggle over a giant key. Beneath are the words...
God be with me.

I gasp at the sight of them. My father’s words. From his final note. It’s true. What I believed is true.

“That’s what my nursemaid meant,” Urlick utters, his eyes fixed forward on nothing in particular, “when she told the lawyer on her deathbed, I couldn’t be returned to my father because he’d become undone.” He looks up at me, tears in his eyes. “He was Mad. That’s why he hated me so much. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t my fault. It was his.”

I place a hand on his shoulder, and he shrugs it away. He turns, a new light in his eyes. “This is why Smrt didn’t shoot us back in Brethren.”

“What?”

“
This
is why we’re not dead.” He shakes the journal. “Smrt knew if he just waited long enough, we’d solve the puzzle and lead him to the prize possession he’s been looking for all these years:
this
machine. Not the one in the warehouse in Gears! This one!”

An envelope falls from the center of the journal, drifting slowly to the floor. I bend to pick it up, shocked to see my name written across the front of it. “For Eyelet.” Written in the hand of my father.

I rip it open, and read it aloud:

“In regard to my recent findings—the discovery of residual amounts of radiate particulate matter lingering in the hair and nail samples of the human specimens I’ve exposed to the light, up to a month after their exposure. I have feverishly been pursuing an antidote, in the hope of de-radiating my victims. The formula for which, you will find encrypted here on the final pages of this journal.”

I look up, and Urlick frantically flips to the final page, running a finger down the equation.

“It should also be noted, large sums of radiate particulate matter were found in the wall and floor sample scrapings of the laboratory where I took the photographs. I also found readings far above acceptable levels in the groundwater and earth surrounding my laboratory, as far as twenty meters out in all directions.”

Urlick looks up.

“No wonder he so feared your father’s plan,” I say.

“Though I’ve not yet had the chance to test the serum, I believe it to be of sound and trustworthy science. Unfortunately, to date I’ve only had the chance to produce a single vial, enough to de-radiate just one human subject. You will find the vial in the possession of my wife, one, Lila Isadore Elsworth.”

“My mother.” I take a breath.

“Should anything happen to me, I hereby solemnly request, the vial be used for the preservation of my daughter, Eyelet Emiline Elsworth,”—
I gasp
—“who ranks among the afflicted—”

“Afflicted?” Urlick stalks toward me. “What does he mean, afflicted?”

I ignore the question, and keep reading.

“The vial is infused with a de-ionized arc from the cathode ray, vacuum-packed under glass. It doubles as a key to unlock the doors behind which you will find the machine.”

“The pendant,” I say. Urlick’s gaze falls to my neck. “No wonder it behaved the way it did. It
is
the key to my future. To everyone’s future. Just like mother said.”

“What?” Urlick says.

“Those were the last words she said to me as she lay dying. She told me never to give it over to anyone for any reason. Now I understand why.”

“And your father, why did he insist you take the serum? What did he mean by afflicted?”

I bite my lip and fall silent, studying the toes of my boots. “I’ve wanted to tell, I was just so afraid—”

“Tell me what?”

I twist my fingers in my hand. “I suffer from mind struggles, Urlick. A form of mild insanity. I’m troubled with seizures. Much like Cordelia. Only mine are not quite as severe. Sometimes they’re very small, but other times they’re large. I start to shake and then I’m taken under. That’s what happened to me the other day, in the balloon. That’s why you couldn’t wake me up—”

“Is that all?”

My chin springs up.

“What do you mean is that all? Isn’t that enough?”

“Why, it’s nothing,” Urlick laughs, tucking the hair behind my ear. “Just a minor imperfection.”

“It is?”

“Certainly.” He grins.

“So it doesn’t matter to you?”

“Why would it?” He reaches for me, cupping my face in his hands. “You’re perfect, Eyelet, just as you are.”

“You’re serious?” I say.

“Have I ever been anything else?”

I laugh and fall against his chest, my arms wrapped tightly about his waist. He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head, and I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my heart—an anchor I’ve carried since birth. I cling to him, letting the years of heartache melt away, his hands stroking my back. How many years had I believed I would never be loved, never accepted, all because I was different? And now, our differences have brought us together. I couldn’t be a luckier girl.

“Your father.” Urlick pulls back, concern in his eyes. “How many times did he expose you to the Ray?”

“Just the once. When I was very young. Never again,” I say. “According to his note, he realized his mistake and ceased experimenting on me immediately. Which, I realize now, I misinterpreted as abandonment. I’ve hated him, you know. All these years, I thought he’d betrayed me. When in truth, what he did, he did out of love.” I pinch my lips together, fighting back a cry.

Urlick wraps his arms around me, pressing another kiss to my head. “It’s all right.” He thumbs a tear from my cheek. “You were young, you didn’t know. But now that you do,” he picks my necklace up off my chest, “you need to do as he says and drink this immediately.”

“No.” I snap back, shaking my head. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? You heard what he said. You could die otherwise. You’ve been exposed to the Ray.”

“I couldn’t live with myself knowing I drank the only antidote. You heard him. He said there were others.”

“But—”

“I promise you I’ll drink it, as soon as we find a way to duplicate the formula.”

“And if we can’t? What then?”

“Don’t talk like that, of course we can. Look at all the things we’ve done together.” I take his hand in mine, the necklace clasped tightly between our fingers. “Think about it. If it takes one vial of serum to de-radiate a human, what could a thousand, maybe a million vials do? Perhaps we can produce enough antidote to reverse the effects the Night of the Great Illumination has had on the rest of our world.”

“Such an arresting premise…”

Our heads snap around to the sound of his voice. Smrt emerges from the shadows, pistol in his hand. He cocks the gun and points it at us.

“…Too bad it’ll never have a chance to come to fruition.”

F
orty nine

Eyelet

Urlick steps out in front of me. Smrt closes the gap between us. The sides of his trench coat flap as he stalks toward us, ebony buttons glinting silvery-white.

Flossie trots along behind him, like the dog she is, her eyes stretching up then down the frame of the Illuminator in fearful, giddy awe.

“How did you know where to find us?” Urlick breathes.

“You weren’t difficult to find.” Smrt grins. “I simply followed the bread crumbs you left for me.” He pulls the remains of one of Urlick’s arsenal gadgets from his pocket. “Ingenious, really. It’ll be a shame to waste such a brilliant mind. Though not brilliant enough to realize he shouldn’t leave a trail of these,” he spins the gadget on the end of his finger, “not to mention the dead bodies. Oh, and the cycle was a rather nice touch. You
are
aware that thing follows you around like a dog?”

“Bertie,”
Urlick mumbles.

Smrt smirks, then inspects his nails. “At any rate, it all made for wonderfully easy tracking. The bridge was a bit of a trick, I must admit, but then the cycle sniffed out this.” He holds up my torn piece of petticoat. The one I scripted my father’s message on using ashes. It must have dropped from my pocket as we fled the Turned. “Now”—he balls it in his fist “—shall we get down to business?”

Urlick’s eyes are wild, his teeth clenched. “Go ahead, tell us. What is it you really want?”

Smrt snorts, jutting his neck out over the stone floor. “What I’ve always wanted.” He lowers his voice. “Power
. Ultimate
power.”

His eyes flick to the center of the room. He spins on his heels, charging toward the Illuminator, tossing his gun off to Flossie along the way.

She fumbles with it, then points it at my head, her hands trembling.

Smrt strips his gloves from his hand, running an adoring finger over the rim of the machine’s giant lens. “It appears I have it now, don’t I?” Smrt turns and grins. “And to think your father
was
right, Eyelet.” He leans back, elbows on the rail and flips his chin. “His father
was
a madman…” Urlick’s body tenses next to me. I squeeze his hand to hold him back. “…But an incredibly fine and innovative one, lucky for me!” Smrt laughs.

Flossie's eyes move over me, and her finger twitches on the pistol’s trigger.

“Ironic, isn’t it?”—Smrt’s eyes flash—“How everything in science created for the purpose of
good
ends up having an equally ill-intended use? Case in point: your father creates a seemingly harmless picture box”—he nods at me and then turns to Urlick—“which
your
father then turns into the ultimate killing machine.”

“How dare you speak that way of his intentions?” Urlick scowls.

“Oh, come now, you’ve read her father’s notes. I know you have. I listened.” Smrt clatters back across the room. “Your father’s intentions may not have been purposely ill-intended, but he sought power just the same. What is the saying? Ultimate power corrupts absolutely, or some such silly thing. Nevertheless, here we are and there it sits.” He tosses a hand back toward the machine. “Just imagine the price countries will pay to get their hands on a weapon of such massive destruction.”

“You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” I step around Urlick. “How dangerous this science is.” I grit my teeth. “You knew and you did
nothing?
”

“Wrong.” Smrt grins. “I knew and I did
everything.
Everything in my power to preserve the science, while your father fought to have it put to bed.”

“You’re the reason he was demoted.”

“Your father was the cause of his own demotion, the
nizzie
fool! Always bringing to light the machine’s harmful side, instead of championing its endless possibilities.”

“That was because my father had a conscience!”

“Oh you think so, do you?” Smrt snaps. “Your father promised me a cure for my palsy if only I helped to finance his machine. I handed over the money, but no cure ever came. Instead, he paid me off in prototypes, telling me I could keep the revenue from their sales. I took the money and planned to build a bigger one, a better one, something stronger, more capable of mastering a cure. But then my
daft
assistant Mrs. Benson up and died and ruined everything! Rumors spread across the countryside, claiming she died of her repeat exposure to the Ray. People began calling for the Academy to abandon the science, for all the machines to be destroyed. So, I volunteered to perform Mrs. Benson’s autopsy, hoping to quell the gossip, during which I realized your father had been right.

The tumor that stilled Mrs. Benson’s lungs was, in fact, due to exposure to the machine. A giant mass of particulate radiate matter the size of a baseball lay lodged in her lungs. The machine was in fact
killing
people.