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He shakes his head. Again, his movements are jerky, strange.

My lower lip trembles. “Thenwhy? All I want is for us to be together again.” I don’t have to remember everything to know that’s true. I feel it deep in my gut, deep in my bones, deep in my heart. We are meant to be together. “Don’t you want that too?”

He lowers his head. When he raises it again, his mouth moves behind the slit in his mask, like he’s trying to speak—but no sound comes out. A half-second’s delay later, a burst of static comes through the intercom.

I shake my head, helpless and frustrated. “I can’t hear you.”

Dorian leans against the window so that his breath fogs up the glass from the other side. He raises one long, gloved finger and begins to write. One word.

D-A-N-G-E-R.

I glance back at the camera and angle my body so I’m blocking the word from view.

“What danger?” I ask, voice low and urgent. “I’m in danger? You’re in danger? Is it the MRF?”

He nods after a moment. I forgot about the delay in his reactions, so it’s impossible to tell which question he’s answering, and we’re almost out of time. Ezra could walk through the door at any second.

“Just tell me what I should do,” I plead.

He wipes the word, breathes again, and writes another message.

R-U-N.

I’m still standing in shock when the door opens and Ezra comes in. My head whips toward him automatically, and I see Dorian disappear out of the corner of my eye. The word—that damning word—lingers on the glass.

But Ezra looks only at me, concern softening his features as he takes in the tears still spilling down my face.

“Did something happen?” he asks. “Did he—”

He starts to turn to the viewing window, but I throw my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. He freezes before awkwardly patting me on the back. “Daisy… Um…”

I stare over his shoulder at the fogged-up window and cry into his shirt until the letters have faded from view. Then I pull back and wipe my eyes, sniffling.

“Sorry,” I say. “This is so hard.”

This time, I let him turn to look at the viewing panel. “Still nothing?”

“Still nothing,” I lie. “I don’t know why he’s hiding from me.”

Chapter Thirteen

When I next go to the MRF, I find Ezra waiting in the observation room, staring through the window. Dorian’s radio is playing a soft, sad song I don’t recognize.

I stop beside Ezra. “Anything today?”

“Well, he certainly seems to like the radio. I’m glad I replaced it for him,” Ezra says. He turns away, heading to our table and the metronome. “Ready to go again?”

“Yes. I think I’m going to try to find a later memory. Our teenage years, maybe.”

Maybe that will help me understand why Dorian is so different now. Why he’s refusing to appear to us even though yesterday he proved he can, and why he gave me that ominous warning. Something important must have changed, and the reason must be buried somewhere in my mind.

Ezra nods. “It’s your call.”

I study him across the table as he sets up the metronome and the recorder. I can’t help but wonder if Dorian’s warning was abouthim. Does he refuse to appear in front of Ezra because the other psychic poses some kind of threat? Yet I can’t quite bring myself to believe it. Everything Ezra has done so far has shown that we’re in this together. He’s risking his job and his safety for me. In that case, I should probably tell him about Dorian’s warning. But I’m afraid he’ll shut down our experiments if I do, and I don’t think Dorian has time to spare.

I refuse to run away like Dorian wants me to, even if I don’t fully understand what kind of danger he’s warning me about. I’m not going to leave him again—especially after I saw how weak he was yesterday. I need to find a way to help him, and soon. Right now, my memories are the only lead we have.

“Ready?” Ezra asks, jerking me out of my thoughts.