Page 7

Now that I’d finally found a way to keep the conversation moving with companionable ease, another hour passed by without any notice. Genie loved hearing about the monsters, and I had plenty to say about them. Indeed, it seemed as though Genie not only had a startling effect on the function of my mind, but on the usual rules of time itself. Minutes felt like seconds, and two hours in her company seemed like no time at all. But the hour was growing late—already half-past ten—and I knew the moment we would part ways, at least for today, was fast approaching.

“When do we get to eat?” Genie poked her head around the side of an orb containing a cluster of hobgoblins, squat, gnarled-faced beings with skin that looked like tree bark. They had foul tempers and even fouler body odor, which was luckily masked by the glass orb. But even they were beautiful to me, in their own fashion.

I frowned. “Pardon?”

“We’ve fed all of the beasties, but when do we get to eat? I haven’t had anything since lunch. My stomach is going to start digesting itself, at this rate.” She rubbed her abdomen, which released a formidable gurgle. The sound threw out any ideas I might have had that it was an excuse for us to have dinner together.

“I don’t really have anything here. But we could—” My throat tightened up as I considered suggesting that I cook her something in my apartment.

She smiled, stepping closer. “We could what?”

“Uh… we could find something? The Banquet Hall will be shut, but the kitchenettes are always well stocked.” I wanted to smack myself silly for not going with my first instinct. It was just dinner, no worse than a friend suggesting a bite at home.

She looked away, toward the Repository window. She seemed to do that a lot when she came here, and I’d grown accustomed to her striking profile. No, not accustomed… rather, I’d started to watch for it. She never looked more at peace than when she was looking out that window. It was one of the best views in the Institute. The panes of the window ran all along the far wall, floor to ceiling. Constellations twinkled in the night sky, although it was still fairly light out thanks to the summer’s long days and the shining full moon.

“Hot chips,” she said absently.

“Come again?”

She glanced back at me. “I want fried goodness. There’s always a food van at the car park on the cliff path, and they won’t be bombarded by the pub crew for a few more hours.” She stared down at her outfit. “If you give me five minutes to change in your study, we can go.”

She didn’t give me time to argue. Plucking up her backpack, she sprinted across the marble floor and disappeared inside my study. Meanwhile, I stood by the hobgoblins like a prize lemon, marveling at how easily she’d arranged a non-date. Truth be told, my stomach had started to growl, and the thought of crisp, fluffy-centered chips certainly made my mouth water. I patted my pockets, making sure I had enough Euros for both of us. She might have brought up the idea, but I wanted to be the one to pay. Plus, if she protested, I could say it was compensation for the help she’d given me this evening.

A few minutes later, she reappeared in leggings and a sweater. The bagginess of the latter was incredibly cute. She looked like a hamster in a ball of cotton wool. I smiled, feeling less bad about my own casual attire. Maybe it was better like this, with no pressure to get dressed up or eat somewhere fancy. No pressure to call it a date. We were just two friends going for a nighttime walk to get a snack.

“I dumped my bag in there.” She pointed back at the study. “I’ll have to pick it up later.”

A reason to see me again, maybe? I held onto the thought. It wasn’t as though Genie was a stranger to the Repository, but she usually brought Persie with her. I enjoyed Persie’s company, of course, but I’d take as much time alone with Genie as I could get.

I shrugged. “No problem.”

“Come on, then, before I turn cannibal on you.” She shocked me by weaving her arm through mine and dragging me bodily toward the exit. Maybe she’d realized that I was hopeless at romance and was taking the initiative. It was very… her. Bold, determined, utterly baffling.

“Apparently human meat is rather like pork,” I said, before I could stop myself. I should’ve kept my mouth shut until I was prepared to construct a normal sentence.

She barked a laugh. “You’re a strange one, Nathan O’Hara.”

Do you like strange? I cast her a side-glance, but all I could see was her smile, which masked any other emotions she might have been feeling. Still, I supposed it was a good sign that she hadn’t run off yet.

“Yes, I guess I am.” I matched her step as we walked through the Institute’s quiet hallways. I kept expecting her to take her arm away since we were in such a public domain, but she held on contentedly. It felt nice to have her so close, to the point where I could easily forget that someone might see us. Maybe I didn’t care if they did. “Are you pescatarian? I don’t want you to, um, you know, think I’m stereotyping or anything, but I know a lot of Atlanteans prefer seafood.”

Genie arched an eyebrow at me. “Have you met a lot of Atlanteans?”

“Well, no. But I’ve read a lot.”

“I’m not.” She chuckled, fixing her gaze forward again. “I think I’ve been topside too long. My dad depends on seafood, though—as traditional about his food as he is with everything else.” Her smile faded and her forehead creased at the mention of her dad.

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’d longed to tell her so, ever since I’d seen her in that trance state in Fergus’s realm. But what right did I have to meddle in her personal affairs? She would make her decision, one way or another, if or when her father made demands of her. I only hoped that, if that time ever came, she would be as brave as she was now.

I decided to shift the mood. “Do you think your mum would’ve liked the surface world?”

“Nah, she was a water baby through and through. At least, that’s the image I get of her.” Genie’s expression changed subtly; her eyes stayed sad while her lips smiled again. “And she never got to see all the bad stuff that went down in Atlantis. Don’t get me wrong, the rot had already set in, but everyone thought they were in a utopia until… well, until the truth came out. They were living in a dying world. But I think she liked it there. I know she loved her job, my dad, her friends, her family, her life. If she came topside, she’d have been one of those hippies living in a cabin by the beach. Somewhere so close to the ocean that you could roll to it, you know?”

I discreetly pulled her closer to my side. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It doesn’t, does it?” She grinned up at me. “Anyway, she’d probably be making waves in the Hunter Hall of Fame if she were still around. There are creatures in Atlantis’s Bestiary that would make your eyes pop out. And she caught a lot of them.”

“Do you think you were destined to follow in her footsteps?” I realized I was being a bit Spanish Inquisition with our conversation, but I wanted to know everything about her. And I doubted she had secrets to keep buried, like I did.

She nodded slowly. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted it until I passed the exam. Honestly, I don’t know where I’d be if Persie hadn’t suggested coming here. Maybe I’d have picked another vocation. Maybe I’d still have wound up in this field. But the moment I got in, it was like the stars were aligning. It felt right.” She paused. “I’m not a massive believer in fate, but this feels close to it.”

“It can be frightening to think we have no control over what happens to us,” I said, mulling her words over. “But I think fate comes with variables. I don’t think it’s one road from start to finish. I think it’s more like a road with smaller paths branching off. Some of those paths might lead to the same ending, while others might not. Does that make sense?”

“Weirdly, yes.” She eyed me with an observant curiosity, as if she were seeing something new about me.

Paranoid, I lifted a hand to my cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to be a philosopher.”

“I’m not sure that I am,” I admitted, unsure if that was what she wanted to hear. “But I’m a researcher and a scientist—I like to find logic and answers in everything. True, that’s generally based around monsters, but I’m intrigued by humanity, too. And fate is a concept that’s been around for a very long time, so perhaps that’s evidence that there is some truth to it.” She leaned closer as I said this, the two of us almost sandwiched together as we headed out into the night.

She peered up at me, one eyebrow slightly bent in confusion. “You’ve got layers, O’Hara.”

“An onion of sorts, or perhaps a cabbage?” I felt the cool breeze touch my face and wished I’d brought a sweater of my own. Irish summers had their balmy moments, occasionally competing with Mediterranean temperatures, but the heat rarely clung on into the night. I’d have to keep Genie close. Purely to stay warm, of course.

She tilted her chin up and drew a deep, deliberate breath. There wasn’t much in the way of light pollution out here on the island and the constellations were in full bloom, glittering against the bruised, purplish sky. A ghoulish impression, perhaps, but the true darkness of autumn and winter were not yet upon us. I felt happy—it was just a light summer night in the clean countryside air, with the perfect company.

“Let’s go with cabbage. Onions make you cry,” she murmured.

I hope I never make you cry, Genie. With her tugging gently on my arm to keep us moving, we cut through the gardens to the back gate and headed out across the rolling fields, veering right so we’d meet the cliff path. For the first time since she’d decided to stay in the Repository, I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter. I was happy just to walk with her on my arm, enjoying the whisper of the waves susurrating against the coves below and the prospect of a warm snack to soothe my growling stomach.

We were no more than a third of the way to the public car park when Genie suddenly stopped. Her body language transformed from relaxed to alert in the space of a second, and she yanked her arm away from mine. She whipped around, eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the shadows around us.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

Her forehead crinkled, her Esprit—a barrette of crossed silver feathers—glowing faintly. “I’m picking up bad vibes. Spidey senses tingling.”

“What do you mean?” As far as I knew, she didn’t have Clairvoyant abilities. But something had evidently spooked her.

“I don’t know.” She turned in a circle, her expression grim. “It’s like an echo of… badness. Footprints of something nasty. Not literal footprints, but… a residual horror. Like something bad happened to someone out here.”

I patted my pockets and took out the specterglass that I’d taken to carrying around. “Has this ‘Spidey sense’ happened to you before?”

She shook her head. “Not like this. I get feelings sometimes, usually when I’m super focused. But this is… different. It’s a clearer sensation.”

Hmm… I can’t feel anything. I scanned the area, looking for the red and white mist that would have suggested a local spirit. But I found only red-tinged darkness. “It doesn’t look like we’ve got any ghosts or spirits loitering around. Did you hear something, maybe?”

“No. I’m just… feeling it. It’s like… a silent cry for help.” Genie darted forward, running along the cliff path, her head scanning left and right. I raced after her, trying to help her look, but without any idea what we were searching for. Part of me wondered if she’d just heard a seagull or a fox and taken it for a scream.

After another 200 yards or so, we reached a lookout point. I came here quite often, especially when I happened to be struggling with a research project or a paper, to sit on the lone bench and think. And though I sensed nothing amiss, Genie appeared to. She stood as still as a statue, her eyes closed. Evidently trying to gauge more from our surroundings by focusing.

“What are you? Why am I feeling like this?” she whispered.

A flash of something pale from beneath the black-painted planks of the bench caught my attention. Three tiny figures, cowering behind the overgrown weeds that tufted up. One edged forward cautiously, her small figure trembling as she peeked out from behind the bench leg. I knew her instantly: Boudicca.

“Genie!” I shouted, running to the pixies. Kneeling to their level, I scooped Boudicca into my hands. Her body shook violently, and all the color had drained out of her. Her wings had turned a worrying shade of gray, and her bioluminescent lights looked like miniature stars that were about to sputter out.

Genie appeared beside me a second later, bundling Cynane and Spartacus into her arms. Unlike Boudicca, they couldn’t even hold their heads up. They just lay in Genie’s grasp, spasming and snuffling as though they were in immense pain.

“What’s wrong with them?” she gasped, her voice tight with panic. “And where the hell is Persie?”

Boudicca managed a pitiful squeak and lifted a weak hand toward a row of spiny bushes on the opposite side of the lookout spot. I looked in the direction of her gesture, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They were just gorse bushes. Still, something terrible had obviously happened here. And, between the weakened pixies and Genie’s ominous feeling, that something probably had to do with Persie’s absence.