Page 15 of The Infinite Glade (The Maze Cutter #3)

“Coward.” She almost wanted to spit after that word, but she wouldn’t.

“And what a disgusting name for a place.” She rolled her eyes.

Times like this made her realize how truly far the Evolution had to travel.

Her Pilgrims in Alaska would have evolved, but the rest of humankind seemed far too easily fooled to ever dig themselves up out of their ignorance-cloaked existence.

She sighed with sadness then looked ahead for the distinctive pine trees signaling the Villa, all while reciting the digits and running new neural pathways in her brain.

1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 . . . She kept her eyes focused on the calm waters ahead.

“How many hundreds of soldiers took orders from a maddened Crank thinking he was a Master?” She laughed, with as much condescension as she could muster.

“Thousands,” Minho answered.

She stopped laughing. The orphan suddenly pulled her Pilgrim’s cloak and twisted it tight against her back until Alexandra felt something cold against her skin.

“For every hundred you might see there’s a thousand you won’t see coming,” he whispered into her ear.

Alexandra looked for the others but they weren’t in sight.

She tried to step forward but it only tightened the cloak around her neck.

“I could kill you right now with just one stab, right here.” He flattened the blade of his cold knife against her skin.

“Or I could barely pierce your kidney, giving you a slow and painful death.” He pivoted the blade so she could feel its point.

Minho twisted the cloak even tighter. He pushed the tip of the knife into her skin, the cold of the blade turned to heat.

Her mind instantly went back to the pain she’d felt when Nicholas first brought her to St. Petersburg.

The process to become righteous , he’d called it.

Removing all the toxins that she had knowingly and unknowingly ingested through her mouth, her nose, and skin over the years.

Only the pain she’d felt in her kidneys from that removal of the unrighteous could compare to Minho’s blade, now.

The Goddess reached for the captain's wheel. “The others . . . they’ll revolt.” She choked the words out.

“They’ve traveled so far to see me, to be a part of the Cure .

. .” She struggled for each breath as the cloak squeezed her neck.

The soldier twisted it ever-more tighter and whispered into her ear. “They’d get over it quicker than you’d think.”

Alexandra couldn’t help but smirk in a way, at how easily the one they called Minho could kill her, but decidedly didn’t.

Something about him reminded her of a young Mikhail, and instead of being threatened by him, she respected the orphan.

Unlike Mikhail, maybe this boy was deserving of his name: Minho.

A name that carried a lot of weight, a lot of history.

Perhaps Alexandra finally had an equal.

Someone not so precious and fragile about life and death.

But one who could guard hers when needed.

And in time . . . she could train Minho to join her. She hadn’t anticipated losing her Evolutionary Guard, the Pilgrims who adored her, and even the ones who feared her. Minho twisted the cloak, the fabric impossibly tighter than before. Maybe he’d slice her head clean off.

She cleared her throat and whispered, “You won’t kill me. You’re too curious.” She reached to pull at the neck of her cloak and free her airways.

“I know all I need to know about you.” He didn’t give with the chokehold.

“Oh, but I have so much more to teach you about yourself . . . ” She pushed out each word without being able to take a breath back in.

Minho finally released her with a shove.

The Goddess smirked again. “So, you’ll join me . . .” The soldier, the children, even the one they called Roxy, would soon learn the true lessons of the Godhead. The Flaring Discipline be damned, Alexandra would rebuild her followers and save the path of the Evolution.

Follower by follower.

City by city.

Continent by continent.

The world, Evolved, forever.

“Tell me the truth.” Ximena lifted Cian’s crossbow that she had grabbed in a fit of frustration and held it tight against Erros’ throat.

It was way heavier than it looked but she worked to hold it steady.

One flick of her wrist and the arrow would go straight through his neck to the other side. “Tell me!”

Cian stood slowly, defenseless. “Let him go, and we’ll leave you alone for good.”

“Ximena, hold on now . . .” Frypan walked back into view with Jackie and Isaac behind. “Now just wait a minute, they filled our bellies, and this is no way to treat someone who . . .”

“Who worked with Annie Kletter?” she asked Frypan. Why wasn’t he more upset at what they said? “They’re telling you that your whole life is a lie!” She thought Frypan of all people would empathize with her but he was just like Carlos. When people got older, they got too wise and set in their ways.

“Cian . . .” Erros whispered from behind Ximena’s aim of the crossbow. His pupils darted to the corner of his eyes.

“Look . . . Ximena, we know how you feel,” Cian pleaded, but knowing how she felt was near impossible. Adults in her Village always said things like that, but how could they know how she felt?

“Were you the only child born in your whole Village? No. Because you have a brother.” Ximena’s arm muscles burned with the weight of the weapon but she tightened her grip.

“I was studied by the Villa my whole life. And Kletter killed one of my only friends when she shot my mom.” Saying it all together like that, her life really did sound more like a curse than a miracle.

“Kletter she . . . eh, stuff it. She murdered our mom, too.” Cian lowered his arms. Wilted right before her eyes.

“We think. We can’t prove it, but we’re pretty sure.

And we owe it to our mom, our whole family .

. . to keep trying to finish what Kletter and the others started.

Not for Kletter, hell no, but for all the sacrifices made. ”

La familia , Ximena thought.

“Mi familia es mia fuerza y ??mi debilidad,” Cian said, as if he could read Ximena’s thoughts or sense her thoughts’ frequencies.

She lowered the crossbow. Her muscles unwound in tension. “My family is my strength and also my weakness . . .” she said reverently. Isaac stepped in and removed the weapon from her hand. She didn’t resist.

“There we go . . .” Isaac slowly handed the bow back to Cian.

“Flare me to hell!” Erros ducked away from Ximena and rubbed his neck. “Toss me a coltsfoot!” he shouted to Cian.

“Kletter was the worst. I get it,” Cian said before tossing something small over to his brother. “We’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” He leaned his crossbow against the tree behind him.

The truth.

Ximena just wanted the truth.

It’s all that ever mattered to Abuela, and Ximena needed to find the truth before she could return home to her family. Carlos would probably get back before Ximena and tell Abuela all the worst things that happened. But as long as Ximena traveled with the truth, she could go home again.

“The Cure . . .” She hated using that word , “I know it’s not what these people and the Godhead want everyone to believe it is. I know it’s not. Tell me what it’s really for.” She’d been so tense that she couldn’t feel her legs, but she wasn’t about to sit back down.

Erros snapped a curt answer. “It’s exactly what you think! A cure for people who need it!” He finally stopped rubbing his throat and lit something that looked like one of Annie Kletter’s herbal cigars.

“?Mentira!” Ximena said.

“It’s who it’s for . . .” Cian finally admitted. “It’s who the Cure is for that you deserve to know . . . you all deserve to know.” He pointed a single finger past Ximena. Abuela always made sure Ximena never did things like point fingers; it was rude , she’d say.

“Especially you deserve it.” Ximena’s eyes followed Cian’s finger all the way to Frypan, who looked just as surprised as anyone else that Cian was pointing at him .

“Why me?” Frypan asked, his voice very hesitant to come out.

Cian nodded, somberly. “It’s your family, Mr. Frypan. It’s your family who needs the Cure . . .”

“Frypan?” Isaac had a terrible feeling, and it wasn’t just from his leg, shaking with pain.

“But we’re your family . . .” Jackie whispered as she looked up at their beloved and cherished Old Man Frypan.

“Of course you are.” Frypan wrapped his arm around Jackie.

“And whatever these boys say . . . won’t change that .

. . but hell . . .” He stabbed his walking stick into the ground.

“Ximena’s near boiling over this, and if she’s strong enough to hear whatever these two knuckleheads have to say about the past and Kletter bringing us all over here, then so are we. ” He looked to Jackie. “Good that?”

Jackie took her time before slowly nodding. “Good that . . .”

Old Man Frypan, Glader of Old, walked back into the full light of Cian and Erros’ fire. He and all the rest of them were ready to listen. To learn. To decide what they believed and what they did not.

Isaac sat down next to Ximena, right beside the backpack that held the Cure. Just in case she did anything else crazy. Just in case.