“She didn’t ask for this,” I murmured, my heart heavy. Leviathan had wedged her between a rock and a hard place. And she only had me to protect her from the cage-happy ideas of everyone around her. But, if that sentence ever came down on her head, what would I actually be able to do about it? I had Atlantean mettle, sure, but against an army of Victorias, O’Hallorans, Charlottes, and the UCA… I’d be as helpless as my pal. And that scared the heck out of me.
Nathan put a tentative hand on my shoulder. “I know, and that’s the worst part about it. This is all new to her. She’s had no time to train or prepare. I’m not sure if there’s anyone alive who would’ve been able to make this transition smoother for her.” He took his hand away again and looked at it for a second. “But not everyone knows how to sympathize with that.”
“Like Charlotte, you mean?” The woman had gone from being my heroine to my nemesis in the space of twenty-four hours. For her to just corner Persie like that… It boiled my blood. I understood that she was worried about her friend, but Persie was my friend. And nobody did that to her. Nobody.
“She’s not thinking straight. Her best friend has vanished. I’m not siding with her, but be kind to her, if you can. She acted poorly, but can you say you wouldn’t have done the same?”
I shrugged. “I like to think I’d have been less of a cow.”
He laughed. “Then just do what you do so well and be there for Persie when she gets out. She’ll be shaken up, but it won’t end here. Charlotte has lit a powder keg of suspicion, and she’ll likely have a bone to pick with Persie about these pixies.”
One that would undoubtedly turn into a whole skeleton of trouble if a connection really existed between those creatures and Xanthippe’s disappearance.
Twelve
Persie
Silence stretched like taffy being pulled, sticky and terrifyingly mesmerizing. A power play of sorts, each of us trying not to break first. Victoria and I had been sitting quietly for five minutes, and she showed no signs of relenting. She just sat there, in her cream-leather, wingback armchair… watching me. It felt like a test, and my every move could give away valuable information.
I turned my nervous attention to the view. Gray rain pattered against the tall window, and I chased the droplets down the pane with my eyes. Beyond lay an expanse of emerald hills and drystone walls packed with pervasive olive-green moss, stark in contrast to the gloomy sky overhead—though the weather suited my mood perfectly.
There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution. Oscar Wilde might have been onto something there, even if Dorian Gray wasn’t exactly the best role model. Part of me felt like I might feel better if I spilled all the beans and got this exhausting mess off my chest once and for all. If it was just about the pixies, I probably would have. But I didn’t want to admit my guilt over the pixie debacle if it would instantly tie me, and them, to this missing girl. Not without solid evidence that they were involved, which I refused to believe.
“You may begin whenever you feel ready,” Victoria prompted. She’d broken the silence first, but it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like a warning: speak, or I’ll have no choice but to take your silence as culpability. That sort of thing.
I looked away from the window. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“There are a few less-intellectually-gifted students in this Institute, Persie, but you’re not one of them.” She leaned forward and steepled her fingers, the default setting for an adult with an axe to grind. “Xanthippe is missing, and there are extinct monsters loose in the Institute. They didn’t just wander in, Persie, and Xanthippe didn’t just wander out.”
I shrugged, picking at the hem of my sweatshirt. “She might have.”
“Then let’s set Xanthippe aside for a moment.” Victoria forced me to hold her intense gaze. I’d never seen eyes so dark, not up close. Dark eyes were usually brown, but her irises appeared to bleed directly out of her pupils. “The pixies, Persie. What do you know about them?”
“Uh… they’re rare.” I gulped loudly.
Victoria lifted a finger. “Not rare. Extinct. A subtle but important difference. One that you’re hopefully going to shed some light on. Any information, at this point, is vital.”
But they didn’t take her! I wanted to shout it until I turned blue in the face, but a nagging doubt held my tongue. I sat with the idea that they might’ve been capable for a second, trying to make sense of it. Perhaps it was a mischief that had gone too far, and they didn’t intend to hurt her. Maybe they’d give her back when they got bored of the trick. My mind took a dive into darker territory. What if it was a hostage situation? We took one of theirs, so they took one of ours. My stomach jittered with nervous butterflies. I’d seen the she-pixie’s reaction when she’d been put in the Repository orb, and if that anger happened to spread across the whole horde… Perhaps it would be enough to warrant an abduction.
“I don’t know much
