They enter the parlor. No other soul is here, but someone was. Pulled-out drawers and scattered books lie on the floor. Metis makes his way to the cabinet. He slides open the hidden door inside it.
“It’s gone,” he whispers.
“What?”
“Absinthe.”
“What! Why would you keep it?”
“It was the last batch I made. I was supposed to deliver it to the new Sandman tonight.”
“Who would have taken it?”
The spot between his eyebrows scrunches together. He looks as if he has stopped breathing. The color drains from his face.
“We need to go,” he whispers.
He looks at her as if he has realized something.
“Aris, take off your bracelet!”
She hears him, but she does not understand the connection.
Why?
He picks up her wrist.
“I don’t know how, but the Interpreter Center found me. We can’t be tracked. Take it off and let’s go!” Metis says, his voice rising at the end.
“What? But—” She touches her bracelet. Its smooth hardness was the first thing she remembered after waking up from the hospital after Tabula Rasa. It connects her to the system. To Lucy. The first voice she heard after the Waking. The one constant in her life.
“Only you can do it. Please, we don’t have time. We must go,” Metis pleads.
She stares at the silver bracelet. Then she looks up at Metis. The spot between his eyebrows folds like the ridges of mountains. His jawline is taut with tension. His panic-stricken eyes have a kind of terror Aris has not seen before. Not even after he witnessed the mass suicide at Bodie’s house.
“We’re in danger. We can’t be tracked,” he repeats.
She runs her index finger across the watch’s face. The silver bangle unbuckles. She takes it off her wrist and places it on the side table. Her wrist feels lighter. An empty feeling fills her stomach.
Bye, Lucy.
Aris will miss her.
She turns to Metis. “Where are we going?”
“The only place we can.”
Metis takes her hand and pulls her toward the quiet streets. The city is still asleep.
Thane watches as the Professor’s hand rubs along the smooth surface of the glass bottle containing the green liquid—the drug the Interpreter Center has been hunting for. He doesn’t know why, but the gesture provokes a feeling of disgust in him. Having recently witnessed mass death leaves him on edge. He feels like drowning himself in drink until the image is rinsed from his brain.
“You did well, Thane,” Professor Jacob says. “I’m very proud of you.”
Thane wishes he could revel in this compliment from the man he admires. But all he wants to do is go home and sleep for the next three days. After leaving the Elara Police Station, he had debated whether to go home instead of to Metis’ house, but he could not stop his responsible brain from nagging him to follow through.
He and the Professor are alone in the Interpreter’s office. Apollina is somewhere in the building, doing something she prefers to keep secret from them both. Thane can see the darkness of the world through the large paned window. Shadows of bare trees surrounding the Interpreter Center stand like lines of ink drawings against the vast lawn. He longs for the warmth of spring, when life begins.
He wonders where Aris is. He half expected to see her at Metis’s house in Lysithea. When he found it empty of its owner, the Interpreter ordered him to ransack it. His gut feeling unearthed the bottle of green liquid. But it was Apollina who told him to take the flowers.
The Interpreter comes back into the room.
“The analysis is done,” she says, “The green liquid matches the compound found in both Bodie and Benja. The flowers have the same chemical make-up as the drug. Metis is the supplier.”
What does this make Aris? It’s not possible she conspired with him. She must not know all his secrets.
“Our drone captured images of him with a woman. I wonder if she’s the same one at the crime scene. Did she look familiar to you, Thane?” Apollina asks.
Aris doesn’t need to be a part of this.
“No.”
“Well, find them. We need to bring them in,” she says. “Please.”
Thane hates the way she adds “please” to the end of every order she gives him to make it sound less like a command. A few more weeks and he will be rid of her. The thought brings him comfort.
“What were they doing at the house in Elara?” Professor Jacob asks.
Thane shakes his head. “I only saw them go in. They must have used a different exit. I don’t know when they left, so it’s hard to say whether they had anything to do with the deaths.”
“Did you tell the police about them?” the Interpreter says.
“No. I didn’t want to complicate matters.”
“Good. What else did you tell the police?” Apollina asks.
“Nothing really. Just that I was lost.”
The small A-frame cottage gives off the mysterious air of something wild and abandoned. It is hidden in the middle of the park in Callisto behind multiple No Entrance signs.
It’s covered almost entirely by ivy and roses. Underneath the intertwining leaves is wood siding, but Aris can’t discern the original color. The paint has peeled in strips to reveal the raw wood underneath.
One side of the front facade is sagging under the burden of climbing bramble. Beneath the eaves are empty birds’ nests—deserted for the winter, to be filled again in the impending spring. The glass on the windows is opaque from age and neglect. The house gives the feel of being haunted.
A sign reading “Do not enter, under strict order of the Dwelling Council” hangs on the crooked picket fence. Metis opens the creaky gate and enters. Aris looks over her shoulder. The light of the sun is a sliver on the horizon, and she’s glad they still have the cloak of gray dawn. She follows him.
The heavy front door sits tilted on its frame. From the specks of paint around the grooves, it may have once been red. Metis pushes
