“So you hid some intel on Sara’s computer,” I heard Max saying. “Not bad, Jules, not bad at all.”
“It was the only thing I could do,” Juliana murmured. “I knew Sara was the only one who could help you, but I couldn’t tell her outright.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes until Max said, “You never betrayed me.”
“No,” Juliana said, “I never did.”
“Then why were you defending Langston back at the rally?” Max asked. “Is what Mike said true?”
“Mike pretty much just spouts lies,” Juliana murmured.
“Then you’re not marrying him?” Max pressed. She must have given him a look, because he continued, “Mike said you and Langston were getting hitched.”
“Oh. That.” I glanced backward and saw Juliana chewing on her lower lip. “That won’t be happening.”
“Why not?” I asked, dropping back so I was beside her. “You two looked so happy.”
Max reached behind Juliana and whacked my arm, but I ignored him. Juliana stared at me for a moment before she explained. “Mike just says that to get the crowds riled up,” she mumbled.
“What about the baby?” Max pressed.
“What baby?” Juliana retorted.
“At the rally, Mike implied that you were pregnant,” Max explained.
“That…that was another lie.” Juliana raked her fingers through her dark hair and looked straight ahead. “No babies or weddings are in my future, not with Langston or anyone else.”
“Too bad,” I said. “You’d look good in white.” Juliana stopped and stared at me, unsure if I was taunting her or paying her a compliment. “I mean it. Just like that portrait of your mom in the dining room.”
Juliana nodded, but her eyes were wary. Before either of us could speak further, Micah announced that we had arrived.
Before us stood a dilapidated concrete structure. It looked like it had been abandoned years ago, or at least long enough for vines to partially obscure the windows and doorways. The walls bore ugly black stains and part of the ceiling had fallen in.
“This is the Museum of Human Triumph?” I asked, staring at the crumbling concrete and rotting doorframe. There wasn’t even a door, just a few splinters where one might have been. “You’d think they’d mow the lawn.”
“This facility doesn’t have a regular maintenance staff,” Juliana offered. “It’s very difficult to maintain a magic-free space in the Otherworld.”
I felt my brows travel halfway up my forehead, but Micah said, “She is correct. The land itself will try to destroy such places, with the ground attempting to swallow the structures. The vines and trees will rip it apart, if they can.”
“Maybe that’s why it’s concrete,” Sadie mused.
“It’s concrete because most Elementals can’t affect concrete,” Juliana said. “Even stone Elementals have a hard time manipulating it. The Institute only lasted as long as it did because of the wards set around the perimeter.”
I stared at Juliana, simultaneously wanting to ask her more about what the Peacekeepers had done to my kind and slap her for speaking about us in such a detached manner. In the end, I decided to just push ahead. Finding Dad was far more important than her questionable loyalties.
“Come on,” I said, picking my way through the underbrush. “Dad’s waiting.”
We crept inside the museum and soon learned that the interior was just as dilapidated as the exterior grounds. The museum looked nothing like the Institute, which was a bit of a surprise. It also didn’t look like any museum I had ever been in, what with its rows of small, cell-like rooms. This place looked more like a containment facility than a repository of art and history, but it wasn’t like the high-tech laboratory Max was kept in. This museum was nothing but plain stone.
“This way,” Juliana said, indicating a left turn. “The cells are always deep inside, where there aren’t any windows.”
I shuddered, my own captivity still too fresh in my mind. Then we were in the offshoot corridor, and we darted as one back to the wider hall. Three armed Peacekeepers were standing in our way, and they had their plastic guns trained on us.
“Trap,” I shrieked as Micah shoved me behind him. I wasn’t having that, not after what had happened with Old Stoney, and I yanked Micah’s arm until he was standing beside me. Before I could ask Micah how we should combat plastic, Mom raised her hands.
And the plastic guns disintegrated.
“What the…” I murmured, clutching Micah’s arms. “How did that even happen?”