Unforgotten(111)

“Why do you think that it has anything to do with this?”

I decide not to tell Kaelen about the little girl in the memory. For some reason, it feels like a betrayal of Rio’s trust. Like he shared that memory with me and only me. And I have a feeling if that one memory was capable of rising above all that messy chaos, then it was significant to him.

She was significant to him.

And if he wants to keep it a secret, then I will help him do that.

So instead, I just reply vaguely, “It was important to Rio.”

Kaelen appears next to me and starts scanning the collection. There are over two hundred books on this shelf. My finger grazes past A Wrinkle in Time, the book I was reading when I first met Zen, and my heart flip-flops.

I glance down at my wrist. The thin black line is 50 percent complete.

I force my eyes to move faster, whizzing past the titles until finally they flicker upon the familiar faded green spine. The white letters.

The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein.

I carefully pull it out and flip it open. I fan through every single page, taking in the text in a matter of seconds. Absorbing the story. Realizing instantly how very meaningful it is.

A tree who gave everything she had to the boy she loved.

Her apples, her branches, her leaves, her trunk, her shade.

Until there was almost nothing left for her to give.

I turn the final page, and there, in shallow compartments carved into the thick board of the book’s back cover, are two tiny vials of sparkling, clear liquid.

Without speaking a word, I carefully remove each one and close the book, placing it back on the shelf.

Kaelen hurries over and stares in amazement at the two bottles of salvation in my hand.

“I can’t believe how much trouble we’ve gone through just to find that,” he remarks.

I nod, releasing a small chuckle.

It is amazing how much power these two vials hold. Zen is sick. Dying. And this, this tiny thing in my hand, no more than few drops, is the only thing that will save him.

“What are you going to do with the other one?” Kaelen asks, leaning over and gazing into my hands.

“I don’t know,” I admit. I guess I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “Save it in case of emergencies, I suppose.”

“I’m rather insulted that you wouldn’t think to give it to me.”

The voice comes from behind me, causing me to jump. The vials slip from my fingers and plummet toward the ground. Kaelen moves fast. Faster than I’ve ever seen him move before. His hands are extended in front of him, cradling the tiny bottles before they even hit.

When I turn around I already know who I’ll see.

His voice is ingrained in my memory. Burned into my skin. The fire may not have been able to leave a lasting scar, but his voice? His voice will stay with me forever.

He greets me with a cold, snakelike smile. “Welcome home, Sera.”





64

PAIRED



Dr. Jans Alixter sits in a chair that, similar to Rio’s hospital bed, hovers just above the floor. Like it’s floating magically in the air. I immediately notice how frail he looks. His skin is yellow and sallow. His eyes are sunken in. The same dark purple hues I saw on Zen’s face shadow his as well.

And that’s when I realize what the chair is for. He can’t stand on his own. He’s too ill.

“Alixter,” I breathe out his name, feeling the pure hatred on my tongue as it passes.

He’s flanked on either side by two burly-looking guards. I don’t recognize any of them as the men who came to find me in 2013. But then again, if they had the transession gene in them, they’re probably sick, too. Maybe even dead.

“I see you’ve located what we’ve been looking for,” Alixter says, grinning at me and gesturing toward the two vials, which are still protectively cradled in Kaelen’s hands.

I look at Kaelen, who is back on his feet. But for some reason, he won’t meet my gaze.

“Kaelen.” Alixter turns his attention toward him. “Thank you for bringing back our little lost merchandise here.”

He remains silent but his head bows in the slightest of nods.

“He didn’t bring me back,” I argue. “I came here willingly.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” Alixter counters, breaking into a ragged cough. One of his guards hands him a handkerchief. He wipes his mouth and the white cloth comes back speckled with blood.

“After all,” Alixter continues, clearing his throat, “you’re here. With the antidote. Just as I commanded.”

The truth is, I’m not sure. Not about anything.

How did Alixter know we were here? Our tracking devices haven’t completely re-formed. Did Kaelen somehow get a message to him?

I turn to Kaelen and stretch out my hand. “Kaelen,” I say gently, “please give me the vials.”