“How exactly do you expect to save his life when you don’t even know what’s making him sick?”
The world is suddenly buckling and crashing in around me. Walls tumbling. Floor falling out. Sky shattering.
My throat constricts. Traps the air inside. Traps the words. But somehow I manage to speak. To proclaim the truth that suddenly changes everything.
“You know what’s wrong with him.”
He nods. “And more important, I know how to cure him.”
20
NEGOTIATION
I’m instantly skeptical. I don’t know whether or not to trust him. Or if anything he’s telling me is true. If he’s following Alixter’s orders, he’ll say whatever is necessary to get me to do what he wants. But I also realize what a losing battle this is for me. I can’t win. Even if he’s lying, even if he has no idea why Zen is sick, I don’t have any other options. If there’s a minuscule fragment of a sliver of a chance that he can save Zen, I have to do what he says.
“Has Diotech been making him sick?” I ask, trying to gather as much information as I can.
“No,” Kaelen responds. “But if you want him not to be sick, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
“How can I believe you? How do I know you won’t betray me? Let’s say I do exactly what you say, and I’m able to guide you to wherever this supposed map in my head is leading, how do I know you won’t just use the Modifier on me again, take me right back to the compound, and leave Zen in 1609 to die?”
He seems to contemplate the question with great seriousness. “You don’t,” he finally admits.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Well, I’m afraid that’s not good enough.”
He takes a single step toward me. I can already feel that strange magnetism tugging at me again. He seems to feel something, too, because as he takes another step, he hesitates, then rests his foot back where it was. His perfectly formed jaw pulls at the corners, like he’s attempting to tolerate a bitter taste in his mouth.
“What do you want?” he asks. His static face changes ever so slightly, flashing annoyance.
“Cure him first,” I say without blinking. “Then I’ll go with you.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Fine,” I say, glaring at him. “Then let me go back and get him. I’ll bring him here.”
He arches one eyebrow, clearly not believing me for a second. “Even if I did allow that, which I won’t, you wouldn’t be able to go back to save him.”
My forehead crinkles. “Why not?”
“Because you’ve already been there.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I argue.
“The basic laws of transession don’t allow you to occupy space in the same moment of time more than once. You are physically unable to transesse to a point in time you’ve already existed in. Because that would mean there would be two instances of you, which is a quantum impossibility.”
I’ve never heard this before. But then again, I’m not exactly an expert in transession. I’ve really only done it a handful of times. I wonder if Zen knew about this restriction. I think he would have told me if he did.
“Therefore”—he continues his haughty explanation—“your only option would be to transesse to the moment after I removed you from the fire and brought you here, but by then, Zen’s illness will have progressed to the point of fatality.”
I’m not sure if I should believe his explanation but it hardly matters. It’s evident he’s never going to let me leave. “You go get him, then,” I counter. “You were only there during my execution, which means you can transesse to a time earlier than that and bring him back with you.”
Kaelen falls silent, considering.
“Once he’s here and I know he’s still alive,” I say, “I’ll go with you.”
It’s not the perfect solution. But it’s better than imagining him lying dead in the woods somewhere outside the Pattinsons’ farm.
Kaelen gives me a stern warning look. “Don’t move,” he says, and then, in an instant, he’s gone. I watch his body disappear, melting into air.
I eye the door, contemplating my chances if I make a run for it. But it’s not even an option. As long as Kaelen has my necklace, there’s nowhere for me to go. And the debate immediately becomes moot because Kaelen is back in less than five seconds. This time, however, he’s not alone.
I hear a deep, sickly cough. I glance down to see Kaelen’s hand wrapped around Zen’s biceps, holding up his limp body. It reminds me of the way Jane used to carry around her doll, clinging on to one ragged arm, the rest of the body dragging lifelessly at her side.