Page 170 of Storm Caller

At least some good came out of it, I suppose.

“Why did she claim the chancellors will kill us if they discovered Rook and I are Storm Callers, if they already know about her?”

Mowry glances over. “In her own way, she was protecting you. They wouldn’t have killed you. Instead, you would have become theirs as well. Perhaps that would be a far more terrible fate.”

“Theirs?” I ask, a wash of cold dread seeping down the back of my neck.

“Even if she’s cured, she won’t live forever,” he says. “Not even Nyxia is immortal. And though she might offer an illusion of power, she is truly just their prisoner in golden cuffs. Part of her was also afraid they’d try to replace her before her time was up. You’d be the perfect candidate. You’re young. You’re Society. You aren’t broken yet.”

“Yet?” I croak.

He offers me a sad look, the lines in his face deepening with regret. “Eventually, the infection will come for you, too.”

I rub the center of my forehead, trying to quell the rush of my spinning thoughts.

I guess I always knew it. That day in the park when I was hit by Spark for the first time, it felt like I was in mourning. Even as a child, I understood I was watching an old version of me die.

Then Sol told me I was something else. She offered me another chance.

I thought I’d escaped that inevitable fate.

Now it almost feels like I’m dying all over again.

“Why did she ignore us when we arrived back in the city? If she saw me as a replacement, I needed more training.”

“Things took a sharp turn for the worse shortly after your return,” Mowry says. “She was worried that if you spent too much time around her, you would notice her . . . struggles and grow suspicious.”

“The night of that big storm, she fainted.”

“You saw that?” he asks.

“Very briefly. I convinced myself I imagined it.”

“A video loop,” Mowry said. “Implemented just in case. The infection affects her ability to gather Spark, and yes, she’s growing weaker.”

I chew the inside of my lip, contemplating everything he’s just revealed. Emerald clouds still swirl overhead, a steady drizzle of rain matting our hair and peppering our clothing.

“She did want to keep you safe,” he says softly.

“Only to protect herself,” I retort.

His expression cracks, something devastating passing over his face. “My dear, she’s trying to protect everyone.”

After that, I’m not sure what else to say. I have so many questions, but they’re all crowding for space in my head. For now, I need to focus on finding Rook, getting that cure, and figuring out what’s next.

We reach a subway entrance and march down the stairs to find a platform crammed with people huddled together, seeking shelter from both the rain and the Veil. Children. Their mothers. The elderly. Hollows. Cogs.

We’re met with wary looks, but no one objects to Calliope’s gun pointed at Dr. Mowry’s back. Understandably, they don’t want to get involved.

It’s obvious from the fear in their eyes that they all recognize what Navy, Justin, Calliope, and Fisher are. I hear the word “Solitude” whispered through the crowd while they all shuffle out of our way, as if they might be contagious.

I sigh, hating how convincing The Shield was when they spun their lies.

We pick our way along the platform and turn a few corners, heading into a network of dark, abandoned corridors. A few flashlights click on, their beams bouncing around the narrow space.

“This way,” Dr. Mowry says wearily, dragging his feet. I can sense his reluctance, but maybe he understands that he has no choice. Every time I think he’s about to refuse to take us any farther, Justin gives him a look that reminds him of what’s at stake.

Mowry isn’t particularly spry, so we adjust our pace to match, but I’m desperate to move faster. I need to get to Rook.