that skin. It glows almost preternaturally within the dark of the shelter—unmarred, if not for the smudges of mud.
My heart beats so hard, it bumps uncomfortably against my chest, making me dizzy. I take a tentative step closer, and my foot crackles on a plastic wrapper.
Cy stirs, his head twisting around to find the source of the noise. I’m shocked to see a short, patchy beard obscuring his jawline. His eyes squint in the scant light inside his shelter. He blinks painfully.
“Cy?” I whisper, sinking to my knees. “It’s me.”
As he twists to face me fully, something beyond him moves. Under the protection of his arms, a dark bundle sits up, and a pair of beautiful black eyes open to meet mine.
I’ve finally found Cy.
And he’s not alone.
CHAPTER 7
T HE DARK-EYED BUNDLE MURMURS SLEEPILY, HER TONE light and delicate. “ Qui est là ?”
“ C’est une amie, ” Cy murmurs back.
Cy is speaking French. To a girl he just had his arms around. I’d thought of a million things to say to Cy when I saw him again. Now I’m speechless.
Silence fills the little junk-shanty as I stand up, unsure of what to do. My buoyed heart just careened into the center of the earth, and I don’t know how to retrieve it. Cy gets up shakily, his shoulders thinner, his cheekbones carved out with frightening severity. Dirt-caked pants hang on his narrow hips. He steps forward and reaches his hand out to touch my cheek, but hesitates.
“This might be the best hallucination I’ve ever had,” he murmurs.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. A sob escapes from me, shaking my whole body. In seconds, he has his arms around me, and I’m dissolving in his embrace. The scent of him is like mud and seawater and dying trees, but behind the dirty exhaustion, it’s Cy.
He burrows his face into the crook of my neck. He’s crying too, and we’re both shaking and freaking out and I start kissing his cheeks—stubbly and rough with sharp angles that weren’t there before. I find his eyelids and kiss them too. He’s real. This is real.
He finally plucks my hands off him and holds my wrists, before releasing me. The action is gentle, but I recognize the movement. He’s pushing me away and my eyes smart at the gesture.
“I can’t believe it. You found me,” he says softly.
I rub away my tears. “Your voice. I followed your voice. We could all hear it. How did it happen? And your touch—like Ana’s. How? And who . . . who . . .” My words trip over themselves to get out.
“Is Ana okay?” he interrupts. “Is she safe?”
“Yes, she’s okay. I think she’s okay. She’s with Hex and Vera, and we’re going to try to meet up soon in . . . oh my god. How did you get here? How—”
“I’ll tell you everything. But first, do you have anything to eat? Any water? We’re starving to death.” At the word we he steps farther away. The girl on the floor of the shanty sits up on her knees, swaying unsteadily.
Blink. The girl who could see in the dark. Micah, his sadistic colors on full display, had ordered her to attack us after I found Dyl in Aureus. Blink hit my leg so hard that I still have a lumpy scar. She’s tiny, with dusted umber skin, a heart-shaped face, and full lips. Her cheekbones are sunken and match Cy’s. She stares right back at me, as if she doesn’t quite believe I’m here.
“You remember Élodie,” he says awkwardly.
“Élodie,” I murmur, parroting him.
“Yes, that’s her name.” He turns to Blink and smiles. “Everyone called her Blink because of how she reacts to the light.”
I nod, but I can’t get over how Cy pronounces her name. It’s musical, sweet, lovely. Zelia, in comparison, is all angles. It buzzes, an irritant of a name. I try to sense what he’s feeling, scenting around him. There’s a peacefulness I’m picking up. But I sense an unmistakable scent of something tarry, black and sticky. What is that?
“I am pleased to meet you again,” she says, her English heavily
My heart beats so hard, it bumps uncomfortably against my chest, making me dizzy. I take a tentative step closer, and my foot crackles on a plastic wrapper.
Cy stirs, his head twisting around to find the source of the noise. I’m shocked to see a short, patchy beard obscuring his jawline. His eyes squint in the scant light inside his shelter. He blinks painfully.
“Cy?” I whisper, sinking to my knees. “It’s me.”
As he twists to face me fully, something beyond him moves. Under the protection of his arms, a dark bundle sits up, and a pair of beautiful black eyes open to meet mine.
I’ve finally found Cy.
And he’s not alone.
CHAPTER 7
T HE DARK-EYED BUNDLE MURMURS SLEEPILY, HER TONE light and delicate. “ Qui est là ?”
“ C’est une amie, ” Cy murmurs back.
Cy is speaking French. To a girl he just had his arms around. I’d thought of a million things to say to Cy when I saw him again. Now I’m speechless.
Silence fills the little junk-shanty as I stand up, unsure of what to do. My buoyed heart just careened into the center of the earth, and I don’t know how to retrieve it. Cy gets up shakily, his shoulders thinner, his cheekbones carved out with frightening severity. Dirt-caked pants hang on his narrow hips. He steps forward and reaches his hand out to touch my cheek, but hesitates.
“This might be the best hallucination I’ve ever had,” he murmurs.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. A sob escapes from me, shaking my whole body. In seconds, he has his arms around me, and I’m dissolving in his embrace. The scent of him is like mud and seawater and dying trees, but behind the dirty exhaustion, it’s Cy.
He burrows his face into the crook of my neck. He’s crying too, and we’re both shaking and freaking out and I start kissing his cheeks—stubbly and rough with sharp angles that weren’t there before. I find his eyelids and kiss them too. He’s real. This is real.
He finally plucks my hands off him and holds my wrists, before releasing me. The action is gentle, but I recognize the movement. He’s pushing me away and my eyes smart at the gesture.
“I can’t believe it. You found me,” he says softly.
I rub away my tears. “Your voice. I followed your voice. We could all hear it. How did it happen? And your touch—like Ana’s. How? And who . . . who . . .” My words trip over themselves to get out.
“Is Ana okay?” he interrupts. “Is she safe?”
“Yes, she’s okay. I think she’s okay. She’s with Hex and Vera, and we’re going to try to meet up soon in . . . oh my god. How did you get here? How—”
“I’ll tell you everything. But first, do you have anything to eat? Any water? We’re starving to death.” At the word we he steps farther away. The girl on the floor of the shanty sits up on her knees, swaying unsteadily.
Blink. The girl who could see in the dark. Micah, his sadistic colors on full display, had ordered her to attack us after I found Dyl in Aureus. Blink hit my leg so hard that I still have a lumpy scar. She’s tiny, with dusted umber skin, a heart-shaped face, and full lips. Her cheekbones are sunken and match Cy’s. She stares right back at me, as if she doesn’t quite believe I’m here.
“You remember Élodie,” he says awkwardly.
“Élodie,” I murmur, parroting him.
“Yes, that’s her name.” He turns to Blink and smiles. “Everyone called her Blink because of how she reacts to the light.”
I nod, but I can’t get over how Cy pronounces her name. It’s musical, sweet, lovely. Zelia, in comparison, is all angles. It buzzes, an irritant of a name. I try to sense what he’s feeling, scenting around him. There’s a peacefulness I’m picking up. But I sense an unmistakable scent of something tarry, black and sticky. What is that?
“I am pleased to meet you again,” she says, her English heavily
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