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Authors: Jude Watson
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picking it up.
“I’d think very carefully about that,” she said sweetly. “You have a choice here. You can seriously jeopardize the plans for the Grace Cahill wing that is scheduled to open in two years. Or you can look the other way for exactly five minutes.”
They locked eyes. “I think I’ll read my magazine,” the woman said.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Nellie said. With a flourish, she sat on a tufted armchair to wait.
“There is a Madrigal archive,” Fiske said. “But I’ve never met Sammy Mourad. And I’ve never been to the Columbia campus.”
They had found their great-uncle reading in bed in a pool of soft yellow lamplight, his glasses pushed down on his nose. He had frowned deeply while they told him their story, and Amy had been shocked at how much older he looked. His skin was sallow and pale, and the lines around his mouth looked deeper.
Fiske had always been wiry and strong, but after undergoing physical therapy for a bad hip, he had grown weaker over the fall. Then winter had brought robust health. They’d uncrossed their fingers when he returned to his tae kwon do classes and began to paint and cook again. But then he had fallen ill again in March. Now he looked old and tired. Amy felt fear clutch at her heart. She placed her hand over his where it rested on the blanket.
“Are you feeling okay, Uncle Fiske?” Amy asked.
“Just fine.” His smile was reassuring, but Amy noticed how his hand trembled as he picked up his water glass. “Dr. Callendar says the physical therapy has been very beneficial. I think I’ll be home next week.” He took a sip of water. “We need to get to the bottom of this. We should inform all the Madrigals, call in a team. . . .”
Amy shook her head. “Not yet.”
“If not now, when?” Fiske frowned at her. “You think this person has taken the serum. This could have dire consequences for the
world
, Amy. Not to mention that you and Dan are now a target.”
Amy looked at him, surprised. He held up a hand. “Yes, Nellie told me. As she should have. Don’t treat me like an invalid. If what Sammy said is true, that means that Pierce could be taking a daily, weaker dose of the serum, but it has a cumulative effect. Every day, he gets stronger. We have to find a way to get the serum back . . .
without anyone knowing what it is and what it means.
This is the worst thing that could have happened.”
Dan faded back in the room, his face in shadow. Fiske glanced over at him.
“And it’s nobody’s fault,” he said firmly. “Not Sammy’s, not Dan’s, not anybody’s. We have a very clever adversary.
We must stop J. Rutherford Pierce.
”
“We won’t be able to stop him unless we find out more about him,” Amy said. “If we surround ourselves with people, they’ll just become targets, too. Right now he only knows me and Dan, and he wants to stop us.”
Fiske looked at Amy over his eyeglasses. “He wants to
kill
you.”
“That’s our risk to take,” Amy said. “I can’t ask others to sacrifice their safety. Not after . . . after . . .” Her voice thickened, and she stopped.
Fiske looked down at Amy’s hand on his arm. There was a long silence.
“Amy,” he said with great gentleness, “it is a source of terrible sorrow to me, as it was to your grandmother, that you were thrust into all this. If I could go back and give you and Dan a normal life, if I could give my
own
life for that, I would. But you are what you are. You are a Cahill, the
head
of the Cahills. And you will not achieve peace with that until you understand something.” He squeezed her hand and looked at her hard. “This is your life now. You can do your best, but you cannot protect everyone you love. You are not responsible for all the lives around you. You are only responsible for your own right action.”
“I
have
to protect them,” Amy said. “As head of the family, I
must
.”
“To the best of your power, yes. But that doesn’t mean excluding
“I’d think very carefully about that,” she said sweetly. “You have a choice here. You can seriously jeopardize the plans for the Grace Cahill wing that is scheduled to open in two years. Or you can look the other way for exactly five minutes.”
They locked eyes. “I think I’ll read my magazine,” the woman said.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Nellie said. With a flourish, she sat on a tufted armchair to wait.
“There is a Madrigal archive,” Fiske said. “But I’ve never met Sammy Mourad. And I’ve never been to the Columbia campus.”
They had found their great-uncle reading in bed in a pool of soft yellow lamplight, his glasses pushed down on his nose. He had frowned deeply while they told him their story, and Amy had been shocked at how much older he looked. His skin was sallow and pale, and the lines around his mouth looked deeper.
Fiske had always been wiry and strong, but after undergoing physical therapy for a bad hip, he had grown weaker over the fall. Then winter had brought robust health. They’d uncrossed their fingers when he returned to his tae kwon do classes and began to paint and cook again. But then he had fallen ill again in March. Now he looked old and tired. Amy felt fear clutch at her heart. She placed her hand over his where it rested on the blanket.
“Are you feeling okay, Uncle Fiske?” Amy asked.
“Just fine.” His smile was reassuring, but Amy noticed how his hand trembled as he picked up his water glass. “Dr. Callendar says the physical therapy has been very beneficial. I think I’ll be home next week.” He took a sip of water. “We need to get to the bottom of this. We should inform all the Madrigals, call in a team. . . .”
Amy shook her head. “Not yet.”
“If not now, when?” Fiske frowned at her. “You think this person has taken the serum. This could have dire consequences for the
world
, Amy. Not to mention that you and Dan are now a target.”
Amy looked at him, surprised. He held up a hand. “Yes, Nellie told me. As she should have. Don’t treat me like an invalid. If what Sammy said is true, that means that Pierce could be taking a daily, weaker dose of the serum, but it has a cumulative effect. Every day, he gets stronger. We have to find a way to get the serum back . . .
without anyone knowing what it is and what it means.
This is the worst thing that could have happened.”
Dan faded back in the room, his face in shadow. Fiske glanced over at him.
“And it’s nobody’s fault,” he said firmly. “Not Sammy’s, not Dan’s, not anybody’s. We have a very clever adversary.
We must stop J. Rutherford Pierce.
”
“We won’t be able to stop him unless we find out more about him,” Amy said. “If we surround ourselves with people, they’ll just become targets, too. Right now he only knows me and Dan, and he wants to stop us.”
Fiske looked at Amy over his eyeglasses. “He wants to
kill
you.”
“That’s our risk to take,” Amy said. “I can’t ask others to sacrifice their safety. Not after . . . after . . .” Her voice thickened, and she stopped.
Fiske looked down at Amy’s hand on his arm. There was a long silence.
“Amy,” he said with great gentleness, “it is a source of terrible sorrow to me, as it was to your grandmother, that you were thrust into all this. If I could go back and give you and Dan a normal life, if I could give my
own
life for that, I would. But you are what you are. You are a Cahill, the
head
of the Cahills. And you will not achieve peace with that until you understand something.” He squeezed her hand and looked at her hard. “This is your life now. You can do your best, but you cannot protect everyone you love. You are not responsible for all the lives around you. You are only responsible for your own right action.”
“I
have
to protect them,” Amy said. “As head of the family, I
must
.”
“To the best of your power, yes. But that doesn’t mean excluding
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