middle of the Repository, two paper cups of coffee in her hands. She raised one. “I thought you could use some of the good stuff, since you’re apparently trying to break the world record for consecutive sleepless nights.”
I stared at her in silence, my mind too slow and foggy to come up with a witty retort.
She smiled and walked closer. “Yeah, you definitely need this.”
“I thought you’d gone to get some rest?” I managed to say.
She handed me the coffee, which I accepted with a grateful sigh. “It’s a little-known fact, but Atlanteans don’t need a lot of sleep. Anyway, I got plenty after we came back last night.” Her fingertips tapped the side of her cup, revealing some latent nerves. “I just didn’t want Persie to feel like she was being coddled, that’s all. If I’d stayed, she’d have dug in her heels, and… I’m worried about her, Nathan. I hate when she’s suffering like this, and I can’t do anything except tuck her in and make sure she stays in bed. If I could wring Leviathan’s stupid, fishy neck for what he’s done to her, I would. And I want to tie that kidnapper up, drop him in the ocean, and summon a kraken to eat him.”
I sensed that this outburst of bitterness had been brewing for a while, and I felt honored that she’d chosen me to talk to. Persie was her be-all end-all, and I supposed people forgot that Genie wasn’t superhuman. She felt things keenly, despite her tough façade.
“You do more to help her than you know. You’re her support, and her cheerleader, and her best friend. It might feel like you’re not doing enough, but you are, and more,” I assured. “As for Leviathan and the kidnapper, they’d better be quaking in their boots, praying they never cross paths with you.”
She sipped her coffee. “I guess I’d let Leviathan live.” Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the Irish summer had turned damp, the rain spitting against the glass. “Persie seems to like her ability more than she hates it, these days. And when you look at what she creates, you can see why. They love her as much as she loves them. I just wish these big ones didn’t take so much out of her, you know? It doesn’t seem fair that most of us magicals can use up a whole ton of power and maybe deal with one Purge every once in a while, and with a pretty quick recovery. But she’s expected to do it weekly.”
“At least they’re fewer and farther between now. She could still be dealing with daily Purges or multiple weekly Purges.” It wasn’t much consolation, but I didn’t know what else to say. “Now they’re mostly just once a week, and usually small. And she has a fairly impeccable history of control and capture.”
Genie sighed. “And there’s the rub.”
“What do you mean?” I got out of my chair and inched toward her.
“She doesn’t want them in captivity. It’s the cruelest game anyone could play. Like, here’s this ability that’s going to make you adore the beings you create—except those banshees, Chaos, I live in fear of her Purging those—but you’re going to have to hand them off as soon as you make them, knowing they’ll think you’re punishing them and that they’ll be exploited as fuel. Yeah, so they’ll probably hate you after that. It’s so friggin’ cruel, Nathan.” She gripped her cup until I thought it might crack. Gently, I reached out and took it from her.
“We can sow the change, remember, even if we’re not here to watch the seeds grow.”
She hurriedly turned her face away, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “I know that’s true, and I know Persie believes that. I just worry about what it’ll do to her, in the long run. What if the guilt gets to be too much?”
“That’s why she has you.” I wanted to put my arms around her, or take her hand, or wipe away her tears, but I didn’t. “Don’t you find it odd that you were the one with her mum on the day she found out she was pregnant? You’ve been with Persie all her life, even when she was in the womb. Again, I don’t want to sound like an advocate for fate, or I might get thrown out of the scientists’ circle, but you two were destined to be in each other’s lives for a reason.”
She glanced back shyly. “Thank you.”
“What