was supposed to put everything right again. That’s what she said. But just this morning, Executors attacked my sister. It was all supposed to stop. Why hasn’t it all stopped?” Luc’s voice cracked and he took a deep breath.
“The Unseen Ones work in mysterious ways,” Rhys said, and Mags cawed in agreement.
“Bullshit.” Luc was tired and desperate; he hadn’t expected Rhys to stand up for the Unseen Ones. “You know that’s bullshit. You warred against them once. You told me that you turned back time. Tell me how.”
Rhys shook his head. “I may have misspoken that night. The drink, the celebration …”
Despair welled up inside Luc, causing his chest to tighten like a vise. “No. You said time and space flowed like water. You said that love was eternal. Now you’re telling me it’s a lie?”
Rhys sighed. “No, my boy, it’s not a lie.”
“Then help me. Please.”
“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’m not long for this world, or any other, for that matter.” And it was true; Rhys seemed to be shrinking in front of Luc’s eyes. “Remember, Luc. The path to righteousness goes straight through the heart.”
“Riddles?” Luc was suffocating in the heat. He had crossed worlds to be here, and now Rhys was refusing to help. “I ask for an answer, and you give me riddles?”
“Life and death are the greatest riddles we must solve, aren’t they?”
“Goddamn it, Rhys.” Luc sank down on the edge of the bed and dropped his face into his hands. He had not thought about failure, because the thought of never seeing Corinthe again hurt too much. “No more riddles.”
Now, Rhys, his last chance, was dying, and there was nothing else to do. Corinthe was lost to him forever. It had all been for nothing. She was wrong.
Agony burned inside Luc. He lifted his head, stared down at his friend through watery vision. “She was my Other.…” He trailed off. “I just want her back.”
The bed shifted as Rhys, wincing in pain, pushed himself up onto his elbow. Luc heard his labored breath and thought how unfair it all was. Everyone was leaving him.
“What you want is not impossible.” Rhys’s voice was very soft. So soft that Luc thought he had misheard the man.
“What?” Luc’s heart beat fast. He was afraid to breathe, in case Rhys would take it back.
“Almost impossible, maybe,” Rhys said. His unseeing gaze drifted across the room as if he was remembering. A faint smile danced over his lips before his strength gave out and he sank back onto the bed.
Luc leaned over Rhys, holding the man’s callused hand between his.
“Almost impossible, I can work with,” Luc said desperately. Almost meant that there was a chance, however small.
Rhys smiled again, back in the present moment. “You are so like me. You are the way I once was. A passionate idiot.” His smile faded. “There is only one person I know of who has the kind of power you need. But she might refuse to help you. Be prepared for disappointment.”
“She?”
“Her name is Tess, and she is a Radical, like me.” Rhys seemed about to say more, but then he shook his head and continued in a stronger voice: “She is strong-willed. There may be no swaying her to your side.”
“What do I tell her?” Luc asked. “How can she help me?”
“She’ll take you to the place—” Rhys wheezed, unable to finish his sentence. “She’ll take you where you need to go. The Figments can help you find her. They will lead you to her.” Rhys made a weak gesture with one hand; several Figments materialized from the flickering shadows in the cave.
Luc was desperate to leave, but the sudden sickly pallor of Rhys’s skin made him hesitate. He couldn’t let Rhys die alone.
As usual, it was as if the chemist could read his mind. “I told you. Time moves differently for everyone; but for everyone, time does run out. Such is the way of things. To die here, at home, is enough for me.”
Emotion burned in Luc’s throat. This would be the last time he would see his friend.
“My boy, don’t be sorry. Death is a part of life.” Rhys closed his eyes and for a wretched moment, Luc thought the man had died there next to him. But he opened his eyes once again. “You must go now. Time also does not stand still, waiting for us to act. Good luck, my boy. May you find what you seek.”
“Thank you.” The words seemed pathetic and insufficient,