the Resurrectionist,” Nero said, raising his voice. He clenched his siphon hand into a fist and sparks danced over the metal plates. “We mined universes with successful Chosen Ones who were also capable magic-users. All of them fell to the Resurrectionist. All for the sake of Earth and Genetrix. Finally we couldn’t stand the losses anymore. We decided that a personal stake in the fight might compensate for a lack of magic experience. So we took you. Yes. Ten years of battles, and finally we took you.”
He scowled down at his hand as if it were disobeying him. The sparks faded.
“Did it seriously never occur to you that you didn’t need a Chosen One at all?” Sloane said.
“You act like others have not attempted to take him down,” Nero said. “For every Chosen One we have had, at least ten ordinary men and women have died trying to kill him, and that does not, by the way, include all the thousands of people who have died in the Drains.”
Esther’s cheeks shone with tears.
“I kept it from you because it is alarming . . . and demoralizing,” Nero said, quiet again. “Because I didn’t want any of you to feel defeated before you even made an attempt. I knew that you, Sloane, in particular, were still fragile, incapable of accessing your magic reliably, and then you were taken by the Resurrectionist, and—”
“I,” Sloane said, “am not fragile.”
“I don’t intend to insult you,” Nero said. “But you suffered a unique trauma at the hands of your Dark One, and—”
“Shut up.” It wasn’t Sloane who interrupted him this time, but Esther. She wiped her cheeks dry and tugged at the neck of her stiff blouse to draw attention to her siphon. “Or I will set you on fucking fire.”
Nero showed his palms.
“Come on,” Esther said to Sloane. “We have to tell Matt. Unless you have other lies to confess to?”
Sloane tried her best to look dignified as she hobbled toward the door, following Esther. When she reached the threshold, Nero spoke again.
“Don’t forget,” he said, and his voice was cold enough to make the back of her neck prickle. “All of you still need me to get home. And you need to kill the Resurrectionist if you want a home to go back to.”
Sloane didn’t turn; she just kept walking, unevenly, toward the elevator.
“I have returned with a gift,” Matt announced from the doorway of Sloane’s room. They had started calling it “the White Room,” for obvious reasons. Matt’s was “the Cabin,” and Esther’s was “the Church.”
Sloane was sitting with her back against the headboard. Esther, wearing sweatpants, was on the floor, two fingers stuck in a jar of peanut butter. They had all taken to eating peanut butter—in sandwiches, on apples, spread over crackers—because the brand, Nutty Buddy, was the same on Earth and Genetrix, and so was the flavor. One of the only perfect matches they had found.
Matt held up a bottle of dark liquor. “Bourbon,” he said. “Courtesy of Cyrielle.”
Esther applauded.
“Was she apologizing for not telling us we’re fucked?” Sloane said from the bed.
“She didn’t know,” Matt said. “She’s only been working for Aelia for a year.”
Sloane snorted.
“Do not scorn the one who got us bourbon,” Matt said. “Just because you just got affirmed in Trusting No One.”
“My worldview is the correct worldview,” Sloane said, “and you expect me not to gloat?”
Matt laughed, and for a moment they were what they had been before. He unscrewed the cap of the bourbon and took a swig. As he swallowed, he passed the bottle to Esther. “I don’t agree that we’re fucked, though,” Matt said.
“We’re the fifth in line to fight the Resurrectionist,” Esther said. “We’re the only ones who don’t really know how to use magic. One of us has already gotten kidnapped.” She sat up and offered the bottle of bourbon to Sloane, who took it and sipped.
The bourbon tasted like vanilla and peanuts. Sloane winced and passed it back to Matt.
“We’re fucked,” Esther finished.
“That’s the thing, though.” Matt sat on the floor next to Esther, took a swig from the bottle, and passed it to Esther. “I think there’s something to it, the whole history-repeating-itself thing.”
Sloane raised an eyebrow.
“If history wants to repeat, that’s fine with me,” Matt said. “We won last time, remember?”
“Man’s got a point,” Esther said, pointing the bottle at him.
“I don’t know,” Sloane said. “I don’t think we should fight at all.”
“And just let the Resurrectionist destroy both of our universes?” Matt said.