this means everything could be a lie. The universes might not be connected. The Resurrectionist might not be our enemy. The—”
“Not our enemy?” Matt was incredulous. “He kidnapped you. He’s killed God knows how many people. He was controlling the Drain!”
“I know.” Sloane leaned her forehead against her hand. “I know that, okay? I’m just saying—”
“We verified the connection between universes,” Esther said, giving Sloane the bottle. “You found that article.”
“One article doesn’t prove it definitively,” Sloane said. “And now we know Nero’s a liar.”
“And we know the Resurrectionist is a murderer,” Matt said.
“I’m not saying we should go grab a beer with him or anything, just that we should be more thorough about confirming what Nero says!” She held the bottle out to him.
“Yeah. Okay.” Matt grabbed it and drank.
A few hours later, the bourbon was almost gone, and Esther was splayed across the foot of the bed, fast asleep. Sloane had the bottle cradled in her lap, and Matt was on the floor, leaning against the wall. They had been quiet for a long time, but neither of them had left. Sloane didn’t want to. She wanted to stay inside the quiet company for as long as she could.
“This sucks,” Matt said, out of nowhere.
Sloane nodded.
“I don’t know how to not be with you,” he said. “Can’t date anyone normal at home. Can’t stop seeing you altogether.”
“I mean, you could,” Sloane said.
He shook his head. “No. You and me and Esther and Ines . . . we’re bound for life. It’s like a marriage. Better or worse. Sickness and health . . .”
Sloane gripped the bourbon bottle tightly.
“You ever think we should just stay here?” Matt said. “Nobody knows we’re Chosen here. Could go on a real date. Nobody staring. Nobody asking for an autograph.”
“You wouldn’t be able to get the best table just by winking,” Sloane pointed out.
Sloane stifled a laugh. It wasn’t actually funny—none of this was—but the bourbon had made mirth bubble up inside her like carbonation, and everything seemed soft at the edges. She cleared her throat, trying to bring it all back into focus. “You’ll figure out how to do this,” she said. “We both will. We’ll figure out how to be friends.”
Matt sniffed. A tear ran down his cheek, and he wiped it away. “I know.”
“I’m not okay,” she said. “I know I seem like I am. I’m good as long as I keep moving, but when we’re home—when I stop—” She made an explosion sound. “Pop goes the Sloanie.”
“I guess that shouldn’t be reassuring,” he said. “But it is.”
Sloane put the bottle on the nightstand and closed her eyes.
29
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG for Matt to demand further proof of the connection between universes or for Aelia to agree to give it to him. She had to have heard about Sloane and Esther breaking into Nero’s office, and she likely wanted to appease them—at least, that was Sloane’s theory. So it was only two days later that Aelia, Cyrielle, Sloane, Matt, and Esther stood on the edge of the river, looking out over the water.
Two years after the fall of the Dark One, the five Chosen Ones had presided over the dyeing of the Chicago River on St. Patrick’s Day. Esther had put on a green dress covered in sequins and a green wig to match it; she had looked like the queen of a parade. They had stood on the deck of a boat, the orange powder dye spraying behind them, turning the murky water electric, while a massive crowd cheered.
“There are places where the boundaries of our universes appear to be more permeable,” Aelia said now. “We have been able to detect where a few of those places are. Water appears to be a commonality among them. This is one of them.”
Sloane thought of the ballistic missile loosed from the USS Tenebris rocketing toward the deepest part of the ocean.
And of diving for the Needle, the flippers on her feet propelling her deeper than she ought to have gone.
And of the blast that had thrown her into the water when the Dark One died, and the eerie glow of his cheek as he turned away from her.
Water, she thought. Sure.
“We do not have the power necessary to break through the barrier between our universes now,” Aelia said. “Nothing will be able to pass through it. But our former Chosen One taught us that magic can be . .