Шеннон Мессенджер - Keeper of the Lost Cities

The room spun as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her. “Why?”

“You’re very special, Sophie. Your DNA has been manipulated. That’s why your eyes are brown. Why your telepathic abilities are so outstanding. They even gave you a photographic memory, so you can easily learn and retain information—like cipher runes, and Council secrets—and an impenetrable mind to keep anyone from discovering them. I assume that’s also why you have an allergy. Limbium affects the mind, and your mind is different from the rest of ours—not just on a talent level. On a genetic level.”

She shook her head, wanting to shake the information away. “So I’m a mutant.”

“Not a mutant. An anomaly.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“How? You’re saying a group of crazy renegades made me and hid me away, like I’m their secret weapon or something.”

“I never said you were a weapon. I don’t know why they made you, or why they wanted me to find you.” He smiled sadly when her eyes widened. “It’s safe to assume they’re the ones who sent me that article about you. I’m sure they wrote the article—I doubt it’s a coincidence the title uses the word ‘prodigy.’ They even burned their sign around the city where you lived to get our attention.”

She rubbed her temples. The news was getting worse and worse. “What does that mean?”

“It means you need to be very careful.” He pointed to the pyrokinesis book. “Clearly, they’re trying to manipulate you. For what—I don’t know. But they already made you illegally collect Quintessence, and the Council may not be so forgiving if you break the law again. So I need you to promise me that no matter what messages you get, no matter what you hear, or what you remember, you will come straight to me—just like you did today—and do nothing else. Will you promise me that?”

The fear was so suffocating she could barely choke out the word: “Yes.” It was scary enough having secrets in her brain. The idea that she’d been designed and controlled, like someone’s puppet, made her whole body shake.

Not to mention she now had no hope of ever having a normal life. Who would be friends with her when they found out she was an anomaly ?

Alden wrapped his arms around her. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

She buried her face in his cloak and swallowed the sob fighting its way out of her chest. She was stronger than this—and she couldn’t afford to lose her head. She shoved her fears away and focused on the bigger issue. “What if the fires really are Everblaze? They’re yellow, right—just like in the book?”

“Many things could cause fire to be that color. I’m looking into it. Please trust that I can handle this.”

She soaked up the hug for a few more seconds before she pulled away. “Okay.”

He handed her the memory log, and she couldn’t help staring at the silver bird, now that she understood the meaning. “Keep track of everything—and you can’t let anyone see what’s in there. That formula is top secret, but I want you to have it in case it triggers something else. Do you understand?”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t shown anyone—not even Grady and Edaline.”

He frowned at the names.

“Are you still mad at Grady for refusing to help?”

“I’m just . . . disappointed. But what’s done is done.” He squeezed her hands. “Everything will be fine. Remember that—no matter what happens.”

“I’ll try.” She glanced out the window, at the purple twilight sky. “I should get home. I don’t want to worry them.”

Alden nodded.

He kept the pyrokinesis book to see if it held any clues to where it came from, and he made sure the memory log was well hidden in the bottom of her satchel before he let her leave. “Do you need the Leapmaster?”

“Nope. I have my home crystal.” She held the pendant up proudly.

Alden bit his lip. “Good. And, Sophie? Anytime you need to talk—no matter what time it is—call me, okay?”

“I will,” she promised.

Then she stepped into the light, willing the warmth to soothe the chills rushing down her spine. As the scenery glittered away, she saw Alden’s calm facade crumble, and then she was on her way home, hoping she’d imagined it.

ANOTHER NOTE FROM GRADY ANDEdaline waited for her on the table: “On errands. Be back later.” Five words this time—more than double the last note. Maybe that was a good sign.

She missed Grady’s throaty laugh. She missed Edaline’s gentle smile. She wasn’t sure what the problem was, but she needed to find a way to fix it—before it drove a wedge between them. She couldn’t lose another family.

Edaline had left dinner for her in the kitchen. Sophie didn’t want to be alone, so she brought Iggy and some homework with her. She was starting the last chapter of the firecatchin g book when the front chimes rang.

She raced to the door, afraid it was Alden with another emergency—but it was a messenger, delivering a scroll from the Council.

She didn’t hold it up to the light to see if she could read through the paper. She didn’t test the seal, to see if she could break it and then reseal it. The curiosity was a fierce beast rampaging inside her, but she fought the urge and left it on the table. She did stay downstairs though, so she could see Grady’s reaction when he opened it. Her willpower had its limits.

She curled up on the chaise in the main room to finish the last chapter. She mostly skimmed—firecatching was so boring—but the word “blaze” caught her attention. Sir Conley had taught her to place a copper bead in the bottles to seal in the heat of the flame, but the book said copper only worked with luminous flames. Nonluminous flames needed silver. And something called a “generated blaze” required gold.

A memory tickled the back of her mind.

Lumenite.

She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she dug out her memory log to record it.

She projected the image in her mind: a squat, round bottle with a glowing, golden seal. Did that mean Everblaze needed gold and lumenite to be bottled? What was lumenite? And why was the bottle short and round? Sir Conley drilled it into her head that fire was caught with long, narrow bottles. The shape was essential to hold the heat without cracking the glass.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the memory to make sure she was seeing it right. The image was fuzzy—like something was missing that would clarify things. But she was sure the bottle was round.

A loud rip! shattered her concentration.

“No, Iggy!” she screamed, racing across the room. She yanked Grady’s scroll from his grubby little paws.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP.

A huge chunk of paper stayed in Iggy’s possession as he skittered away, clutching his treasure.

“Get back here right now or I’m feeding you to the verminion!”

Five minutes of racing around the room and she was still no closer to retrieving the rest of the scroll.

“Stop!” she screamed. “Stop right now. Stop!”

STOP!

Her mental plea was so desperate it transmitted.

Iggy froze and turned to look at her—eyes wide with shock.

Let go of the paper!

The paper fluttered to the floor, and she grabbed the tattered page to assess the damage.

“Look at this,” she groaned, laying the pieces on the rug to figure out how to glue them together. “What am I going to tell Grady? Do you have any idea how much trouble . . .”

Her voice trailed off when she noticed her name.

A tiny voice in the back of her mind begged her to stop reading. But her eyes had already spotted another word.