Neverseen, Page 2

  The guilt and grief had left Brant dangerously unstable. He’d even tried to kill Grady and Sophie when they went to confront him. Grady had been so furious, he’d used his ability as a Mesmer to make Brant burn off his own hand. Sophie had barely managed to stop Grady before he went too far and ruined his own sanity. She’d also had to let Brant escape in order to get the information she needed to save her friends.

  “All right, we’ve lost enough time,” Alden said, pulling the five of them close for a hug. “Remember, this is not goodbye forever. It is simply goodbye for now.”

  Sophie felt tears slip down her cheeks as Fitz asked, “Do you want us to let you know when we get there?”

  “No, I cannot know anything about what you’re doing. None of us can.”

  “Do you think the Council will order memory breaks?” Sophie whispered.

  “No, the Council will not sink to that level. Plus, they know we are too prominent and powerful. It is simply wise to be cautious. I promise there’s no reason to worry.”

  Sophie sighed.

  No reason to worry were Alden’s favorite words. And she’d learned to never believe them.

  “Come on,” Biana said, pulling open Everglen’s shimmering doors.

  They tromped down the shadowy path in silence.

  “I never thought I’d say this,” Keefe said, “but I really miss having Gigantor tagging along with us.”

  Sophie nodded, wishing her seven-foot-tall goblin bodyguard was healthy enough to join them. Sandor had been thrown off an icy cliff during the ambush on Mount Everest and broken pretty much every bone in his body. Elwin had assured her that he’d be okay, but Sandor had a long road to recovery before him.

  Not as long as the road we’re about to travel, Sophie thought as she spotted Everglen’s enormous gates through the gloomy night. The glowing yellow bars absorbed all passing light, preventing anyone from leaping inside.

  “Time to run,” Alden whispered.

  Teleporting only worked when they were free-falling, and the bluffs they needed to jump off were beyond Everglen’s protection.

  Fitz wiped his eyes. “Tell Mom we love her, okay?”

  “We love you, too, Dad,” Biana added.

  “And don’t let the Councillors anywhere near my family,” Dex begged.

  “You have my word,” Alden promised. “And I won’t let them near Grady and Edaline, either.”

  Sophie nodded, her mind racing with a million things she wanted to say. Only one really mattered. “Don’t let Grady go after Brant.”

  Alden took her hands. “I won’t.”

  Everyone looked at Keefe.

  “Tell my dad . . . that I’ve been hiding his favorite cape in a closet on the twenty-ninth floor. But don’t tell him the door is rigged with gulon gas. Let him find that out on his own.”

  “Is that really all you want to say, Keefe?” Alden asked.

  Keefe shrugged. “What else is there?”

  Alden wrapped Keefe in a hug and whispered something in Keefe’s ear. Whatever it was made Keefe’s eyes water.

  Sophie’s eyes did the same as Alden opened the gates.

  The five friends stared at the towering forest and locked hands.

  Slowly, together, they took the first step into the darkness. They’d just crossed the threshold when a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows—not a black cloak like the Neverseen wore.

  A diamond-encrusted silver cloak.

  The style worn by the Councillors.

  TWO

  IT’S OKAY,” A fragile voice promised as the figure threw back her shimmering hood. Blond ringlets cascaded around the beautiful, familiar face of a weary-looking Councillor Oralie.

  Her pink-jeweled circlet was noticeably absent as she told them, “I came here on my own.”

  Alden lowered his hand, which was holding a melder—a small silver gadget that caused instant, painful paralysis. “How long before the others arrive?”

  “Not long. Bronte and Terik are still arguing, but they will gain nothing. There is too much fear and fury clouding the others’ reason.” Oralie trailed her graceful fingers across her arms, shivering in the moonlight. She was an Empath, like Keefe and his father, and Sophie had never seen her look so pained.

  “What will their punishments be?” Alden asked.

  Oralie lowered her eyes. “Dex and Keefe will be suspended until midterm and placed under constant chaperone. Fitz and Biana will be suspended for a week and given a month of Sanctuary service—”

  “Wait a minute,” Dex interrupted. “How come they get off easier?”

  “Their family holds a tremendous legacy in our world,” Oralie reminded him.

  The Vackers were practically elvin royalty. They had more relatives in the nobility than any other family. Meanwhile, Dex’s father had never manifested a special ability, and talent was all that mattered in the Lost Cities, not wealth or skin color or age. The elves considered it a fair way of separating people. But Sophie wasn’t sure there was any fair way to separate people. Those without abilities couldn’t join the nobility, and if they married anyone except another Talentless, it was ruled a “bad match.” Dex’s mother had married Dex’s father anyway, but the scorn had haunted Dex his whole life.

  “So that’s how it is?” Keefe asked. “Now that we know the truth about my mom, my family’s garbage?”

  “Not garbage,” Oralie corrected. “But your father has been removed as an Emissary. The Councillors do not trust that an Empath could be completely blind to his wife’s betrayal.”

  Keefe blinked several times, then barked a loud, cold laugh. “Well, I guess I can’t say my mom never did anything for me. I almost wish I could be there when you break the news.”

  Title and stature meant everything to Keefe’s father, often at the expense of kindness and love toward his son. So Sophie could understand Keefe’s rejoicing—but she was surprised to feel a sliver of sympathy for Lord Cassius. In one night he’d lost his wife and his beloved title. And in the morning he’d discover his only son had run away.

  “What about me?” Sophie asked. “What did they decide for my punishment?”

  “That is still the subject of much debate,” Oralie said quietly, “but most likely they will banish you to Exillium.”

  Sophie couldn’t decide which part of that sentence was more terrifying. She knew nothing about the mysterious school called Exillium, but she’d been told many times that she did not want to go there. And to be banished?

  Sure, she was running away—but banishment sounded so permanent.

  “Exillium is relegated to the Neutral Territories,” Oralie whispered, “a part of our world far too dangerous for you to visit. Especially now.”

  “Why especially now?” Alden asked.

  “The ogres are stirring—at least, that is what I fear. Which is why I came to give you this.” Oralie snapped her fingers and a small glass sphere appeared in her palm. Sophie hadn’t realized Oralie was a Conjurer.

  “Your cache?” Alden said, taking a step back.

  “Actually, this is Kenric’s,” Oralie corrected. “He gave it to me, before he . . .”

  She didn’t say the final word, but it cut deep all the same. Councillor Kenric had been one of the first Councillors Sophie had met, and he’d quickly become one of her favorites. He’d been warm and kind and quick to smile, and had always taken her side. But he’d been murdered a few weeks ago, during Fintan’s disastrous healing.

  Fintan was the Pyrokinetic who’d trained Brant for the Neverseen. He’d suffered a memory break for his treason, but had managed to protect his secrets. When Sophie discovered she could heal minds, the Council ordered her to heal Fintan, and during the healing, Fintan had found the strength to spark an inferno of Everblaze.

  Sophie had managed to grab Fitz and Oralie and teleport to safety—but Kenric had been lost to the flames. Sophie’s only consolation was that Fintan died in his own blaze.

  Oralie took Sophie’s hand, placing the cac
he carefully in her palm. Seven glittering stones were set inside, each a different color.

  “Kenric made me promise to give this to you if anything happened to him,” she whispered, “to make sure you’d be protected.”

  “Does that mean he suspected his life was in danger?” Alden asked.

  “We both did. Though I should’ve done more to help.” Tears slipped down Oralie’s cheeks. “I should’ve done so many things.”

  Councillors weren’t allowed to marry or have children, in order to remain impartial in their decisions. But Sophie had seen a connection between Kenric and Oralie and suspected they’d been in love. They could’ve resigned from the Council and chosen to be together, but for some reason they’d kept their lives separate.

  “He believed in you,” Oralie said, tracing a soft finger down Sophie’s cheek. “He told me you were the spark of change our world needed. So keep his gift close, and if the Council catches you, use his cache to buy your freedom. Do not let them send you to Exillium. You must also take this.” She handed Sophie an Imparter, a small silver square that worked like a videophone. “It cannot be traced or tracked—and I’m the only one you’ll be able to contact with it. This way we have means to contact each other.”

  “What if the Council discovers your involvement?” Alden asked. “They will surely see this as treason.”

  “Sometimes rebellion is the only course of wisdom. As all of you well know.” Oralie turned back to Sophie, and her mouth curved with a word. But by the time it slipped from her lips, it had changed to, “I must go.”

  She raised her pathfinder to the moonlight and glittered away before Sophie could blink.

  “Now that’s what I call mysterious,” Keefe said. “Foster, you should be taking notes. And who else wants to play with this cache thingy and see what it does?”

  “You will do nothing of the sort!” Alden told him. “And you must not let anyone know you have it—I wouldn’t even tell the Black Swan. Our world could crumble if that cache fell into the wrong hands.”

  “Really?” Sophie asked. It looked like one of the cheap marbles she used to play with as a kid.

  “The object itself is not the danger. It’s what the cache contains. What do you think the biggest threat to our world is?” Alden asked.

  “The ogres?” Sophie guessed.

  “Actually, it is knowledge,” Alden corrected. “Information holds unimaginable power, and some things are too dangerous to be known—even by the Councillors. So they lock the most disturbing secrets away before having them erased from their minds. They’re called the Forgotten Secrets, and they are stored in what you hold there. Each Councillor vows to guard their cache with their lives. Oralie has taken an enormous risk by giving this to you. She’s also given you our world’s most valuable bargaining chip.”

  Sophie rolled the glinting marble around her shaking palm, tempted to give such a huge responsibility back. But she owed it to Kenric to protect his gift. Plus, Oralie’s vague warnings had made it sound like she was going to need it.

  “Come on,” she told her friends, shoving the cache into her deepest pocket. “We should get to the Black Swan.”

  She reached for Fitz’s hand, and Keefe took her other hand. Biana clung tightly to her brother, leaving Dex to choose between Keefe and Biana.

  “I won’t bite,” Keefe told Dex. “Ow—but no need to get squeezy!”

  None of them looked back as they sprinted into the trees. They wove around fallen branches and gnarled roots, making so many turns Sophie feared they were lost, until her ears picked up the telltale whoosh of waves. The forest parted a few steps farther, revealing a steep ocean bluff.

  “I’m going to open my mind to yours so you can finally show me where we’re going,” she told Fitz.

  “I don’t have anything to show you,” Fitz said. “I just know we’re supposed to start at the Path of the Privileged.”

  Sophie dropped Fitz’s hand. “I have no idea what that is. And what do you mean by ‘start’?”

  “That was the first instruction,” Fitz said.

  “Instruction?” Sophie asked. “Or riddle?”

  “I guess it could be a riddle,” Fitz mumbled. “But I didn’t think they’d do that this time.”

  “Dude, have you met the Black Swan?” Keefe asked.

  “I know,” Fitz said. “But I figured for something this important they’d be clear.”

  Sophie backed away so she wouldn’t be tempted to shove Fitz off the cliff. “Okay”—deep breath—“what exactly did the riddle say?”

  Fitz handed her a scrap of paper where he’d written the complete message.

  Take the Path of the Privileged

  Past eyes that watch eternal, and blood turned precious.

  Seek the tower that would not yield for the next steps of your journey.

  “Get anything from that, Foster?” Keefe asked, reading over her shoulder.

  “Of course not,” Sophie grumbled. “Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier so we could’ve done some research?”

  Fitz tore his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I guess I messed up.”

  “And you didn’t see anything else?” Keefe asked him. “You searched Foster’s mind for a while.”

  “Only a few minutes,” Fitz argued.

  Keefe grabbed Fitz’s wrist and pressed his fingers against the exposed skin. “Hate to break it to you, but I can tell you’re hiding something.”

  “Empaths,” Fitz grumbled.

  “Just keeping you honest. So spill. What did you see in the Mysterious Miss F.’s mind?”

  Fitz turned to Sophie, and even in the dim light she could see the red flush in his cheeks. “I might have seen some other stuff—but it wasn’t really thoughts. It was more like . . . feelings.”

  “Oh?” Keefe asked as Sophie’s stomach filled with bubbling lava. “Does that mean you—”

  “We’re wasting time!” Sophie interrupted. “The Council could be here any second, and I still have no idea where we’re supposed to be going.”

  “Okay,” Keefe said, following her as she stalked to the edge of the cliff. “So . . . we still need to go to Florence, right? The Black Swan told you that?” When Fitz nodded, Keefe asked Sophie, “Doesn’t your photographic memory have a few pictures of the city tucked away?”

  She had seen pictures of Florence, but . . . “That doesn’t tell us where we go after that.”

  “We’ll figure it out. And once we do, we’ll all smack Fitz a few times and tell the Black Swan to knock it off with the lame, non-rhyming riddles. In the meantime”—Keefe grabbed Sophie’s hand again—“we’re doing this thing!”

  They’d barely locked hands before Keefe pulled them off the cliff’s edge.

  THREE

  KEEFE LAUGHED WHILE everyone screamed and thrashed as they plummeted toward the ocean. “Wow, what a buncha babies. Don’t worry, Foster’s on it.”

  His confidence melted some of the fog in Sophie’s head—enough to let her focus on the energy rushing with her adrenaline. She shoved the force out of her mind and thunder cracked the sky, sending them crashing into the void.

  As they drifted with the darkness, Sophie imagined a picture she’d seen of Florence: Marble churches. Red rooftops. A golden river lined with colorful buildings.

  She homed in on her favorite landmark: the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. Thunder clapped again, splitting the blackness with blinding light.

  They slipped through the glowing crack and tumbled into a crowded courtyard, crashing into a marble wall and collapsing in a pile.

  “Still gotta work out these landings,” Keefe groaned as he scooted out from under Fitz.

  Sophie was much more focused on the pain in her head as hundreds of voices sliced through her mind. Human thoughts broadcast like radio waves, even with her impenetrable blocking. Luckily, she’d learned how to shield her mind by imagining an invisible barrier around her head.

  Fitz rubbed his temples, clearly doing the
same thing, but she refused to return the weary smile he gave her. Now they were lost in a Forbidden City and it was all his fault.

  “It smells weird,” Biana said.

  “Probably human pollution,” Fitz explained. “I don’t remember it being this strong, though.”

  “Me either,” Sophie said. The air felt thick in her throat, and it had a bizarre caramel smell. Not at all what she’d expected for the land of pasta and garlic.

  “So, are we invisible?” Dex asked, watching the crowds milling around them. “Or are they just more interested in that big domed thing.” He pointed to the famous Duomo across the courtyard.

  “Probably both.” Fitz removed a small black orb from his satchel. “My dad gave me an obscurer to help us stay hidden.”

  The gadget bent light and sound in a limited radius, camouflaging anything inside.

  “Are you serious?” Biana asked. “Then what was the point of these ugly costumes?”

  “It’s called being careful,” Fitz told her.

  “Plus, I get to be Batman!” Keefe added. “But I’m done with the jacket. Why is it so hot here?”

  “Too many people, not enough trees,” Fitz said as he took off his scarf and coat, leaving him in a rather tight blue T-shirt.

  Biana ditched her sweatshirt, revealing a yellow screen-printed tee. “I liked that this one had a few girls,” she told Sophie, pointing to the group shot of the X-Men. “Even if they have super weird hair.”

  “Uh, there’s a guy who has blue fur all over his body, and you’re focusing on the girls’ hair?” Keefe asked. “And hey, that clawed dude’s yellow shirt might be as tight as Fitz’s!”

  “Jealous?” Fitz asked, flexing rather impressive muscles.

  “Shouldn’t we try to figure out where we’re going?” Dex asked, shoving his sweatshirt into his satchel and hugging his skinny arms against his chest.