Neverseen Page 8

  “I might, if you gave me back my other missing memory,” Sophie reminded him.

  “Nice try.”

  “But it’s not like this memory even taught me anything,” Sophie argued. “I still don’t know who the boy is.”

  “Perhaps that will convince you we are not withholding crucial secrets,” Granite said.

  Or that they picked that memory to return because they knew it was a bust . . .

  “And you really have no theories for who the boy could be?” Sophie pressed.

  Mr. Forkle heaved a heavy sigh. “In the interests of avoiding further questioning, I will tell you that we’ve spent many years investigating the children at Foxfire. And we’ve ruled out every single boy.”

  “Could you have missed someone?” Biana asked.

  “Our methods were very thorough. I’m convinced he was not there—and if I’m right, then there’s only one other place he could have been.”

  Fitz figured it out before Sophie did. “Exillium.”

  “And before you start plotting ways to find the campus,” Mr. Forkle told her, “keep in mind that you saw the boy eight years ago. He has long since aged out of their curriculum.”

  “So where do the Exillium kids go when they graduate?” Fitz asked.

  “There is no single place,” Granite said. “Some earn jobs in the Lost Cities. Others remain banished. Either way, the boy is just as untraceable as the rest of the Neverseen.”

  “There has to be a way to find him,” Sophie said. “Maybe the teachers saw something suspicious, or the Exillium administration kept records, or—”

  “I can assure you, Miss Foster, you will find no record saying ‘Boy X is a member of the Neverseen,’ ” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “And the Coaches would be of no help. Exillium is designed for anonymity. Those who attend do not use their names. They also wear masks.”

  “Sounds like the perfect place for the Neverseen to hide,” Sophie pointed out. “They could have members there right now.”

  “I doubt it,” Blur said.

  “Why not?” Dex asked.

  “Well, don’t take this the wrong way,” Blur said, “but . . . Exillium is for kids.”

  “What he means,” Mr. Forkle jumped in as they all groaned, “is that the Neverseen haven’t demonstrated a pattern of relying on children.”

  “They did once,” Fitz argued. “Shouldn’t we at least look into it?”

  “It’s not worth the risk,” Mr. Forkle insisted. “Finding Exillium would require breaking into an incredibly secure database.”

  “I can do that, easy,” Dex said.

  “Don’t get overconfident, Mr. Dizznee,” Mr. Forkle told him. “And do not attempt it. Whatever modicum of information could be gleaned by searching Exillium’s records does not match the havoc that would occur if you were caught.”

  “Plus, we have far more important assignments for all of you to work on,” Granite added. He glanced at the rest of the Collective, waiting for them to nod before saying, “It’s time to rescue Prentice.”

  ELEVEN

  PRENTICE,” SOPHIE WHISPERED, not sure what to feel.

  Relief?

  Hope?

  Fear?

  Yeah . . . it was mostly fear.

  And then of course there was the shame—mostly because of all the fear.

  Prentice had allowed his mind to be broken in order to protect her. And healing him was the only way to be sure Alden’s sanity would never shatter again.

  But . . . Prentice had been trapped in his madness for thirteen years, and his whole life had fallen apart during that time. His wife had died—faded away during some sort of light-leaping accident. His orphaned son, Wylie, had been adopted. And even though Sir Tiergan—Sophie’s telepathy Mentor—had surely been a good father, Wylie was now all grown up, a Prodigy in Foxfire’s elite levels, having spent most of his life never knowing his dad.

  That was a lot of heartbreak for someone to wake up to. What if Prentice shattered all over again once he faced those cold realities?

  “Whatever concerns are causing that crease between your brows,” Mr. Forkle told her, “we do share them. But we cannot stall Prentice’s rescue any longer. He is too important.”

  “And we’re not saying that because we miss our friend,” Granite added, clearing his throat several times. “We’ve also long suspected that Prentice’s mind is hiding something crucial. It would explain why he called ‘swan song’ before he was captured.”

  “Swan song” was a code the Black Swan used if they feared their life was in danger.

  “Prentice used the code the day before his capture,” Mr. Forkle said. “I’ve always wondered how he knew they were coming for him.”

  “As have I,” Granite agreed. “I’d been monitoring Alden’s investigations most carefully, and he’d had no suspicion toward Prentice whatsoever. Then Prentice called swan song and suddenly he was arrested.”

  Della looked away, twisting and retwisting her graceful fingers.

  Granite turned to Sophie, his stony eyes almost pleading. “No one is more aware of the risks that come with healing Prentice than we are. But don’t you think it’s worth it, to find out what happened, and give him a chance at happiness?”

  Sophie pictured Prentice the way she’d last seen him, locked in a lonely cell, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself, drooling. . . .

  “Okay,” she whispered, not sure if her heart wanted to race or explode. “But isn’t he still in Exile?”

  “We’re working on a plan,” Granite said. “And it’s going to take everyone’s help. Biana—you’ll need to be able to hold your vanish far longer than you currently can. Dex—we managed to get our hands on one of the bolts used on the cells. We’ll need you to master opening it quickly and silently. Sophie and Fitz—we’ll need your minds at their absolute strongest. So we’ve prepared notebooks with exercises to further your Cognate training. And Keefe—we have several Empathy books we need you to familiarize yourself with.”

  “Books?” Keefe asked. “You’re giving me books?”

  “Never underestimate the power of the page,” Mr. Forkle told him. “Miss Foster would not exist without the decades I spent researching genetics—and you have just as much to learn about your ability.”

  “It will take us a few days to make the arrangements for this mission,” Granite added. “But when we’re ready, we’ll need to move quickly. So tonight, prepare your minds to swear fealty to our organization. And tomorrow, get ready to work.”

  “Well that was interesting,” Dex said as they climbed the stairs to their tree houses.

  Sophie had thought she was too nervous to eat, but when they reached the gazebo in the center of the bridge, their dinner smelled amazing. She couldn’t tell what was in Calla’s famous starkflower stew, but Mr. Forkle was right. It truly was life changing. Every bite felt like home, warming her from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and making her feel safe, happy, and loved.

  “Was anyone expecting the Black Swan to be like that?” Fitz asked as he mopped up the last of his gravy with a piece of crusty bread.

  “You mean secretive and stubbornly unhelpful?” Sophie mumbled. “I guess I should have. But I’d hoped it’d be easier.”

  She’d agreed to their plan to help Prentice, and she didn’t regret it—but she also didn’t believe that should be their only focus. She wasn’t ready to drop the idea of trying to find the Boy Who Disappeared through Exillium’s records. And she wanted to find out more about the ogres and the Wildwood Colony. But she wasn’t sure if it was safe to discuss any plans with her friends. They were in the Black Swan’s territory now, so they were probably being watched.

  “I do think they might be onto something with the code names,” Keefe said as she searched all the shadows. “In fact, after I swear fealty I should have you all call me Emo. Fitz can be Brainwave. Biana and Della can be Blink and Wink. Dex, you’re Gears. And Foster? Hmm. That’s tricky. . . . Maybe Enigma? Unless you w
ant to be Cognate—or is Fitz the only one allowed to call you that?”

  Sophie sighed.

  “You do realize you basically agreed to merge your brain with his, right?” he pressed. “You’ll be Fitzphie! Or Sophitz! Personally I’d go with Sophitz. Better make it clear you’re the boss.”

  “You’re just jealous,” Fitz said with his best attempt at a smirk.

  Keefe shrugged. “Team Foster-Keefe will always be cooler.”

  “Yeah, but Sophitz will be unstoppable,” Fitz said, pushing back his chair. “I can’t wait to start training tomorrow.”

  Sophie tried to feel the same way, reminding herself of all the important reasons she’d agreed to the Cognate thing. But her brain kept circling back to Biana asking, Don’t Cognates have to share all their secrets with each other?

  She was sure Keefe could feel her panic. But instead of teasing her, he said, “So, when are you going to tell me what you guys are hiding? Something about the gnomes, right—don’t think I didn’t notice all those nervous glances.”

  Biana couldn’t have looked guiltier. “We . . . just wanted to make sure it was true before we said anything,” she mumbled.

  “And it’s good we waited,” Sophie added. “Mr. Forkle gave me better information.”

  She explained their worry about the elvin footprints outside the Wildwood Colony, and how two teenagers made them, not the Neverseen.

  “So . . . you thought you had evidence that my mom was poisoning gnomes and you decided not to tell me?”

  Keefe looked so betrayed, Sophie wished she could think of something better to say than, “It turned out to be nothing.”

  “That’s still not cool. We’re going to find out a ton of awful things about my mom as we go along. I don’t want to have to worry that everyone’s hiding stuff from me. You know how that feels, Foster. You hate it as much as I do.”

  Sophie sighed. “Okay. From now on we’ll share.”

  Keefe nodded, but he didn’t look happy. And his frown deepened when Della pulled Fitz close for a good-night hug.

  “Come on,” Dex told Keefe. “We need to brainstorm ways to punish Wonderboy.”

  “That’s right,” Keefe said, perking up a bit. “We’ll form our own Empath-Technopath Cognatedom. We can be Keefex!”

  “Why not Deefe?” Dex asked.

  “Because Deefe sounds lame.”

  “You guys are lame,” Fitz said as he trailed behind them up the stairs.

  “Are you sure it’s smart to leave the boys alone?” Biana asked as she followed Sophie and Della to their tree house.

  “ ‘Smart’ isn’t the word I’d use,” Della admitted. “But we’ll sleep better than they will.”

  The gnomes had been busy while they were gone, hanging glass orbs filled with swirling flashes of color all over their tree house. The effect was breathtaking, even if it also made Sophie squirmy when she realized the dots of light were some sort of iridescent flying bug.

  Della’s bedroom had also been finished, and it looked like a presidential suite, complete with a private bathroom and a closet full of radiant gowns.

  Sophie and Biana had new clothes too, and this time there were pants! Also: the world’s weirdest pajamas. Sophie had no idea why the Black Swan would choose a purple furry onesie—with feet. It was quite comfy when she put it on, but she was glad her windows had thick drapes so no one could see her padding around her room.

  Next she needed to find a place to hide Kenric’s cache, but her options were limited. Her desk only had one drawer, and her canopied bed sat on an elevated platform with no space underneath. Her best choice was to tuck it into a hidden pocket in the strap of her purple backpack. The cache barely fit, but the lump wasn’t noticeable, and she slipped the Imparter into another pocket and dumped out everything else.

  Her eyes welled with tears when she found Grady and Edaline’s note. They’d tied it to Ella, the bright blue stuffed elephant she couldn’t sleep without:

  We will never be more than a few words away.

  ~Love, Mom & Dad

  Sophie wasn’t sure what they meant, until she noticed the silver box they’d included. Inside was the teal memory log Alden had given her to record all of her dreams and triggered memories. And her illegal, unregistered Spyball from the Black Swan.

  Her hands shook as she picked up the palm-size silver sphere and whispered, “Show me Grady and Edaline Ruewen.”

  The Spyball turned warm, and a bright flash filled the orb, painting the sphere with an image of her adoptive parents. They sat with Alden in his curved office with sleek glass walls. Half the room was made of windows overlooking the lake, and the other half was a vibrant aquarium. Sophie knew the room all too well. She’d been in it often—usually when Alden needed to have an unpleasant conversation.

  But Grady and Edaline didn’t look upset. In fact, all three of them were reading long yellowed scrolls. More scrolls were piled on the desk, the floor—every flat surface in the room. Sophie couldn’t tell what they were working on, but it looked important.

  “Stay safe,” she whispered, tracing her fingers over their faces.

  She watched for several minutes more, wishing one of them would look up. When they didn’t, she let the image blink away. She realized then, with a twinge of guilt, that she hadn’t checked on her human family in weeks—maybe even months. She’d been so distracted by all the huge problems she’d been facing, she’d . . . forgotten.

  “Show me Connor, Kate, and Natalie Freeman,” she told the Spyball, using the names she wasn’t supposed to know. The elves had changed her family’s identities after they’d erased Sophie from their lives, fearing she might try to contact them. Being erased had been Sophie’s choice—her final gift to spare her family a lifetime of grieving a missing child. The only reason she knew who they were was because the Black Swan gave her the top-secret information.

  The Spyball turned warm again, and when the image appeared it showed three different scenes. It must’ve been daytime where her family lived, because her dad was sitting at a desk in a windowed office, her mom was driving somewhere, and her sister was doodling on her notebook in a classroom. The normal, everyday moments looked so foreign compared to the things Sophie was now used to seeing.

  “Is that your family?” a soft voice asked, and Sophie dropped the Spyball.

  It rolled across the floor, stopping at Calla’s feet.

  “Sorry,” the tiny gnome said, retrieving the Spyball and frowning at the images. “Everything looks so gray in their world.”

  “Humans don’t have a lot of green in their cities,” Sophie agreed.

  “Such a pity.” Calla handed back the gadget. “Plants are the best for soothing. In fact”—she hummed a song under her breath, and the vine growing over Sophie’s canopied bed bloomed with deep purple flowers—“I know you struggle with nightmares,” she told Sophie, “so I planted these reveriebells to give you sweet dreams. The secret is in their scent.”

  Sophie closed her eyes and inhaled. The smell reminded her of gardenias, with a hint of vanilla, and something spicier too. Maybe ginger?

  She could feel it settle into her muscles, making her shoulders relax.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “It is my honor.” Calla wove a loose strand of the vine carefully in with the others. “I must confess, it feels very strange to talk to you, after all these years.”

  “Years?” Sophie repeated.

  Calla smiled her green-toothed smile. “I know this might be hard to believe, but I’ve been part of Project Moonlark since the beginning.”

  TWELVE

  YOU WERE PART of project Moonlark?” Sophie repeated, needing to hear it one more time.

  Calla nodded. “I was the one who chose the project’s name.”

  Moonlarks were incredibly rare because they didn’t nest with their eggs like other birds. They laid them in the ocean and let them drift at sea, so that only the strongest made it to shore. Once they hatched, the babies had
to survive alone. It was a fitting metaphor, though Sophie wished it didn’t imply so much struggle.

  “I know it must sound strange,” Calla said, “a gnome helping with elvin genetics. But much of the project reminded me of cross-pollinating. Like these reveriebells. I blended dreamlillies, sweetshades, and aethrials, keeping the best traits of each.”

  “So . . . you helped tweak my genes,” Sophie clarified, hoping Calla wasn’t about to tell her she was part plant. It was hard enough knowing her genes had been modeled off alicorn DNA. She didn’t need to be the horse girl and the tree girl.

  “ ‘Helped’ is the wrong word. I was there to keep the Black Swan grounded, and ensure they never strayed from what was natural, or lost sight of the fact that they were sparking the life of an innocent girl.”

  “Does that mean you know what they’re planning for me?” Sophie asked.

  “ ‘Plan’ is also the wrong word. I know their hopes—mostly because I share them.” She turned away, humming under her breath and making more reveriebells blossom. “Did you like the pin I gave you?”

  It took Sophie a second to realize Calla meant her Prattles’ pin.

  She reached for her allergy remedy necklace, where the silver bird was still pinned through the cord. “How did you know the box would have the moonlark?”