“SOMEBODY GAVE US an anonymous tip,” Brady says in a southern twang as big as his belt buckle. “This one might be an angel. We’re fixin’ to take him somewhere to make real sure.”
Julian blanches. Brady must mean some sort of brimstone enclosure, like a jail. If they hold him too long, he’ll go insane. As much as Julian frustrates me, I don’t want that for him.
I wonder if it was Neil who gave the anonymous tip. Did he somehow find out that Julian was here and turn him in already? I have to try to stop this.
I march over to Julian, elbowing the security goons when they try to stop me. “Julian is innocent. I’ll vouch for him.”
“Tell it to Furukama-Sensei at his trial.” Brady’s towering stance is formidable, but his chin quivers. He is waffling.
Libby breaks in. She materializes a cashmere wrap and bundles up in it, which makes her look softer, an impression that is counterbalanced by the stiff way she holds her head. “If he truly is an angel, he is our main suspect. We’ll find out soon enough.”
At this point I risk another glance at Autumn. Despite all her years of training, the fact that the three of us—her, me, and Julian—are all back together again has to have made the events of that last Halloween, when she caught us kissing in the taxi, rush to the surface. At least the boiling red color of her face makes me think that.
“Take him away, Brady,” Libby says. Brady looks over at Autumn for confirmation, and she nods, jaw tight. Apparently Libby outranks her.
The security detail regroups and blocks my access to Julian. I start to approach Libby to protest, but Neil pulls me back. “Let him go.”
The steel in Neil’s voice stops me in my tracks, and all I can do is look at the back of Julian’s head. Autumn, Libby, and Brady fall into step behind Julian’s captors, and the procession moves back in the direction of the hill.
I close my eyes and press my fingertips hard against my temples. The Morati are still on the loose. We’re all in danger. Right now Julian is the only one who can help me find my lost memories, something he can’t do in custody—and something he can’t do if he’s exposed to brimstone and goes crazy. I don’t want Julian to get hurt, even if he has hurt me countless times. I’m concerned for his well-being. I care about him.
“Come on, Felicia.” Neil prods me in the side with his folded-over brochure until I open my eyes. “If he’s the criminal, then things will go back to normal.”
“Do you think Julian’s the one behind all this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice measured, but apparently failing, if Neil’s sudden defensive posture is any indication. “He rescued you. He brought us back together.”
Neil scoffs. “He did that to serve his own agenda. You know that even better than I do.”
Julian is a master of twisting the truth. He screwed up my life, and he’s messed with my death. And yet I am drawn to him. I yearn to give him the benefit of the doubt. There is obviously something wrong with me.
“Were you the one who gave the anonymous tip that Julian is an angel?” I ask, half-scared of the answer.
Neil narrows his eyes. “Me? I didn’t even know he was in Level Three. Did you?”
I get the distinct vibe I should keep my conversation with Julian to myself. “Why would I know?” I ask so I can avoid an outright lie. “There must be something we can do to help him. You seem pretty chummy with Libby. Maybe you could ask her to release Julian.”
Neil tenses. “Let’s let the security team handle this. If Julian’s innocent, he’ll be fine.”
If they expose him to brimstone long enough, he won’t be fine. But I can’t tell Neil that because he’ll wonder how I know about brimstone’s effects on angels.
As we walk, Neil taps the brochure against his thigh. I’m used to him redirecting his nervous energy into a driving beat to a song only he can hear in his head, and for several minutes I try to guess what it might be. I peek over at him, expecting his features to reflect the calming effect of music. But instead of gaiety I get grim, as if we’re on some sort of death march. I think back to the easy way Neil and I were able to interact in those months after the fall of the mainframe in Level Two. How we created top ten memory lists in different categories, even silly ones like top ten car rides and top ten root beer floats. How we recited poetry to each other and he sang me songs. And how he kept me close, even when intently counseling others on the best way to face unpleasant memories so they could move on. Now in Level Three, with Nate in the picture, and Gracie, and Julian, there are so many tiny land mines to avoid in the space between Neil and me lately.
For Julian’s sake, though, I have to try one last time to persuade Neil of Julian’s importance to us. “But what if Julian knows a way to get all our memories back? Think about it. The Morati could have stolen our memories when we got to Level Two. They might still have them. What if Julian could help us?”
“If Julian is some kind of evil mastermind, I wouldn’t want him to do me any more favors.” Neil squints at me. He shakes his head and opens the door of the dorm. “Deals with the devil never turn out well.”
“Maybe Julian isn’t as evil as you seem to think.”
We climb the stairs in silence, and when we reach his room, he takes my hands in his. “Promise me you won’t get caught up in this Julian mess. Let him lie his own way out.”
“But—”
“We’re still in this together, right?” His blue eyes search my face. I’m never going to be able to adequately explain to him why Julian is important to me, not only as someone who is willing to help me but as a friend. I’ll have to drop it for now.
“Of course. And we always will be,” I say forcefully, as if mere determination could make it true.
“Good.” He brushes back the hair from my face and kisses my forehead, then my temple, my cheek, and finally my lips. “I love you, you know.”
My heart soars within my chest, because this is big. Because despite all we’ve been through, this is the first time he’s ever said it out loud. I don’t hesitate to say it back. “I love you.” His grin is contagious, infecting me with desire and delight. My lips long to spread kisses all over his body, and my limbs itch to spontaneously break into dance.
He opens the door and then steps back into his room. I move to follow him, but he blocks me with his body. “I . . .” He swallows hard. “Can you give me a little time? After what happened to Kiara, I need to be alone to process all this . . .” He trails off, leaving all the other things he needs to come to terms with hanging in the air.
He finally tells me he loves me, and then he sends me away. He might as well have smacked me across the face. “Yeah, okay.” My smile is wobbly but far more generous than is genuine. He closes the door on me for the second time in two days.
I return to my room and spend the next couple of hours flipping through my muse workbook and wrestling with myself. If I’m a good girl, I won’t break curfew. I’ll stay here and meditate on my future until Neil comes to get me for our class tomorrow. But the sting of Neil’s rejection and the lure of getting my memories back are too strong. I didn’t actually promise Neil I wouldn’t go to Julian. He’s over there mourning a girl he barely knew. He doesn’t care about our lost memories or about finding out what happened in our relationship back on Earth. I need to know, so in case the same obstacles come up again, I will be able to conquer them, for the benefit of both of us. After the way Neil so thoroughly shut me out, he won’t miss me tonight.
Still, as I skulk down the hallway and descend the stairs, I have to shake off the mantle of guilt that weighs down my shoulders for both sneaking out and looking for Julian without telling Neil about it.
When I slip out the double doors downstairs, it is the semidark of twilight. I can’t imagine there are actual rotations of this afterlife realm around a sun, but who knows? Dividing time into day and night is probably something the powers that be do to help us acclimatize, like the campus construct. But it seems almost counterintuitive, like it would make it even harder for us to detach from our lives on Earth with so many reminders of it.
I run over to the nearest tree and press myself against the rough bark. The realness of the texture against my bare arms makes me homesick for Nidda Park and the stubby pines in Grammy’s backyard in Ohio. I breathe in the earthy scent and peer up at the utterly gorgeous pattern the green leaves form against a sky filled with stars, so much more inviting than the bright, blurry whiteness of Level Two. I might have a million more moments like these missing from my memory banks because of the Morati.
That thought only reinforces my determination to find a way to restore my memories. I have to find Julian. In Level Two, Eli taught me to think of the person I was seeking and then scan for their brain waves. It had to be someone I recently touched or knew well. I successfully used this technique to find my friend Beckah, and if it worked for me in Level Two, maybe it will work for me here. I picture Julian, his strong arms reaching out to me, drawing me toward him. A signal tingles at the base of my skull. It’s weak, but it’s coming from Assembly Hill.
I hurry from the tree to the shadows of the Muse Collection Library to a gigantic tree in the center of the lawn. It is covered from trunk to branches with scraps of paper of all colors and sizes. One of them says “My sister’s locket.” Another says “My letterman jacket.” This must be the Forgetting Tree that Megan mentioned. I take a moment to remember Megan. It’s heartbreaking that she will never have the chance to write “My braces.”
I continue on to the north side of the administration building. With proximity Julian’s signal from the hill has grown stronger, but it has a strange shape to it, and it makes me worry that the brimstone could already be harming him. I seek cover behind some bushes and survey the scene in front of me, looking out for the security force.
All the booths from the fair are gone now, and no one at all is outside. Maybe Julian’s brimstone cage inside the hill is so secure, they don’t feel the need to patrol. But I don’t want to be too reckless and show myself prematurely.
During the next few minutes there is no movement whatsoever. Not even a false breeze rustles the leaves on the trees.
As I’m about to step from my hiding place and run for the hill, I spot Cash and his team. I duck down lower in the bushes, praying they don’t see me. As silent as ninjas, Cash’s team continues on by.
Once enough minutes have passed, I work up the courage to make a break for it. I flex my feet and propel myself forward. But I don’t advance a single step, because a hand clamps down on my shoulder. And a deep voice commands me to stop.