A Radiant Sky

14

Monday nights at the Bean were the quietest. The plan was to get there early and study for finals until ten o’clock, when Ian could close and we could really get to work.

I parked my car a block away from the coffee shop and took a detour past Into the Woods. The air was warm, summer was on its way, and it was staying lighter out later. Couples strolled the streets downtown, hand in hand, stopping for ice cream and lounging on benches. Families of tourists popped in and out of stores, dressed in jeans and lightweight fleeces, sandals instead of hiking boots. It could have been any spring night. I was struck so suddenly by how separate I felt from these people, how detached. They seemed so happy and carefree, walking with their families, their girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, and husbands. They knew nothing about the Order, the Rebellion, or Rogues. They were unaware that their lives were controlled right down to the tiniest detail. The brand of toothpaste they use, arriving five minutes late to pick up their kid from soccer practice, the whisper of a breath on someone’s cheek; the smallest most insignificant events wound up like a snowball right at the start of an avalanche. One thing happens, which leads to another, and that leads to one more thing, and then before you know it your whole life has been written out for you like some great and ancient book. And every time war broke out, every time a tsunami wiped out half a population or an unexpected earthquake decimated thousands of lives—that was the Rebellion, trying to rewrite the history of the world. Fighting control with chaos.

I practiced putting up mental walls against Astaroth as I walked the rest of the way down Main Street and through the door to the Bean. Ian jumped as the bells on the door jingled, and shot me a look. The place was almost empty. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who was tense.

I made my way to the couches in the back where we always hung out. When I unzipped my bag and went to pull out my history textbook, a few others fell out with it. The one on top was a well-worn guide to colleges and universities, the cover ripped from carrying it around in my bag all year, and lots of pages dog-eared and marked with neon Post-it notes. The book fell open easily to the page I’d gone back to the most over the past year. Columbia University.

I traced my finger over the student testimonials, descriptions of the food and housing, tips and tricks for life in New York.

I hadn’t looked at this book since I found out who I was—now there was a chance I might not even make it to college after all.

New York. So different from my tiny mountain town in Colorado. I had dreamed about living there one day, going to museums and the theater, discovering more to life than just what was contained on all sides by mountains. I had never left Colorado. Now, I realized, it was because my parents and Aunt Jo were trying to protect me from my destiny.

I knew that one day I needed to escape. My heart would always belong in River Springs, but my life here had never been on my own terms. What I longed for more than anything was to put the past behind me and live out a future that was entirely mine.

The door jangled again, startling me from my thoughts, as the last customers of the night left, and Ian locked the door behind them.

“All clear!” he called. I made my way over to the counter, where he was already logging in to Love the Bean’s computer. “Okay,” Ian said. “I’ve googled him a couple of times since we talked, but I can’t seem to find anything that might fit what we’re looking for. I mean . . . I don’t think my dad is a Welsh politician, do you?”

“Unlikely,” I said. “But we know his name, and we know what he looks like now, because I saw him in my most recent vision. Do a Google Image search, and let’s see if I recognize him. Then we can cross-reference with the white pages or something, like I did with Aaron Ward.”

More typing.

“Okay,” said Ian. “Do any of these guys look familiar?” I scanned the faces.

“Not really,” I said.

Ian frowned. “Do you think . . . ?” He trailed off.

“What?”

“Nah, never mind.”

“Ian,” I prodded. “Tell me. What are you thinking?”

“Well . . . there have to be a bunch of different James Harrisons out there, right? What if the guy we’re looking for isn’t my dad? What if we just want him to be?”

I thought about it. Ian did have a point—there were a bunch of Aaron Wards, and I’d used my visions to track him down. When I saw him, I knew. I’d gotten the same feeling when I’d seen James’s face in my mind. Besides, he’d kind of looked like Ian.

“I’m pretty sure it’s your dad,” I said. “It’s just a feeling I get. But it looks like . . .” I took over and typed a few more things into the computer, which yielded zero search results. “He doesn’t want to be found as badly as we want to find him.”

Ian pounded his fist against the counter in frustration.

“Is it possible he changed his name?” I asked.

“Well, yeah. It’s possible he moved to Siberia. Anything’s possible.”

“We’ll find him,” I said. “Don’t give up hope.” I tried to recall the mental image of James Harrison in my head, but something was bugging me. “Hey, Ian?”

“Yeah?”

“How come you’ve never mentioned much about your family before? This whole thing . . . it’s the first I’m hearing about your dad.”

Ian glanced at me, then busied himself with emptying the cash register.

“No reason. There just hasn’t been much to say.”

“Yeah, but . . .” I paused, wondering the best way to phrase this. “I’m an only child. You’re an only child. My parents died when I was six and I live with my aunt. Your dad left when you were the same age, and you live with your mom. It seems like somewhere down the line, this would have come up.”

“Yeah, well, it hasn’t.”

“Ian!”

“Look, Skye, Aunt Jo loves having us all over for dinner and being like a den mother or whatever. My family’s not like that, okay? I guess I’m just a little more private.”

I glared at him. “Don’t talk to me about private,” I said. “I have had to keep way too many secrets in my life.”

He sighed and tossed the zip-up bag with the money onto the counter.

“Okay, listen. I was kind of ashamed. Your parents died, Skye—all noble and trying to protect you and everything. They would have done anything for you. My dad ran out, just left without a word. I was so little, I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

“But aren’t there pictures? Didn’t your mom tell you anything?”

“My mom was so furious she hid everything from me. She refused to tell me anything about him. Who he was, what he did, why he left—until now. And only because I said I was old enough now that I could find him on my own, if I wanted. There’s still a lot she won’t tell me. But at least I got his name.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had been so focused on the mission, I’d barely stopped to think what this might be like for Ian. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, well. I grew up hating him, thinking he was bad. Determined that I wouldn’t end up like him. I never wanted to find my dad.” We sat in silence for a minute. “You miss your parents every day, Skye. Before this whole thing started, I was pretty content not knowing anything, you know?”

“We don’t have to—”

“Yes,” he put his hand on my arm gently. “We do.”

“I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

“I would do a lot of things for you, Skye.” He winked at me. “Most things. But this? I’m doing this for all of us.” He finished clearing up, then turned back to me. “You know, maybe it’s not too late for me to want to find out the truth.”

When I pulled into my driveway, the light was on inside, spilling out in window shapes over the front lawn. It didn’t seem like so long ago that I would come home to find Asher leaning against the front door, legs crossed casually in front of him, smiling that slightly wicked smile of his, his eyes sparkling like dark stars. Something sliced through my chest, a pain so sharp and clear I had to put my hand on the car for support.

It seemed to me, all my life, that love was letting someone in, only to have them leave you.

I could hear voices coming from inside—Aunt Jo’s, and then Earth’s, and then Aaron’s deep baritone cutting in above the clinking of pots, the rushing of water in the kitchen sink.

Love was letting someone in, only to have them leave you.

I was getting too attached to Earth and Aaron. We needed him—both of them—to help us with the Uprising. But after that, would they stay? Maybe Earth was wrong, and loving someone wasn’t just like riding a bike. Or maybe you realized that riding bikes was fun when you were younger, but you’re a different person now.

I didn’t want them to leave. I wanted to have family dinners and weekend camping trips and big turkeys at Thanksgiving, and inside jokes that only the four of us would know.

I hesitated in the driveway, and instead of going in right away, I walked around the side of the house and climbed the trellis up to the roof. The sky was clear, midnight blue and cloudless. The moon shone bright as a lantern over the mountaintops.

Why had I seen Asher the night of the fire? What else was the Rebellion planning—and was he involved? The Rebellion was violent and unpredictable. And whether he wanted to be or not, Asher was one of them.

What if he’d turned his back on me?

What if Astaroth was right?