The Violet Hour (19 page)

I stomped across the sand, pushing past the bodyguards and returning the way we’d come. As far as I knew, Adam and Hayes just stood there, watching me leave.

“Adam and I are going to initiate each other into the remaining mysteries,” I lied, feeling like a traitor. “But the Resistance can’t find out. They have their own designs on power over VisionCrest—just look at the way they’re holding us here like prisoners.”

Dora’s eyes grew wide. “Where, and from whom? There isn’t a VisionCrest temple anywhere in this entire country.”

Asleep in her lap, Stubin lurched into a coughing fit, but he didn’t wake up. We were in the infirmary; I’d tiptoed there hours after that little scene on the beach, when the house was quiet. I couldn’t stand the thought of running into Hayes or Adam, much less being subjected to both of them at once.

“Adam has a contraband copy of the first nine mysteries, which he stole from his father,” I explained, having prepared for this question. “It’s important that we claim our official roles as Matriarch and Eparch before Sacristan Wang’s splinter group—or the Resistance—can take it away from us. And believe me, they both want to take it away.”

The old Dora would have called me on this whopper of a lie. Instead, my best friend was reduced to offering an indignant square of her shoulders. After what we’d been through, nothing seemed impossible anymore.

“You’re not going away without me,” she said, stroking Stubin’s hair. “I won’t let you leave me out of this, too.”

The way her eyes wrinkled at the corners told me I’d hurt her deeply—maybe beyond repair. But I couldn’t give her what she was asking.

“This isn’t your fight,” I said.

“Oh, but it’s Adam’s?”

I opted not to divulge the fact that Adam was the one who knew everything all along, but who’d withheld the information from both of us. We had to seem united or I’d never convince Dora to let me go it alone.

“Dora, Stubin needs you. You said it yourself—if he’s put in a high-stress situation, it could kill him. And you can’t leave him here with a bunch of strangers. When it’s done, we’ll go back to Twin Falls together,” I said. “We’ll rebuild.”

“You’re lying to me, even now,” Dora said. “You don’t believe in the Fellowship.”

I looked down at my feet. I didn’t know what to say. “Maybe I do now.”

“Is the General really dead?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“Yes,” I said, swallowing hard.

She looked at me. “This has something to do with that voice you hear, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You should have trusted me,” she said.

It sounded painfully familiar. They were the same words I’d said to Adam, and she was completely right.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She looked off into the distance, her lips pressed into a thin line. I wasn’t sure I would ever regain her trust.

“When are you leaving?” she asked.

“Not for a while,” I lied. “But when I do, it won’t be for long. I’ll be back, and I’ll be missing you and loving you the entire time.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a cheesemonger.”

I sighed, relief coursing through me. “Only for you, babycakes. Only for you.”

I got up and padded toward the door.

“Harlow?” Dora called.

I stopped and turned toward her. “I love you, too.”

I’d only been back in my room a few minutes when there was a soft rap at the door. I expected it to be Hayes, apologizing
for earlier and making empty assurances about how I was under the Resistance’s protection but not their prisoner.

Instead, it was Adam. He looked hastily left and right. “Can I come in?” he asked. He was nervous and clearly still pissed about the Hayes thing.

“Fine,” I said tersely, making it crystal clear that I was mad, too. I opened the door wider and he slipped in. I closed it behind him.

“They for sure know you’re here,” I said. “There’s been guards posted outside my room since we got here.”

“There’s one guard, and I’ve been watching him for the last hour. He just took a bio-break so we only have a minute.”

“I’m sure they’re watching your room, too,” I said.

“I went out the window. I’m pretty accomplished at sneaking in and out of bedrooms, as I’m sure you’ve gathered.” He was trying to wind me up, but I wasn’t going to take the bait.

“So what did you find today?” I asked.

“Well, you making out with that scrawny beach grommet, for starters.”

“It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything.”

Adam scoffed. “Right. Well, I also found someone who can meet us at the floating market in Hoi An, tomorrow morning before dawn. They’ll have a speedboat waiting off the main dock. We’ll boat south along the coast to somewhere near Nha Trang, and we’ll bicycle into Cambodia from there.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘bicycle into Cambodia’?”

“It’s the only way to stay low profile. Sorry, Your Highness;
no private jets for you this time. It will only take a couple days.”

“That was apparently quite a surf session you had.”

“Yeah, well—let’s just say I was highly motivated. And based on what I saw at the beach today, my instincts to get us the hell out of here were right. You know he’s using you, right?”

“You’re such a hypocrite,” I said. “Just tell me how we’re getting away from here.”

Adam’s look darkened. I could tell he wanted to say something but was holding back.

“Fine. We’ll leave the same way we came—on pretty boy’s schooner. The roof outside your window is about fifteen feet off the ground. Bodyguards patrol on foot in a circular path around the grounds. They pass by here every fifteen minutes, beginning at the top of each hour. At five a.m., one of them will pass beneath your window—wait until he’s out of sight and then drop and make a break for the jungle. I’ll meet you at the beach, with the boat.”

“We really want to do this?” I whispered.

“We really don’t have a choice,” he answered.

A look passed between us. For a split second we were the Adam and Harlow we used to be. Then he gave a little shoulder shrug.

“I’ve gotta go. Does Dora know you’re leaving?” He was moving toward the window.

“I told her we were going to begin the Rites of Initiation,” I said.

His features softened. “When this is done, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

I nodded.

“You’re welcome,” he said, one foot out the window, on the sloping roof of the house, and one foot inside.

“You’re a jerk,” I said.

“I know,” he said, then leaned back into the room. His lips landed squarely on mine, his kiss powerful and insistent. It knocked the wind out of me, and not just because it was unexpected. He smiled a bit, seeing my reaction. “But I’m a jerk who cares about you.”

I watched him crawl away into the dark, wondering if this plan had any chance of working and knowing that no matter what happened, somebody was going to get hurt.

As I was crawling into bed, I noticed the mirror out of the corner of my eye. I could see that the girl reflected back was moving, even though I wasn’t. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t help it. A low, static buzz invaded my brain as I turned my head.

My mirror image was pacing back and forth, back and forth, dragging her finger across the glass. She looked pissed. Her head jerked up and she caught me staring.

Return to me. Return to me. Return to me.

I couldn’t look away. She pounded both fists against the glass, repeatedly. It made the sound of a freight train coming through the room.

Return to me. Return to me. RETURN TO ME!

The mirror shattered, shards of glass flying everywhere. I dove beneath the bedspread for cover, half-expecting her to climb through the broken glass and step into the room with me. I waited, shivering with fear under the blanket, listening for the sound of footsteps.

At last, I gathered the courage to peek out. There was nothing there. No broken mirror. No rogue reflection. Just me, staring out, wide-eyed with fear.

I needed this to be over before I completely lost my mind.

FLOATING MARKET

The Hoi An central market was in its pre-dawn hubbub. Adam and I had abandoned our schooner at the city’s edge, then walked through the covered maze of market stalls toward the main dock. Brightly colored fruits and greens of all shapes and sizes were being portioned out in flat, round bowls as vendors set up for the day. But the real action was up ahead—the farther we walked into the depths of the market, the closer we got to the throng of slight old women gathered at the docks, buying and selling flora and fauna from boats laden with organic riches. This floating market was like the floor of the stock exchange, only with thatched hats instead of three-piece suits and squid instead of ticker tape. Even from a hundred feet out, I could see that there was exactly the same amount of ruthless negotiation.

When we’d left Bên Trong M
ắ
t, Adam had thrust a thatched hat into my hands, and now I pulled it lower to shield my eyes. I was wearing a long, burnt-orange Ao Dai dress and blousy pants I’d found hanging in my closet, behind the sundresses. My VisionCrest uniform was wrapped up in a little parcel and shoved into a backpack—it felt like the only proof of identity I had left, even if it was a dangerous currency in this part of the world. I wanted to believe that we’d be coming back, but the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to leave my uniform behind told me I didn’t fully believe that was true.

Vendors and shoppers wore surgical masks over their faces. We did too, but for different a reason: we were trying to hide. Everyone else was whispering about a virus. It was all over the news—small outbreaks of something so virulent that it made the victims vomit blood, then collapse and seize, like a dying fish, in a pool of their own platelets. Thus far the spread had been contained to small pockets. Nobody was sure what was causing the outbreaks, but it killed quickly, with limited chance to spread. I suspected that wouldn’t be the case for long. It was just the opening salvo in Isiris’s purification war, and a message in a bottle for me: Go to her, or else. The world was a ticking time bomb.

I peeked up at Adam, next to me. He was wearing an outfit of loose linen, his hospital mask covering most of his face and his sloped hat obscuring the rest. Even so, he was clearly out of place. It would only be a matter of time before someone recognized us. Yet all we had to do was weave our way through the rest of these food stalls without being recognized—recognition could lead to anything from a curious mob to a detention by the local authorities. Either way, we would be screwed.

I looked over my shoulder, expecting at any moment to see the Resistance bodyguards weaving through the crowd. Every time I saw someone with a cell phone my heart skipped a beat—all it would take was one savvy mole, and they would be on us before we could make it out.

We were just feet away from the docks now. The briny, fishy scent on the wind smelled like fear. Last night I’d had a nightmare in which Dora, and Adam, and I were alone in a rowboat. I watched Dora deteriorate before my eyes, melting over the sides. Then Adam climbed over the side of the boat to save her, only to be carried away on an endless tide. I was left alone, floating in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t take Freud to interpret that one.

I focused back on the here and now—anything beyond that was too scary. An elevated tension hung in the air. This was our make-it-or-break-it moment. The first of many, I realized grimly.

We broke free from the labyrinth of stalls and fought our way onto the docks. The throngs of tiny Vietnamese women, cigarettes dangling from their lips, brokered their deals. They bartered and bickered with one another as their husbands slopped buckets of fresh fish off the boats and onto the cement docks. The sun was just peeking up over the ocean, illuminating the hustle and bustle of the town’s commerce.

A three-toned whistle rang out through the air behind us.

My spine stiffened in recognition. It was the whistle Hayes had used when we first approached the Resistance compound by boat. Adam and I both turned, combing the crowd to see where it was coming from. Another whistle. Then another. It seemed to be coming from all angles at the same time.

Adam turned to look at me, his eyes wild. “Run.”

Someone had recognized us—not surprising, since there was a bounty on my head the size of a small country’s GDP. It wasn’t just the Resistance but also Wang who was sure to have his spies hunting us. Neither one of these groups could afford to have me on the loose, threatening to start my own rebellion that might topple their own bids for supremacy.

I tried to run, but the crowd was too thick. Women aggressively threw elbows and pushed one another, making it next to impossible to navigate quickly. I took another look behind me, and this time I saw them.

There, just a hundred feet behind us, worming their way through the stalls toward us, was a pack of beefy men who looked like they’d just broken out of a maximum security prison. It didn’t much matter which side they were playing for, Wang or Resistance. They clearly meant us harm.

“It’s just up here,” Adam yelled, as we crashed through disgruntled ladies who spit on the ground in our wake.

I burst into a full sprint, mumbling sorries as baskets full of vibrant vegetables spilled onto the slimy boards of the dock. Adam grabbed my hand and pulled me along, bobbing and weaving as he steered us to some unknown launch point. The locals were stirring and pointing, the first seeds of unrest beginning to grow as people started to notice the two people who didn’t belong running full-speed along the docks. I could hear the pounding of boots behind us, so close now that I dared not turn around for fear of losing crucial seconds.

The crowd thinned as we shot out onto a rickety pier that was surrounded by lichen-choked water. I looked up ahead and saw a speedboat waiting, empty save for a man in a peaked hat and surgical mask. That had to be our guy.

We stopped at the edge.

“We have to jump,” Adam instructed, pulling me toward him. “On the count of three, jump as far as you can.”

“I don’t think I can make it.”

“You have to make it! Do it! One, two,
three
!”

I leaped from the pier and toppled onto the smooth white seats of the speedboat.

“Come on,” I screamed at Adam, who was still standing at the edge. Two women had grabbed him by the arms and were pulling at him. The men were steps from him.

“Jump!” I screamed.

My eyes locked on his, and I saw something rise up inside him. He leaped, nearly clearing the opposite side of the boat.

“Go! Go!” I yelled at the driver as he fired up the engine. There was a rumble and then a jerk, and I rolled back against Adam. We huddled in a ball at the bottom of the boat.

Just like that, we were chopping our way across the waves, watching the men panting at the edge of the pier, radioing frantically to unknown cohorts. As the pier receded in the distance, I recognized Hayes, emerging from the crowd to stand with the men who’d been chasing us. Even though I was too far away to see it, I could feel the disappointment in his eyes. Maybe things could be different some day in the future, if he gave up on the idea of protecting me—which was the same as controlling me—and realized that I didn’t need him or anyone else to watch over me. I was just as powerful as any boy. More, even.

Miraculously, we made it out into open water without being pursued and began the eight-hour journey to a little beach village just north of Nha Trang, where we planned to begin our trek by bike. Adam and I sat in silence for the first two hours. My mind was racing through every angle of our escape and what still lay in front of us; the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became.

“I’m not sure about this plan,” I finally whispered to Adam, hoping the din of the engines disguised my words from our driver.

“Going by boat is the only way we can stay untraceable,” Adam said. “The Resistance has the police in its pocket, and every single main road is going to have checkpoints and surveillance. They can’t touch us out here—we disappear off the map, and they have no idea where to find us.”

I tipped my head toward the driver, who didn’t seem to be aware we were talking.

“Are you sure the people who helped you set this up aren’t going to give you away?” I whispered in his ear.

Adam looked warily at the driver. “What are you suggesting? We have to have a guide or we’ll never find our way.”

“I’d be willing to bet that by now the Resistance has bribed someone to spill your plan, so unless we change our course, it’s pretty much guaranteed they’ll be waiting for us when we dock.”

Adam rubbed his hand over his face. He was exhausted—both of us were. We couldn’t afford to make sloppy decisions. Not when we were so close.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“I’m suggesting that we have him make an unexpected stop in the next place that looks reasonably inhabited and we run like hell to get away from him. We use the money we have to hitch a ride to where we need to go. Screw the bikes.”

“Is this just your attempt to avoid exercise?” he asked, flashing me a devious smile.

“Partially.” I grinned back.

“Well, then, I guess there’s no point in arguing,” he said.

It felt good to be back on civil terms. If we were going to make it through what lay ahead, we were going to have to work as a team.