Samheed closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. He sat there in silence until a tear trickled out, and another. He wiped them away and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I hate this,” he said.
Alex looked over his shoulder at his friend. “Me too.”
They stayed together in the hallway for a long time, Alex painting and thinking, Samheed watching and trying not to lose it, until finally Samheed said, “I heard about Aaron.”
Alex’s hand wavered, and he cursed under his breath, trying to fix the errant line he’d made. He drew his thumb along it, dabbing the excess paint onto his pants. When he’d fixed his mistake, he replied, “They were coming for me, you know.”
“Makes sense.”
“I’m sure Aaron has no idea what’s happening. Or why he was captured.”
“If he’s even alive,” Samheed said.
Alex frowned at his work. “Why would they kidnap him if they were just going to kill him? Why not just kill him?”
“I don’t know.”
Alex painted a while longer. “I think he’s alive.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I don’t know why. I just—I just think I’d, you know, feel something if he died. I’d be able to tell.” He let out a small laugh. “Sounds weird, I know.”
Samheed shifted in his chair. “You always were a little weird when it came to Aaron.”
“I suppose. I mean, we were very close. Or . . . or I thought we were.”
Samheed gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, I know he’s your twin, but he’s a bad person. And you’re not. And I think . . . if it’s possible . . . you should just forget about it. About him. Because I, for one, am kind of glad he’s gone.”
Alex cringed and stepped back to look at his work. “I suppose you’re happier with Gondoleery in charge,” he said, sarcasm creeping into his voice.
Samheed was quiet.
Alex snuck a glance at him. He could see that Samheed was trying to hold his tongue, which wasn’t easy for him.
“No, you’re right,” Samheed said eventually. “We’re worse off until we figure out how to stop her kind of magic. That’s true.”
Samheed’s admission surprised Alex, but he took it without question. They fell silent again.
Slowly, as Alex finished sections of the 3-D door, the corners and edges pushed out from the wall. Soon the drawing was finished. Alex took a tiny rubber component and cast it at the drawing, muttering “Preserve.” The component hit the canvas in the center, spread out, and rippled to the edges so it would never tear. He released the drawing from the wall and began rolling it so he could deliver it to Lani.
“You ready, bruiser?” asked Alex. “Let me help you back down to the hospital ward.”
Samheed frowned. “Can’t you just bring me to my room?”
“No way. The nurses will kill me.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Alex tucked the 3-D door under one arm and helped Sam out of the chair. They walked slowly toward the balcony, where Artiméans bustled about, going in and out of their respective hallways.
As Alex helped Samheed descend the steps, he caught a glance from Simber, who stood in his familiar spot at the front door. By the time they reached the bottom, Simber’s attention was elsewhere, his ears flicking this way and that, and his head tilted to one side. He leaped off his pedestal and stood at attention by the door.
Alex’s heart fell. “What is it, Sim?” he asked in a low voice. They weren’t ready for another attack. Samheed’s hands went automatically to where his vest pockets would be if he were wearing it, but he was unarmed. Alex grabbed components from his robe and shoved them at Samheed before taking some in his own hands.
Simber narrowed his eyes. “Somebody’s coming. But I don’t . . . I can’t tell if . . .”
“Claire? Ms. Octavia?” Alex called out. “Are you around? We have visitors.”
Ms. Octavia and Claire Morning came out of their classrooms and joined the head mage, preparing to attack as well.
There was a soft bumping at the door, more like something falling against it than a knock.
Alex looked at Simber in alarm. “Shall I open it?” he whispered.
Simber hesitated, and tried peering out the window. Seeing nothing from the strange angle, he nodded.
“Stay here,” Alex muttered, and left Samheed standing alone near the banister. He went to the door, turned the handle, and opened it.
There, slumped against the door frame, was a disheveled, shivering man with two identical packages in his arms.
Both packages were crying inconsolably.
Sisters
Alex and the others stared.
Simber growled. “Carrreful,” he said. “Could be a trrrick.”
Ms. Morning peered at the figure through narrowed eyes. She took a few steps toward him to get a better look. “Liam?” she asked, incredulous. “You’re alive? What are you doing with those children?” She glanced at Alex. “Don’t let your guard down. I’m with Simber. This could be a trap.”
Alex, Samheed, and Ms. Octavia remained steady and watchful as Ms. Morning looked out the door, this way and that. When she was satisfied that there was no one else nearby, she reached out to the partially frozen Liam and took the babies, who were wrapped inside ragged pieces of cloth. Liam’s arms dropped and his head fell against the door frame. His eyes were closed.