As she talked, her hands went almost involuntarily to Mr. Solomon - straightening his blanket, smoothing his bandages - and I knew that, unlike me, she couldn't stop touching him. She would heal him with her bare hands if she could.
"Dad's alive."
And just like that, my mother pulled her hand away.
"He's alive, Mom," I said, cursing the wheelchair, needing to face my mother and the world head-on and not like an invalid, like a child. "He's alive. She . . . Zach's mother said so."
Mom sank to her knees and looked into my eyes. "Listen to me, Cammie. Listen. They will say anything - they will do anything to get what they want. And what they want right now is you."
"Why?" I asked, the question burning inside of me. "They came to Blackthorne because Mr. Solomon told them Dad's journal was there. They'd go anywhere to find me. What do they want?"
Mom smoothed my hair. "We don't know, kiddo. I think your father was probably getting close to something. I think that's why they killed him."
"She said he's alive!"
"Don't let yourself be fooled, Cammie!" my mother snapped, then dropped her voice to a whisper. "Don't let yourself . . . hope."
I know too well how dangerous hope can be, how it grows and sometimes dies, taking its host with it. It's most powerful than anything Dr. Fibs keeps in his labs, more precious than all the secrets in Sublevel Two.
"Maybe she wasn't lying," I said. "Right? Tell me she might not be lying."
"We don't know." She said each word slowly, carefully, as if they were as much for her as for me. "But I've spent years looking for your father and I think - in my professional opinion - he probably isn't . . . alive."
Operatives who always lie make the worst spies, their intel is discounted, their mission are abandoned. There always has to be some truth among the scrap. Covert Operations call it chicken feed. But in that room on that day, my mother simply called it hope.
As my mother pushed my wheelchair to the door, I handed her the old spiral-bound notebook. "Mr. Solomon wanted Zach to have this. Can you see that he gets it?"
"Give it to him yourself, kiddo. He's waiting right outside."
His face was still covered with soot and ash. His clothes had been singed. There were bandages on his right arm, and yet everything about Zach was perfect. He had come through it all unscathed. Alive.
My mom pushed me toward him, but he didn't take my hand. We didn't hug or kiss. The fire somehow was still between us, and neither of us moved toward the other, afraid we might get burned.
"Here. You should have this." I held out the journal. "When he wakes up . . ."
He reached for the journal. His fingers brushed mine. There were a million things to say, or maybe more, but the feeling of his skin was enough in that brief moment. We were warm. We were still alive.
"Cam!" My roommates' voices echoed down the hallway, followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps against the hardwood floors.
"Cammie, we were so worried!" Liz cried. Bex and Macey threw their arms around me with slightly more force than someone should use on a person who has a full-body bruise and a dislocated shoulder.
"I'm okay, guys," I pleaded. "I'm fine. Zach and I are -"
But then I trailed off. I turned to look behind me and saw nothing but an empty hall.
Chapter Forty-Five
PROS AND CONS OF THE LAST FEW
WEEKS OF OUR JUNIOR YEAR
PRO: Bex's mom volunteered to take a temporary leave from MI6 to teach CoveOps for the rest of the semester.
CON: Mr. Solomon was still sleeping.
PRO: Turns out, when a current Gallagher Girl gets seriously injured by and ex (and evil) Gallagher Girl, other Gallagher Girls from all over the world send awesome get-well presents - like chocolate. From Switzerland.
CON: Your roommates' new "Cammie doesn't go anywhere without two of us"
means the chocolates don't last very long. At all.
PRO: Being on the P&E "Cautious Practice" roster gives a girl lots of time to work on her crossbow skills.
CON: Crossbow practice almost always includes Liz (who only grazed Madame Dabney that one time, no matter what you might have heard).
PRO: An incredibly smart, incredibly hot, incredibly mysterious boy had come to the Gallagher Academy.
CON: Not one of us could let ourselves forget why.
________________
"What about Lisbon?" Bex asked the day I left the infirmary. The sun was shining, and she stretched herself out on a blanket by the lake, closed her eyes, then bolted upright again. "Oooh . . . Geneva! My mom loves Geneva, Cam. I bet we can get my parents to -"
"Geneva for what?" I asked, trying to sit down beside her. My pride hurt as much as my body when Macey took my good arm and helped me to the ground.
"For this summer, silly," Liz said.
Summer . . . I stared blankly at the lake. I'd totally forgotten about summer.
"I go to the ranch in summer," I said, as if they didn't know that.
"Well, see, Cam. I heard my mom talking to your mom about it, and -"
"It's too dangerous," I finished for her.
It was sunny there by the lake, and yet a shadow seemed to fall across my best friends'
faces.
"Mom and Dad are going to help," Bex blurted. "Just like winter break. And your mom too. And . . . it'll be fun."
"I don't know . . . It sounds . . ." Risky. Dangerous. Deadly. "I don't want you to give up your break for me."
"Are you kidding?" Macey asked. "It'll be great. Hey, what about my parents ski house in Austria? The place is a fortress." Macey crossed her long legs.
"Thanks, Macey, but -"
"No. Seriously. It is an actual fortress. In the Alps. No way the Circle gets you there."
They sounded so confident - so sure. It was the prettiest day we'd had in weeks, and practically the entire school was outside, rowing across the lake, jogging through the woods, or, like us, lying on blankets, studying in the sun. Fresh air filled my lungs, and I could almost forgot about the smoke and the tombs. Almost.
"Oooh," Bex said. "He appears." As she pointed across the grounds, she made it sound as if Zach's presence at the school at the was less visiting student and more ghost. Watching him walk through the woods, far out of earshot of the passing girls, I could easily see why.