Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [46]
“Whit …” A tear slides down her cheek. “I think I love you,” she whispers, her wide green eyes looking directly into mine. My heart lurches.
“Janine, I —”
But before I can say anything else, her eyes narrow, squinting at something behind me.
Oh no. Please don’t let it be time yet.
Chapter 49
Whit
“WHAT?” I ASK. “Janine?” I look over my shoulder to see a Lost One approaching us through the red mist, a girl with a halo of wild dark curls, a girl who is kind of pretty, who, when she was alive, might even have been beautiful.
Or maybe she isn’t a Lost One at all …?
Okay. I get it now. This is how it’s going to go: this is the Angel of Death, come to carry us away from this grisly place, come to help us truly cross over. I guess it makes sense. Why did we ever think we’d make it out of the maze?
There’s a bitter taste in my mouth as I feel all the fight finally go out of me. I was supposedly part of this epic Prophecy, but it was a lie. Just like everything else in this godforsaken world. I’m no different, no more special, than anyone else.
With anguish I think of my family. How will Wisty know? Will she think I’ve abandoned her? And what will my parents do, now that I’ve failed them?
If I was meant to die, if the Prophecy was all a hoax, I wish I could’ve just gone out with my parents when they were executed. Like a hero. Like a man. Instead of as a withering part of a miserable, barbaric, pathetic act of bestiality.
I shut my eyes, and the angel whispers my name. I wince. The truth is, I’m still not ready. No, I’m not ready for this at all.
But the voice is sweet, soothing. It sounds familiar, actually, like it’s something I’ve been waiting for all my life. Realization hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
I am a total freaking idiot. Of course she came.
“Celia!” I shout. I see the hurt wash over Janine’s face, and I cringe.
After my outburst, I shoot an anxious glance at the Lost Ones, but they seem too preoccupied to have noticed Celia or the disruption.
That, or maybe she really isn’t here and I’m just hallucinating.
Emmet is on a pole farther down the line from me and Janine, and I see his eyes widen at the sight of this shimmering apparition. So I haven’t totally lost it yet, at least.
Celia looks paler than before, and flickery. More like a ghost than an angel, to be honest.
“You’re not … Lost now, are you?” I whisper.
She draws back from me, a look of disgust on her face. “Not a chance, Whit. I’m not a murderer; I was murdered.”
I sigh with relief and then realize this could be our ticket out. “I’m so glad you’re here. We don’t have much time, and —”
“Neither do I, Whit,” she cuts in. “I’m sorry, but I can’t bail you out this time. My light is already fading.”
I glance at a Lost One, the empty sockets of its eyes gaping and emotionless. It licks the raw flesh where its lips should be, and panic builds in my chest. She wouldn’t just leave us, would she?
Celia strokes my cheek, her touch lighter than air. I wish I could feel it. Then her hand falls away abruptly. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Whit.” She glances at Janine. “You and your girlfriend.” Her voice is detached, devoid of its usual sweetness, and her words slice through my heart.
“Celia, wait!”
Then the light goes out completely and Celia is gone again, and all of my hope with her.
Chapter 50
Wisty
TOOTHBRUSH IN HAND, I’m with my fellow New Order Youths, scrubbing the barracks inch by inch. Even though they’re already spotless. Even though we scrubbed them for four hours yesterday and the day before.
My comrades, in their crisp uniforms and ribboned hair, are way more social than I would’ve thought. Contrary to the ideals of the New Order, during barracks detail they’re positively chatty. Many of the girls have especially warmed up to me now that I’m one of them, a sort of older sister even, and I’m starting to learn that inside each programmed killing machine