Diana stared at Astrid. Caine was right, and Astrid knew he was right. Of course, Diana thought, Astrid had seen the implications quicker than anyone. That’s why Astrid had tried to derail the big meeting in the mayor’s office.
Astrid, still manipulating, Diana thought bitterly. And yet, wasn’t she just defending the boy she loved? Was that so terrible?
A little kid came rushing up and pulled Astrid away.
“See?” Caine said, as though Astrid had proved his point. “When it gets down to it, when it gets down to the endgame, everyone just wants to buy another five minutes for themselves and their . . . and the people they care about.”
It was Sanjit’s little sister, Bowie, who had found Astrid and pulled her away. “Lana says you should come.”
“Why?” Astrid asked.
“Sam. Quinn just brought him to Clifftop. And he’s hurt.”
Astrid ran from the town plaza to Clifftop with her heart in her throat. She burst in, breathless and red in the face, and nearly stepped on one of the injured in the hallway.
Lana looked up as Astrid came tearing in and, before Astrid could speak, said, “He’ll live.”
But Lana was not with Sam: Sam was in a corner, on the floor, practically shoved underneath a coffee table. Quinn was with him.
“Hello, Astrid,” Quinn said.
She ignored him, knelt beside Sam, and took his face in both hands. “Sam. Sam!”
“He’s been out for a while,” Quinn said.
“What happened?”
“It seems he ran into Gaia outside of town. Broke him up pretty bad.”
Astrid twisted her head around and yelled at Lana, “Why aren’t you helping him?”
“Because he’s not going to die and this one is!” Lana snarled back.
“We need him!”
“You all needed Brianna, too. How did that work out for you?”
Astrid jumped to her feet and for a moment was so out of control she nearly swung at Lana. Lana did not flinch. Sanjit moved smoothly between them.
“Hey, hey, hey, come on. Come on.”
“You want to do something useful, Astrid, talk to your brother,” Lana said.
Astrid recoiled.
“I know all about Nemesis,” Lana said. “I know what’s on the line. You asked me to reach out to the gaiaphage—well, let me tell you, Astrid, that touch goes both ways. It’s not pleasant, Astrid.” She was barely squeezing the words out through gritted teeth. “It’s not fun sliding up next to evil . . . hearing in your head the voice of a thing that tried to enslave you. To kill you. It hates me. It’s practically salivating at the idea of crushing me. Do you get that, Astrid the Genius?”
Astrid was taken aback by the venom in Lana’s voice, the pale fury on her face. Lana had aged in just the short time since Astrid had seen her last. Astrid knew she was seeing the face of some kind of suffering that she couldn’t really understand. But the fear, the fear on the face of this tough girl . . . that she understood.
“Lana, we can kill Gaia,” Astrid said.
“And Little Pete can kill the gaiaphage,” Lana said. “Little Pete is the power: you know it, I know it. The gaiaphage is desperately afraid; that’s why it’s attacking. It’s afraid of Pete. It’s slaughtering people out of fear of Little Pete.”
“You know what Little Pete needs?” Astrid demanded. “Do you know what you’d be asking?”
Lana fell silent. She looked at the child she’d been touching. With her free hand she felt his neck, searching for a pulse. Then she laid her head on his chest, ear to his heart. Finally, she sat back. “I didn’t realize how damaged . . . I should have started sooner.”
It took Astrid a moment to realize what she had just seen. She stumbled back, stopped herself, met Lana’s haunted gaze.
“Yeah. That’s my life now,” Lana said. She raised a trembling finger to touch her own temple. “And now with it. With it back in my head. Extra fun.”
Lana stood up, nearly lost her balance, stretched to crack her back. “Well, now I have time for Sam. Plenty of time for Sam.” She accepted a glass of water from Peace and dropped down beside Sam.
“See those scissors?” Lana pointed to a pair of heavy shears on a table. “Bring them here and cut away his shirt. We have to start with his back.”
Astrid did as she was asked. She gasped seeing the bone protruding stark and white through Sam’s shoulder. But when they rolled him tenderly onto his side she saw the twisted jumble of his spine and almost lost hope.
“Yeah, that’s not good,” Lana said. “You’re going to have to help me. We need to straighten him out a bit, get the spine lined up. It goes a whole lot quicker if you at least get all the pieces back in place first. Where is Dahra? I could really use . . .” Then she remembered. “Two down, both hurt on lonely roads,” she said softly. “One dies. One lives, at least for now. The God you don’t believe in anymore rolls the dice.”
Sam groaned in his sleep when Astrid cut the last of the fabric away.
“She was a good person, Dahra,” Lana said. Her lip trembled. “She was a good person, that girl.” She looked around the room, at kids softly crying, moaning, asking for water. “Bunch of good dead people.” Then, shaking her head as if trying to throw something off, she yelled, “Sanjit! Send Peace to find some kind of a board. Like a shelf would do.”