Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(41)

It hung flat against his head, completely unstyled.

Mr. Forkle handed Keefe a bowl of green sludge, but Keefe set it aside and plopped into a chair.

“I wish you would not punish the body over a troubled heart,” Mr. Forkle told him.

“Fine. How about I eat if you promise to hear me out?” Keefe asked.

Mr. Forkle gave him a spoon.

Keefe devoured his porridge in three giant bites, then wiped his lips and said, “I want to speak to Gethen. I know he’s unresponsive or whatever you called it. But his consciousness can’t just disappear. I’m sure he can hear me. Or, more importantly, he can hear this.”

He cleared his throat and his voice shifted several octaves higher as he said, “Gethen—it’s time to go!”

Sophie cringed at how uncannily he sounded like his mother.

“Your mimicking is very impressive,” Mr. Forkle told him.

Keefe sounded both bitter and sad as he said, “I was trained by the best. And now we can use what she taught me to fool Gethen. If we stage it right, I can make him think he’s being rescued, which should draw his consciousness back. Then we can find out what he knows.”

“You’re assuming he knows something worth all of that risk,” Mr. Forkle said.

“Why else would his capture get my mother . . .” He cleared his throat. “It has to be something important. And I can find out what it is. If he thinks he’s being rescued, he’ll come back. Then you can probe his memories.”

Mr. Forkle stroked his double chin. “Your plan does have its merits, Mr. Sencen. But it’s still far too dangerous. We have already determined what our priorities are at the moment—though we are amending them to include an investigation of Lur and Mitya’s findings.”

“That’s not good enough!” Keefe snapped, pounding the table.

“Keefe,” Della tried.

“No.” He pulled his hand away from her before she could take it. “Aren’t you guys sick of being treated like their little puppets? Go here. Read this. Wait for this. Eat this.”

He whacked his bowl, knocking it off the table and sending it spinning across the floor, spraying the remaining bits of his green porridge.

“Keefe!” Della said again. “I know you’re upset—”

“No, I’m just tired of being ignored,” he interrupted. “This is a good plan—Dex and Fitz agreed.”

Both boys shifted in their seats.

“It does seem like it might work,” Fitz said after a second.

“I never said it wouldn’t.” Mr. Forkle rose and placed his hand on Keefe’s shoulder. “But we’ve been over this with your schemes about Exillium. Just because a plan is feasible does not mean it’s worth the risk. I understand your desire to bring something positive from everything that’s happened. But one should never rely on their enemies to give them hope.”

“I don’t care about my mom—”

“Yes you do. As you should. And while I cannot base this on evidence, I wouldn’t count your mother out yet.”

Keefe snorted. “You say that like it’s a good thing. Yay—she’s alive so she can keep being evil!”

“Evil is better than dead, Mr. Sencen. Evil can change. Though neither is in your power.”

“Nothing’s in my power—that’s the problem.”

Mr. Forkle squeezed Keefe’s shoulder tighter. “You are very important to our organization. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. I mean it”—he added when Keefe rolled his eyes—“You will play a crucial role when we rescue Prentice. And that is the mission that must remain our focus.”

“Whatever.” Keefe stood and stalked toward the boys’ house.

Sophie rose to follow, but Mr. Forkle stopped her. “Best to give him space. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

Keefe didn’t come down to dinner. At breakfast the next morning he picked at his food and didn’t say much of anything. By the third day of one-word answers, Sophie was ready to stage an intervention.

But Fitz and Biana reminded her of how badly they’d handled themselves when Alden’s mind had broken.

“We were awful,” Biana mumbled. “Especially to you. And there was nothing anyone could say to make us act better. Alvar tried. Keefe even tried.”

“I’m still figuring out how to make it up to you,” Fitz added.

“No need,” Sophie promised.

Her heart made an extra leap when Fitz smiled and said, “I’ll keep trying anyway.”

“Ugh, Keefe needs to get better,” Dex mumbled. “I need someone to barf with me over Fitzphie.”

“My point,” Biana said as Dex made gagging sounds, “is that as long as Keefe knows we’re here, that’s really all we can do.”

Sophie knew Biana was right. That didn’t make waiting any easier. She found herself checking her window every night before bed, wishing she’d find Keefe standing at his.

On the fifth night, his curtains were at least open a crack, unleashing a shred of light. She decided to take the tiny opening.

She didn’t have any rocks to throw, so she settled for her shoes, picking the wobbliest, most uncomfortable-looking heels.

Nothing happened from the first THUNK! But the second THUNK! did its job.