Alight (The Generations Trilogy #2)(96)

The word is a shout—commanding, insistent—that comes from the pedestal platform. The little Grownup steps onto the floor and walks toward us. He stops next to Matilda.

“Captain,” she says. I’m surprised to hear respect in her voice…does this tiny man intimidate her?

He stares down at me through his mask, two red eyes thrumming with excitement and intensity.

“The Spingate shell is pregnant with my child?”

I don’t know what to say. Will they want to kill her and the baby, or will the truth keep her off the battlefield? This creature is a thousand years old, but there has to be some bit of the Gaston I know still in there.

I nod.

He turns to Matilda. “I will tell Aramovsky to bring her to me.” Without waiting for an answer, he walks off into the shadows.

One-eyed Matilda seems rattled. She gestures to the platform, to the lone Grownup standing there.



“Obviously, that is not Theresa Spingate,” Matilda says. “But I’m sure you know this one’s shell. May I present the lovely and talented Doctor Kenzie Smith?”

The Grownup on the platform bows stiffly. She starts to stand, then freezes, a gnarled hand going to her back.

“Oh,” she says. “Dammit, that hurts.” She slowly straightens, holds on to a pedestal for balance. “Let’s get this started. I need to sit down soon.”

Matilda rubs her nasty hands together. The skin is so rough I can hear it.

“Finally, we’re ready,” she says.

“Not you, Matilda,” Smith says. “I’m afraid Bishop hit your shell on the head a little too hard. There could be a concussion. We have to wait so that I can make sure there isn’t any damage I need to fix first.”

Matilda’s one eye swirls madly. She’s furious. She glares at someone in the corner. I crane my head up to see: the hulking form of Old Bishop. He’s been standing there the entire time, silent, unmoving.

“You stupid oaf,” she says to him. “I told you to be careful.”

I hear concern in her hiss of a voice, perhaps even fear. Brewer said the longer we were alive, forming our own memories and connections, the less chance the process had of working. But it worked on Bello, Coyotl and Beckett, so it will likely work on me—unless my grinding headache causes problems, somehow.

“I’ve waited so long,” Matilda says. “A few hours more won’t matter.”

She gives my hair a final pat.

“Since you’ve been so difficult, my dear, let’s watch something together while we wait. Kenzie, open it.”

The golden coffin to my left makes the same sound mine made. The sides lower. My heart shatters. I want to wake up, I want all of this to be a horrible dream.



It’s O’Malley.

He’s lying on white linen, held down by the same kind of bars that hold me. He’s blinking, just coming awake.

“O’Malley! It’s Em! Look at me!”

He turns his head, terror wrinkling his face. He sees me, recognizes me, then starts looking everywhere—up, left, right, down toward his feet. He cranes his head back, trying to see behind him.

“Em…are we in the Observatory?”

On the platform, one of the pedestals starts to glow.

“Pre-imprinting preparations complete,” Smith says. “We’re ready. Bring in Kevin.”

I’m confused for a moment—Kevin O’Malley is right next to me—then with a chest-ripping blast of horror I understand.

And so does he.

“No,” he says. “Don’t do this!”

Past our feet, I see Coyotl helping a masked Grownup walk toward the black X, a Grownup so old and withered he can barely move.

“Is it time?” the old one says. “Is it finally my time?”

The voice sounds ancient, like it’s made of dust and worm-eaten wood. And yet, I recognize it, instantly.

It is the voice of Kevin O’Malley.

In the coffin next to me, my friend starts to scream.





Behind the clear mask, Old O’Malley’s red eyes appear cloudy, unfocused.

Matilda pets my hair.

“Just watch, little one,” she says. “Your turn is coming soon.”

I shake my head, over and over. “Please, don’t kill him.”

O’Malley pulls at his restraints. His eyes blaze with animal panic. He grunts desperately, throws himself left and right.

Matilda is standing between my coffin and his. She turns, raises the red cane, snaps it down on his stomach. His back arches so suddenly and severely I wonder if his spine might snap. His throat grinds out a guh-guh-guh-guh sound that makes me scream in helpless rage.

She lifts the rod.

“You will not hurt your body, not now,” she says to him. “Struggle again, you get the rod again.”

Coyotl mostly drags Old O’Malley to the black X. Old Bishop comes over to help. Together, they raise the shriveled Grownup’s arms, lock the shackles around his wrists, then restrain his ankles.



Bishop removes Old O’Malley’s mask. Those disgusting folds of wet flesh—they either cover the Grownup’s mouth, or they are the mouth. Sickening to look at.

Coyotl slides the black crown onto the withered creature’s head. Rheumy red eyes stare out with a combination of confusion and excitement. The old monster starts to cough.