Iron Cast(77)

“There was never even a trial,” Corinne protested.

Phillip stared at Dr. Knox for a while, sizing him up. The doctor wiped at his forehead with the handkerchief but did not back down.

“Come on, Corinne,” Phillip said at last. “Angela called in a few favors to get me down here, but she’s not going to call in any more.”

“I’m not leaving without Ada.”

“Cor,” Ada said sharply.

“No,” Corinne said, looking straight at her.

“Corinne, I swear I will carry you out of here kicking and screaming.” Phillip took a step forward.

“Are you sure, Phil?” Corinne sat back in her chair. “Think of what that headline would do to the Wells name. Just go. You can tell everyone that I died of Spanish influenza. That way I won’t be a smear on any future campaigns.”

Phillip was taken aback by her words. He was wearing the same expression he’d had outside the Lenox only hours ago. Wounded and uncertain. Two things she had never thought that the mighty Phillip Wells, soon-to-be heir to both the Wells and Haversham fortunes, could ever be.

“Do you really think I came here for my political career?” he asked her.

“Phillip,” Ada said, not taking her eyes off Corinne, “would you give us a couple of seconds?”

Phillip looked between them, at a loss for possibly the first time in his life, and nodded.

“I really must protest—this is highly irregular,” Dr. Knox said.

“What’s highly irregular is the fact that the basement of this facility is supposed to just be for storage.” Phillip put a massive hand on the back of Dr. Knox’s shoulder and propelled him toward the door.

Dr. Knox’s mouth worked like a fish’s as he tried to come up with a reply. He hadn’t found one by the time Phillip shut the door. Corinne stared resolutely anywhere but at Ada. She had never accepted help from her arrogant, grandstanding brother in her life, and she wasn’t going to start tonight. No matter what Ada had to say about it.

Ada knew the look in Corinne’s eye. She’d seen it earlier that night outside Down Street. Corinne had always been stubborn, but this was more fatalistic than that. In the dim, unsteady light, with her hair plastered with sweat to her forehead and her eye makeup running down her cheeks and her shoulders hunched from the pain of the handcuffs, Ada almost didn’t recognize her. That scared her more than anything else.

“You have to go with him,” she said to Corinne. “This is your only chance.”

“I won’t go without you.”

Ada nudged her arm and stared at her until Corinne finally met her eye.

“They’re going after Saint,” Ada said. “You have to get to him before they do.”

Corinne hesitated at that. She had obviously forgotten. She shook her head again. “If I go with Phillip, he’ll never let me out of his sight. I’ll be trapped in that house until I die.”

“Not if he thinks you just want to go home,” Ada insisted. “As soon as he lets his guard down, you can get away. Please, Corinne. You know Saint. He’s not like us. You know what this place would do to him.”

“Those things that Wilkey said—” Corinne’s voice broke. “As soon as we leave, that’s what they’re going to do to you.”

Ada’s breath caught in her throat, and fear lanced through her chest. But she fought it. She was stronger. She had to be.

“So you want to stay here so they can do the same to you? Now is not the time to be noble, Cor.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You’ve broken me out before, and you can do it again,” Ada said.

“You don’t know that! I’m not leaving.”

“Dammit, Cor. Why not?”

“Because I’ve seen what leaving you behind did to Saint, and I can’t do it.”

Corinne laid her head down on the table, her cheek pressed against the wood. Ada rested her cheek on it as well, so that they were eye to eye.

Corinne’s eyes were red, though she wasn’t crying. “I can’t live with that,” she whispered.

“Saint was afraid, and he made a mistake,” Ada said. “I’m telling you this is the best way—this is the only way.”

“It’s not fair for you.”

“You think this is the first time life hasn’t been fair for me? Don’t be an idiot, Corinne.”

“You’re being an idiot. You’re the one being noble.” There was a fever in her tone. “As long as we’re together, we can figure this out. There’s another way. There has to be.”

“There’s not,” Ada said. “Please, just go. They’ll be back any second.”

The girls’ faces were still only inches apart, their cheeks pressed into the comforting wood, their eyes locked.

“I won’t,” said Corinne. “I have to do what I think is right.”

Corinne was still trembling. Ada could see the burn of the iron written all over her face. She could see how much Corinne wanted to leave, wanted to be free of this place. And she could see that she would never admit that to herself. Ada loved her for it, and hated it too.

“I know you do,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Cor.”