Brightly Burning(70)

“I thought she killed your father,” I asked Hugo under my breath, afraid Cassandra would hear me, but she was wholly distracted by Poole, who’d wrestled her into a firm hug and was whispering something into her ear. Cassandra fought against her, attempting to break free.

“She did,” Hugo said sadly. “But she doesn’t remember sometimes.”

“Hugo, I need help,” Lieutenant Poole said, grabbing firm hold of Cassandra’s arm and leading her over to a chair about ten feet from where Hugo and I now sat. He leaped up, grabbing something white and stiff from a hook on the wall and joining her.

“I’m going to put you in your dress and go fetch you something nice to help you sleep,” Poole said. Only instead of a frock, she and Hugo fit her, gently but firmly, into a coarse white coat that restricted the movement of Cassandra’s arms and stuck her fast to the back of the chair. Poole’s role on board suddenly snapped into focus. She was a caretaker. No wonder I rarely saw her, and when I did, she was making off with double portions of food. Her affection for her charge was clear; she tucked a strand of wild hair behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead.

“What’s wrong with her, exactly?”

“Psychosis,” Lieutenant Poole said. “Brought on by an experimental drug unwisely administered without understanding potential side effects.” Her distaste was clear.

“He didn’t know,” Hugo bit back. “He thought it would help, with her panic attacks . . .”

“He should have known. He was the fancy scientist. She trusted him.”

“Nobody knew it would do this to her,” Hugo argued, though the fight had clearly gone out of him. He slunk against the pillows and worried his lower lip with his teeth.

“She’s the one who tried to kill you?” I asked. “Twice?”

“Since you’ve been here,” he confirmed. “And once before you came. Now that I’m older, I look too much like him. She gets confused.”

“And you’re hiding her here,” I said, putting all the pieces together as I spoke. “Only you, Lieutenant Poole, Officer Hanada, and Officer Xiao know.” Now Xiao’s ominous comments about our engagement made sense, plus a lot more. “And it’s why Mason was here.”

Hugo nodded. I didn’t need to say the rest out loud. His mother had been a comms officer, which was how she’d hacked the bio-lock systems on our doors, known how to sabotage the oxygen in the airlock. And she’d attacked me—?cut off my hair—?because Hugo had said he liked it wild, tumbling down my shoulders, and she thought he was her husband.

There it was—?the Rochester’s big secret. Hugo’s big secret.

“I’ll get the sedative from Hanada.” Lieutenant Poole stood, lumbering for the exit, leaving Hugo and me to awkward silence broken by the occasional whimper from Cassandra.

“I don’t like to drug her,” Hugo said once Poole was gone, though he did not look at me, or at his mother. He stared straight ahead at the opposite wall, where I followed his gaze to find an old family portrait. “Most of the time, we can talk her down. She flits in and out of the worst of it. But sometimes medication is essential.”

“Like when the Ingrams were visiting,” I supplied. It explained why there’d been absolutely no incidents that entire time. Hugo nodded.

“Though Mason meddled enough to draw her out of her stupor.” His derision was clear. Something was wrong with the Mason story, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “She doesn’t mean to cause harm,” Hugo said, getting up and going over to his mother. He knelt in front of her, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face, like he’d done with me. Only this gesture wasn’t at all romantic. Hugo was rendered a boy in front of her, and for her part, Cassandra blinked slowly down at him, face contorted with confusion.

“Why do you look so old?” she asked, her entire demeanor changed. “You’re only fourteen, Hugo. You shouldn’t be in such a hurry to age.”

“I don’t mean to, Mom,” he said.

“Tell your father not to give you so much responsibility, then. Entangling you with that . . . girl, working on that godforsaken virus for the government.” Her expression turned stormy, a shade of her previous hysteria. “It’s wrong what he’s doing. I asked Phillip to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. Why won’t he listen, Hugo?”

“I know, Mom.” Hugo stroked her arm, squeezed her shoulder. “Dad doesn’t mean to upset you. And I . . . I want you to meet a friend of mine.” He turned to me, returning to the love seat, squeezing my hand. I felt panic grip my heart. “This is Stella Ainsley.”

Cassandra squinted over at me, mouth set into a frown. “That’s a dreadful haircut,” she said, and I nearly choked on rage, with only Hugo’s squeezing my hand to ground me. But she was clearly unwell, had no clue where—?or when—?she was. She thought Hugo was a young boy and her husband was still alive, and she did not recognize her own handiwork on me. “And where did you come from?”

“Stella came over from the Stalwart,” Hugo explained calmly. Cassandra’s expression darkened.

“That’s one of the targets,” she said. “You don’t want to stay there.”

“Stella and I are to be married.” Hugo’s response was hasty, as if he was trying to steer the conversation away from where Cassandra wished to take it. The diversion worked. She looked me up and down, the frown seemingly permanent.