The Becoming of Noah Shaw (The Shaw Confessions #1)(50)

“Yeah, the cure thing was her idea.” Jamie moves over to the table. “She’s the one who—whoa.”

“What?” I’m at his side immediately, but I don’t—

“These are from Horizons,” Mara says, looking between our shoulders. Then, to Leo: “Stella gave you these?”

I watch him mentally edit, which for me, confirms it: Stella took the files from the archives. Files that anyone who’s ever been here could’ve looked at, copied, to be used on us or against us. Either way.

And now she’s missing.

“Can we copy this stuff?” Daniel seems to be the only one with the presence of mind to deal with the clusterfuck this presents. Leo reluctantly assents, and everyone’s got their mobiles out, snapping away at files, the map, all of it. Before we leave Leo’s, someone promises to be in touch about the little archives party—not me. I’m thinking about arson, explosions, flooding—burying it all forever.



“So!” Mara says, closing the door of the flat behind us. “Stella stole from us.”

Jamie, on his way to the kitchen, says, “Technically, she stole from Noah.” He reaches up, grabs a glass from the cabinet. “Technically, we all did when we brought the Kells crap to my aunt’s house—”

Now I’m barely clinging on. “You what?”

“We couldn’t exactly go back there every day and use the place like a library,” Jamie says.

I’m wordless, iced over, frozen with the knowledge that this toxic, radioactive mess has already been leaching out into the world.

“It shouldn’t exist,” I say. “None of it should.”

“But it does,” Daniel interrupts. “And Leo might be right—there could be something in here that we didn’t catch before.”

“You’ve seen it all before, no?”

“We weren’t asking the same questions then,” he says as Mara hands over her mobile. I follow, as does Jamie, and Daniel begins to scroll through each of our pictures, quick as anything. In just over a minute, he freezes, and my phone in his hand seems to grow in density, weighing him down like a stone. His lips part, eyes glaze over in shock, so much that his heartbeat becomes arrhythmic.

“What?” I ask, switching over to his other side, worried he might faint, and also desperate to know what’s got him so unnerved.

“Daniel,” Mara says, and her voice brings him out of it, prompts a swallow. His eyes meet hers, still dazed, unfocused. “What?”

“Sophie,” he says, handing the phone to me without looking at it.

“Your girlfriend?” Jamie asks, checking my face, Mara’s, for confirmation. “What about her?”

Daniel takes the phone back from me, swipes the screen to zoom in. Holds it up. “This is her handwriting.” He turns to Mara. “On your file.”





30


FALSE SKIN

OH MY GOD,” SOPHIE SAYS, her eyes widening as she takes in the flat. “This is your apartment?” she asks. “It’s incredible.”

It was decided that Goose’s little dinner party would be the setting for Sophie’s interrogation. Daniel was under strict orders to act perfectly normal, as if his girlfriend of the past year hadn’t been hiding the fact that she’s an X-Teen. Mara was under strict orders not to kill her, accidentally or otherwise.

“Thanks,” I say, taking her trench. “Getting bad out there?” The English and weather; there’s nothing we excel at discussing more.

The rain dribbles along the clock faces and the darkening sky, and the smells of braising lamb, searing scallops, and roasting vegetables ripen the air. When I bring out the wines, I begin to wish this actually is only a dinner party.

“No vegetarians round the table, I trust?” Goose asks.

Jamie tips his head at me. “Shaw only eats pussy—”

“Fuck off.”

“Daniel’s a vegetarian,” Sophie says, and looks at him. “I’ve been thinking about it too, actually.”

“How’s Juilliard?” Mara cuts her off. Awkward pause ensues.

“Um, hard?” She blushes. “I mean, it’s incredible just getting in, but now I’m practicing with students who are so much more talented.”

Elbows on the table, Mara leans forward and says, “You have to be super gifted to be admitted in the first place, though, don’t you?”

Bloody hell.

A slow nod from Sophie as she continues to feign ignorance, and acts appropriately thrown by Mara’s targeted passive-aggression. Which won’t remain passive for much longer. “I’ve never had to work so hard at anything in my life.”

“You’re being modest,” Daniel says, his arm around her, giving her an awkward squeeze.

This is going to be savage.

“What about you?” Sophie asks Mara, elbows off the table, hands in her lap. “You guys are—” Her face blanks for a second. “You’re at . . . NYU?”

Mara bends over like a snapped branch, and I hear the slight crunch of paper in her fist. For half a second I think about stopping her, letting the charade go on, dodging the scrunch until we’ve settled in a bit more. But then . . . it’s Mara. She’s going to do what she does.