Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(72)

“Census doesn’t know about it?” I ask.

“Census infiltrates our network from time to time. We recently had a whole branch of our operatives sheared away in the Fate of Moons. Some were murdered. Some destroyed themselves to protect others. We’re nearly blind there. Same within the Fates of Stars and Atoms. They’ve sided with the Gates of Dawn and cut us off, but we continue to groom operatives—individual Star-and Atom-Fated secondborns who reside outside their fatedoms will sometimes work with us. In Virtues, I have hundreds of secondborns of all Fates who have sworn loyalty to me.”

“What we need right now is a physician for Gabriel,” I urge.

“He’ll have one. An Atom will be here soon.”

Quincy brings a bowl of water from the bathroom. Setting it on the table next to the bed, she wrings out a small cloth and hands it to Balmora, who uses it to bathe Gabriel.

My brother opens his eyes when she washes his face. “Where am I?” he whispers.

“Safe with me,” Balmora assures him.

He lifts his shaking hand, touching hers. “Told you not to come . . . too late . . . should’ve . . . let me die.” His voice is raspy and slurred.

“You’re not allowed to die,” Balmora scolds in her bossiest tone. “Do you hear me?”

“I can’t stop her . . .”

“Who, Gabriel?” I ask, coming closer to the bed. “Who can’t you stop?” I’m worried that he means me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can’t,” Gabriel whispers. His eyes are now bleeding from their corners. “Only you can. Too many zeros.”

Is he delusional? Am I just part of his hallucination?

“Who is she?” I ask him. “Mother? Are you talking about The Sword, Gabriel?”

“Gabriel’s dead.” His smile is tragic. “Only Solomon Sunday’s left.”

“You’re Gabriel,” I whisper.

“Gabriel’s dead!” he shouts, his voice higher but not actually louder. “Just let us die!” He struggles to sit up, but he’s too weak. Balmora holds him down. His eyes flutter shut, and he pants for breath.

“You should go,” Balmora says to me anxiously. “You’re upsetting him, and I can’t have Exos looking for you here. I’ll have Quincy show you the secret way out. Don’t come back unless I call for you.” Pearls of sweat shine on her upper lip.

Gabriel is still trembling, covered in sweat. I desperately want to stay with him, but I know I’d only put him in more danger. “Balmora, you’ll keep me updated on how he is?” I ask.

“As best I can,” she replies, rising from the bed to hug me. We cling to each other for a few moments, and then she lets me go. “Thank you for bringing him to me. Quincy, help Roselle get back to shore. Use the sea gate, and make sure no one sees her leave.”

Quincy nods. “It’s this way.”

She leads me to the stone balcony, where the wind tosses my hair, pushing it into my face. Stone griffins, frozen in midpounce, stare at me from above. Quincy climbs the protruding mortar of the tower like a monkey and pulls on the stone snout of the griffin, wrenching it to the side. A stone wall beside the tall column opens, showing the outline of a doorway. Quincy climbs down and pushes against the wall, and the opening grows larger. She disappears inside. I follow her. Her small fusion-powered light pushes back the darkness inside, allowing me to see past her into a cramped hallway about three feet wide and maybe seven feet high.

“Push the door closed,” Quincy says.

I lean against it until it locks in place. Quincy turns away and walks farther into the stone hallway, a spiraling ramp down the outer wall of the tower. It’s a dizzying journey. The walls are dry and rough, but the air is damp and has a faint scent of rotten fish that gets stronger during the long descent. At sea level, other passageways branch off. Quincy stops and turns, whispering, “This leads to the main hallway. Security for the fortress is nearby.” She puts her fingers to her lips.

I nod. We tiptoe farther down the spiraling stone ramp. The air grow damper. Sea urchins encrust the walls. At the bottom is a small landing and a deep pool of water.

“The sea gate is down there.” Quincy points to the dark depths.

“You mean, underwater?” The last thing I want to do tonight is get wet.

She nods and walks to a round wheel with handholds. Turning the wheel activates a pulley system, which raises an iron gate, drawing it up from the water. “Are you a good swimmer?” Quincy asks.

“Decent,” I reply, tugging off my boots.

Quincy opens a wooden box and pulls out a device that looks like a small torpedo with handlebars. She set it down on the stone floor. Opening the front of it, she places my boots inside. “Anything else you don’t want to get wet?” she asks. I shrug off my jacket and hand it to her. She folds it and places it neatly in the torpedo. “This mask goes over your eyes and nose so you’ll be able to breathe. There’s a dim headlight that I’ve programmed to extinguish when you get close to shore. When you get to the beach, press this button to open the hatch. Remove your things, then press this button, and the underwater propulsion device will return to the fortress.”

“Anything else?” I ask.

“Watch out for sharks.”