Forged(14)

And then they are both gone, the door slammed in my face.

I stalk down the unlit street, fuming, my legs moving fast enough that I eventually break into a jog. The cool night air feels good in my lungs, helps Blaine’s words merely sting rather than burn. Sammy knew what I needed more than my own brother. How is that possible?

I run for a few blocks, and slow along a street that runs parallel to the inlet. The squawk of a rowdy crowd can be heard ahead, where a patch of light streams from an establishment. It’s a pub. The Wheelhouse, according to the sign hanging above the entrance. Two patrons stand just outside the door. It’s not until I’m closer that I recognize them. Gage and Bree.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her.

“Sammy told me Gage had invited us all for drinks, and I needed to get out,” she says. “That place was suffocating.”

“You gonna join us?” Gage asks. “It would be a real shame if you passed, know what I mean?” He jerks his head toward Bree and winks at me.

I don’t think I like this guy anymore.

“We should go,” I say to Bree.

“Nah, the fresh air’s been good.”

“Bree, I’m not suggesting it.”

“I think she can speak for herself, Ace,” Gage says. “And besides, the night is young. You want a drink? I’ll go grab a couple.” He shoves off the wall and heads inside.

I move to follow, and Bree blocks my way. “What is your problem?”

“You honestly don’t see what he’s after?”

“I can see just fine,” she says. “But he’s been perfectly civil since I got here, so how about you have a drink with us instead of babysitting me like I’m five?”

She takes her hand off my chest. I could walk after Gage now, but it all feels like a test.

And I don’t intend to fail.





SIX


I LEAN AGAINST THE WALL and try to pretend like I couldn’t care less that Bree’s been out here talking with Gage all night. Tilting my head back, I survey the stars. A whole blanket of them. Pinpricks of light. Small, yet stunning.

“They’re phenomenal, huh?” Bree says, even though I haven’t commented on them out loud. She’s got her head back, the arch of her neck bared to the evening. The night sky reflects off her pupils, which are massive in the moment—as wide and eager as they should be under such poor lighting.

The day we arrived in Pike, I told Adam about the telltale sign we’d discovered for identifying Forgeries—how their pupils don’t dilate properly—and suggested we check everyone after the betrayal Emma’s Forgery committed right beneath our noses. Bree pitched a fit, claimed I was walking a line that toyed with our faith in one another at a dangerous level. Clipper also sided with her, but in the end, because Adam said the entire thing was voluntary and that it would only look suspicious if they didn’t participate, they yielded.

Vik had everyone in the Expat base pair off, and Bree and I ended up together. She stared at me blankly as I passed the beam of a small flashlight before her eyes, watched her pupils expand and contract. A Forgery’s would, too, according to what we’d learned, just very subtly. An unnaturally minimal change.

“We should be coming up with safety questions,” Bree said. “They’d be more effective.”

“How’s that?”

“What Forgery is going to let you get close enough to shine a light in their eyes? Oh hi, I’m not sure if you’re human, so would you mind submitting to this eye test real quick?” She scoffed. “It’s ridiculous. We should be asking questions that have answers a Forgery would never know.”

I lowered the flashlight. Owen had asked the Forged version of Blaine personal questions when he first found us in Stonewall, and we both saw how that panned out.

Sensing my reservations, Bree sighed. “Look, when you see me, if you ever doubt that it’s actually me—even for a second—just ask what my favorite bird is. Growing up on Saltwater, it was herons. They were the most graceful animals I’d ever seen, and I was obsessed with them. Thought they were magical, even. A Forgery will answer wrong based on those memories.”

“And the right answer? Now?”

She took the flashlight from me. “Loons.”

I was deeply puzzled by that choice, still am. Why would her favorite bird be associated with one of the ugliest moments between us? That night on the beach, when I said things I wish I could take back.

“What about you?” she said as she began to check my eyes.

“Ask what the biggest mistake of my life was, and I’ll answer that it was doubting us. That I told you we wouldn’t work.”

She lowered the flashlight, scowling. “Why do you insist on making this hard? Isn’t there another question? Anything else?”

“Probably, but that’s the deepest, truest thing about me right now. It’s one of the only things I know for certain.”

She snapped the flashlight off and stood so aggressively her chair skidded back. “Congratulations, Gray. You’re not a Forgery.” But she left like I was: quickly, hurried, as though she couldn’t put enough distance between us.

Bree turns to face me now, the starlight disappearing from her perfectly human pupils. “Will you stop staring? It’s creepy.”