Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Show her, Anneeta. Show her why you need to be forgiven.”
“Tyse!” I’m a little bit shocked at his tone, so I’m not sure what to say here. “What—”
“Clara. You don’t understand. Go on, Anneeta. Tell her.”
I look down at Anneeta and find her frowning. But it’s more than just a frown, it’s sadness. “What have you got in the book?”
“Show her, Anneeta. Show her what you keep inside that book.”
Anneeta’s frown deepens. Then she takes a big breath, opens the book, and pulls out a piece of paper. She extends her hand, offering it to me.
“What is this?” I take it. “A photograph?”
“My mother.”
“Your mother!” I smile at her, but when I glance down at the picture, the smile drops and my heart begins to race. Because it’s… Imogen. I look over at Anneeta. “Your mother was…” I look over at Tyse. “You knew?”
He’s shaking his head. “I didn’t. I mean, she’s… not right, ya know? You can see it, can’t ya? Her clothes, they’re—it’s just the whole thing is wrong. She’s not addicted to spark, Clara.”
Anneeta stomps her foot here. “That’s not true! I am so!”
But Tyse points at her. And he’s mad. “You’re made of spark.”
“So is Clara!”
I gasp. “No, I’m not! I mean… I have it inside me but—”
“You’re made of it! Just like me!” Anneeta squeals these words. Like a child. Like any child throwing a tantrum. But with this squeal comes a burst of spark so powerful, it crashes towards me as a wave, nearly knocking me sideways.
And also with this squeal comes the blue light in Tyse’s eyes.
“Stop it!” He comes at her, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her. “Stop it right now!”
“You want the augments!” Anneeta screams. “You like them! You miss them! You want them! I’m just giving you what you want!”
He lets go of her and turns to me. “What’s her name?” He points to the picture.
I can’t think for a moment. My mind is doing calculations—Imogen has been gone for nearly ten years, this child is… not ten. So… what exactly is happening here?
My mind has gone blank.
“Clara.” Tyse isn’t trying to be mean when he says my name. He’s trying to snap me out of my shock. I get this. But it’s terse. Like we’re in a hurry or something. “Clara!” He says it again. Louder now.
“Imogen,” I say. My voice is soft and sad, the complete opposite of his. Because I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t like what’s happening. “Her name was Imogen Gibson.”
Tyse turns back to Anneeta, his blue eyes lit up so bright now, he’s casting shadows across the room. “What happened to Imogen, Anneeta? Hmm? What happened to her? Tell Clara. Tell her everything or we’re leaving right now and you’re staying behind.”
“You can’t go!” This isn’t a squeal, it’s a loud, echoing shout that comes with vibrations and another wave of spark. And this time, Tyse and I are both blown backwards, crashing into the bed.
I blink, stunned at the sudden violence. And when I look at Anneeta, her hair is standing on end. The room is filled with spark.
Tyse recovers, stands, and offers me his hand. I get up as he points at Anneeta. “You need us.”
She crosses her arms and then there is a clicking sound at the door and even I understand what this click means. She’s locked it. The magnets, or whatever. And we’re stuck until she decides to unlock it.
Tyse crosses his arms too. “We can’t trust you. And locking that door, keeping us prisoner, just makes it worse.”
Anneeta closes her eyes, takes a breath, and all the static, spark, and light disappears. When she opens them again, I see it.
She’s not a little girl.
She’s nothing close to a little girl.
And when she speaks, she is calm, and mature, and completely in control. “Fine.” The door clicks again. Tyse walks over to it, pulling it open to check and make sure it’s unlocked. Because clearly, she cannot be trusted.
He doesn’t leave though, just closes the door again and turns to Anneeta. “What happened to Imogen? What happened to your mother?”
Anneeta looks at me, frowning. There is a slight hesitation, but then she just spits it out. “I ate her. When I was three years old. I ate her.”
For a moment these words do not make sense. Because I’m picturing this child—this adorable, big-brown-eyed child with missing front teeth—trying to gnaw on an arm while wearing a pink tutu, brown tights, and a Henley.
It’s so ridiculous, I laugh right out loud.
“Clara?” There’s worry in Tyse’s voice. It’s warranted. Because I think I’m losing my fucking mind. “Clara?” He grabs my shoulder and shakes me.
“Right. I’m fine. It’s just…” I look at Tyse. “She said she ate her?”
“Not like that,” Anneeta growls. “I ate her spark. That’s how I live. It’s not my fault. It’s like eating adventure bars. It’s just food to me.”