Imagine Me. Tahereh Mafi
J playing host to Emmaline is what Evie had planned all along.”
“And Emmaline must’ve known,” Nouria says quietly.
It’s my turn to frown. “What are you getting at?”
“I don’t know, exactly. But this situation complicates things. Because if our goal was to kill Emmaline, and Emmaline is now living in Ella’s body—”
“Wait.” My stomach does a terrifying flip. “Is that why we’re out here? Is this why you’re being so secretive?”
“Lower your voice,” Nouria says sharply, glancing at something behind me.
“I will not lower my fucking voice,” I say. “What the hell are you thinking? What are you— Wait, what do you keep looking at?” I crane my neck but see only a blank wall behind my head. My heart is racing, my mind working too fast. I whip back around to face her.
“Tell me the truth,” I demand. “Is this why you cornered me? Because you’re trying to figure out if we can kill J while she’s got Emmaline inside of her? Is that it? Are you insane?”
Nouria glares at me. “Is it insane to want to save the world? Emmaline is at the center of everything wrong with our universe right now, and she’s trapped inside a body lying in a room just down the hall. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for a moment like this? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t love this line of thinking, Kishimoto, but I’m not—”
“Nouria.”
At the sound of her wife’s voice, Nouria goes visibly still. She takes a step back from me, and I finally relax. A little.
We both turn around.
Sam’s not alone. Castle is standing next to her, both of them looking more than a little pissed.
“Leave him alone,” Castle says. “Kenji’s been through enough already. He needs time to recuperate.”
Nouria tries to respond, but Sam cuts her off. “How many times are we going to talk about this?” she says. “You can’t just shut me out when you’re stressed. You can’t just go off on your own without telling me.” Her blond hair falls into her eyes and, frustrated, she shoves the strands out of her face. “I’m your partner. This is our Sanctuary. Our life. We built it together, remember?”
“Sam.” Nouria sighs, squeezing her eyes closed. “You know I’m not trying to shut you out. You know that’s not—”
“You are literally shutting me out. You literally shut the door.”
My eyebrows fly up my forehead. Castle and I connect glances: we seem to have walked into a private argument.
Good.
“Hey, Sam,” I say, “did you know that your wife wants to kill Juliette?”
Castle gasps.
Sam’s body goes slack. She stares at Nouria, stunned.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Nouria wants to murder her right now, actually, while she’s still comatose. What do you think?” I tilt my head at Sam. “Good idea? Bad idea? Maybe sleep on it?”
“That can’t be true,” Sam says, still staring at her wife. “Tell me he’s joking.”
“It’s not that simple,” says Nouria, who shoots me a look so venomous I almost feel bad for being petty. I don’t actually want Nouria and Sam to fight, but whatever. She can’t casually suggest murdering my best friend and expect me to be nice about it. “I was just pointing out th—”
“Okay, enough.”
I look up at the sound of Nazeera’s voice. I have no idea when she showed up, but she’s suddenly in front of us, arms crossed against her chest. “We’re not doing this. No side conversations. No subgroups. We all need to talk about the impending shitstorm headed our way, and if we’re going to have any chance of figuring out how to fight it, we have to stick together.”
“Which impending shitstorm?” I ask. “Please be specific.”
“I agree with Nazeera,” Sam says, her eyes narrowing at her wife. “Let’s all go back inside the room and talk. To each other. At the same time.”
“Sam,” Nouria tries again. “I’m not—”
“Bloody hell.” Stephan stops short at the sight of us, his shoes squeaking on the tile. He seems to tower over our group, looking too polished and civilized to belong here. “What on earth are you lot doing out here?”
Then, quietly, to Nazeera: “And why’ve you left us alone with him? He’s being a proper ass. Nearly made Haider cry just now.”
Nazeera sighs, closing her eyes as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Haider does this to himself. I don’t understand why he’s deluded himself into thinking Warner is his best friend.”
“That, he might well be,” Stephan says, frowning. “The bar is quite low, as you know.”
Nazeera sighs again.
“If it makes Haider feel any better, Warner’s being equally horrible to just about everyone,” Sam says. She looks at Nouria. “Amir still won’t tell me what Warner said to him, by the way.”
“Amir?” Castle frowns. “The young man who oversees the patrol unit?”
Sam nods. “He quit this morning.”
“No.” Nouria blinks, stunned. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. I had to give his job to Jenna.”
“This is crazy.” Nouria shakes her head. “It’s only been three days and already we’re falling apart.”
“Three days?” says Stephan. “Three days since we arrived, is that it? That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
“We are not falling apart,” Nazeera says suddenly. Angrily. “We can’t afford to fall apart. Not right now. Not with The Reestablishment about to appear at our doorstep.”
“Wait—what?” Sam frowns. “The Reestablishment has no idea where we—”
“God, this is so depressing,” I groan, running both hands through my hair. “Why are we all at each other’s throats right now? If Juliette were awake, she’d be so pissed at all of us. And she’d be super pissed at Warner for acting like this, for pushing us apart. Doesn’t he realize that?”
“No,” Castle says quietly. “Of course he doesn’t.”
A sharp knock knock—
And we all look up.
Winston and Brendan are peering around the corner at us, Brendan’s closed fist held aloft an inch from the wall. He knocks once more against the plaster.
Nouria exhales loudly. “Can we help you?”
They march over to us, their expressions so different it’s almost—almost—funny. Like light and dark, these two.
“Hello, everyone,” Brendan says, smiling brightly.
Winston yanks the glasses off his face. Glowers. “What the hell is going on? Why are you all having a conference out here on your own? And why did you leave us alone with him?”
“We didn’t,” I try to say.
“We’re not,” Sam and Nazeera say at the same time.
Winston rolls his eyes. Shoves his glasses back on. “I’m getting too fucking old for this.”
“You just need some coffee,” Brendan says, gently patting Winston’s shoulder. “Winston doesn’t sleep very well at night,” he explains to the rest of us.
Winston perks up. Goes instantly