The Heartless City (25 page)

lliot hid in his room and didn’t emerge until the next morning, his mouth dry and his head heavy and aching from lack of sleep. He hadn’t been able to get what he’d seen in Cam’s room out of his mind, and moments of rest he did manage were only filled with nightmares―graphic, violent images of the Lord Mayor murdering Cam.

Because, if he ever found out, that was surely what he would do.

Terror for Cam was the driving force behind his insomnia, but wild doubt and unsettling confusion plagued him as well. In a way, what he’d seen last night made bizarre yet perfect sense; it explained why Cam felt so much fear and hatred for himself, why he’d ached with longing while watching Philomena and Andrew dance. It also explained why Andrew felt as jealous and full of rage as Elliot when Cam kissed Iris. But that was the most confusing thing of all:

It felt the same.

Elliot had always been told that men like that were deviants, that if they had any feelings at all, they were twisted and depraved. Since his affliction, he’d come across the vilest of human emotions: hatred, arrogance, cruelty, and many other feelings with a sense of
wrongness
about them. But what he’d felt from Cam and Andrew last night was nothing like that. The fire that burned between them wasn’t some evil, destructive force; it was pure, selfless, regenerative, and… beautiful.

Exactly like the fire that burned between Iris and him.

After becoming an empath, one of the things that shocked Elliot most was just how wrong many of his childhood teachings were. Women felt as much lust as men, and the lower classes were no less noble or good than anyone else. The things he’d been taught about men like Cam and Andrew may have been equally wrong, but that didn’t change the facts of the world in which they lived. Other people wouldn’t be able to feel what Elliot felt, wouldn’t be able to see inside their hearts and understand. Especially the Lord Mayor, to whom Elliot’s mind always inevitably returned.

The more he thought about it, the more Elliot wondered if the Lord Mayor suspected already. It would explain the fear he’d felt the night he smashed the hand crème, the rage that consumed him whenever Cam didn’t act like enough of a “man,” and the premature rush to have him married to Philomena. Perhaps he had suspicions, but he certainly didn’t
know
, because if he did, Cam would be dead.

Of that, Elliot was certain.

During Iris’s session in his father’s lab the next morning, Elliot stood with his back to the wall, away from the rest of the group. He’d often found himself shivering in the subterranean chamber, but this time it was fear, and not the cold, that shook his bones. Cam and Andrew had placed themselves on opposite ends of the room, both their demeanors cool, reserved, and absolutely normal. Every now and then, however, they’d steal a glance at each other, causing the room to erupt with heat that hammered Elliot’s heart.

“Miss Faye,” the Lord Mayor said as Iris sat back down in her chair, weak from holding her own breath for over twenty minutes. “Do you know if your abilities would allow you to… stop aging?”

She paused and knit her brow. “I don’t know.”

“What do you think, Frank?” the Lord Mayor asked, turning to Elliot’s father. “Based on what we’ve seen, could such a thing be possible?”

Elliot’s father sat down behind his desk and rubbed his chin. “So far, just as she told us, her ability to control her body only extends to acts the body is naturally capable of; she simply does them faster and in ways that are more extreme. But time erodes all things, including the body. She couldn’t stop that.”

“But she can heal herself,” the Lord Mayor countered, turning back to Iris. “Aging is nothing more than the body breaking down. If she can heal flesh, could she not also strengthen disintegrating joints, fortify exhausted lungs, and repair a weakened heart?”

“I suppose it depends on the brain. Miss Faye’s ability seems to lie in the brain―just like the Hydes. As long as her brain was still functioning, she could conceivably tell her body to do what you described. But time erodes the brain as well.”

“But if she methodically strengthened and repaired her brain before such erosion, couldn’t she prevent it from deteriorating as well?”

“I… I suppose she could.” Elliot’s father looked at Iris. “Which, in essence, would make her―”

“Immortal.”

The Lord Mayor’s eyes blazed with the fire in his chest, and even Cam and Andrew stared, forgetting the world around them. Iris’s lips parted, and her heart ground to a halt. Clearly, the idea had never occurred to her before.

“The Hydes,” Andrew said. “Could they be immortal as well? Even though they spend most of their time in a human state?”

“No one knows,” Elliot’s father answered. “They’ve never been studied. All known Hydes are in hiding, and the unknown ones would hardly volunteer themselves for research.”

Something started inside the Lord Mayor, almost like a flinch, but since his face remained cool and passive, no one but Elliot noticed. Then, as if he somehow knew that Elliot sensed his reaction, the Lord Mayor turned to look at him, and Elliot glanced away.

“You’re a lucky girl,” the Lord Mayor said, returning his gaze to Iris. “What do you think of the news that you could possibly live forever?”

Iris glanced at her lap, then, after a moment, looked back up. “I don’t know that I’d want to.”

The Lord Mayor froze, stunned and even angry. “Why on earth not?”

“I know it sounds strange, considering how―well,
abnormal
I am―but I’d rather live out the normal, natural cycle of my life. Living forever goes against nature, and probably just causes pain. I wouldn’t want to watch everyone around me grow old and die.” The Lord Mayor continued to stare in disbelief, so she went on. “Besides, like the Hydes, I could, you know… still be killed. So, I’m not immortal.”

“True,” the Lord Mayor replied. “But you certainly stand a better chance than the rest of us, Miss Faye.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, abruptly, the Lord Mayor sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, I think that’s enough for today. I’m sure you’d like to get some rest before the ball tonight.”

Elliot’s father opened a notebook and got out a quill and ink, lowering his head to record the morning’s findings. Cam, Andrew, Elliot, and Iris took the cue, exiting the room and climbing the stairs to the first floor. The moment they reached the hallway, however, Philomena appeared.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad I ran into you just now―”

“There’s no need,” Iris said. “They’re still in the lab. It’s just us.”

Philomena exhaled with relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I love to perform, but I truly hate pretending. Come on, let’s go.”

Apparently, Iris, Philomena, and even Cam and Andrew had discussed a plan to teach Iris how to dance the previous night. Squealing with excitement, Philomena grasped her hand, taking off down the hall and leaving the boys to follow behind. Eventually, the five of them reached the palace Music Room, where Philomena had sung for the courtiers a few nights ago. They cleared away the chairs to make some space on the hardwood floor, and Andrew seated himself on the bench behind the piano. Moving slowly, but looking as though he felt better than the night before, Cam sat down beside him, and the two of them grinned at each other. The temperature in the tall, domed room began to climb, and Elliot shuddered, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

“I’ll show you what to do first,” Philomena said to Iris. “Then, after you’ve watched me, you can try it for yourself.”

Without warning, she walked to Elliot and seized his hand, sending a bolt of confidence and excitement through his veins. He jumped, and though Philomena hardly noticed, Iris did.

“How about I try it first, and you guide me through it,” she said.

“Trust me,” Philomena replied. “It’s easier if you watch.”

Iris looked at Elliot, asking if he was all right, and he swallowed and nodded, placing his other hand on Philomena’s waist.

“Andrew,” Philomena called to the piano. “Play a waltz.”

Andrew started to play a traditional song in three-four time, and Elliot moved with Philomena across the hardwood floor. His body went through the motions he had learned as a young man, but his mind couldn’t focus on anything but Cam and Andrew. As Andrew played, Cam watched his fingers dance across the keys, his heart stirring with warmth that drew beads of sweat from Elliot’s brow. Every now and then, Andrew glanced up and met his gaze, and Elliot nearly stumbled against Philomena, his lungs collapsing.

“Remember to keep your shoulders back,” Philomena said to Iris. “And keep your eyes on his, not your feet.”

After a few more rounds around the floor, she stepped away, releasing Elliot’s hand and then guiding Iris toward him. “Now you try,” she said. “Step backward first, with your left foot.”

Iris took Elliot’s hand, jolting his heart with her concern. “Is something wrong?” she whispered as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“No,” he lied, taking her waist. A few nights ago, the prospect of dancing with Iris had kindled his blood, but now that she was in his arms, he barely even felt her. The rising heat between Cam and Andrew filled his veins with ice, creating a violent storm of longing and fear he couldn’t cope with.

Philomena straightened Iris’s shoulders and lifted her arms. Then she moved away and murmured, “Go,” and Iris stepped back. Elliot pushed her around the floor, but he still couldn’t concentrate, especially when he glanced at Cam and Andrew over her shoulder. They’d scooted even closer to each other on the bench, and Andrew was looking at Cam, drinking him up with hungry eyes. Cam grinned, returned the look, and bit his lower lip, and Elliot’s fear dissolved, replaced by a sudden, violent rage. Who did they think they were to be so reckless with their lives? So brazenly unconcerned with the deadly consequences?

“Elliot, what’s wrong?” Iris whispered.

He dropped her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I ―I’m not feeling well. I have to go.”

He turned around and walked away before anyone could stop him. At first, his only thought was to simply get out of there, but once he arrived in his room, he headed straight toward his bed, reached beneath the mattress, and retrieved a bottle of gin he had stashed there weeks ago. Without hesitation, he unscrewed the top and gulped down as much as he could, leaning back against the wall as the alcohol seared his throat. His muscles relaxed, and he slid down and collapsed against the floor, drinking until he’d taken at least an inch off the top of the bottle.

“Elliot, what are you doing?”

He nearly choked but somehow managed to get his current gulp down, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Iris standing before him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his face burning. “I needed to get away.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Her anxiety was so pervasive he raised the bottle and took another swig without even thinking.

“Elliot, please,” she said, crouching before him. “Talk to me.”

He swallowed and lowered the bottle, glancing away. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Is it… is it because of what the Lord Mayor said today? About me being… immortal?”

Panic flooded her veins and Elliot looked back up in shock. She was afraid that he was somehow repulsed by the revelation. “No, no―not at all. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Because I meant what I told him. I wouldn’t want to live―”

“Iris, I promise, it isn’t you.” He rubbed his brow and closed his eyes, already feeling dizzy. “It was the feelings of other people. They were just… too much.”

“Then share them with me,” she said, reaching out. “I’ll ease the burden.”

“No,” he cried, and the sound came out much harsher than he’d intended. Iris flinched, pain splitting her chest, and he covered his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Iris. I can’t think straight right now. It’s probably better if you just go and leave me alone for a while.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this. There has to be a way for me to help, to make it better.”

Elliot crawled to his feet and walked to the other end of the bedroom, terrified of hurting her again. “I’m sorry. You can’t.”

“Just let me try. Let me feel it, or tell me―”