Instead, there was only Cristo, sitting on a tall stool on an empty podium.
The rest of the room—a lecture hall, she realized—was unnervingly quiet. Overhead lamps were lit, but they weren’t quite strong enough to banish the night. Cristo’s hands were clasped in his lap. There was a small desk in front of him, jumbled with a tablet, a keyboard, pens and tangled cords. Behind him, mounted to the wall, was a smart screen the size of a phoenix.
Cristo gave her a pursed smile. Gone were his usual blazer and slicked hair. Instead, the man who sat in his place, with glasses perched low on his nose, was the same disheveled man who had reassured her after Coup’s injuries.
Cristo waved toward the stool beside him. Reluctantly, Kel trudged forward.
“It’s not like you gave me much of a choice,” she mumbled.
He laughed weakly. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but I am sorry about how all of this turned out. I thought I’d have more time.” He lifted his chin. “I have a very busy day ahead, and I imagine that you’re quite cold. I won’t waste either of our time with small talk.”
Kel folded her arms. “Why tell me anything?”
Cristo grimaced. “Though I think it will cause more heartbreak than is necessary, I made a promise to explain Savita’s fate to you. She felt I owed you that.”
Confusion battered at Kel’s anger. Who was he talking about?
Slowly, Cristo stood and moved toward the screen behind her. The wall blared to life, projecting a row of tablet files.
Kel raised a brow. “Did you really bring me to a lecture hall tolectureme?”
Cristo ignored her. A remote in hand, he opened one file, thenanother, each a seemingly random mixture of numbers and letters. Finally, he clicked on a folder labeled “Council Presentation.”
“I wouldn’t do any of this if I had a choice, Kelyn,” he croaked. The red veining his eyes seemed even starker than earlier today, like cracked porcelain. “And I think that will be easier for you to understand if I just show you what I’ve prepared for the council next week. I have a meeting to discuss further funding.”
Inside that folder were two more, labeled “Trial One” and “Trial Two.”
He clicked on Trial One and turned back to Kel. “What do you wish to know?”
Kel lurched to her feet, her bandaged torso screaming in protest. “I want you to tell me why you’re killing phoenixes. Why you think that stealing their magic is worth destroying Cendor!”
Cristo simply nodded. The movement was jerky, almost manic. He clicked on an image that Kel immediately recognized. It was a classical painting used in temples and textbooks, depicting Landon Ryker and Deja. The image, bordered by fire, showed one very specific moment from their mythos: Deja’s rebirth, and the resurrection of Ryker.
Cristo ran his hand over the enlarged image, as if to brush his fingers along Deja’s flaming wings. “Deja called forth her own rebirth to save her rider. She shared her ashes with him, and when she was reborn, Landon Ryker was by her side. Healed.”
Cristo raised his arms and gestured around the empty room. “My research is the closest anyone has ever come to making that myth a reality. No phoenix can biologically call forth their own rebirth, but if I could preserve the magic of their ashes, I could share it with the people who need it. I can cure AB before it destroys everything.”
His voice broke over the last words, and understanding washedover Kel. She thought back to what he’d said when she’d first arrived in Vohre—thanking her for stopping the train for the dead mother and son. Claiming that curing AB was his purpose.
She drank in Cristo’s haggard features and mottled skin. He looked battered and feverish, like a man teetering at a cliff’s edge, a trapped animal desperate for a door.
He didn’t want a phoenix’s magic for their fire, or flight, or even strength. He wanted their regeneration powers.
Her hatred was still there, sharp and consuming. But the pity in her gut fought a little harder for control.
“You… are you sick?”
Cristo startled her with a sharp, barked laugh. It was anything but warm. “I wish it was me.”
Kel frowned. Who would he risk so much for?
Cristo jerked toward the screen, and Kel used the distraction to scour the room. The exits were probably guarded, and with her half-healed injuries, she wouldn’t get far—but maybe she didn’t need to.
Kel glanced down to the small, cluttered desk on the podium. Among the cables lay a black-and-gold fountain pen. It wouldn’t be a useful weapon from a distance—she’d have to get right beside Cristo…
“This might have started in desperation, but I’m soclose, Kelyn,” Cristo muttered. “Close enough that I’m willing to rely on some ancient myth.”
Cristo slid a finger across the remote. Another document appeared, full of formulas and chemical symbols. Kel didn’t understand much of it, but she could recognize phoenix temperatures.
