Impossibility of Tomorrow Read Online Free PDF Page B

practiced speed.
    I force myself to smile, to say, “What is it?”
    He opens his palm and reveals a necklace on a silverchain, pooled in the center of his hand. He holds it up so I can see the small birdcage charm that hangs from it, complete with a tiny bird inside. It glints in the light of the full moon that rose when I wasn’t looking.
    A bird, caged in silver. Like me.
    It’s the silver cord that binds your soul to your body, Cyrus said to me when he made me what I am. This potion is unraveling it. You’ll soon be free.
    Free. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
    “I love it,” I lie. He gestures for me to turn around, and I oblige, lifting my hair from my neck so he can fasten it. The chain is like ice against my skin.
    The wind shakes the eucalyptus trees that grow here, releasing their minty oils into the air. Cyrus wraps his arms around my waist, and I feel heat, the sun of six hundred years’ worth of summers.
    “Should we walk?” he asks softly. “Don’t get me wrong. We can just stand here if you want. I kind of like it.” I can’t see his face, but I know he’s smiling. He tightens his grip on me, but I pull away.
    “Let’s go,” I answer, turning to him, a smile painted on my chapped lips. As I move forward along the path, I have the sensation that I’m leaving one world for another, from a dream to waking life. Two places with different logic, different rules.
    We set off, and I match the speed of my steps to his. I don’t like having him behind me—I don’t trust him. It’s been too easy to appease him, my brain tells me. He knows what you’re going to do, it says. He always knows.
    So what if he knows? I argue back, fiddling with the knife in my pocket. One way or another, this ends today.
    The trail tangles up the hill in front of us, littered with eucalyptus leaves and thick strips of its flammable bark. I hear a rustle in the trees ahead of me. I stop abruptly, a chill raising goose bumps on my arms.
    “What’s wrong?” he asks.
    “Didn’t you hear that?”
    “No,” he replies, cocks his head, listens. “There’s no one else here—the parking lot was completely empty.”
    “Are you sure?” I say. I don’t need any heroic witnesses trying to save the life of someone who should have died centuries ago.
    “I’m sure.”
    We wait, but there’s nothing except the breeze working its way through the forest. “Do you want to go back?” he asks, his eyes trained on the trees.
    “No, it’s okay,” I say, setting off again. I walk faster, determination tensing my muscles.
    We reach the cliffs, breathing hard. The whole Bay Area is spread out below us in a shimmering sprawl, like atopographic map brought to life. We can see the Golden Gate Bridge, arcing toward the Marin headlands. The cities of Berkeley and Oakland twinkling in the clear air. The Bay Bridge, just a ribbon of light cutting across the choppy blank water.
    “It’s beautiful,” he says, taking my hand.
    Below us, the land falls away sharply. I let go of his hand and edge closer. “Come see,” I say, only a few feet from the lip of the drop.
    “That’s okay,” he says. “I’ll stay right here.”
    I shrug my shoulders and move closer, closer, till I can see down. The moon bathes the chasm in milky light. There are rocks at the bottom. I close my eyes, just for a second, and picture Noah’s body lying at the bottom, twisted and broken.
    No , I remind myself. You won’t have to see it. He’ll turn to dust as soon as he hits.
    “I want you to come here with me,” I say, my voice unwavering.
    He waits, then appears to come to a decision. “Okay, but only for a second.” And then he’s at my side. I watch his profile in the moonlight, half lit and half dark. Like Cyrus himself. Half passionate alchemist, seeker of truth. Half killer.
    “Look at San Francisco,” I say. “It doesn’t seem real. It’s a toy town.”
    “I’d rather look at you,” he says. I feel his hand on my cheek.