Toxic Heart (37 page)

Fog twists itself around us like thick curls of smoke.

We fly up, past the Damascus steel beams that support the Aeries, past the crowds of people waving their hands and hollering, lingering along the bridges and outside the light-rail stations, past the shiny glass wrapping around the skyscrapers that shoot toward the heavens like silver beanstalks.

It is not the first time I have soared through the Aeries. Before the battle that led to his mother’s death, Hunter and I walked through walls and dropped through ceilings. More recently, I have traveled on webs of light. I have jumped to the Depths and landed in the canals below. I have even been caught midair by a camouflaged motorcycle.

But I have never been the one in charge.

I
am leading Hunter through the clouds.
I
am letting out energy like steam heat.

My hand is a burst of green light, shiny rays piercing the sky like laser beams. They are an extension of me; I control them completely.

“This is incredible,” I say, glancing back at Hunter. He’s holding my hand as we rise into the blue-gray sky. All around us the city sparkles, each building like a cut diamond, reflecting light every which way, showing us the splendor of Manhattan. Even ravaged, the city is awe-inspiring.

I can’t tell from Hunter’s expression whether he’s excited or terrified. He says something in reply, but the wind erases his words.

A few hundred feet away, I spot a sleek, tiered skyscraper that reminds me of my parents’ apartment building on the Upper West Side and the rooftop where Hunter and I used to meet. I head toward it and begin to slow down as I reach the top, pulling Hunter with me onto the rocky gravel.

Nearly half of the roof is encased in glass, a greenhouse full of leafy plants and multicolored flowers. The rest of the roof is covered with blue and white pebbles, which crunch beneath our feet as we land. I flex my fingers, and the green rays dissipate as if they were never there to begin with. I stare at my hand, but it looks the same as it always has. The burned skin has healed completely. I rip off my wig and its cap and toss them on the roof, letting my scalp breathe.

“What did you do?” Hunter says. He stares at me curiously. “Aria?”

“I—” How am I supposed to say this? Hunter and Davida were childhood friends. They were engaged, supposed to marry—until he met me. How will he feel about what I’ve done?

Best to come right out with it. “I ate Davida’s heart.”

Hunter steps back in shock. “You what?”

“We found her heart,” I say. “Turk, Jarek, and I. It was being sold on the black market. Kyle was after it.”

“So the smartest thing to do was eat it?” Hunter runs his eyes up and down my body. “All of it? Are you insane? We need to get you to a healer—”

“I’m fine,” I say, waving off his concern. “I’ve never felt better in my entire life. This is what Davida wanted.”

Hunter raises an eyebrow. “How could you possibly know that?

“She left me a note,” I say. “In her reliquary. She wanted this to happen. Don’t be angry with me.”

Hunter stands still for a moment, arms at his side. Then he shakes his head. “I’m not angry with you. I love you, Aria.”

He takes my hands in his, pulling them to his waist. I reach up, underneath his shirt, resting my palms on the smooth skin of his back. Hunter tugs me even closer to him so that our chests are pressing together, our two hearts beating as one.

This is the man I love
, I think, but then I correct myself.
This is the man I
loved.

Hunter drags his fingertips up my arms, circling his hands behind my head. He kisses my neck, my chin. His breath is hot on my face. Our noses meet, and he rubs his forehead against mine.

Our lips touch.

“No.” The word comes out softly, like an afterthought, so quietly I wonder if he even heard me.

But I can tell by the look on his face that he did. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Everything,” I say, pulling away from him.

Hunter sighs. “Why don’t you start with one thing?”

“Landon’s dead,” I say. “It was my fault. Elissa Genevieve killed him, but I was the one who brought him there, to that warehouse—searching for Davida’s heart.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hunter says quickly. “You didn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter who did it,” I say. “He went there because of me.”

“I don’t understand.” Hunter looks genuinely bewildered. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek. I want to wipe it away, but I don’t. “You’re upset about Landon. So am I. But what does this have to do with us?”

I step away, feeling the pebbles beneath my feet, and stare out at the city. “I don’t know who you are anymore, Hunter.”

“Don’t say that,” he says. “I’m me. I just … lost my head. I was so pissed about my mom, and frustrated, and upset—all I wanted was to make things right. But I didn’t see what was right for the city. I wanted blood, the blood of all the Aeries monsters who stole my mother from me, and who stole so many other mystics from their families, too.”

I understand the fury in his voice, but it frightens me.

“I’m sorry that I let my mother’s death cloud my sense of what’s right and wrong,” Hunter goes on. “You didn’t know us together. When we met, I was already living underground. But she was still my mom—the woman who took care of me when I was little, my biggest supporter.” He starts to choke up. “She was the one person in the world who looked out for me. She wanted a better life for me than she’d had. That’s why she was running for office. So I wouldn’t have to hide. So I could keep my powers and live my life
out in the open.” Hunter gulps for air. “She wanted that for me and for every mystic.”

I take in his words. There were times when my mother was my protector, but my memories of that part of my life have almost completely faded. The mother I remember is opportunistic and selfish, a woman who would rather live secluded with her riches in the Aeries than open her eyes and see what’s going on in the world around her. A woman who lied to me, who stole from me. Who nearly killed me.

Hunter’s mother is dead. I don’t envy him for that. But in a way, my mother is dead as well. And at least the memories he has are joyous ones.

He strokes the top of my head. “I’m better now, though,” he says.

“No one can get better in an instant, Hunter,” I say. “You betrayed me. I understand that you weren’t yourself, but that doesn’t make it all right.”

He stares out at the sky, then turns back to me. “So you’re just … what? What’s happening?” Hunter asks, gulping. “Is it over between us?”

This moment is so surreal that I almost laugh. Hunter is the best thing that has ever happened to me. The love of my life. My soul mate—I truly believe that. Only too much has happened. Too much has changed.

So I open my mouth and say the most difficult word I have ever had to say: “Yes.”

“I don’t believe this,” Hunter says, holding his head in his hands. “I just don’t. I thought we were forever.”

“I thought so, too.” I wipe tears from my eyes. “But I can’t be with you right now. As much as it breaks my heart.”

“This isn’t how our story is supposed to go,” he says. His voice quavers and I have to hold back my sobs. I don’t want to break down in front of him. “You’re just going to give up on us? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Maybe one day—”

“No maybes,” Hunter says. “Either you love me and we figure things out, or you never loved me at all and it’s over.”

I shake my head. “I have always loved you. I
still
love you.”

Hunter begins to smile.

“But it’s over.”

Hunter reaches down, grabs a handful of pebbles, and hurls them into the sky. “No!” he screams, and the sound echoes off buildings.

I blink away more tears. Maybe I wasn’t the perfect girlfriend. But Hunter lied to me. He locked me up and refused to listen to me—until the very end. I’m not ready to forgive him, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to focus all my time on rebuilding our relationship when so many more important things are going on in the city.

The summit was a failure.

Nothing has been resolved between the Depths and the Aeries.

“I don’t know who
we
are anymore,” I tell Hunter. “But I know what I have to do. It’s clear that the mystics won’t rule the city any better than the nonmystics. They need someone to bring everyone together.”

Hunter stares at me as though I’m already gone. As though I’m
made of nothing but air. He takes a few breaths, trying to calm down. “And that someone is you?”

I nod. “I think so. Yes.”

“What are you going to do? How are you going to defeat your family?”

It’s a good question—one I don’t have the answer to.

Yet.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m not going to stop until I find out.”

He gives me a sad smile. “I know you won’t. That’s one of the things I love most about you.”

For a moment, Hunter seems about to turn away and walk out of my life. But instead, slowly, he reaches one hand into the air and spreads his fingers.

I press the tips of my fingers to his.

A wisp of green light shoots out from our index fingers, looping together into one fine strand that wraps around our hands, binding us for a single moment.

Then Hunter breaks away. The light is gone.

“Goodbye, Aria.”

“Goodbye, Hunter.”

With a heavy heart, I leap off the roof and soar away.

I double back to the Empire State Building. Even though I’m flying, I don’t enjoy it. Not after leaving Hunter the way I did, not to mention leaving Turk on the observation deck to defend himself. I have to get back to him, make sure he’s all right.

The air has cooled off slightly, and I’m grateful that my long hair is gone—there’s nothing for the wind to toss around. Since the bomb threat is over, I expect to see that most of the people who were rallying around the building have gone home.

But if anything, there are
more
people.

So many people I can’t believe it. They shout at me from the tops of buildings and from bridges and windows.
“Aria! Aria! Aria!”

A picture of me soaring against the sky appears on the JumboTrons in the surrounding area. The crowds go wild, tossing hats into the air. I watch the face on the screen—my face, staring back at me. Who is this girl? She looks defiant. Happy. In control.

I don’t feel any of those things.

I am too concerned about my friends. Is Turk all right where I left him? Is Ryah doing better? Not to mention Shannon and Jarek,
or the fact that Landon’s death hasn’t truly settled in. I’d barely gotten to know him. How can he be gone forever?

The cries grow louder and louder, until I fear my eardrums will burst.
“Aria! Aria! Aria!”

The people of Manhattan support me. They see that I am flying, that I have obviously gained some sort of mystic power.

Everyone is rooting for me.

I swoop down toward the Depths, toward the ruin of our city. I will make things right, once and for all—or die trying.

Special thanks to the tremendous team at Random House Children’s Books, epecially Lauren Donovan, Françoise Bui, Wendy Loggia, Krista Vitola, Colleen Fellingham, and Beverly Horowitz; to the friends and family members who celebrated
Mystic City
with me, especially my parents, Steven and Elizabeth Malawer; my sister, Abby; my grandmother Eileen Honigman; and my uncle, Alan Honigman; to all the readers and booksellers who reached out and urged me to continue; to Ruth Katcher, for her guidance, enthusiasm, and ample number of tracked changes; to Kim Kupperman, Meera Nair, Sharon Wyeth, and my Children’s Literature classmates at Fordham for their thoughtful critiques; to the fabulous team of coagents at The Inkhouse who shepherded this trilogy into foreign publication; to Michael Stearns, whose wit and humor always keep me on my toes and who has made this series possible; to Julia Alexander, Kate Berthold, Blair Bodine, Nic Cory, Greta Gerwig, Anna Harb, Jenny Weiner, and Paul Wright for their stalwart support; and to Josh Pultz, for believing in me.

T
HEO
L
AWRENCE
is a graduate of Columbia University, the Juilliard School, and Fordham University, where he recently completed his master’s degree in English literature. A Presidential Scholar in the Arts, he has performed at Carnegie Hall and the Kennedy Center, as well as Off-Broadway and at 54 Below.

Mystic City
—which
Kirkus Reviews
called “a gripping Romeo-and-Juliet exploration of deception, espionage, revolution, the greater good and love conquering all”—has been translated into over ten languages and was an ALA-YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults nominee. Theo splits his time between Manhattan and Rhinebeck, New York. You can find him at
theolawrencebooks.com
and follow
@TLawrenceBooks
on Twitter.