Page 92 of Flickerstate

She tilts her face up as if searching for an answer in the canopy. “You guys…fused. You looked like a river of lava branching into the sky.”

“Lava?” Vik says. “Nifty.”

“Don’t say ‘nifty.’ Tell me what it means.”

I lean my shoulder into Vik’s. He leans back. It helps us stay upright. “It means leaguing is possible,” I say. “It means the Academy is hiding things.”

“Why show me?” she asks.

Vik looks at me, silently asking whether we can trust Candace. If we can’t—if she tells Dr. Langmore we plan to break into the Highwall Collection—Dr. Langmore will have us expelled. We can kiss our shot at finding the cure goodbye.

Honestly? I think we can trust Candace. I hope we can. But I don’t know we can. You never know whether you can trust someone until you give them a chance to betray you—and they don’t.

I nod.

Vik tells Candace everything: the Archive’s three collections; the three distinct keycards that he, Griffin, and Mirabel received; the threat of expulsion that hangs over them if they share materials or information. He tells her we want to use leaguing to searchHighwall’s papers for a cure for my bite—for everyone’s bites.

On “bites,” Candace eyes shift back to my wound. “How long have you hadthat?”

“Junior year. It’s not just me. My dad—he has nine.”

Her face goes grave. “How old is your dad?”

“Forty-four.”

She thinks about it. The older you are, in general, the greater your baseline risk of death. The greater your risk, the faster a bite kills you. And with nine…“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I know it sounds like denial. “I came to the Academy for the same reason you did.”

The pieces slot into place behind her eyes. “To find out how bites heal. From the Archive. That’s what you’ve been worried about this whole time.”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll help.”

I gawp. “Just like that? Okay?”

She kicks the tufty clearing grass. Once, twice. Deciding whether to tell us something. “Yeah,” she says. “Because I think there’s a cure in the Archive too. I think somebody knows, and they’re gatekeeping it. And gatekeeping a cure… It’s not right. That’s why I wanted to get into the Archive. To set the cure free.”

Vik watches her closely. “Why doyouthink there’s a cure in the Archive?”

“Before my bite healed, I did a lot of research on possible cures. The one consistent rumor I found was that Highwall had curedherself and hidden the secret to it in the papers she willed to the Academy. I asked Griffin to look in the Archive for me. He told me that the only students who got access were senior assistants, so I asked him to break in. He said no. He said…” She ducks her head, glares at her oxfords, and looks up grimly. “He said his dad would figure something out.”

I stare at her, at the cold rage and shame on her face. “Did heelaborate?”

“He did not. And believe me, I asked him to.” She tilts her head back and inhales deeply. “I thought he was blowing smoke up my ass. Trying to keep me from getting angry when I was dying and he wouldn’t risk his Academy spot to help. But then my mom insisted I take sleeping pills. I woke up healed twelve hours later.”

Vik’s expression shifts, bit by bit, until it conveys a nauseating suspicion. “Does Griffin’s dad have any connection to the Academy beyond you and Griffin going here?”

Candace laughs thickly. “Good question. Yes. He’s a big donor.”

A squeezing sensation grips my chest, like a helium balloon is inflating beneath my sternum, stealing space from my heart and lungs. “How much?”

“He started giving fifty thousand a year after Griffin’s nav manifested. Upped it to seventy-five when Griffin got in. After I woke up cured, I found a letter the Academy sent him documenting a onetime donation so he could deduct it from his taxes.” Candace pauses. Maybe for effect—debate habits die hard—or maybe because it’s that hard to say. “Five million.”

We stand in silence, birds chirping, insects chittering. The Academy knows how to cure possibility wounds. At least, someone at the Academy does. Someone like Mr. Davis, the Archivist, who itemized Highwall’s secret papers. They’re not sharing that information with the unwashed masses, but they have alerted a perfumed elite—and started selling cures to them and theirs.

“Tens of thousands in the U.S. alone. Bite-related deaths. Every year.” The words sound like they abrade Vik’s throat.