“What’s the difference?”
“Its members stand to profit.”
“From what?”
“Our loss,” Atlas said simply, waving a hand over an empty mug. Within moments there was tea inside it, the smell of lavender and bergamot wafting in the air between them. “But such is the nature of things. Balance,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips. “There cannot be success without failure. No luck without unluck.”
“No life without death?” asked Reina.
Atlas inclined his head in agreement. “So you see the purpose of the ritual,” he said.
She wondered if perhaps she wanted this too much. She was willing to make excuses for it, to believe its lies. A toxic love, born of starvation.
Too late now. “Do you know what happened to Libby Rhodes?”
“No.” It came without hesitation, but not too quickly. She could see the formulation of concern in his brow, which seemed real enough. “And I’m sorry to say I would have readily believed her dead if not for Mr. Caine.”
“Do you believe it was the Forum?”
“I think it’s a possibility.”
“What are the other possibilities?”
She could see his tongue catching, a mechanism sliding shut.
“Innumerable,” he said.
So he would not be sharing his theories with her.
“Should we trust you?” Reina asked him.
Atlas gave her a paternal half-smile.
“I will tell you this,” he said. “If I could retrieve Elizabeth Rhodes myself, I would do everything in my power to do so. There would be no reason for me to abandon her pursuit. I reap no benefit from her loss.”
Reina did believe that, grudgingly. She supposed there was no reason to doubt him. Anyone could see Libby’s value.
“But none of this is why you came here,” Atlas observed.
Reina glanced down at her hands, wondering for a moment what felt so strange about them here. She realized eventually it was the lack of tension within them, because unlike other rooms in the house, this one did not contain any life. There were no plants, only books and dead wood.
Interesting, she thought.
“You said there was a traveler,” she said. “I wanted to know if it was Nico’s friend.”
“Ah yes, Gideon Drake,” said Atlas. “He was a finalist, albeit not in the final ten.”
“Is it true that his friend can travel through dream realms?”
“Realms of the subconscious,” Atlas clarified with a nod. “A fascinating ability, without question, but the Society’s board was ultimately unconvinced of Mr. Drake’s control over his abilities. I believe even Miss Rhodes knew only of his incurable narcolepsy, which could not be successfully prevented,” he added with a small inward chuckle. “Very few of NYUMA’s professors knew what to do with him. He is quite close to untrained, in some senses. And his mother is highly dangerous and likely to interfere.”
“Who is she?”
“No one in particular,” Atlas said. “Something of a spy. No telling why or how she fell into it, but she appears to have a debt, or at least a fondness for earning new ones.”
Reina frowned. “So she does… what, exactly?”
“She’s a criminal, but a forgettable one. Not unlike Mr. Caine’s father.”