I pester Centavo until we reach the spot where we had descended moments earlier. He refuses to speak another word. How can he mention a plan for registering my brother and then refuse to tell me about it? The more agitated I get at Centavo, the more distant Olin becomes. By the time we stop, Olin’s standing several meters off and staring at his feet.
“Try to hold still on the way up.” Centavo breathes deeply. The stone fragments from the basement floor lift into the air, filling the space around us. My feet leave the ground. Despite my effort to anticipate the weightlessness, my heart skips.
More rapidly than my senses can assimilate, we rise toward the dim opening. A second later, Centavo releases Olin and me in the basement while stacking the stone pieces in a neat pile. Olin proceeds directly toward the stairs without a word.
“Olintl, where—”
“I know how it feels,” Centavo interrupts, “to be molded against your will.”
Olin stops, his foot on the first step. He turns. Tears streak his face. He juts out his fist and opens it to reveal the leather pouch. “Do you know what it’s like to be disintegrated? No?” Clenching his fingers around the pouch, he shakes it. “I’m sure you know what it’s like to do the disintegrating. We both know what that’s like, don’t we?” He trembles with grief and rage. “But you don’t know me.”
“I know more than you can possibly imagine.” Centavo expands. A shimmering green light swells beneath his skin before bursting outward in a singular bright flash.
Blinking rapidly, I struggle to distinguish the shape of my brother through the blobs of light burned onto my retinas.
“Yes, I know what it is like to take life, both out of necessity and pleasure.” Centavo’s voice fills the cramped room, rebounding off the walls and filling my head. “I also know what it is like to create life, and then watch that life outstrip oneself in depravity. I know what it is like to manipulate humans as tools or worse. I know what it is like to look inside and realize the boy is dead and gone.”
His voice softens while remaining omnidirectional. “Worst of all, I still remember the boy. Hundreds of years removed, I remember how I felt the day I enrolled in Masa. I was like your sister, determined and hopeful. Before I realized it, the determination had choked out the hope. Five years later, all that remained was a monster.”
“Then why?” Olin collapses on the stairs. “Why go at all? The world doesn’t need any more monsters.”
“That is exactly what makes you special, Olin. You already know the difference. Look at me.” Centavo shrinks. His shoulders sag, and his glow extinguishes, leaving the room nearly pitch black.
I hear Olin rise from the steps and shuffle his way toward me.
Centavo continues, “I’ve experienced infinitely more than you, and yet I’ve only recently discovered what you already know—the knowledge of good and evil.” The old man sighs. “Besides, if you do not accept my help to register for the academy, there will be no one to keep your sister from becoming the next me.”
“Wait.” I stumble blindly toward Centavo, then remember the gaping hole in the floor and stop short. I’m not sure which part of his statement to argue first. “I’m nothing like you, and in case you haven’t noticed—”
“Yes, your braid. As I’ve said, we’ve got a busy night ahead of us. Speaking of,” the old man sparks his fingers into a green torch, “I’m afraid I must insist on a bit of one-on-one time. Just you and me, Calli Bluehair.”
Olin reaches my side. I check his eyes for a clue to his thoughts. In the dim lighting it’s hard to tell.
Centavo continues, “That doesn’t mean I don’t have a task for you, Olin. If you choose to accept it.”
I grip my brother by the arms and say, “We both know what I want. You’re the only thing I’ve got to lose. When that day comes, I want to know I’ve done everything within my power to give you the best.”
He nods.
“I’ve got no idea what this crazy, old man is talking about. Except what he said about hope and determination, that makes total sense. You’re my hope. Without you, I’ve got only determination.”
Olin’s eyes glisten. Finally he says, “Go with him. He hasn’t told us the whole truth, but I don’t think he’s lied to us either.” He hugs me. With sudden determination, he turns toward Centavo. “I am willing to accept whatever task you have for me.”
“Good, now—”
Olin interrupts the old man, “But don’t let me discover you have treated my sister poorly. I am young. My understanding of good and evil is immature.” He flicks his arms out beside him and sparks both hands with blue light.
Centavo extinguishes his green torch. Cracking the bones in his neck, he nods. “I assure you, young one, through both intention and action I shall regard her in the highest possible manner. Like it or not, our fates are now intertwined. As for your task, I would like you to restore the floor to its original condition. All the pieces are there.” Centavo holds out an arm to usher me toward the stairs. “And oh, it should go without saying, hands are not allowed.”
Olin objects, “But how—”
“As you have already discovered, raw power is the easier half. Even a common cage fighter can project a powerful pulse. Control. Precision, is the more important.”
I stop short of the stairs. “How long will we be gone?”
Centavo says, “Hopefully no more than a few hours.” He then addresses Olin, “You will be totally safe here. When you complete the task, I suggest you wait for your sister’s return.”
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