Unknown 9 by Layton Green (e reader txt) 📗

she knew the real reason was that, deep down, it represented a final tenuous thread that belonged to the tapestry of memories of her mother.

Why had the Ascendants bothered to take it? She supposed in their world, a ring could be a piece of spyware, some kind of high-tech tracking device used to infiltrate their organization. Would her mother look at the ring and think of her daughter, Andie wondered, before the Ascendants destroyed it?

Cal had been out cold the entire journey. Andie had tried desperately to rest but couldn’t stop thinking about Henrik giving his life to save her. For the millionth time, she wondered where her mind went when she entered the shadow world. Was she stepping outside of her body, crossing through a gap in dimensions, entering the quantum realm? Glimpsing a new reality altogether?

Or was it nothing more, as she had always suspected, than a psychological glitch?

But if it is something, what does the Leap Year Society know about it?

Dr. Corwin, what have you done? And why didn’t you tell me?

She thought about her conversation with Cal on the patio overlooking the Sicilian vineyard, and the mounting mysteries that all seemed to revolve around her mentor: the Star Phone and the Enneagon, the ink drawings of her visions, the origins and purpose of the Leap Year Society, and, most of all, the involvement of her mother.

Who was Dr. James Corwin, really?

While the story of his past beckoned, she was drawn to a different memory on the final leg of the flight. One that related to her run with that prick Matt Stevenson in Durham.

The Friday after the awful encounter, as the sun went down on the quad in front of Duke Chapel, Andie had sat cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by neo-Gothic architecture and a bower of ancient oaks. Groups of students had walked by without a second glance, laughing and chatting, planning weekend parties.

Andie went to the quad at times to center herself. It was a beautiful place, a union of architectural magnificence and natural splendor that spoke to both her rational and spiritual sides. Though she considered herself agnostic, she had always embraced the pull of the unknown. It was hard not to stare at the lattice of sheltering branches beneath the violet dusk sky, knowing the root systems of those proud sentinels were interconnected with a host of organisms beneath the forest floor, a symbiosis of mind-blowing complexity triggered billions of years ago by exploding stars, and not feel awed by the magic of creation.

Andie had always been a lone wolf, preferring to bond with a few close friends. As an undergrad, low on self-esteem and high on resentment towards her parents, she had funneled her emotions into drinking too much and pushing limits. Her college friends were products of a time and a place from which Andie had moved on by the time grad school rolled around.

She had a few childhood friends whom she cherished, but they had families and mortgages. Andie didn’t want to go whining to them about her problems. Or at least not problems like Matt, who wasn’t a problem at all.

He was distant history.

Hearing footsteps, she had turned to see Dr. Corwin approaching through the quad in beige slacks, a herringbone cap, and a checkered blue sport coat. Trim and dapper as ever.

“Hello there,” her mentor had said.

“Hi.”

“I was leaving the library and saw you. It’s quite a lovely evening.”

“Yup.”

He studied her face. “May I join you for a moment?”

After Andie patted the grass beside her, he set down his briefcase and walking cane and eased to the ground. Despite the pain in his joints and his bad knee, every movement was elegant and sure.

She had often wondered what he was like as a younger man. A heartbreaker, no doubt.

“That look bears a curious resemblance to the one I believe you American girls refer to as ‘boy trouble.’ Or I should say ‘man trouble.’ I sometimes forget how grown you are.”

“There’s no trouble. And I wouldn’t call him a man. Definitely a child. A prick, actually.”

She had never held back around Dr. Corwin, and he had never flinched at her choice of language or her honesty.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I don’t give a damn about him. I’m just a little contemplative tonight. But thanks.”

“The mysteries of the cosmos pale before the enigma of the human heart.”

“Trust me—I’m not heartbroken.”

“The heart is not always broken by other people,” he said gently.

She sniffed and leaned back on her elbows. “Yeah. It’s an annoying little organ.”

“You’re still new on campus. It can be a hard place to fit in.”

“I’ve never really bothered. And I don’t plan on starting now.”

He chuckled. “Me either.”

In the ensuing silence, she said, “Can I ask you something personal?”

He blinked. “Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question seemed to take him aback. “Many times,” he said, with a sad, enigmatic smile. “When I was much younger, sometimes twice in one week.”

She laughed. “You never found the right one?”

In response, his face tilted to the sky, suggesting an untold story behind the faraway gaze. “I made a choice long ago to put my work above my personal life. Don’t ask me whether it was wise. I don’t know. I don’t believe in regret. Second-guessing your choices is like trying to pin down a quantum superposition: it’s impossible to judge the outcome before you live it, and one can never replicate the conditions under which the choice was made. Every now and then, I indulge in the past with a bottle of fine Scotch and a Colombian cigar. And that is all.”

Andie fingered her mother’s jade ring. “That’s probably wise.”

“We should learn from our mistakes. But my future interests me far more than my past.” He used his cane to push to his feet. “Another piece of advice. As scientific-minded as I am, I always did my best to follow my heart, including with my research.”

“Really? That surprises me.”

“Make of it what you will. It is not a path