I follow Joan’s gaze up to the underside of the ground way above us, too thick to let any light in—and yet, I feel better pretending that I can almost see it trickling through. “I don’t know.”
* * *
I go to Cal’s room once the base starts actually waking up. He opens his door expectantly and we head to the small training room on the second floor to spar, same as just about every morning I’ve been here.
Cal fights a lot like Lai—fast and light. Unlike Lai, his single hits aren’t all that strong, but he’s able to stack them until his opponent gives way. He beat me easily when we started this routine about a week after I rejoined the rebels, but always with surprise. “You’ve always been stronger than me,” he said. “Always.”
He didn’t say it, but I knew he was disappointed. In my almost four months in the military, I didn’t train a whole lot. Finding out about my memories was always my first priority, and practicing to fight felt like a waste of time when I could easily use my telekinesis to win. But with Gabriel’s gift around on both sides, I can’t rely on that anymore.
So Cal and I began training almost daily, for hours, to the point that I can now match him. It almost felt like my body knew it used to be stronger. I started leaning into patterns I didn’t know I had. I moved more easily, more quickly, like I was falling into a rhythm. It made me feel better. Like I was settling back into my own skin.
In our second hour of sparring, Cal hits the ground laughing. “Glad to see you’ve got your old strength back.”
A grin slips out as I help him stand. “Thanks. Want to take a break?”
“Oho, so you’re giving up now, are you?”
I shove him and he laughs again. “Not a chance. I just thought you were looking pretty damn tired.”
He throws a hand over his chest like he’s offended. “Me? Of course not.”
My smile widens. Of all the rebels, Cal is definitely my favorite. There’s something about him that I can click with, like we’ve always been best friends. I mean, apparently we were. But it doesn’t feel that way since I don’t remember it. I wonder what he thinks when we’re together. Is it like nothing’s changed? Or am I a completely different person to him now? I can never bring myself to ask.
“And here I am giving you a good excuse for why you lost,” I say. “I can’t believe you didn’t take it.”
“Please,” he says with a sniff. “I make my own excuses, thanks.”
“I figured you were running out at this rate.”
“Oh, I never run out of excuses, Erik.”
We both laugh again, and it’s the best I’ve felt in weeks. I’m glad Cal’s always willing to give up his mornings for me even though Ellis constantly has him running around.
“So what are your plans for the day?” I ask as we sit on the ground. The training room is a small space with nothing in it except a few racks of sticks for makeshift weapons. We usually bring our own real ones.
“Well, let’s see.” Cal’s hands grip his water bottle as he leans back, legs straight out in front of him. “I have to file a report for my last mission, update the troops on the upcoming raid I’m leading, run a few errands for Sara, and maybe eat or sleep at some point.”
“Sleep is so overrated.”
“Yeah, well.” He knocks his shoulder against mine. “So what are you up to? Wait, let me guess. Building models?”
“Oh, you are good.” I don’t mention the meetings lined up with Ellis and some of the other rebels, or the tasks I’ve been assigned myself. Cal already knows about them. At least I’ll get to meet with Gabriel again tonight. At the thought of him, my ears feel hot, but I try to ignore it.
“Intuition,” Cal says. “My massive intellect knows no bounds, after all.”
“Ah. How could I have forgotten?”
Cal’s mood sobers instantly. I realize I accidentally touched on a bad subject, but there’s no way to take it back.
“Hey, Erik,” he says. “Have you remembered anything about me?”
I don’t want to lie to Cal—especially when it’d be so easy for him to realize I was lying—so as much as I want to say yes, I shake my head. “Not anything big.”
“Joan told me you started remembering some stuff,” Cal says. I feel a twinge of anxiety—or maybe loneliness. When did they even have a chance to talk between my conversation with Joan late last night and my meeting up with Cal this morning? I wonder what else they’ve been saying about me when I’m not around. I feel bad even thinking it, as close as Cal was to me when I returned, and as much as I’m betraying all of them, but I can’t help it. Being here in general makes me anxious.
“Just pieces,” I say. “Brief sensations and scraps of images more than anything. A few things with Joan. You were there, too—just, not, you know, anything huge.”
“I guess it’s to be expected that you’d remember her before you remember me. You two were pretty close.”
“I don’t know. Joan says there was nothing like love between us. That we were both just looking for someone to make us feel whole.”
“If you found that in each other, I’d say that makes you pretty close. Love or not.”
With as much as Cal jokes around, sometimes I forget how insightful he can be.
“Maybe,” I say. Cal’s got a sad, far-off look on his face, so I nudge his side. “Don’t worry so much. I’ll remember eventually, and even if I don’t, we’re still friends now, right? What’s it matter if I can’t remember what we used to be like when we can hang out like this now?”
A smile slowly spreads across his face. “Yeah. You’re right. And since you can’t remember, I won’t have to pay you back all the stuff I owe you.”
“Hey now. A debt is still a debt.”
“Debt? What debt? I don’t remember any debt. Do you?”
We banter back and forth a little longer before Cal has to leave, saying, “Someone has to be responsible around here.” He sticks his tongue out at me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. Then I hesitate. “Be careful on that raid. You better make it back all in one piece.”
His smile doesn’t waver. “Oh, don’t you worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it.”
I hope so. I really, really hope so.
The room darkens a few shades after he leaves, and my mood along with it. If I’m honest with myself, being friends with Cal is my favorite part of being here. He’s cheerful, easy to talk to, and even though he’s a rebel, he doesn’t hate on Etioles all the time. He usually just shrugs and says something like, “I don’t despise them, but I definitely don’t want to defend them after everything they’ve done.”
Actually, when I think about it, Gabriel and Joan are pretty much the same. The only ones in command I’ve heard talk about the ungifted with genuine hate are Ellis and Devin. I wonder if, out of all the people gathered here, they’re the only ones who actually want to wipe out the Etioles. Well, that’s a reach, but still. What if the rebels as a whole could be swayed to peace? Most of them seem to want that. If there was just a way to get them to agree to a real negotiations meeting …
But no. So long as Ellis is leading them, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been here long enough to know she doesn’t want peace. She’ll accept nothing less than the annihilation of all the ungifted. Unless someone can change her mind, we’ll just keep hurtling down this path till one side or the other is destroyed.
16
JAY
I OFTEN FIND myself drawn to the Order’s underground crop fields when I have free time. There are two more now than when we started this venture some months ago. They’re all relatively close to one another, so I take turns visiting each of them and confirming that everything is as it should be. I linger by the third and final plot of potatoes.
I sit on my heels and look out over the field, tiny compared to all the ones I used to watch over at Father’s farm. Yet there’s still that same feeling of ease when I take it all in. The comforting silence aro
und me. The smell of wet dirt and greenery. If I weren’t a Nyte, I wonder whether I truly would’ve taken over Father’s company. The idea of being able to spend my life calmly tending to the growth of other things is a pleasant one.
If only things could stay just like this. Still. Peaceful.
Footsteps resound through one of the hallways behind me. I don’t bother moving, sensing on my internal grid that they belong to Lai and Al. The sound of their banter follows soon after.
“Like I said, there’s no way I’d lose in an all-out fight against Fiona.” Lai.
“Like I said, Seung’s strong—especially when she fights with her gift,” Al retorts. “I can’t count how many times she got me with that in our practice matches.”
“I never said she wasn’t strong. I just said I could take her.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“Ugh, she never spars with me anymore. She always says she has more important things to take care of than”—Lai’s voice shifts to a high-pitched, smug imitation of Seung’s—“entertaining a bored child. Can you believe that?”
“Actually, yes. I can.”
They enter the space and I stand to greet them. Lai brightens when she sees me, a fact that makes me immensely happy.
“Hey,” I say. “What are you two doing down here?”
“Looking for you,” Al says with a raised eyebrow. “What else?”
“Has something happened?”
“What, we can’t just want to talk?” Lai asks. However, even as she says it, her presence drips with guilt. The fact is, the three of us haven’t spoken together merely for fun in a long time. We’ve all been busy with our duties for the Order. Even meeting for meals is difficult.
We sit by the edge of the field. At first, we merely maintain a pleasant quiet. Lai’s gaze keeps drifting to the plants. Perhaps it’s only my imagination, but her eyes soften each time they return from the growing roots.
I’m surprised she has time to come and simply sit here like this. She’s been switched on for such an extended period of time, I thought she’d crash before she willingly took a break. She still looks fatigued, but at least she’s taking a moment to rest.
“How’s everything going?” I ask.
“Really well,” Lai says. “The Order’s counterstrikes have been successful, and thanks to Austin’s help with the military’s patrolling Watchers that caught the fights, videos of them have been spreading. Our scouts within the sector say almost everyone is talking about the Order these days, and we have more people trying to join us than ever. Of course, it means more work on our part to screen everyone. And the risk of spies trying to sneak in is higher than ever.”
“Oh yeah, Peter mentioned the same thing,” I say. “I’m going with him to screen some potential new recruits today.”
“Thanks for helping with that.”
“Of course.”
“The trainees are coming along, too,” Al says. She grins with a fierce pride of a different sort than I’m used to seeing her wear. “They’re going to be kicking ass and taking names in the next battle.”
“Let’s just hope that isn’t anytime soon,” Lai murmurs.
“Always the pessimist,” Al says with a roll of her eyes. “C’mon, the Order’s been doing great for months. Have a little more confidence in your friends.”
“It’s not a lack of confidence in everyone that’s making me worried.” Lai’s eyes find their way back to the field. “It’s the knowledge of how capable and strong Ellis is. She isn’t going to take all of this lying down. We had the element of surprise on our side in the beginning, but that’s gone now. It’s only a matter of time before she switches gears and comes at us seriously. Seriously enough to try and wipe us out.”
“There’s no use worrying about it until we either receive new information or something else happens,” I say. “We’ll pull through as best we can, just like always.”
“That’s right,” Al says. “With all of us together, we’re practically unstoppable.”
“Almost all together,” I say quietly. The image of Erik grinning and giving one of his flippant two-fingered salutes flashes in my mind. I wish he was here with us. I wish I knew how he was doing or that he would be safe. It feels like a year has passed since we all parted.
“The sooner we end this war, the sooner Erik can come back,” Lai says grimly. “And if his position over there becomes too risky, we’ll get him back.”
“He knows what he’s doing.” Al’s voice is rough. “We just have to do what we can to support him from here.”
Lai’s smile returns, although in less force now. “You’re right. I just can’t help but worry.”
“Well, try to keep that under control so it doesn’t spread,” Al says. “Because I do not want to catch it.”
“Worry is an emotion, Al, not a sickness,” Lai says with a roll of her eyes.
“Hey. Emotions are definitely contagious.”
“I can attest to that,” I say.
“Oh, not you, too, Jay.”
“I’m merely stating my observations.”
Lai gives me a playful shove. “Yeah, well, no one asked for them.”
“As long as he’s siding with me, I’ll ask,” Al says.
“Terrible. Just terrible, both of you.” Lai shakes her head. But then she laughs, and it’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her since before we returned from Ellis’s ambush all those months ago. When I sense her presence on my grid, it isn’t wrought with stress, fear, or doubt. For once, she’s genuinely happy. And so am I.
* * *
I find Peter outside the small, rundown apartment we’re to meet the potential recruits in. I’m still high on the military’s wanted list, so though interest in our team has subsided significantly due to the war, I had to use Seung’s power crystal to get here. Even with the crystal, I couldn’t help wanting to look over my shoulder every ten steps to confirm no one was following me through the busy streets. I switch off the crystal’s illusion once I’m safely in the shadows of the indoor hallway.
Peter holds a clipboard in one hand and flips through the numerous sheets attached to it with the other. He looks tired—who of the higher-ranked members doesn’t anymore?—but I know his exhaustion comes from more than physical tasks. A large part of his presence is still dark and heavy with grief from the day we lost Paul.
But there’s something more troubling him today. He frowns when he looks up at me, in the way one usually does when they have bad news they don’t want to convey.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“No, it’s…” He sighs. “Well, I guess you’ll see. We have an interested party today you might not be so … interested in seeing.”
That gets my attention. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you want to take a break from today’s screening? I really wouldn’t mind.” His ignoring my question merely makes me more concerned—and curious. Who could possibly be here that Peter doesn’t even want to say their name?
“I won’t shirk my responsibilities when everyone else in the Order is giving it their all,” I say. “No matter who’s standing on the other side of that door.”
Peter watches me. Then he sighs once more. “You’re way too good of a guy, Jay. I’ll give you a heads-up before we go in, and then you can let me know if you change your mind.” He meets my eyes. “It’s your dad.”
I don’t register the words at first. Or rather, I can’t register them. The idea is so preposterous it goes straight over my head. “My father? There’s no way he’d be here. He’s not interested in seeing peace between the gifted and ungifted. He hates”—it takes a heartbeat to control the words—“the gifted.”
“Then maybe we do need you today to make sure he’s not here for any unsavory reasons,” Peter says. “But I get it if you want to sit this one out. Really.”
The words are still swirling in my head without connecting to anything. It doesn’t make sense. There must be a mistake.
&nbs
p; However, I know the Order. And the Order doesn’t make mistakes when it comes to researching newcomers.
I take a deep breath. It’s shakier than I expected. But I think of Lai, doing a million things at once for the Order’s success, running herself ragged. I think of Al and the pride with which she spoke of the Order members she’s been training, even though she wore her weariness like a mask. Of Erik, risking his life amid the rebels to get us critical information. They’re all doing so much to try to end this war at their own expense. If they can do that, I can at least face my father.
I lift my head high. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine. Let’s begin.”
Peter watches me carefully for a heartbeat before something like a smile breaks his lips. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything like it since Paul’s death. He extends a second clipboard to me. “Well, all righty then. Let’s get this show on the road.”
He opens the door and steps inside without further ado. I follow without hesitation.
Inside waits a group of about ten people. It’s the maximum number the Order will screen at a time, to ensure no one gets overlooked. Everyone looks up as we enter.
A few mutters spread at the sight of me—a gifted ex-officer wanted by the Council for turning traitor. But they quiet soon enough when Peter gives them an almost reproving look. I can’t say how much I appreciate it.
Against my will, I seek Father instantly. He’s seated on one of the folding chairs the same as everyone else, but his eyes lock on me as fast as mine do him. He appears older than I remember. Gray strands run through his messier-than-typical black hair, and the lines around his severe, sharp face are deep. I haven’t seen him outside of a suit since I was a child; however, now he’s wearing worn clothes stained by dirt as though he just came from working in the fields. When was the last time he did that himself? Not since he taught me the basics of farming when I was a child, surely.
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