by Anna Webb
Realization, surprise, and then panic, the—emotions flashed on and off his face like railcars flying by on a high-speed train. The emotion that lingered was fear or as close to fear as Jason was capable of displaying. His fingers tightened on her wrist. “We need to get out of here,” he said, his voice barely a whisper and saturated with fear.
“No,” she replied emphatically, “I’m not walking out a second time.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. If, if, there’s a Revenant here, we wouldn’t stand a chance against it.”
“And your solution would be to just leave these Cleaners to suffer?” she spat out at him, shaking her arm free from his fingers. “I never did think much of you, but I never thought you were a coward.”
“I don’t give a damn what you think about me. Mostly because you don’t know anything about me. And worse, you don’t know anything about the Gifted. You’re uneducated and ill-informed and self-righteous enough to think you always know best. You think you can just jump in and play hero, but the truth is—a Revenant would squash you like a cockroach.” Whatever fear he’d felt was gone now, replaced by an icy contempt.
“I know what I’m doing,” she said. “I’ve fought a Revenant before.”
His hand shot out and grabbed her shirt. Before she could react, he’d pulled it up, baring her ribs and the jagged scar scrawled across them to the cool air.
“Is that how you got this scar?” he mocked. “By winning the fight against the Revenant.”
Allyra shoved him away. “I’m better prepared now.”
Jason tilted his head to the side and considered her. “Really?” he asked with honeyed sarcasm. “Do you know that a Revenant is a thing of energy? Trapped in the Between, it is cut off from feeding. But here, here it would have all the energy it needed. Here, it would be infinitely stronger than the one that gutted you open like a fish in the Between.”
She shook her head. “I can’t just leave these people, not when I have an opportunity to save them.”
“Yes, you can. You don’t even know if they need saving. Maybe this is just part of the training process, a Cleaner initiation.”
“Even you can’t really believe that. Look at them, they’re barely skin and bone.”
“And how are you so sure? Did you actually see the Revenant?”
She shook her head reluctantly.
“No,” he said scathingly. “Of course not—it was just a memory, and memories are fickle things. You can’t always trust them.”
She wavered. Was she really that certain?
Jason saw her hesitation and pounced on it. “Whose memory was it? We’ll wake them up and ask.”
“He’s not here,” she whispered.
“No?” How can you be certain? You haven’t checked every cot.”
“I know he’s not here because I saw him—in The Five Finals. It was François. It was his memory I saw.”
Jason gaped at her incredulously. “François? As in François and Xolani?”
She nodded miserably, aware that her story was becoming weaker and less logical by the minute.
“François is fine. He definitely doesn’t need saving. In fact, we’ll be lucky if we don’t get thrashed by him somewhere along the line.”
And still Allyra lingered, undecided. She’d been so sure, but now, in the face of overwhelming logic, she couldn’t help but waver. What did she really know? Jason was right—François was alive and well. He didn’t recognize her, and he definitely didn’t need saving. The Tigers had failed her, so maybe her Gift for the past was similarly fallible. The last time she’d been in this room, she had been terrified, her mind filled with trying to survive the Trials. Maybe the memory she’d seen had been her own, conjured up by an overwhelmed mind—an amalgamation of the Ancient that had so nearly succeeded in killing her with the Tunnels she had been struggling to escape.
“Unless you can use your supposed Gift for the past to give me some proof? We’re leaving,” Jason stated, leaving no room for argument.
“It doesn’t work like that. I can’t see the past on demand. Memories have to be there to be seen or else the person has to want me to see them. Otherwise, it’s just a feeling, a brush of an emotion—instinct more than absolute knowledge.”
“You’re not filling me with confidence.”
“I know.”
Behind them, the wall started to move, groaning as stone ground against stone. They were out of time. With one last look back at the Cleaners, Allyra allowed Jason to pull her from the room.
* * *
He yanked her along after him, refusing to let go of her hand, as if she were a recalcitrant child, liable to misbehave if not strictly controlled.
“I know I’m not going to remember this once we get out of these wretched Tunnels. But you’ll remember—so, I want you to know that I’m furious with you and that was incredibly stupid, bordering on pure insanity.”
Allyra remained obstinately silent, mostly because she was also incredibly angry—at herself. It had been reckless and shortsighted, and in going after one goal, she’d lost sight of all the others. If there had been a Revenant, and if it had killed her—then she would’ve broken every other promise she’d made. Her father, Emma, Alex—she couldn’t lose sight of the bigger picture.
She tried to extract her hand from Jason’s, and he looked down at their joined hands with an annoyed frown, as if he’d forgotten he was holding on to her. He dropped her hand and picked up the pace.
They were moving quickly, keeping up a strong pace, fast enough that both of them were breathing heavily. Their panted breaths too loud against the terrible, oppressive silence of the Tunnels.
Without warning, a wall slid into place directly before them, too close to be avoided altogether. The two of them slammed into the cold, unforgiving rock. Jason had been slightly ahead of her, and he hit the wall almost face on. She had enough time to turn and hit it with just a little more grace, letting her shoulder take the brunt of the impact.
“Damn it,” Jason yelled, slamming his palm against the wall. “I hate this godforsaken place. I might not remember hating it the last time, but I’m pretty sure I hated it then too.”
“You did,” Allyra confirmed acerbically. “You complained incessantly then as well.”
He shot her an annoyed glace. “What? You don’t agree?”
“Oh, I definitely hate this place, I just don’t feel the need to spend every other minute complaining about it.”
“No, you just prefer to linger and make crazy decisions.”
Apparently, he wouldn’t be letting go of that one anytime soon. Allyra thanked her lucky stars that his memories of all this would soon disappear.
She glanced to her left, where the newly moved wall had left a new route open for them. And then she saw it—that same massive door made from dark wooden slats and held together with iron. The door that had appeared to her every time she’d been in the Tunnels. Instinctively, she stepped toward it, unable to shake the feeling that this door was important. That it was important to her.
Fiery writing scrawled across her vision: Forget me at your peril, for I have lessons to teach for what is yet unwritten.
“And—now I’m blind,” Jason muttered darkly.
She ignored him, reaching out her fingers to brush against the iron. Jason slapped them away.
“Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time on your little side adventures already?”
Allyra nodded but didn’t take her eyes off the door. There was something there, in the darkness—five shapes, etched into the iron bar bolted across the door. She’d never noticed them before, but this time, her fingers had run across the indentations and one of them felt hauntingly familiar.
“Don’t worry,” Jason said, breaking her abruptly from her reverie, his voice thick with sarcasm. “I’m sure we’ll be back soon enough. After all, we are just everyone’s favorite target when it comes to challenges.”
Allyra laughed sourly. “They mig
ht think twice after we’ve won two challenges.”
“That would require us actually finding our way out of these ridiculous Tunnels.”
“You mean through an exit like that?” Allyra asked, pointing behind Jason.
He turned and started at the bright light streaming through the exit and let out a relieved breath. “Thank the Source.”
Remembering how Don and Clara had popped out of nowhere the last time, Allyra didn’t waste any time, breaking into a run. But before she could step through the exit, Jason grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop.
Surprised and confused, Allyra turned to him, wide-eyed. “I thought you were dying to get out of here?”
He gazed at her, and there was almost a fondness in the look. He tucked some stray hairs that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “I am. But I wanted to say something before I forget all of this.”
“Please don’t say anything mushy,” she said with a laugh. “That’s just going to embarrass us both, but I’ll have to carry that embarrassment around while you get to forget.”
One edge of his lips curved up in a lopsided smile. “It’s a strange feeling—knowing whatever I say, or do, won’t matter. That I’m soon going to forget. You’re still the most stubborn, insane, and uninformed person I know—”
“And here I thought you were about to be nice,” she interjected sardonically, slapping her palm dramatically to her face. “What was I thinking?”
Ignoring her, Jason continued. “You’re all those things, and worse. But I’m beginning to think you might not be the worst person to be partnered up with.”
At his words, a grin tugged at her lips until it matched his wry smile.
“No reply?” Jason asked after a span of silence.
“Fishing for compliments?” she fired back.
He shrugged, and his gaze slid away from her eyes. For a moment, there was almost something awkward about him. It was unexpected and threw Allyra until she realized that, despite his outward confidence, he’d never had much opportunity for an honest expression of his feelings. She grabbed his hand and forced him to look at her once again, because, even if he was soon to forget, she wanted him to see the sincerity in her eyes. “There are definitely worse partners I could be stuck with,” she said, her tone more weighted than her words.
Jason nodded, briefly acknowledging their fragile attempt at something resembling friendship. He started for the exit but stopped and sighed heavily. “I know I’m going to regret this,” he said. “But—that door, those words. I think they might be meant for you.”
It definitely wasn’t what she’d expected from him. “What do you mean?”
“Forget me at your peril—surely, that’s meant for someone who might remember. The rest of us have no choice but to forget.”
His words confirmed her growing suspicions. That door was important; otherwise, the Tunnels wouldn’t have persisted in showing it to her. It was important, and she was running out of opportunities to find out what was hidden behind it.
“But do not take this as my blessing to go exploring the next time we’re here,” Jason said caustically. Then he pulled her through the bright light of the exit.
They had completed their second challenge without ever seeing Aiden or Dave. And as far as the Tunnels went, it was as easy as it got, but she couldn’t forget the shape of two intertwined tigers driven deep into the iron.
Chapter 15 – Jamie
The corridor was empty and quiet. Jamie waited, listening for any approaching footsteps. He waited. One minute, two minutes, five, and then ten before finally making a move. Closing the door quietly behind him, Jamie made his way quickly down the corridor, staying close to the walls, as if they might somehow provide him cover. It was a false comfort.
At the first junction in the corridor Jamie turned left, moving briskly and without hesitation. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten out the door, but it was taking a long time to find the Archivist’s room within the warren of corridors. Even deep into the night, Cleaners strode soundlessly around the corridors, guarding whatever secrets that lay hidden behind a multitude of doors and wards.
Jamie peered around another corner but drew his head back hastily at the sight of a black-robed Cleaner. He took a few deep breaths, silently breathing out through his mouth. Once his heart steadied, he looked around the corner once more and found it empty. Sliding carefully around the corner, Jamie made his way down the new and larger corridor. It was the first time he’d made it this far. This new corridor was wider and more richly appointed than the one their room gave onto with white marbled statues of armored Sentinels dotted evenly along both sides of the corridor. Jamie had to believe that such opulence could only be reserved for something, or someone, important.
As he moved past the first set of marble Sentinel statues, Jamie’s gaze landed on a pair of wooden doors that lay at the end of the corridor. His heart leaped in his chest—the wooden doors that led into the library, through which he’d find the Archivist’s room and the book with Emma’s name in it. He surged forward, cloaked in lightness and sudden wild joy.
He was close. So close.
It made him careless. He didn’t see the danger until it was upon him. Black leather-gloved hands reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders. He caught a glimpse of a golden mask before his head slammed into the marbled wall and his vision exploded in fireworks of black.
* * *
Jamie woke up in a dark room, his head throbbing in pain. He started to reach up toward his head but found his arms bound down. He struggled against the restraints, but the more he struggled, the more the iron cuffs seemed to tighten around his wrists and ankles.
“There was one rule, Mr. Thiessen,” a silky voice drifted impassively through the darkness. “Stay in your rooms unless otherwise told. Quite simple, really.”
Jamie twisted in his chair trying to see the source of the voice, but the Cleaner’s black robes blended into the darkness. His face was turned away, hiding even the mask on his face.
“And now I have to punish you, and believe it or not, it’s not really something I take joy in.”
The Cleaner walked around, keeping to the shadows, his footsteps echoing against the walls. “Twenty lashes,” he said thoughtfully. “I think that would be a suitable punishment. Though the question remains: how best to distribute them.”
Jamie stiffened in his seat, a sudden chill racing up his spine.
“Yes, Mr. Thiessen. You didn’t really think that your indiscretions wouldn’t impact the rest of your team, did you?”
The Cleaner walked to the door and rapped loudly against it. At his signal, the door opened, and three more silver-masked Cleaners walked through, pushing Pete, Gemma, and Eva before them.
Pete was stoic, but Gemma was terrified, her eyes darting wildly around the room. Eva was the last through the door, struggling furiously like a wildcat.
“Five lashes each,” the first Cleaner said emotionlessly.
Adrenaline surged through Jamie’s veins. “Wait,” he said wildly, his voice hoarse. “Wait, they have nothing to do with this. I did this alone—they didn’t know anything. I’ll take the twenty lashes, I broke the rules. I deserve it.”
Eva stilled suddenly at his words. “He’s lying,” she said sharply, the words ringing clearly, silvery and alive. “I knew exactly what he was doing. I helped him break the rules, and I’ll take ten lashes.”
“Eva!” Jamie shouted out.
“Shut up, Jamie,” she spat and turned to the Cleaner holding her. “Just get it done.”
“No,” Pete said. “I was involved too. I’ll share in the punishment.”
“And I,” Gemma said tightly, her eyes wild, but her voice steady enough.
“This is all very heartwarming,” the Cleaner said, and he waved his hands to the other Cleaners in the room. “Do it.”
The shackles around his ankles sprang free with a click, and rough hands pulled Jamie to his feet, shoving him toward the wal
l. After he was slammed face first into the wall, his arms were pulled up and his cuffed wrists tied to an iron ring nailed into the wall. His shirt was ripped from him, and before he had a chance to tense up, the whip sliced through the air and tore into his flesh. Jamie gasped in pain, but the sound of it was lost beneath Gemma’s scream.
The whip rang through the air once more and ripped into his back again, and this time, it seemed to tear the flesh from his bones. Jamie couldn’t help the howl of pain that escaped him. His vision wavered with the third lash, and with the fourth, his grip on consciousness slipped, and he faded gratefully into the darkness.
* * *
Jamie woke up back in his own bed. For a moment, he relished the cool crispness of the starched sheets against his skin, a moment of mercy, until the flood of pain rushed over him like a tsunami.
He got to his feet carefully, every tiny movement sending jolts of pain through his back, tearing open flesh barely starting to knit together. He stood with his back to the mirror and twisted around to see the damage. Red gashes crisscrossed his back, not clean lines but rather jagged tears dotted with crosses, as if the whip had been armed with barbs.
“Not pretty, is it?”
Jamie twisted at Eva’s voice and winced as his wounds tore open once more. Eva stood at his door, paler than he’d ever seen her. So pale that he could see the light dusting of freckles across her nose.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Don’t apologize. Just tell me…” Eva glanced around her shoulder at Pete and Gemma. “Tell us, what the hell you were trying to do.”
Jamie followed Eva from his room into the shared sitting room. Gemma sat on the edge of a chair, her purple hair limp around her face and her cheeks pinched with pain. Pete glanced up as Jamie walked into the room but quickly averted his eyes. His reaction wasn’t unexpected; Pete had studiously avoided Jamie since Eva’s outburst with the Gem Nexus. And Jamie, for his part, had ignored the new tension, unsure of how best to handle the situation.
