Deep Shadows

by Bella Forrest

  His face seemed to crumble in on itself, and I jumped to my feet and went to him, putting an arm around his shoulders and guiding him back to the blankets. He sat heavily, leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

  “I keep losing them,” he murmured. “I keep losing them, and I don’t know how to stop it. First Mother and Father, and my brother. Then Rhea. Now Kory. Who will it be next?”

  I pressed my lips together and reached for his hand because it was so close to what I’d been thinking earlier. He wasn’t that much older than me, and he’d already been through so much. He’d lost so much more than I could have ever dreamed. Granted, I’d lost my parents, but at least I didn’t remember it. At least I hadn’t had to see them die. Yet, Jace? He’d known nothing but loss, and now Kory, his best friend, was gone too.

  I tried to fight it; I really did. I tried to remember what I’d told myself again and again about not letting anyone else in, about protecting myself from caring too deeply about people. But something in me had snapped, and I wasn’t sure how to put that particular boundary back together. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. Not really.

  Jace was the person who had come back for me in that parking lot, when the Pincers of Death had me. He’d fought those pincers open with his bare hands rather than leave me to the Ministry.

  Instead of pulling back, I gave his hand a squeeze.

  “Have I ever told you about where I actually came from?” I asked quietly. “Not the cabin in the woods, I mean, but before that?”

  He turned to face me and shook his head, and I could see that it was already working. My story was already pulling him out of his sorrow and giving him something else to chew on. Of course, I’d never told anyone else this particular story, and it was against everything Nelson had taught us about protecting our privacy, but I was beginning to think that maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe it was more important to have a family—to avoid the risk of dying alone—than to protect yourself from caring about someone.

  I could have died in that parking lot, and no one I was with would have even known who I actually was. That was something none of us should have to live with.

  “I was adopted into an upper-class family when I was just a few months old,” I started quietly. “I don’t remember my real parents. I don’t know if I had any brothers or sisters. For all I know, I could be a twin. I don’t know where I came from, or what my family might have been like. I guess all my important medical information was probably in whatever file they gave to the people who were adopting me, but I’ve never seen it. So, I don’t really know anything about my biological history. I don’t know how I’m like or unlike my parents, whether I look like my mom or my dad… I guess they don’t know that about me, either. They don’t know who I became. They never even had a shot at knowing their own kid. Never had a shot at figuring out what they gave this world when they had me.”

  I stopped, holding back the tears because I’d never said it out loud like that before. I’d never actually thought about it like that before. Now that I was putting it to words, I could see that the system was even crueler than I’d realized. The CRAS wasn’t just taking people’s children. It was taking their legacy. Taking the continuance of their line and snipping right through it. Letting the children go like balloons that had been cut free—and then sending those children into the world with no idea of their history.

  They were building a group of people who had no identity, no sense of self, and no adherence to each other. No wonder the lower class had become so easy to control.

  “I grew up in a very wealthy household, with lots of other brothers and sisters,” I continued slowly. “And I was happy. I mean, as happy as you could be, under the circumstances.”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder about it?” Jace asked. “About who your parents might have been or what happened to them? I can’t imagine not knowing where I’d come from.”

  I laughed, but there was no humor in it.

  “You would have thought I would. But it barely occurred to me. Or if it did, it was shot down by my new parents. This was just the system, and we were just the pieces. We weren’t supposed to complicate things by wondering about them, you know? But I should have. If I’d known, I would have fought it. Would have fought it harder. And earlier.”

  “Is that what happened?” he asked, his voice curious. “Did you fight against it?”

  “Nothing so noble,” I replied bitterly. “I could wish that I’d been that strong, but the truth is, I was anything but. I told you that I… well, I got myself in trouble.”

  “You got pregnant,” he said quietly.

  I frowned, trying to remember if I’d actually told him that or not, but the warmth and safety were starting to get to me. My brain was caught somewhere between the fog of sleep and the hangover from adrenaline. Try as I might, I couldn’t remember whether I’d actually said it out loud, and I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  I found myself leaning against his shoulder slightly and tilted my chin up. I could smell the scent rising from his skin.

  Sunlight, I thought. That was what it reminded me of. Sunlight in the woods, skipping off the leaves and dropping down to the ground. It was bright and beautiful and… safe.

  It had been so very long since I’d felt anything like it that the word was almost foreign to me.

  “I got pregnant,” I agreed after a pause. “And we weren’t planning to get married. I mean, it came up after the fact, but not nearly early enough. It would have been the wrong answer, regardless. We were too immature. Getting married would have taken a stupid situation and made it even worse.”

  He pulled my hand farther into his lap and began softly stroking the back of it.

  “You didn’t love him.”

  I laughed.

  “What could I have known about love at seventeen? I didn’t even understand what life was yet. I didn’t know about struggle or perseverance, or responsibility. I’d grown up a rich kid. My parents had made sure I got an education and had the best of everything, but that doesn’t really teach you about life, does it? It doesn’t teach you about what’s real. It just teaches you what someone wrote in books or discovered in a laboratory.”

  “And I, on the other hand, learned far too much about life far too early and got very little in the way of education,” he noted wryly. “I bet you could read and write in circles around me and tell me about scientific discoveries that I’ve never even dreamt of.”

  “And I bet you could survive in the wild no matter what happens to us with the Ministry, and never even skip a beat,” I retorted. “Whereas I would be completely lost, unless the pack of wolves I’ve spent the last year making friends with decided to take me in and make me a part of their pack.”

  We both laughed at that, sharing the thought of how different our lives had been, and I allowed myself to appreciate, just for a moment, that life had still put us here, in this situation. We’d come from completely different sides of civilization, and yet here we were, building something that felt stronger than anything I’d ever learned about in my previous life.

  “So, what happened?” he asked, his voice soft against my forehead, his lips just brushing my skin. “How did you survive?”

  I shrugged.

  “My father kicked me out. He didn’t want to hear my plans or excuses, and he barely gave me a chance to explain myself. Definitely didn’t let me pack any of my things. He negated the adoption, told me I was trespassing, and even shot my boyfriend in the leg on our way out of the house.”

  “Real stand-up guy,” Jace said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

  Again, I shrugged. “I can see where he was coming from. Well, now I can. He’d done his duty to the government by adopting a lot of kids. Raised them as his own. He’d probably seen it as a gift to me as well, taking me out of the poor class into which I’d been born. When I told him what had happened, he saw it as a betrayal. I might have reacted differently if I was in his shoes, but I can understand why he did what
he did.”

  “And then?”

  I took a moment to strengthen myself against the end of this particular story because the end was certainly the worst. “I went to live with Henry and his family and worked in the factory where Henry worked. When I had the baby, I was below the poverty line, and they took her from me. I had enough time to give her a name and memorize her face, but that was it. Within a couple weeks, Henry had moved out and left me. Without the baby, there was no reason for him to stay. Our relationship at that point hadn’t been anything more than two people pushed together by a rotten situation.”

  I had the sudden thought that this thing with Jace wasn’t much different. In fact, it could be exactly the same sort of relationship—something that happened during a dramatic situation and then flamed out, like my relationship with Henry. The idea frightened me so much that I sat straight up and turned to stare at Jace, convinced that we were making a huge mistake.

  But the person I saw was as different from Henry as could be. This wasn’t a fickle boy who had gotten me pregnant and then acted like a lost child in response. This wasn’t the self-centered person who had stated he would marry me and then escaped at the first chance he found.

  This was someone who had trusted me with his deepest secrets well before he should have, asked me to help him with his sister, and then run right into danger to save me when my life was threatened. This was something different.

  I allowed myself to sink into it. I reveled in it like a kid who had been given hot chocolate for the first time and couldn’t get enough of the sweet, heavy feeling on their tongue. I closed my eyes and breathed in again, knowing that I might be making the biggest mistake possible—but not caring.

  Right then, I had one thought in my head: this was what it was like to have family. This was what it was like to have a family that you would fight for, that you would do anything for. And more than that… this was what it was like to allow someone into your heart again and give them a little piece of your soul. Maybe even accept a piece of their soul in return.

  I drew closer to him, my body acting on that thought without requiring any input from my mind, and reached up to softly brush his cheek with my fingers. Then, embarrassed at how forward that had been, I gave him a soft smile.

  “I guess we both come with our sad stories, huh?”

  He mirrored my smile, his face going dreamy, and then repeated my action. He ran his fingers from just under my chin, up my jaw, to rest right underneath my right ear. His eyes followed his fingers, then returned to my eyes.

  “I’m not sure anyone can get to our age without having some sort of sad story,” he said. “In this world, I’m not even sure whether anyone can get past the age of five without something horrible happening to them. Even if they don’t remember it.”

  I shivered at the touch of his fingers as they started brushing against my earlobe, and then realized that what he’d said was a reference to what had happened to me. A reference to the idea that even the upper class in our society was made up of broken people—because so many of the upper class were people who had been torn from their biological families before they could even talk. Though they might not acknowledge it, surely that broke them in some deep way and affected them for the rest of their lives.

  “We’re a society of orphans, I suppose,” I murmured, surprised at the revelation. I’d never thought of the upper class as consisting of people to be pitied, but now I was starting to see that it might.

  Jace nodded. “I think that’s a fairly accurate portrayal. Without a government or even a leader that we can turn to for solutions…” He shrugged.

  “Do you think we can find that?” I asked, curious. I’d thought about the need to end CRAS, but I’d never considered what might come after it.

  “I do,” he said firmly. “I’ve spent a lot of time watching groups of animals—herds, flocks, that sort of thing. And the one thing I can tell you is that when they need to be led, they find a leader. It’s nature, I guess. It doesn’t allow for chaos.”

  That, I could understand. I might not have had much experience with animals, but what he was saying made perfect sense.

  “Think we’ll find our leader? Someone who’ll make us whole again?” I asked.

  He smiled. “I do. And until then, I think it’s our job to choose our own families. Decide on the people we want to claim as ours and then do whatever it takes to keep them.”

  A shiver ran from my toes up to my ears, to connect to the thumb that was still brushing my earlobe, and I nearly gasped at what he seemed to be saying. Then I narrowed my eyes.

  “You better be talking about me,” I said with a fake pout.

  The smile on his face turned to a broad grin.

  “Of course I am.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to my forehead, leaving me both relieved and somewhat perplexed, then said, “Get some sleep, Robin. We have a big day tomorrow. We’ll feel better if we’re rested. Just know that you’re safe here, with me. I won’t let anyone get you while you’ve got your eyes closed.”

  I really didn’t want to close my eyes or let the conversation die. There was a frustration in my body that I could hardly understand, but at his words, I realized that my vision was starting to go fuzzy around the edges. Perhaps I was more tired than I realized. A moment later, the heady atmosphere of the room finally claimed me, and I lay my head on his shoulder and fell asleep.

  I didn’t wake again until morning.

  11

  When I woke, I was alone.

  I immediately felt both deserted and, for some reason, embarrassed. The second emotion made me frown because I couldn’t figure out for a moment why. It reminded me of those days when I’d woken in Henry’s apartment after he had left—while his parents sat in the next room.

  It wasn’t just embarrassment. It was a combination of having been left alone without warning and knowing that you were in a place where you didn’t quite belong. Though a quick thought of what the previous night had been made me grin and question that latter feeling. If I’d ever belonged anywhere, it had been right there, next to Jace, spilling out my story and relishing the sensation of security.

  I rose quickly to my feet, untangled my limbs from the blankets, and stared around me, wondering exactly where Jace had gone and why he hadn’t woken me first. It didn’t take me long to find the note, and the moment I read it, I felt better.

  Robin,

  Really, really sorry to have run out on you, but Nathan called me in for an emergency meeting. You were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you, esp. after last night. Figured you could use all the rest you could get before we tackled the real world again. Feel free to use the shower and anything you find there. I promise I do actually own soap. Will see you at noon at the Roundhouse. Take the A Train to the end of the line to get there. Should be a half-hour trip and nothing more. Be safe. See you soon.

  X

  I grinned at the blocky, childlike handwriting, and then wider at his signature “X” at the bottom of the note. I didn’t know why he’d used it, considering I now knew his name to start with a J, but it was so reminiscent of the days when we’d first met that I could hardly feel angry over it. Instead, it just felt like… Jace.

  How bizarre, I realized, to know anyone that well. It had been so long since I’d let someone in that deeply, and the feeling was both strange and deeply familiar.

  I wondered about the fact that he’d left me alone, but realized that he did answer to Nathan… that we all sort of did, honestly… and gave him a pass. In this organization, Nathan’s word superseded any so-called orders we’d received from Alexy or Zion.

  I went through my morning ablutions, smiling to myself and doing my best to keep the rest of the world at bay. My ankle was feeling worlds better, and a full night’s sleep in the company of someone I felt I could fully trust had done more for my confidence than I could have imagined. I wanted to revel in that feeling for just a bit longer. There was plenty of time for the world
to knock me down after I left this sanctuary. For now, I was going to pretend that there wasn’t a Ministry or a site that sold children or a group of people waiting for me so that we could figure out whether we were in danger. Or how we were going to save our friends.

  When I got to the Roundhouse, it looked exactly the way I remembered it, and I had to fight to remind myself that in the twenty-four hours or so since the last time I’d seen it, everything had changed.

  I dawdled outside for a bit, wondering whether it was safe to go right into the bar, but then glanced at my phone, realizing it was already past noon. Everyone else would presumably be here—and inside. With that thought, I marched to the front door and threw it open.

  It didn’t take me long to spot our party. We’d decided on the Roundhouse because it was a bar/restaurant most of us had known for some time. It was the same place where we’d stored our airship for a time. The owner and resident bartender, Cianna, had also allowed us to meet here when we were nothing more than Nelson’s group of adventurers in the OH network. Though our activities had put her at risk, she fully supported what we were doing. She would have joined us if she’d been able to, but she had relatives who were depending on her, she’d said, and wasn’t free to put her life on the line the way we did.

  When we’d needed a safe place to discuss our options, Alexy had mentioned the Roundhouse and no one had batted an eye. It was a sanctuary for us, and it made sense for this to be the place where we sorted out what we were going to do.

  Although, now that we were here, I was having second thoughts, because this was where we’d often met up with Nelson—and where Nelson stored some of our gear. If the Ministry truly had Nelson in their grips, or if they’d hacked her computer, there was a chance they knew this place as one of our hangouts. If that was true…

  Why hadn’t we thought of it before?

  I ran it through my brain once and then again, trying to figure out whether I needed to grab the others and get out of there quickly. I realized, then, that the same things that had made the place safe before, with Nelson, made it safe now. It was a crowded joint, and the lunch crowd, no doubt tempted by Cianna’s famous pot roast, would hide our rather large party. With luck, we would look like just another group of friends there to enjoy our lunch breaks together. The Ministry shouldn’t know our faces or our names—at least, I hoped not—and if they entered, I was certain that we’d see them before they saw us.