“Get. Out,” he spat, releasing her.
She fell to the floor and scampered toward the stairs, staring daggers at him. “Do yourself a favor and don’t get on my bad side.”
“Dammit,” he cursed as she slammed the front door behind her. Then, realizing I was still frozen from shock, he returned to me. “Are you all right?”
“No!” I shouted, letting him escort me to the pile of blankets on my floor.
“Just thought I’d ask.”
He knelt down beside me and straightened out my leg, gripping the edge of the blade with his strong fingers. “One, two . . .”
“Ouch!” I yelled at him as he pulled the metal from my flesh. “You didn’t even say three.”
“Three is for wussies.”
He gently rolled up the loose cotton of my pajama pant to examine the cut.
“Who are you people?”
“Well, she’s apparently a raging lunatic,” he said with a smile, “and I’m just the guy trying to keep you safe.”
After looking carefully at the cut, William took Kara’s knife and slid the sharp edge against the pad of his thumb, cutting deep enough to draw blood.
“What are you doing?” I asked, appalled.
“Always with the questions,” he answered, shaking his head. “Just hold your horses, Ellie.”
He moved to press his thumb against the cut on my leg, and I almost stopped him, but didn’t. He knew. Somehow he knew it would heal me.
“How do you know?” I whispered the secret question.
When he lifted his thumb, both of our cuts were gone. He wiped the fresh blood with his shirt, and stared at the flawless skin.
“I know what every Descendant knows,” he answered. “That there is a girl, the last healer, who has been hidden. The one we’ve been waiting for. The one who will change everything.”
“But I’m—”
“I know that makes no sense to you,” he interrupted. “There are others, Elyse. You’re not alone. That’s the first thing you should know.”
My mind picked out the one word that had meaning. “Others?” He was right. I didn’t believe him. “I want proof.”
“All I have right now is a picture my dad gave me,” he said, coming to sit next to me on the blankets. “I’ve been carrying it around just in case. He told me your parents had the same one, but I’m not sure you’ve seen it.” William handed me the photo. “If you need more proof, I was planning on showing you, but we have to wait until the morning.”
I couldn’t register the words he was saying, or maybe I just refused to believe them. William’s face was nervous, and he stared hard back at me. I tried to read the reason behind all of this, tried to understand how it could be true. I was so stupid, so naïve to trust him, to trust anyone, but I did.
I looked down at the picture I had been holding but not really looking at, and to my surprise, I had seen it. It was black and white and old, just like the one I had in my gold box, but this one was in much better condition. A group of people stood outside against a wall as if to take a class photo. All the faces were smiling, including my mother and father.
“There next to your parents, that’s my dad,” he affirmed.
I couldn’t believe it. Things like this didn’t happen to me, couldn’t possibly happen, but the evidence of it was right in my hands. I had no words, no thoughts, no reaction, or maybe just too many of everything to clearly define an emotion. It took more than a minute for my first real thought to surface.
“And you, you’re . . . one of them?” I asked with quiet hopefulness. My skin flushed hot and red as my pulse quickened. I prayed he didn’t notice.
He flashed his brilliant white smile at me. “A Descendant? Yeah, of course.”
Suddenly all of the misshapen pieces of my life that never seemed to fit clicked into place. There were others. I wasn’t alone. For the first time, I felt like anything was possible, like my future could be full of all the things I thought I would never have.
“A Descendant,” I repeated the word. It didn’t sound familiar. I turned to him, seeing everything through different eyes. “How old are you?”
“Three hundred and sixteen.”
“Really?” I asked in amazement.
“No. Not really.” He laughed to himself. “I’m ninety-two, but this is going to be a lot of fun.”
I felt myself smile. I couldn’t help it. Please don’t let this be a dream, I thought. It certainly seemed like one. There were too many thoughts racing through my head to process anything other than pure joy.
“What did you mean, I was the last healer? Don’t you heal too?”
“No, we all have different abilities. Yours is healing.”
“Abilities?” I scoffed. “What like super powers?” The question was a joke, but he took it more seriously than I expected.
“Well, kind of. Some abilities are a little too strange to be called a super power. Each family line has the power of their ancestors, which is why we call ourselves Descendants. My dad says you have the power of your mother, descendant of Asclepius, known as the god of healing.”
“The god of healing?” I asked in astonishment. A stifled laugh escaped my lips. This had to be a joke.
“We’re not gods though,” he added. “In fact, neither were any of the gods in Greek mythology. They’re our ancestors, and they were just like us. We’ve been around for a while. Sorry. I’m assuming you don’t know any of this, right?”
I laughed. “You’ve got to be joking. Gods?”
“Correction. Not gods.”
“Right,” I said with raised eyebrows. “You don’t really expect me to believe you?” I looked him straight in the eyes, calling his bluff, but he only smiled.
“I figured you wouldn’t. It’s like trying to tell someone unicorns exist or something. It’s hard to believe unless you see for yourself.”
“So you can prove it?” The picture was convincing, but I needed more.
“Yes. Tomorrow, okay? I’ll make sure you get a complete history lesson.”
“Well, can’t you tell me now, about the history?”
“I thought you didn’t believe me?”
“Well, say hypothetically I did.”
“So, if, hypothetically, you did believe me, I’d explain that we’ve had to live in hiding since the exposure of our race in Greece back in B.C. Our ancestors thought they could live in peace with humans so they tried to integrate—”
“Wait,” I interrupted, thrown off a bit. “Humans? What are you saying? We’re not human?”
From the look on his face, I could tell he hadn’t really considered my reaction to that seemingly small detail of his explanation. “Well, yes and no. Obviously we have similarities. In appearance, we’re the same, but no, we’re not humans, we’re Descendants. We’re different.”
I sighed in place of a response. Not because I didn’t believe him, but because it was actually starting to sink in. My whole life, I’d never felt normal, but maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe I was normal. I’d just never felt like a normal human, because I wasn’t.
“Well coming out of hiding didn’t go so well,” William continued, talking through my loss for words. “Clearly we’re living in secret again, but that’s where the myths came from. People embellished the truth. Our ancestors led humans to believe they were gods because of their abilities, and it got out of hand. There was a war between our race and the humans, and we didn’t necessarily lose, but we retreated back into hiding. Now, here we are.”
His entire story sounded like something completely made up, but I didn’t get the feeling he was lying to me. I didn’t know what to think. Then there was Kara. You really don’t know anything do you? Her words had been confusing at the time, but suddenly they made sense. Maybe William was telling the truth.
“What about my father?” I asked, digging deeper.
“Your father had the power of Hephaestus. He could manipulate materials, metal, stone, wood, that kind of thing.”
<
br /> “How do you know so much about me and my family?” I asked, realizing he knew more about my parents than I did.
“My dad,” William answered. “He was friends with your parents.”
I looked down at the picture of them with so many others.
“How many are there?” I asked, handing him back the photo.
He tucked it into his back pocket and leaned back against the wall. “Over 300 families here in San Francisco, but there are many others elsewhere. There are five mainstream communities in the U.S.—New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, Chicago, and here. Of course there are smaller ones other places, and you can always live on your own if you want, like you did. Living alone is hard, though. There’s no support, no safety net. Not many of us choose that.”
“I didn’t choose that,” I corrected, “my parents did.”
I didn’t know why I felt so suddenly defensive and bitter about their choice, probably because I didn’t understand it. Why would they pull me out of this life and hide me away like I didn’t exist? I wished I knew the reason. I wished they had told me what I was, that I didn’t have to dig around for answers like a dog sniffing out game, searching for the broken buried pieces of my life.
“Do you know what made us the way we are? What gave us abilities?” I asked, feeling the place on my leg where the cut should be.
“What made any of us? Evolution, God, the big bang? We’re just as lost as everyone else on that one.”
“But there’s got to be some theology around it, right? I can’t imagine the myths are true. Are they?”
“Parts of them are, but nobody really knows where the abilities came from. There are theories. Some say our powers are God-given, and associate the 500-year lifespan with the Bible because people lived hundreds of years back then. Others reject that idea because there really isn’t any proof of the connection. We still debate over it, but no one really believes our ancestors were gods. They were just like us.”
“What do you believe?”
“I try not to dwell on things I can’t be sure of, and just try to live in the moment.”
“You aren’t even the least bit interested in where you came from, to know why we’re different?”
“Who says we’re different? To me, being a Descendant is completely normal. They’re the ones who are different.”
I never really thought of that. I’d always thought of myself as the only one, the outcast. Now that there were more, lots more, maybe it no longer made sense to see it that way.
“So what’s your ability?”
He thought about it, apparently unsure he should tell me.
“Persuasion.”
I smiled to myself remembering the intense urge I had to kiss him at the end of our date. “Well, I guess the way you acted last night makes more sense now.”
He smiled back, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I got a little carried away.”
“And Kara?”
“Occupational hazard,” he answered with a shrug. “She kissed me. I mean, she was in a dominating position. I didn’t see it coming. I couldn’t have prevented it.”
He realized when he looked at me that wasn’t what I meant.
“Relax,” I said. “So you kissed. Why do I care?” I looked away. If he couldn’t see my eyes, maybe he wouldn’t see the lie in them. “So, what’s her ability?”
He lost himself in thought for a moment, confused by my reaction.
“She reads minds,” he finally answered. “She’s also a highly trained super killing machine, but that’s not really an ability, more of a skill she’s picked up over the years.”
“So what you’re saying is my jewelry box might not of have been very effective,” I said, setting my useless weapon down in front of me.
“That was the best you could do, huh?” William asked. “Your plan was to kill her with your little metal box?”
“Yep,” I answered, unconcerned with what had already passed. I had questions. “Why does she want to kill me?”
“She doesn’t want to kill you,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s complicated. She’s not on our side.”
“So, what does she want from me?”
“I think deep down she wants the prophecy to be true. She wants freedom.”
“What’s the prophecy?”
He looked at me with empathy. “You should get some sleep,” he said in place of an answer.
I didn’t accept it. “You have to tell me. You said people have been waiting for me, to change things.”
“They have.”
“Well, I want to know.”
“Of course you do, but I can’t tell you everything all at once.” He stood up, stretching his arms above his head before turning to face me. “There is a lot you wouldn’t understand.”
He took both of my hands, subtle heat building in his fingertips, and lifted me onto my feet.
“And what is with the hot hands?”
“Tomorrow.”
He walked me to my room and watched me pull the covers up around me.
“What were you doing here?” I asked, hoping to get even the smallest answer out of him.
“I was spending the night on the fire escape, waiting for Kara.” He shook his head angry at the thought of her. “I knew she’d come.”
“Don’t you need to sleep?”
“I’ll doze off on your little blanket couch. If that’s okay,” he answered.
I nodded.
“It just makes me feel better if I’m close by.”
“Me too.”
6.
“WAKE UP, sleep-o-holic,” William said with a nudge. “We have class.”
“Huh?” my voice grumbled with sleep.
William laughed, clearly amused by my morning grog. “Hey.” I must have dozed off again. “Wake up.”
I sat upright in bed, realizing if William was here, it must all be true. I hadn’t dreamed it.
“Class?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“Yeah. Get dressed. I’m taking you to The Institute.”
“What’s The Institute?”
“It’s where I go to school.”
As the details from last night began to come back to me, a sense of anticipation had me wide awake. “Are there others there?”
“Descendants? Yeah, that’s the idea.”
I had no clue what class or The Institute would be like, but I wanted to know more. As I pulled on some Levi’s and a blue top, I realized that although not everything was clear to me, the one thing that mattered had never been so closely within grasp. If there were others, love was a possibility, and although my insecurities tried to convince me otherwise, the truth was for once in my favor. I smiled at myself in the bathroom mirror, unable to hold back my happiness.
The way to The Institute was nothing like I expected. There was no elaborate campus or secret road leading to some mysteriously secluded location. In fact, it was quite the opposite. William drove us straight into the heart of downtown San Francisco. I should have known that the bustling city so full of people would be the best place to hide an organization of this kind. A sideways grin settled into his cheek as he watched my curious eyes try and understand where this place could possibly be.
“What?” I finally asked him, a little embarrassed by his excessive interest in me.
“Nothing, you’re just . . . fun to watch.”
The corners of my mouth gave away the hint of a smile. “Why?”
“It’s like you’re trying to find Mount Olympus out the window or something. It’s cute.”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said, laughing at myself. “I have no idea what to expect.”
“What are you imagining?” His eyes stayed forward on the road as he waited for my answer.
“Honestly? I can’t stop picturing people walking around wearing togas and olive branch headbands.” I smiled, knowing the thought was completely ridiculous, but it was what my mind had conjured up.
He burst into a belly laugh. “Yo
u’re joking, right?”
“You asked.”
“You’re way off,” he said, still chuckling to himself. “Not even close.”
As we pulled into the drive of a gated underground parking structure, William stopped to enter his keycard. The Institute was nothing but an indistinct office building. Nothing drew attention to it. There were no numbers, no signs, nothing suspicious about it whatsoever, tall enough to blend in but not tall enough to stand out. The gray outer walls were neither new nor old, and the windows that sat above the bright clear ones of the first floor were tinted dark as if that part of the building was asleep. Never in a million years would I have guessed it was a center for people with powers.
We parked close to the elevator and took it to the first floor, but as the doors opened, I was suddenly confused. I had expected something unusual, but what I saw was certainly no school of any sort, and there was nothing strange about the place.
The inside of the building was nothing like the bland outside. The floors were a brilliant white marble that reflected sound up from the ground like a drum, as sharp heels click-clacked over the surface. Directly above the pristine floor, the ceiling was just as remarkable, decorated with elaborate scenes from famous Greek myths. Whether on their own or as part of a collaborative image, nearly every figure was depicted. The paintings covered the entire surface with explosive color and technique that reminded me of the Sistine Chapel. Dramatic crystal chandeliers hung in all four corners of the room surrounding a more grandiose one that dipped low and gleamed like the sun. A gold border of crown molding connected the extravagant ceiling to the sleek walls.
“What is this place?” I whispered. It was noisy enough to talk aloud and keep my words quiet, but I felt intimidated by the purely business setting of the lobby. It was busy with people. Men in suits and ties and women in skirts and heels hurried in crisscross patterns across the floor—a multilane intersection of people taking care of daily business.
“It’s San Francisco Headquarters for Descendant Affairs,” he said at normal volume.
“I thought this was The Institute.”
“That’s on the top floor, but we have to get you registered first.”
My ears perked up. “Registered for what?” Betsy and I had spent years making sure we stayed anonymous. Registering for something wasn’t okay in my mind.
Oppression Page 5
