The Gathering

by K. E. Ganshert

  I try to drum up some interest in the conversation, but my brain has reached capacity. I glance toward the hallway, eager for Luka to appear. He’s currently being interrogated by Cap, which makes about as much sense as Cap interrogating me. Luka would have an easier time turning himself into a piece of lint than he would have turning me over to the enemy. And yet Cap summoned him, Luka didn’t object, and so far, he’s been gone for forty-five minutes. It’s driving me nuts, all this waiting. We should be packing up and leaving, not hanging around. “Hey Jillian?”

  “Oh, sorry.” She quickly moves—taking my knight with her castle.

  “It’s not that.” I could care less about the game, evidenced by my sparse army. She’s taken seven of my pieces. I’ve taken two of hers and both are pawns. I scratch the inside of my wrist, then quickly pull my sleeve over my hand. If I don’t stop, I’m going to give myself scars. “What did Cap ask you in there?”

  “If I’ve ever been in contact with anyone on the other side.”

  “Have you?”

  “No.” Her cheeks turn pink, like the idea horrifies her. “Never.”

  “Did he say when we’re going to leave? Or where we’re going to go?” Now that Luka’s safe, I’m eager to make sure everyone else is safe, too.

  “No. Just that Link’s working on it.”

  Link.

  He’s been so busy helping Cap, I haven’t seen him since we rescued Luka. I glance again at the entryway. This time, it’s not empty. Luka strides inside the common room with a confidence that’s as much a part of him as his green eyes and messy hair. My muscles go weak. I still can’t believe he’s okay. Apart from being moderately dehydrated, there haven’t even been any of those ramifications Cap warned me about.

  He nods at the board. “Who’s winning?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “You aren’t doing so bad,” Jillian says.

  I look up at Luka. “She’s being nice.”

  He smiles and gives my knee a gentle nudge with his shoe. “You’re up.”

  “I’m up?” Why would Cap need to interrogate me?

  Before I can voice anymore of my confusion, Luka pulls me up off the floor, threads his fingers with mine, and kisses my temple. “Just go with it,” he whispers.

  And so I do.

  Luka tells Jillian he’ll finish the chess game for me in a little bit and everyone stares as we walk out of the room, Danielle and Ashley most intensely. As soon as we reach the empty hallway, Luka pulls us to a stop. With the subtlest turn of his wrist, my entire body moves. Somehow, I’m leaning against the wall with his lips on mine and for one heady moment, my frantic thoughts disappear. All that exists—all that matters—is this.

  He stops much too soon and presses his forehead against mine. “When I was in that chamber, only one thing kept me sane.”

  “What was that?”

  “Replaying our last kiss on the beach.”

  Warmth swirls in my chest. I relived it, too. A hundred times. Once, in front of Link.

  “I promised myself if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t stop kissing you like that.”

  “Why’d you stop then?”

  The corner of his mouth quirks into a delectable half-grin. “Because Cap is waiting. And purpling is against the rules.”

  Purpling. Cap-lingo for boys and girls getting too close. “I think Cap has more pressing matters to worry about than purpling.”

  “And there’s the silver lining.” He places his hand against the wall, right above my left shoulder, leans in and kisses me again, slower. Like we have all the time in the world. His lips travel across my jaw and find my neck.

  It feels so good, my toes curl. “Hey, um, Luka?”

  “Hmm?”

  “W-why is Cap interrogating you and me?”

  He pulls away, his face turning serious. He glances over his shoulder, takes my hand, and gets us moving again. “Very few people are aware the other side is after you, specifically. There’s no reason to make it public knowledge.”

  “So Cap didn’t actually question you?”

  “Not about my allegiance, no.”

  “What did he question you about, then?”

  Luka’s eyes flicker. Become guarded. “If I learned anything.”

  “You mean, while you were …”

  “Away?”

  Away. It’s way too tame for what really happened. I tug at my shirtsleeves. “Did you?”

  “I was too preoccupied to pay much attention. The only thing I could think about was making sure you were safe.”

  I shake my head. Luka was being tortured and yet all he could think about was my safety? I can’t tell if that’s a Keeper thing or a Luka thing. “Do you trust everyone here?”

  “I don’t know everyone here. Not well, anyway. I don’t think it hurts to be extra cautious. I’m glad Cap’s doing the interrogations.” Luka stops in front of the classroom door and presses a kiss against my temple. “I’m gonna go perform some triage on your chess game. See you when you’re done.”

  Inside the classroom, amidst antiquated textbooks, Cap sits in his wheelchair at one of the tables. He’s looking old and worn. In need of a haircut and a shave and a really good night of sleep. I take a seat across from him. “How’re the interrogations going?”

  “Largely uninformative.”

  “And our game plan?”

  “Still being solidified.”

  “When are we leaving?”

  Cap massages the bridge of his nose. “Tomorrow, most likely.”

  “Tomorrow? Isn’t that a little risky?”

  “You said Claire wasn’t an immediate threat.”

  I try not to squirm, or think too hard about DeVant’s accusation. You would do the same thing. “What about Clive? He knows our location. He had a Greyhound ticket to Detroit.”

  “According to you, the enemy was already aware of our location in Detroit. It’s a big city. Anna has her cloak up and Non is standing guard.” Cap sets his hand over a walkie-talkie on the table. “She’ll send an alert at the first sign of danger.”

  “Non’s fallen asleep before.”

  “I know what I’m doing, Tess. I need you to trust in my leadership.”

  The words sting. Luka’s reservations weren’t the only ones I ignored. Cap had them, too. He didn’t want to rush into a rescue mission. He wanted more time to research and plan. But Clive was a Cloak. What more was there to research? I never stopped to consider the fact that he might be a backstabbing Cloak. I didn’t care to consider it. Not when I’d been so focused on freeing my grandmother. Shame creeps into my cheeks. “I really messed things up, didn’t I?”

  He shrugs. “We learn and we move on. That’s what leaders do.”

  “I’m not a leader.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  I shake my head.

  His eyes hold steady on mine. Over the past few months, I’ve gotten to know him fairly well. He took me under his wing. Pushed me to be stronger than I thought possible. In return, I’m certain there’s nobody in the hub who gives him more pride, or more fits of exasperation, than me. Somehow, this man who I first knew as a file marked Josiah Aaronson has become as close to a father figure as I’m going to get apart from my own. And right now, that father figure looks like he’s about to impart some wisdom.

  “I believe in you.” Cap doesn’t do flattery. Doling out compliments is not part of his DNA. If he says it, he means it. I just don’t understand how he can speak those words. He folds his hands on the table. “But I also know how the enemy works. Fear is his weapon of choice. He uses it to sow seeds of division, doubt, mistrust. We can’t let him get a foothold.”

  “I thought that’s what these interrogations were for.”

  “I don’t mean among us. I mean within us.” Cap leans forward. His silver eyes don’t just look, they penetrate. They dissect. They eviscerate. It’s like he’s examining the very depths of my soul, where the enemy’s weapon runs rampant. “Fear only has power when we le
t it make our choices.”

  My fingers start scratching again.

  “I believe in the prophecy. I believe you’re The One.”

  I pull at my sleeves. He’s talking crazy. The One is supposed to save lives, not put them in danger. That’s all I can seem to do.

  “But hear me on this. What I believe? It means very little unless you believe it, too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A New Home

  Cap told everyone to meet in the common room after dinner, but he’s with Link and people have started without him. I sit on one of the couches next to Luka as heated conversation floats around us.

  “What are we going to do with Clive?”

  “We can’t bring him with us.”

  “We can’t let him go. He knows too much.”

  “What if we lock him up and leave him here?”

  “He’ll starve to death.”

  “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

  “That’s an awful thing to say.”

  “He’s the enemy, isn’t he?”

  He’s just a dad who wanted his family back.

  The thought comes out of nowhere—an intrusive, uninvited guest I want nothing to do with. I don’t want to sympathize with Clive. I don’t want to understand his motives. I don’t want to understand him, period. All I want is to make sure the people I care about are safe. I glance at Rosie and Jillian and the knot in my stomach pulls tighter.

  Voices rise.

  Accusations are thrown.

  Fear is his weapon of choice. He uses it to sow seeds of division, doubt, mistrust. We can’t let him get a foothold.

  Whoever he is, I think he already has.

  Nobody agrees on anything. Not on Clive or what to do with Gabe’s body or who to trust or where we’ll go or what we’ll do once we get there. It’s all arguments and scowls and passionate objections. Hurt feelings and panic escalate. By the time Cap finally rolls into the room, poor Rosie’s face has turned the color of chalk and judging by his expression, he’s heard the gist of the conversation—probably from all the way down the hall.

  “This is not how wars are won.”

  Everyone goes silent.

  “Emotions cannot steer our decisions. We make them based on fact.”

  “Here’s a fact,” Danielle says. While everyone else wears the signs of stress, her eyes have taken on an odd glow. She’s the kind of girl who thrives off of drama. “We’re sleeping with the enemy down here. For all we know Clive could be communicating with the other side right now.”

  Declan rolls his eyes. “He’s not a Linker.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If he’s opening his mind, they can get to him.”

  “They can get to all of us,” Ashley adds.

  Declan mutters an exasperated curse under his breath. He seems to be taking Danielle and Ashley’s fear mongering personally. “Only if you’re inviting them in.”

  “So you think Claire actively invited them in? She was one of the first people down here. If she wasn’t trustworthy, then who is?”

  Cap raises his hand sharply.

  Declan—who had opened his mouth to respond—presses his lips together.

  “Clive is under control. Right now, we have bigger issues at hand.”

  “Like the genocide,” Luka says. It’s the first he’s spoken since the heated conversation began.

  Bass narrows his beady eyes. “What genocide?”

  Cap pushes out a heavy breath. “Patients in mental rehab facilities are being killed off. Link’s confirmed it. Whole databases are disappearing around the country.”

  “What does that mean?” Jillian asks, rubbing Rosie’s shoulder reassuringly.

  I glance at Non. She sits in one of the worn-out chairs we’ve pulled into a slapdash circle, squinting at Cap and rubbing her chin. So far, she’s been as quiet as me. “If it’s fact you’re after, you’ll find it in the journals.”

  “What journals?” Declan asks.

  Jillian scrunches her nose. “You mean those composition notebooks Tess is always looking at?”

  Everyone’s attention turns my way.

  Yes, those. Non had me study them. She wanted me to find the connections. Genocide was the common theme. They also referenced a prophecy. One I never would have thought had anything to do with me until I overhead Cap and Luka’s early-morning conversation in the cafeteria last week. Those journals are currently tucked beneath my bed.

  “The ones in Tess’s possession are only a small subset of the whole collection. The rest are with a Scribe named Cressida Rivard.” Non winds a loose thread from the hem of her shirt around her finger and gives it a yank. When she looks up, she seems surprised that we’re all still staring. “The Rivard family became a safe haven for me many years ago. Cressida’s grandfather was the Scribe before her. Once he fell ill, Cressida was chosen.”

  “Chosen for what?” Jillian asks.

  And by who? I want to add.

  “Preserving the history of The Gifting. The Scribe is charged with studying, recording, and transcribing the accounts of those who came before. These accounts also contain several prophecies.”

  Luka shifts beside me, his jaw tightening. If he doesn’t want anyone to know the enemy is after me, specifically, then I’m sure he really doesn’t want anyone to know about a prophecy that may or may not be about me and the demise of our kind.

  “Where does Cressida live?” Cap asks.

  “In New Orleans, in the family mansion.”

  He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to jump up from the couch and insist on going. Like I should want nothing more than to hightail it south so I can learn more about these journals and the prophecy that is no doubt contained within. The prophecy he believes is about me. “You should go,” he finally says.

  A week ago, I would have been chomping at the bit to learn more. But now? I’m done taking the lead. I’m done making the decisions. It only seems to put people in danger. “If you think it’s a good idea.”

  His eyelids flutter, like my response catches him off guard. He’s not used to me being so docile. “I do think it’s a good idea. I also think you’ll need a team. Luka will obviously be a part of it.”

  “So will I.” The eager words belong to Jillian—a Shield with no exceptional strength or power. But she’s my friend and I trust her, which makes her worth more than five hundred Cloaks.

  Cap nods, like it’s a good idea. “Anybody else?”

  I want to hold up my hands and tell him to stop looking at me. This isn’t my team. I’m not leading it. But I can’t help picturing the boy with the caramel eyes and the shaggy hair and the mischievous dimples. The boy who makes me feel brave and confident. Right now, I could use some of both. “What about Link?”

  A muscle in Luka’s leg twitches. He’s never been Link’s biggest fan, mostly because he thinks Link treats my life too casually.

  “It’s a good idea. The four of you will go to New Orleans to see what the journals have to say.” Cap looks from me to everyone else. “The rest of us will go to Newport.”

  A collective gasp tumbles through the room.

  “Newport?” The glow in Danielle’s eyes goes dark. Her face turns the color of the oatmeal we eat most mornings.

  I can understand why. There’s nothing left of Newport. It ceased to exist fifteen years ago, after a group of terrorists targeted the naval base and decimated the entire city along with it. The survivors were evacuated and nobody returned. From all accounts, it’s a wasteland.

  “What could possibly be in Newport?” Ashley asks.

  “Headquarters for The Gifting. It’s where everyone is gathering.” Cap spins his chair around and starts rolling away, as though the meeting is adjourned.

  *

  I set my bag of toiletries beside the journals stacked on my dresser. After the meeting, I pulled them from beneath my mattress and flipped through the pages. I rub my thumb over the strange swirly symbol on the cover of the one on top. It’s on all five of th
em, in the same place—upper right corner. I don’t know what it means.

  There’s a soft knock-knock behind me.

  I turn around.

  Luka stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He wears a pair of sweatpants and a white undershirt, his hair damp from a shower, his face clean-shaven. “Can I come in?”

  I lift my arm in invitation.

  He walks to my bed, snagging my hand and pulling me with him as he goes. My heart accelerates as we sit facing each other on the mattress.

  “You were quiet during the meeting,” he says, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “I wanted to come check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

  His feather-light touch has goose bumps racing up my arms. “I should be asking you that question.”

  When he looks up, there are traces of shadow beneath his eyes. “As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

  “I think that goes both ways.”

  Luka smiles a little, then holds up his fist, showing off the hemp bracelet I tied to his wrist earlier. “How’d this get here?”

  “I thought you could use it more than me.”

  He starts to untie it, but I place my hand over his. My fingers are shaking. My eyes start to sting. And the knot of fear in my chest tightens. “I want you to keep it.”

  “Hey.” Luka dips his chin, his face filled with compassion. With calm. “You know it’s just a bracelet, right?”

  The stinging in my eyes turns to burning. No amount of blinking will chase away the embarrassing tears. I look down, twisting each of the beads inside the hemp. “I can’t lose you again.”

  “You won’t.”

  Why then, can I not stop thinking about transurgence? The harder I try to push it away, bury it deep, the more it demands my attention. I want to make Luka promise that he will never—under any circumstances—do what Gabe did in that chamber. But I’m afraid of bringing it up, because there’s a chance Luka doesn’t know about it.

  He rubs his thumb along my jaw and draws me closer. As soon as his lips touch mine, I ignite. All my fear, all my anxiety, all my relief—it gathers like the perfect storm. I curl my fingers into Luka’s damp hair and pull him closer. Only this time, we’re not out in the hallway. We’re in my room.