The Gathering

by K. E. Ganshert

  My ears start to ring.

  Clamminess spreads across my palms and under my arms. I see them. Men with white eyes, binding Luka. Dragging him away. Swirls of black mist lacerating his soul as he arches up in agony. And Gabe, dead on the chair.

  The ringing in my ears turns to screaming. I lunge. I lunge at her like I did in the hallway of the hub, when Luka wouldn’t wake up. But this time, Luka is awake. He grabs me around the waist to hold me back.

  “Tess.” The sharp, familiar voice cuts through the screaming in my ears.

  Cap rolls toward us from the end of the hallway.

  “What is she doing here?” My question escapes on a ragged breath.

  “She lives here.”

  I shake my head. This has to be a sick joke.

  “Thanks for giving them the tour, Ralph,” Cap says. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Ralph doesn’t have to be asked twice. He gives me a strange look—like I’m the dangerous one—and quickly scoots away.

  When I turn around, Claire is gone. She must have slipped back inside her room. The monster she awoke inside my chest, however, remains. “She can’t stay here.”

  “It’s not up to you,” Cap says.

  “Then I can’t stay here.”

  “Where else are you going to go?”

  The monster turns into a fire-breathing dragon, scorching everything in its path. My heart. My lungs. I can’t stop the memory from coming. It unfolds in slow motion—so vivid and real it’s like I’m there again. Waking up with a gun pressed against my neck. Fearing for Luka’s life. Then Link’s life. Rope cutting into my skin. Cold metal in my hands. The blast. The kick. My grandmother, sinking to her knees, clutching a circle of blossoming red. She was supposed to help me. Instead, she turned me into a murderer. She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Just like Claire. “She’s a traitor.”

  “Felix conducted her interview himself. He believes she’s remorseful.”

  “Then Felix is an idiot.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” A man walks toward us—the epitome of poise—and stops behind Cap’s chair. His hair is dark and slicked back. His face, thin. His clothes, carefully pressed—nothing at all like the faded rags we wore in the hub. Felix, I assume. He doesn’t look like a captain of a ship. He looks like a mob boss. “I’ve gotten us this far.”

  He offers his hand. “You must be Teresa. Cap’s told me all about you.”

  I look down at his manicured fingernails, a sour taste spreading across my tongue. “Funny. He hasn’t told me anything about you.”

  His dark eyes twinkle, like my comment amuses him. He turns to the two boys behind me. “You must be Luka and … Link, is it?”

  Unlike me, they both shake his offered hand. Nobody mentions Jillian. It’s like she never even existed. It sets my teeth on edge as Felix leads us back into the west wing, inside a room with a conference table. “Josiah tells me you’ve acquainted yourselves with the Rivard family journals. They have quite the extensive collection.”

  I don’t say anything. Neither do Luka or Link.

  “When you’re finished catching up, each of you will have your admittance interview. They’re conducted in here.”

  The three of us swap looks.

  “Nothing to worry about. Standard procedure for all new recruits.”

  “Is it standard procedure to accommodate traitors?”

  “It’s standard procedure to accept anyone willing to fight. Claire is willing.”

  “Claire is a liar.”

  Felix chuckles. “You didn’t tell me she was such a spitfire, Josiah.”

  Cap doesn’t look nearly as amused. “It’s a character trait that seems to grow stronger with time.” He rolls up to the table. “Sit down, Tess.”

  I do. Reluctantly.

  Felix remains by the door. “Once your interviews are finished, you’re welcome to grab a bite to eat in the mess hall. We’ll get better acquainted tomorrow.” He gives the doorframe a couple taps. “I’m very eager to hear what you discovered on your mission.”

  As soon as he’s gone, I turn on Cap. “You should have told us about Claire.”

  “Would you have come if I did?”

  “How do you know I won’t just leave now that I know?”

  “Because you are smarter than your emotions. At least you’re supposed to be.” He massages the bridge of his nose, like he’s fresh out of patience. “And you have bigger things to worry about than a petty feud.”

  “She nearly got Luka killed!” I look at Luka, expecting agreement. Expecting his outrage to match mine. If anybody has the right to be livid, it’s him. Claire’s the reason he lost his abilities as my Keeper. She’s the reason he wakes up screaming in the night. But he looks largely unruffled. He doesn’t even look surprised. “Did you know about this?”

  He nods, that muscle tick-tick-ticking in his jaw.

  “For how long?”

  “Since you passed out on the train.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “I had other things on my mind.”

  “I can’t believe this.” I set my elbows on the table and run my fingers through my hair.

  “There’s something else you should know,” Cap says.

  Judging by his tone, it’s not going to be something I like.

  “Clive is here, too.”

  “What?” I stand so quickly, my chair topples back.

  “Sit down.” Cap slaps the table, his voice sharp and commanding. “Good leaders are not hotheads. It’s time for you to get a handle on your reactions.”

  I swallow the heat billowing in my throat.

  Luka straightens my chair.

  I force myself to sit down.

  Cap fills his cheeks with air and releases it in a slow, steady stream. “I had Sticks and Non bring him because he’s too valuable an asset to lose. Clive gave them his full cooperation.”

  I keep my lips pressed together. I never took Cap for a fool. Until now.

  “Everyone deserves a second chance, Tess.”

  “No, they don’t.” That is something I can never believe. Because if I do, then I would have to believe the same for my grandmother. But I didn’t give her a second chance. I pulled the trigger without hesitating. I didn’t aim for her arm or her leg. I shot to kill, and for the first time, I hit my target.

  If Jillian wasn’t already dead, she would have been proud.

  *

  A flinty-haired lady named Glenda with a tight bun, bifocals, and a sneezing problem conducts our interviews one-by-one, then leads us across the hall where we have our pictures and fingerprints taken. Apparently, we can pick up our new ID badges tomorrow. When we’re done, we eat sandwiches in the large, empty mess hall—me, Link, and Luka. Turns out, Jillian was way more of a buffer than I realized. Tension has taken her place. It pulls up a seat and joins us at the table—an unwelcome fourth party.

  “So …” Link crumples a napkin in his fist. “What’s the update on the Bledsoe situation?”

  My sandwich freezes by my lips.

  Luka looks from Link to me. “What Bledsoe situation?”

  I set the sandwich down. Judging by Link’s expression, he had no idea I’d been keeping our nighttime rendezvousing a secret. “I’ve been … we’ve been visiting him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Link and I’ve been hopping into Agent Bledsoe’s dreams.”

  The hurt that flickers across Luka’s face undoes me.

  “It was my idea,” Link says. “I thought it would be good to get someone like him on our side.”

  Luka’s attention remains on me.

  “It’s not like she was in any danger or anything.”

  I shoot Link a look. He’s not helping.

  “How long have you been visiting his dreams?” Luka asks.

  “Since our first night at the Rivards.”

  He nods a slow, singular nod.

  Basically, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to fill him in.<
br />
  Link coughs. He gives me an apologetic shrug, then picks up his tray. “I, uh, think I’ll go get ready for bed.”

  I wish he’d take the tension with him. But that stays behind. It sits between me and Luka, as if enjoying the show. I pull the crust off my sandwich, what little appetite I had long gone.

  “Can I tell you how maddening it is, hearing things secondhand from Link?” The softness in his voice pierces me way more than his anger ever could.

  I can feel myself turning inward, shrinking in my seat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Visiting an FBI agent in his sleep so you could turn him into a Believer?”

  I twist my lips to the side, unsure what to say.

  “Did you think I’d try to stop you?”

  “No, I just … you had the leech that first night and then you were dealing with the whole not-being-able-to-protect-me thing and I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want you to worry anymore than you already were.”

  “You’re not my Keeper, remember? It’s not your job to protect me.”

  “I know.”

  “Then don’t. Don’t try to protect me. Tess, you have to stop leaving me out of things.” Luka rubs the back of his neck. “I know you and Link have this thing—”

  I shake my head. “We don’t have a thing.”

  He gives me this look, like he knows better than I do.

  “We don’t. And it goes both ways, you know. You never told me about Claire.”

  “You’re right. I’m just as guilty. It’s something both of us can work on.” Luka finds my hand under the table. “No more secrets, okay?”

  “No more secrets.” But even as I say it, there’s a faint whisper in the back of my mind. Transurgence. I can’t bring myself to ask him about it. It’s like speaking the word out loud will make it real. It’s like speaking the word out loud will make it possible.

  He traces his finger up and down each of mine, his touch so light it makes my skin tingle. “I hate that I can’t be here for you as your Keeper right now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you as your boyfriend.”

  I arch one of my eyebrows. “Boyfriend?”

  “Only if you want.”

  Oh, I definitely want. It just sounds odd, considering the circumstances. Luka’s so much more than a boyfriend. “It doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “Okay, then.” He smiles at me—that stomach-swooping, I-could-forget-my-own-name smile. “What’s the update on the Bledsoe situation?”

  His imitation of Link is so spot-on, I can’t help but smile, too.

  After everything that’s happened, it feels really, really good.

  *

  Turns out, my roommate is the gum-chewing girl who greeted us at the welcome center. She’s no more enthusiastic during our second meeting than she was during the first. I walk inside my new room with my hair wrapped in a towel, a small bag of toiletries in hand, feeling lighter than when I arrived, while she sits on her bed, flipping through a magazine. I unravel the towel and begin combing out my hair in front of the mirror above our dresser, reliving my time with Luka.

  “My name’s Joanna, by the way.” She doesn’t look up when she says it. She speaks straight to her magazine.

  “Oh. Um … hi.” She already knows my name, so what else is there to say?

  Joanna flips another page. “Sorry about Ralph. His tours can get a little long-winded.”

  I picture the skinny man with the bounce in his step and the odd lilt in his speech. I can’t seem to place him. Surely he’s not a Fighter. Definitely not a Keeper. He’s odd enough, like Anna. Maybe he’s a Cloak. “What is he?”

  “You mean what’s his gifting?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He doesn’t have one.” She turns another page. “Ralph’s a Sleeper.”

  I stop mid-detangle. “What’s a Sleeper?”

  “Someone who shows all the right signs, but turns out to be just … crazy. Felix has him on medicine, so he’s pretty harmless.”

  “He, um, showed us a locked door.”

  “The private wing?”

  “Yeah.” I stare at Joanna’s reflection in the mirror. She has yet to look up from her magazine. “Do you know what’s back there?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t have authorized access.”

  I resume my hair-brushing, my curiosity mounting.

  “Those boys you showed up with are really hot.”

  I yank the comb through a stubborn knot and blink at the top of Joanna’s head.

  “Especially the one with the hair and the eyes—Luka? My friends can’t stop talking about him.”

  How? We came late. When did her friends even see him? I put my comb inside my toiletry bag, give it a zip, and set it inside the top drawer of my nightstand.

  “Do you know if either of them have girlfriends?”

  Heat creeps into my cheeks as I fold down the comforter. “I’m sort of … Luka’s.”

  I slide in between the sheets, eager to exit this particular conversation. Joanna, however, has finally looked up from her magazine. She stares at me through the glow of her bedside lamp, one eyebrow quirked. “Sort of?”

  “Not sort of. I’m his girlfriend.”

  “The other guy’s single then?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Excellent. There’s a serious shortage of cute, single guys down here.” And with that, Joanna resumes her page turning.

  I wrinkle my nose, feeling unduly annoyed.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Behind the Door

  Breakfast the next morning is a somber affair. Rosie’s no longer in the dark about Jillian. Cap must have filled her in. Ellen, Declan, Bass, Jose, Danielle, and Ashley, too. They sit with me, Link, and Luka, asking questions I don’t want to answer while all of us poke at our eggs. I’m itching to escape. The shock. The cloying grief. The prying eyes. Joanna’s right. All the girls are staring at Luka. I don’t blame them. The sexy brood he has going on only increases his appeal.

  If the dark circles under his eyes have anything to say, he didn’t sleep much better than I did. It came for me in fits and spurts, with my grandmother and Jillian haunting the edge of each dream. I’m so relieved when Cap approaches halfway through the meal that I almost forget I’m upset with him.

  “Felix wants to speak with the three of you,” he says.

  I stand fast and leave my tray for Rosie. Luka, Link, and I follow Cap into the west wing, back into the interview room. Felix sits at the head of the table, cleaning his teeth with a toothpick.

  “Here you are, bright eyed and bushy-tailed.” He motions for us to sit, picks up three sheets of paper and taps them against the table into a neat pile. They’re our intake forms. “It looks like we have ourselves a Linker, a Keeper. And then there’s Teresa. A breed all her own.”

  “She’s not a dog,” Luka says.

  Felix chuckles. The sound is every bit as condescending as it was last night. “Of course not. She’s a Linker and a Fighter. It must be an exceptionally useful combination.”

  “And what about you?” I ask.

  “Me? I’m just a Fighter.” His response reminds me of Jillian’s when we first met. Just a Shield. And yet she proved incredibly useful. Without her, the four of us never would have made it past that first day in Fort Wayne. We’d all be in prison cells or straitjackets.

  And maybe Jillian would still be alive.

  “Josiah tells me you made some important discoveries while you were with the Rivards. I’m impressed. I tried studying the collection once, but I didn’t have the patience for it. Prophecies are very wooly things.” Felix turns the toothpick over in his fingers. “Apparently, you found some sort of list. I’d love to see it.”

  I narrow my eyes. I want to trust him. Cap obviously does, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. But then, Cap thinks Claire and Clive deserve a second chance. I think about Link’s words—that without
trust, the enemy has already won. But how am I supposed to extend any when I’ve been so badly burned? My grandmother’s betrayal has turned my ability to trust into a tightly clenched fist, one I don’t know how to open anymore. “What is it that you’re doing down here, exactly?”

  Felix smiles, like my question pleases him. “Perhaps it would be best if I showed you.”

  *

  When Felix stops in front of the door leading to the private wing, my suspicion morphs into full-blown curiosity. He holds his badge up to a key lock. The light turns green. There’s a low buzzing, a click, and just like that, we’re standing on the other side.

  The hallway is darker than the rest of headquarters. Damper, too. It feels a lot less like a military base and a lot more like a basement. A lot more like the hub.

  Felix motions to his left, inside a small room with several metal filing cabinets. “This is where Glenda files the intake forms, along with detailed notes of completed missions.”

  “What kind of missions?” Link asks.

  “Recruitment, mostly. Over here is the command center.” Felix walks inside a room across the hall.

  It’s much bigger. And there are people. They wear headsets and work on computers, glancing occasionally at a series of television monitors up above, similar to the kind you’d find in a security room. Each of the screens shows something different. A view of the mess hall, where slow eaters finish their eggs. The gym, where people lift weights and run on treadmills. The empty hallway in the barracks, a flurry of activity in the west wing, Joanna at her desk in the welcome center. There’s the door outside the hospital, where Luka, Link, and I stood after we climbed out of Hezekiah’s car and dashed through the rain. The tollbooth, too, with the metal gate and the decimated bridge.

  These monitors, I understand. The people in the command center are keeping an eye on things. Making sure nothing out of the ordinary is happening. But there are several monitors I can’t figure out. Two of them show a city. Only instead of houses, there are rows and rows of tents and heaps and heaps of trash.

  “What is that?” I ask, pointing.