“I’ve heard of this place,” I say, as if to discontinue my theme of complete confusion I’ve held onto all night. He releases my hand and I instantly miss his warmth. “Kids from school come up here; they call it ‘the kickback’ and throw parties sometimes. Blake did last year and apparently everyone started hearing rocks hitting one another in the trees and their makeshift bonfire went out. I’m pretty sure everyone thinks it’s haunted or something, at least I haven’t heard of a party up here since.” I laugh nervously and Abel walks a few feet ahead of me, picking up stray branches and tossing them off of the path. At first I think he’s making sure I don’t trip but after I see him repeat the action with branches that aren’t directly in our way I realize that he is doing something else entirely—he’s performing maintenance, like he’s been here often and holds some sort of attachment to the place. I catch a smile running along his face. “Wait…” I say. “Was that you? Up here scaring Blake and my friends?”
“Yeah,” he smirks. “And I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not a ghost. Kids use to come up here all the time because it’s outside of the electrical grid and the council doesn’t have any cameras out here. They’d wreck the place, party and do stupid things without ever knowing what this ground is, without ever caring to know. I guess I got sick of it.”
I follow close behind him, winding along the circular path. “And what exactly is this place?” I ask, my tone serious yet playful. I’ve missed him.
“The Tylin call it a Terrace, but really it’s a haven, a refuge for our people, Guilders and Nasai alike. Blessed ground where death cannot exist. For centuries we’ve used places like this to learn, to train, and even to meet with the people we call our enemy. So when I see a bunch of morons up here using something that is so woven into our kind, it infuriates me. And frankly, I wanted them out, guess that makes me somewhat territorial.” He laughs, though it tells more about how he sees himself rather than if he’s happy or not.
We reach the center of this circular maze, and he sits on a wooden bench. The building that stands behind him appears concrete but upon further inspection I see it’s something entirely different. It is metal, the same hard, divot-less metal that makes up the box on my nightstand. The doors are the only part of the square building that is made of wood, dark and firm, appearing impenetrable. I sit beside him, staring into the emptiness around us, as if right here, in this moment, nothing else exists.
“I’ve never been to a terrace before, have I?” I ask, though I know the answer.
“No,” he says, sadness creeping into his steady voice. “I’ve never been able to get you to one, either because you didn’t know who I was or we were too far away from one and couldn’t make the journey in time.”
In time, I turn the phrase in my mind as if hearing it for the first time. I don’t have to ask for clarification, I know he means that the reason I’ve never been to one is because I had died trying to get here. “Well then,” I say, my voice rising slightly, trying to infuse him with hope. “I suppose this is quite the accomplishment then.”
He turns to face me and smiles, a genuine smile this time, and without giving it a single thought my hands find the back of his neck and I pull his lips toward mine. Instantly, he returns my force and my back is pressed firmly against the side of the bench. I want him, forever, I want him. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” His voice is quiet but raspy between our kisses.
“It’s only been a week,” I say, smiling and he takes my bottom lip between his. I feel his mouth against mine and then he slowly begins to pull back.
“No,” he says, his eyes so intently staring into mine. “These past months, I’ve had you, yeah, but I haven’t really had you, and you haven’t had me.”
“I know, Abel. I don’t know how I could have ever forgotten you, but I promise, if I had any choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you and I hate that you had to go through most of it without me. What kind of Guardian can I be if I’m never aware of what is happening around me? Of who I am, of who I am meant to be? Promise me that you will never let me forget again, that no matter what, you will never keep this secret from me.”
His gaze shifts towards his hands, encased in mine. “I promise,” he says and I kiss his lips once more. I can see now just how much of a toll this life, these lives, have taken on him. And everything I ever felt towards him, every happy moment and every angry one, crashes into my heart, breaking through the barriers of so many lives lived, so many lives lost, until I remember. I remember everything.
Every detail of our time together, of our time apart, of these lives I’ve led, of the lives he’s led. No, life, just one. He’s had a single life that has revolved around heartache and desperation, the catalyst of which is me. Me. I’ve done this to him, the thought creeps in and burns against my heart. He holds my hand tight, fingers interlaced with his. He gazes up and the darkness of the sky, distant but alive and my gaze follows. He stares with such happiness and certainty,
“ Do you ever hear from him?” I ask.
He smiles and I feel silly for even asking.
“I’m sorry.” I say, “ Does it even work that way? I have no idea what I’m talking about. Do I sound like I know what I’m talking about? How did I get here.” I laugh and bury my face in my hands, awkwardness ablaze. Something’s never change.
“Most of the time I feel stuck. Time changes, people change.” he pauses, “ People die and here I am, on pause. But then I look up and remember that I belong to the maker of the stars.” He says.
His eyes shift upwards and then back down at our hands.
“And I remember that I’m free.” His eyes meet mine.
“ Every time I come for you, I know exactly what I’m getting into and I would choose it over and over again. I’ve wanted every second with you, I’ve wanted all of it.” He says.
I breath deeply and smile, leaning into him and tasting his lips again.
Chapter 13
I want to keep my lips pressed tightly against his for as long as I can. I want him to know that I trust him, to know that I’m not angry, to know that I believe him, to know that I need him. Buzz Buzz, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it and hold onto him tighter, never wanting to let go, never wanting to leave this place. Buzz Buzz, again it vibrates and this time he pulls away and gestures for me to answer. “Sorry,” I say as I look down at the caller ID. “It’s my mom.”
“Cate? Cate are you there?” I can barely hear her voice over the crackling of the bad connection.
“Yeah, Mom, sorry I didn’t call earlier, I ended going over to Abel’s after—”
“Cate.” I hear the distress in my mother’s voice and instantly my stomach turns.
“Mom? Wha-what’s wrong? Are you okay? Is, is Dad okay? Sophie, Max?” My voice quivers with fear.
“Yeah, we’re all fine, but there has been an accident.” My hand clutches around the phone’s glass frame, iridescent light from the screen shimmering into expansive darkness. “It’s Asher.”
“Asher? What happened? Is he okay?” At this Abel tries to press closer to my hand in an attempt to hear the conversation, my voice raising, “Mom tell me what happened? Where are you? What happened to Asher? Mom tell me!” I feel my face getting hot with nerves and confusion.
“His car drove off the road and down the hill on Founders Parkway, crashing into the trees on his way home from the school. We’re at the hospital now. He’s not okay.” My heart drops into my stomach and my eyes search the darkness around us for answers. “Cate, you need to get over here as soon as you can.” The phone beeps twice and I pull the phone away and stare at the screen.
“Dammit. We need to go. Now.” I make my way for Abel’s car and press my thumb against the print scan that unlocks the door. He gives me a moment to offer up what has happened but when I don’t, he begins asking cautiously, to make sure what he thinks happened is what I was actually told. “There was an accident?”
“Apparently his car went off the side of the road,” I say, my mind is racing so quickly that I hardly comprehend his question. He stays quiet, as if allowing me time to process my thoughts.
“You were supposed to be getting a ride home with Asher, weren’t you?” he asks, knowing the answer. He knows that I know the answer to that question, just like he knows that I hadn’t thought about that question before now.
“It was meant for me.” I inhale deeply and hold my breath, hot, burning air stinging my dry throat and lungs the longer I refuse to breathe until finally I exhale. “It was an attempt, oh my God, Asher, this is my fault.” I keep this thought in my heart for only a millisecond before Abel snaps me out of my shell.
“No, Cate!” his voice is so stern that it cuts through my moment of weakness. “This is not your fault. It’s awful what’s happened, but it is not your blame to take. You have to be strong now, Cate. You can’t go back to being a seventeen-year-old who’s scared and naïve. You have to understand that you are this world’s only hope, that you are all anyone has. I am sorry for Asher, but I am not the only one who is thankful it was only Asher in that car. You are strong, Cate. Find your strength and allow yourself to rely on it.”
He is right. I am strong. I can be who I was in all of those memories. I can be her, I am her. And I will make them will pay for what they’ve done.
Tires screech across the parking lot and Abel lets me out at the emergency room entrance. Racing inside, I hit the receptionist’s desk with enough force that it should have knocked the wind out of me. “Asher, Asher Walsh, where can I find Asher?” My voice is desperate, as are my eyes as I search the woman’s face for an answer.
“He’s in surgery right now, but you can find a waiting room down this hall and to the left.” She gestures down the hall and I race in that direction. Room after room I look for my family and his mother but it isn’t until I reach the last room that I hear familiar voices accompanied by familiar faces.
“Mom!” I shout, throwing my face into her neck, adrenaline pumping hard through my veins.
“Cate, it’s okay darling, it’ll be okay.” Here I am, ‘the hope of the world’ as Abel puts it, crying on my mother’s shoulder. Get a grip, Cate. I pull my face away from her body and take a tissue out of the box that my dad hands me. Then I turn to face his mother.
“Ms. Walsh, I am so, so, sorry.” I hug her hard, trying desperately to take away every ounce of pain she feels.
“It’s not your fault, Cate. He’s been taking his driving privilege so seriously, I thought it was silly when he placed his name on the fuel ration list when he was twelve,” she laughs through tears. “When he was finally of age, he was so prepared, I…. I don’t understand how this could have happened.” With that she sits down onto one of the poorly upholstered chairs and places her head in her hands, quietly sobbing. Little does she know that whether it’s my fault or not, I did have something to do with it. Now we wait.
I sit down in chair across from Asher’s mother and I hear Abel walk in past me and then kneel in front of Asher’s mother. He takes her hands in his and whispers something to her and though I try, I can’t quite make out his words. She raises her head so that her eyes, red and puffy, meet his, and she stares, studying his face, his eyes. His brows pull together and it’s as if a sense of understanding and relief encompasses her. He smiles slightly, grazing his hand against hers and stands, eventually taking a chair next to mine.
We sit there for close to three hours, Abel, me, my mother and father and Ms. Walsh. How did they know? They must have been certain I was in that car to be so bold as to knock it from the road. Abel, and Eliath and Shoshanna, they’re right, these people are ruthless. I recount my day, the clock ticking, my mind trying desperately to find a grip on what has happened. Morning classes, locker stops, lunch, afternoon classes, the day up until I reached Abel’s house seems uneventful. Wait, grabbing my books from my locker after school, Dante. The realization hits me with force and my blood begins to boil within my veins. Abel must see my body tense because he leans towards me. “What wrong,” he whispers, as if within the waiting room of a hospital, library rules apply.
“Dante,” I say. His eyes reflect comprehension, even though I’ve only said one word, and it only confirms that Dante is one of them—he is not only a Tylin, he is a Nasai. He was behind what happened to Asher, and he is my enemy.
I stand up and walk into the hallway towards the vending machine, not because I’m hungry but because if I stay it that small, confined room one moment longer I will explode and a chair will almost certainly come into contact with something it’s not supposed to. I slam my fist against the glass encasement of the machine. He doesn’t deserve this, any of this, and regardless of what Abel says, this is my fault. This world that up until a few hours ago, I was completely unaware existed; it is no one’s fault that it came into contact with Asher but my own.
“Cate?” Eliath’s rough voice reaches me from down the hall and he and Shoshanna appear. Abel must have called them. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve been up for nearly 22 hours, the amount of information I received today, or the emotional roller coaster of this evening but I throw my arms around Shoshanna and begin to sob uncontrollably. I’m not sure what this will do for their faith in me, but right now, I don’t care. I hold onto her fiercely begging her to take this aching heart out of my chest. She rubs my back, attempting to soothe me but after a moment it’s not working and I release my grip. “It was them,” I stammer. “I know it was…” The information pours out of me as if I’m dictating a report, as if the details sear my soul and I cannot hold onto them a single second longer. “This guy, Dante, I had never seen him before and all of a sudden he tried getting me to hang out with him and he has red hair and—”
“Catherine…” Eliath interrupts. “Calm down, let’s just focus on your friend for now. There will be plenty of time to debrief later.” His voice is calming and I begin to feel my heart rate slow. He is right. I need to focus on Asher. I will deal with Dante in my own time.
Shoshanna begins to walk down the hall, searching the room doors. “No one will let us see him, and all they’ll say is that the surgery went as well as could be expected but that he is not stable, and they’re not sure…” At the thought of Asher leaving this world, at the idea of uttering those words, tears begin to stream down my cheeks, the salt nabbing at my tongue and my throat begins to close, refusing to finish the sentence all together. Neither of them acknowledges anything I’ve said and I follow them intently.
The halls are dimly lit, as if at this hour the hospital itself is resting, sleeping, taking in the quiet and relishing in it. I can hear faint squeaks in the distance, a nurse no doubt, her shoes quickly moving against the linoleum surface, but she doesn’t turn down our pathway and we continue on. Each turn that Shoshanna makes is deliberate; if I didn’t know better I’d think she knew exactly where she was headed. And then something hits me—so much in the past day has changed, for all I know she does know exactly where she is going. I have no idea what these people are capable of, what I am capable of, and for a second that scares me. A moment later she finds what she is looking for, the thick door reads Room 1414 and without skipping a beat she gently pushes the barrier forward and we funnel into the room.
I see him there, in the stream of moonlight piercing through the blinds. Casts bind his left arm and leg, bandages and wraps adorn his torso and head, blood seeping through. Crimson liquid dried to his cheekbone. I try to walk towards his bed but Eliath grabs my hand and holds me near his side. I look back at him, searching his eyes, what on earth could I possibly do to make this any worse. I feel Shoshanna move past me and stand perpendicular to my friend, my Asher.
“I know this is all so much to take in,” Eliath says. “And if I could change things, if I could have slowed all of this down so that you could take sips of our truth, I would. I know you must be cursing yourself right now, your life, and our world. With all of this, wit
h us, with you, Cate, come so many burdens. It will always be difficult to keep Plebeians, common humans, close to you. They will always be a target, they will always be in danger and they will not be able to defend themselves from anything you bring into their lives. It will never be easy to keep these relationships intact. That being said, I will not tell you how to live your life. I expect so much of you, whether you are truly aware or not, and I will ask much more of you, so I will not interfere with whom you decide to encircle yourself with. I will only ask that you entrust our secret to very few, and that those you do entrust it to, you will prepare; for they will, from that moment forth, be involved in our fight.”
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