Forty minutes later our caravan made its way into the heart of Paris. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky with soft oranges and pinks. In the distance I made out the Eiffel Tower.
“We are actually in Paris,” I said, feeling awed.
“We actually are,” Taren said, smiling and giving my hand a squeeze.
13
I was too restless to sleep. While Kat showered, I stood on the balcony, the city glittering below. I longed to stroll those romantic streets with Taren. Someday, when I’d learned enough, when I was powerful enough, I would find a way to lock the Gates forever, and then my life would be my own again. I’d fulfill my purpose and instead of being separate from the world I was looking down upon, I’d be a part of it. Funny that I should long for that after spending most of my life wanting the opposite. Though I’d grown to question even that. Maybe, instead of wishing to be left alone, I’d always hoped for inclusion—not based on my social or economic status, but for who I really was.
“Wishing you could be down there?” Taren said.
I turned, startled. My mind wrapped up as it was, I hadn’t heard him approach from the adjoining room.
“Yeah,” I said, and turned back to my melancholy study of the Parisian lights.
“It won’t always be like this,” he said, coming to stand next to me at the railing.
“That’s what I keep telling myself,” I replied. “Sooner or later I’ve got to remember how I did what I did with the Root Demon, right?”
“Yes,” he said, “you will. Be patient, Ember. It will come.”
“I’m not so sure you’re the one to lecture me about patience,” I said with a wry smile, “I’ve seen you when your iPhone loads too slow. And in my case, the stakes are slightly higher.”
He grinned.
“Touché on both counts,” he said, but his expression turned more serious. “I mean it, though. The way you’re working, how hard you push yourself—it’s going to pay off.”
“It has to,” I said. “There’s no other option.”
“I hate that this is all on your shoulders,” he said, “I keep thinking, if we could just find another Daemon... There have to be more. For instance your father—”
“I highly doubt that even if we found him he’d have much knowledge to offer. What kind of higher being has unprotected sex in a nightclub bathroom?” I asked.
He knew my father was a touchy subject. I knew the Institute was looking for him, despite my protests, but with nothing but my mother’s description from nearly eighteen years ago there was little to go on, which meant there was little hope of finding him, and that suited me just fine.
“You’re probably right,” he said, “I just can’t help but think that if you had someone to teach you...”
“Yeah, I keep thinking that, too,” I said. “Which means I will happily—and sometimes grumpily—travel the world for the next two months without really seeing any of it. Although as views go, I guess I can’t complain; it’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, turning to me.
I blushed, as I always did when he said that.
“I mean it,” he said, lifting my chin to face him. “I wish you could see you the way I do.”
“Well, maybe when I finally learn how to be a proper Daemon I will,” I said with a small smile.
Though Taren and I shared an electric connection, I’d only heard his thoughts once, when he was still keeping the secret that his mother was Daemon. He’d been sure I would never forgive him. Since then I’d had no flashes of insight into his thoughts.
“Hhhmm,” he said, with mock concern. “I’m not sure that even when that day comes—and it will—that that would be such a good idea.”
“No?”
“Well,” he said, his voice pitched low, “while my feelings toward you might be pure, my thoughts most certainly are not.”
“Ah,” I said, as warmth cascaded through my whole being. “Well, that makes two of us, then.”
I felt his grin against my ear, and then we were kissing. All thought of wishing I were anywhere else, even on those romantic streets of Paris, fled. His hand slid under the back of my shirt and caressed my skin, the other tangled itself in my hair. More than warm, I was aflame, wanting to tug his shirt off, wanting to feel the weight of him pressing down on me. Being in his arms felt like coming home—one built just for me.
“Uh, son?”
Taren and I sprang apart at the sound of Richard’s voice.
He cleared his throat and continued, staring at the floor. “The, um, American Guards are getting ready to meet with the Italian Guards. I thought you’d want to be included.”
“Yeah,” Taren said, trying to recover. “Definitely. Who’s going to be with Ember?”
“I am,” Kat said, stepping into view. “You can fill me in later.”
When had she gotten out of the shower? It was just like her to let us go on kissing even if she was there to witness it. I wasn’t sure if I should thank her or strangle her. Either way I was blushing scarlet.
“OK, so I’ll see you later,” Taren said, giving me an awkward peck on the cheek and following his father into the other room.
“Who knew straight kissing could be so hot?” Kat said, answering my question as to whether she’d watched.
“You suck,” I said, scuttling toward the bathroom.
“I mean it,” she called as I shut the door behind me. “I thought breeders were boring, but—”
“Can’t hear you,” I shouted as I turned the water on full blast. “Taking a shower.”
Either Kat gave up trying to embarrass me or the water really did drown out her voice. Either way, I was grateful.
When I emerged wearing my pajamas, a plush towel wrapped turban-style around my head, Kat was lounging in a chair and flipping through magazines.
“You’re not going to stay awake all night, are you?” I asked. After all that travel and a hot shower, I was more than ready for bed.
“Well, I would,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure that lover of yours is going to insist on taking over when the meeting is done. I thought he was anal about your safety before...”
“Hard to deal with?” I said, sliding under the soft covers.
“Impossible,” she said. “Not that I blame him—that was way too close of a call you had the other day. Especially now,” she said.
“Why especially now?” I asked, concern breaking through my sleepiness.
“Well, because now I know you’re such a good kisser,” she said with a grin. “No wonder he doesn’t want to lose you.”
“Goodnight, Kat,” I said, simultaneously flipping her off and smiling into my pillow.
14
Morning was filled with pastries and espresso. Kat and I joined Taren and his parents for an extravaganza of French deliciousness.
I popped another of the best tasting strawberries I’d ever had into my mouth, and for the moment was contented to be confined to a suite overlooking Paris. But then Kat let slip that she was leaving to do some scouting for our trip to the train station and that on the way she might “stop by” the Louvre.
“Stop by?” I said. “You’re going to ‘stop by’ a museum I’ve been wanting to see my entire life?”
Taren shot Kat a warning glance.
“I was thinking I might...” Kat said, clearly unsure what response was going to elicit less anger on my part. “Did you not want me to?”
“No,” I said, my bluster deflating somewhat. “I’m just being a brat. Go—see one of the best collections on Earth. I’ll stay here and watch French MTV.”
“It’s not much fun, is it?” Gretchen said, pushing her plate away.
She was the only one who really understood. She seemed to be handling it with much more grace than I was, however.
“At least we’re off Institute grounds,” I said, then held up my orange juice in a cheers. “Right?”
“Right,” she said, and clinked my glass.
“So, French MTV it is then,” Taren said, relieved the land mine had been diffused.
An hour later, Kat had gone and Gretchen and I sat at the table with Master Dogan. Taren was catching up on sleep—Kat had been right, he’d relieved her shortly after the meeting and guarded us all night while we slept—while Richard sat in an armchair, reading.
Gretchen’s palm rested lightly on mine. Though she had sensed I held something back on my birthday, for the most part, we both struggled with telepathy. Master Dogan suggested we try touching while we practiced. So far it hadn’t helped.
We closed our eyes and I waited for her sending.
It was then that I felt it. You know when you get that itch that’s not quite in your ear, but not quite in the back of your throat? You swallow hard and dig at your ear, but you can’t get rid of it? I had that.
In my brain.
I waited for the itch to turn into a thought from Gretchen, but none materialized and I couldn’t take it any longer. I shook my head, trying to stop the sensation. It was vaguely unsettling, almost reminiscent of when I first heard the Root speaking to me.
“What is it?” Master Dogan asked.
Gretchen opened her eyes, looking hopeful. “Did you get it? What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” I said. “It was this weird feeling... maybe it was the thought trying to come through...”
Please, let that be it.
“Perhaps,” Master Dogan said. “Try again.”
We did, over and over again, and there was no itch—or anything else for that matter—for the rest of the session.
With that frustration over, I spent the better part of the afternoon in complete and utter gluttony. I may not have been allowed to leave, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t order everything on the room service menu and charge it to the Institute. I’d finished my feast and was repacking my things in preparation to leave for the train station when Taren entered, looking groggy.
“Hey sleepy head,” I said, walking over to him.
He nodded to the Guardian who had been with me for the past two hours and the Guard nodded back and left the room.
“Hey,” he said, putting an arm around me and kissing the top of my head. “How did your session go?”
“Not so good,” I said, my head resting on his shoulder. “My brain itched. That was as far as we got.”
“Is that progress?” he asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said, going back to my packing. “When do we leave for the train station?”
“Five-thirty,” he said. “Barcy is less than thirty minutes away.”
15
I watched from above as my look-alike climbed into one of the sedans in the caravan. Up ahead, Gretchen’s double did the same. In truth, neither looked particularly like us up close, but wearing our clothes and only being visible for a few seconds, they created a fair impression.
The sedans merged with traffic and turned in the direction of the airport.
“Ready?” Taren asked.
“Yep,” I said, and grabbed my bags.
We made our way downstairs in the service elevator. When we reached the kitchen we met up with Richard and Gretchen and exited through a back alley, where two taxicabs awaited us.
Kat drove ours, her red hair hidden under a short, dark wig.
“This itches like crazy,” she said, tugging at it.
“Man up, soldier,” Taren said. When Kat glared at him in the rearview he grinned and said, “Sorry, I meant ‘woman up.’ Just drive.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, with a terse salute.
She then punched the gas a bit harder than was necessary, causing Taren to roll his eyes and me to giggle.
Barcy was bustling in exactly the way I’d imagined a train station would. Young backpackers raced for trains alongside confused tourists and ambling French citizens, while large screens displayed arrivals and departures, and a loudspeaker announced changes in platforms.
Kat, now wig free, led Taren and me to our car.
“I don’t get it,” I said, taking in the one couchette that was divided into three seats. “Where do we sleep?”
“Those flip down,” Taren said, pointing up at two other couchettes folded against the wall.
“Oh, cool,” I said, then plopped into the window seat.
Kat went to stand just outside the door, appearing to be just an excited tourist about to embark on her first train ride. I knew she was assessing the other passengers climbing into adjacent cars. Taren sat next to me and held my hand.
“Did the others have any problems?” I asked.
“None reported,” he said, but didn’t seem any less tense.
“Isn’t that what we wanted?” I said. “For no one to be looking for us?”
“I guess,” he said, “but if they’d had a little trouble—nothing bad, just a small skirmish or something—then I’d know that if there was someone following us, that they’d taken the bait and we were out of danger.”
“So, because nothing happened you’re afraid they might be onto our little subterfuge...” I said, suddenly feeling a little more on-alert myself.
He squeezed my hand and smiled.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “I’m the one who’s supposed to worry, not you. You’ve been looking forward to this train ride since I told you it was going to happen. I mean it,” he said, his fingertips brushing my forehead, “uncrease that brow.”
My worry melted at his touch and I smiled back at him. Apparently I had a tell as easy to read as Taren’s jaw clenching when he was stressed out or angry.
It was another thirty minutes before the final passengers had boarded and we were underway. We passed through some less picturesque areas of Paris, picking up speed as we went along.
An hour later, the sky streaked with color, we were speeding through the French countryside.
“Now this is more like it,” I said, taking in the beauty of the landscape.
When the sun had set and it was too dark to see anything outside, I pulled out the fresh baguette I’d had Taren buy me along with some of the flavored mustards I’d pilfered from the hotel.
“Violet?” Taren said with skepticism.
“It’s delicious,” I said, “ but try the Herbs de Provence one. It’s less of an acquired taste.”
“I have something too,” Kat said, her tone definitely mischievous.
She rifled through her bag and pulled out a tiny bottle of red wine.
“Kat,” Taren said, “we’re on duty. Not to mention—”
“We are also in France,” she said, twisting the off the cap. “And we aren’t going to drink it all. But we can at least share a toast.”
She poured a few sips worth into each glass. Taren took his glass with a tight jaw, but I took mine eagerly. It wasn’t that I was much of a drinker, I just liked the idea of sharing a toast with my two best friends on a train as it rolled through France on our way to Italy.
I held my glass high, trying to come up with something profound to say.
“To life’s perfect moments,” I said finally. “The less you look for them, the more they seem to show up.”
Both Taren and Kat smiled when they realized that this was one of those moments.
“I’ll drink to that,” Kat said, as we clinked glasses.
“That is good,” Taren said, after tasting his wine.
Kat just winked at me while I enjoyed my three sips. When we were finished she rinsed our glasses and stashed the bottle back in her bag.
The steward came in soon after to turn down our beds. Kat climbed up the ladder to the top bunk, while Taren directed me to take the middle.
“It’s like a safety sandwich,” I said, settling in.
“Yes,” Taren said, “exactly like that.”
“Are you going to get any sleep?” I said when it became clear that Taren wasn’t getting ready for bed.
“In about five hours,” he said. “Kat will relieve me.”
“Kat can’t wait,” she said from above. “Feel free to make it five and a half. Nighty-night.”
It’s a weird guilt you get when someone else has to stay up half the night in order to make sure no one kills you in your sleep, but I supposed I should get used to it. This was only day two of a long trip.
Standing, Taren was at a level to give me a kiss goodnight. Which, by the way, turned out to be the only thing better than sharing a toast on a train in France had been.
“Sleep well,” he said.
“You too,” I said. “Or, well, stay awake well, then sleep well in five hours.”
“Will do,” he said with a grin.
I closed my eyes, prepared to let the motion of the train rock me to sleep. As it turned out, the motion wasn’t all that lulling. More than once I was jerked or jolted, right as I was about to drift off. Train riding started to get a lot less romantic.
We must have been at least four hours into our journey when the odd sensation I’d felt earlier returned.
It was completely disorienting. I’d been half asleep when it happened, but now I was wide awake, trying to figure out why my brain was itching and how to make it stop.
“Taren?” I whispered, not wanting to wake up Kat.
He must have picked up the concern in my voice because he popped up from his bunk.
“I’m here,” he said softly. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, “I feel—”
...in danger...
Oh no. No, no, no.
“Ember, what’s going on?” Taren said, frantically when I clutched at my head.
“A voice, I’m hearing a—”
“Fight it,” he said. “Block it out, Ember. You know how.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to find the light.
“What’s going on?” I heard Kat say sleepily from above.
“She’s hearing something,” Taren said, the concern in his voice rising. “A voice.”
The Gateway Trilogy: Complete Series: (Books 1-3) Page 28
