Michele came to sit once, but my stony silence finally drove her away. I was still connected to Taren, but it was muted. He called out to me, telling me that he was getting on a plane back to Los Angeles, but it was muffled and easy to ignore. He deserved better, but I couldn’t give it to him.
Slowly, an inch at a time, I began to feel like myself again, until finally I broke the surface of my depression. Late that night I was able to convince myself to go and sit on a bluff overlooking the sea. I closed my eyes against the breeze, imagining it could cleanse me, carry my fears off to some distant land.
Some time later when I opened them again, the fear remained, but my breath had deepened. I pulled the rock from the pouch around my neck and turned it over in my hand.
I felt Michele’s approach before I heard it. She paused until I gestured slightly for her to join me.
She gathered her skirts, tucking them underneath her as she sat.
“You are feeling better,” she said.
“A little,” I said. “Enough.”
“But you are troubled,” she said.
“Always,” I said with a wry smile.
She looked at me with sympathy, then gestured to my hand. “May I?”
I opened my palm and she took the jagged stone. After a moment, she returned it to me and said, “You carry a heavy burden. It causes you suffering.”
“Most of us suffer about something,” I said. “Where I come from.”
“And you think we do not?” she said, her face inquisitive.
“I-I don’t know,” I said, not wanting to offend her. “You just all seem so peaceful all the time. And this place…it’s perfect. Do you feel pain?”
“Yes, of course we feel pain,” she said. “But pain and suffering are not the same.”
Ummm… “They aren’t?”
“I stub my toe, I am in pain,” she said. “But if I wonder why I stubbed my toe, am angry that I stubbed my toe, I suffer.”
“Oh, you mean physical pain,” I said.
“The same is true for emotional pain,” she said. “You feel pain because you have watched people you care about get hurt—”
“Die,” I said. “I’ve watched people I care about die.”
“Yes, all right,” she said. “The same applies. You feel pain because of this. And that is real. But if you rail against reality, if you lay blame, point fingers, or ask, ‘Why me, why do I have to be the one to feel this pain?’ or even, ‘Why them?’ Then you have opened the door to great suffering.”
“I’m not sure I understand the difference,” I said.
“You will,” she said. “For now, may I ask—why do you carry this rock?”
“Something Cole taught me,” I said. “Instead of burying my fears, I hold them close.”
“I see,” she said. “And what holds you?”
“Taren, I guess.”
She smiled. “I’ve no doubt that your Taren would relish holding your every pain and fear, but even that is not enough.”
“Are you talking about God?” I said, feeling my hackles rise ever so slightly.
“Not in the way that you mean,” she said. “The Colony began with people of many faiths. We hold no God as better than another. And yet, there is something…” She leaned forward, gesturing to a small crack in one of the stones on the ground. The tiniest of shoots poked through. “The seedling does not sprout because there is a crack in the stone. The stone cracks because the seedling must live.”
I’d heard that before, in biology class.
“Something sparks within the seed and tells it to grow—to push upward against what would seem an impossible barrier. And so it is with you.”
I tried to smile, though I was unconvinced.
“Against all odds—down all the way to the way in which you were conceived—you have survived. Not just survived, but thrived—grown into a strong young woman with powers even you didn’t know you possessed.”
“If it’s all destiny, then what’s the point of—”
“Not all destiny,” she said. “Destiny and choice. Just as we can choose not to suffer because we are in pain, you can choose to fulfill your potential or not. But the seed—the spark—comes from something unknowable. Something we Daemons have learned not to try to define, because words just take us farther from it. But it is there, I promise you. And will be there for you when you are ready.”
Though I didn’t fully understand, her words settled into my bones and resonated with me in the same way Alexander’s had when he’d spoken about the Chasm.
“Are you related to Alexander?” I blurted out. I’m not sure why the thought had occurred to me—she looked nothing like him. Maybe I just wanted to change the topic.
Sorrow washed over her when she said, “He was my cousin, but he might as well have been my brother.”
I recoiled from the horror of it. I’d had a hand in killing the man, however much he’d deserved it.
“My heart breaks that I failed him,” she said. “And for the pain he caused you because of it.”
“Failed him how?” I said.
“He struggled over his decision to leave—mostly because of me, I suspect. He wanted me to go with him, but I didn’t share his need to be part of the world. But I couldn’t just let him go…”
“What did you do?” I said. The guilt in her voice was too great for me to think it was without reason.
“When one of us decides to leave, it is too dangerous for us to risk they might come back, bringing the world down upon us,” she said. “So we wipe their mind, giving them a clean slate—no memory of who we are or what they’re capable of.”
“But Alexander knew…”
She nodded. “I couldn’t bear the thought that I’d never see my other half again,” she said, her tear-filled eyes turned toward the sea. “It was the smallest of barbs—slim as a needle. Just enough to exchange a drop of each other’s essence, so that neither of us would be alone.”
“But something more made it through.”
“It must have—enough that he was able to reverse the mind wiping, or simply reason out his powers. I should not have tried to work such a delicate power when I was that upset.” She turned back to me. “I am sorry, Ember. Had I not tried to hold on to that small part of him, he would not have been able to hurt you so.”
Speaking of Alexander flooded me with memories of my time as a captive—the brainwashing and the deep shame it brought me to have been so weak, the almost “harvesting.” But even though I was angry, I found myself filled with compassion for Michele. I took her hand in mine and gave it a squeeze.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that each of us is doing the we best can,” I said. “Like that shoot coming out of the rock, you were dealt a tough hand and you did your best. Not all sprouts can become roses.”
She nodded. “Many are stinkweed, yes?”
I looked for the jest in her eyes. Finding none made me laugh even harder.
The next morning I woke early, grateful to be feeling better. I reached out to Taren and found out he’d landed safely in Los Angeles and was on his way back to the Institute.
We didn’t talk long—he had a meeting with Annys to get to, and I wanted to check on Cole and the others.
I found Cole vomiting into a bucket. He sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A cup of water was beside him, but instead of drinking, he swished and spat.
“Your water must not have enough evil in it,” he said. “I can’t seem to keep it down.”
He looked like he’d dropped ten pounds. What was happening to them? How long until they got better?
“Wait till you get to L.A.,” I said. “Plenty of vile stuff in the tap water, I promise.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” he said and then flopped back against his pillow.
He was doing his best to cover it with attitude, but he was as sick as the others. I reached for the cloth that was draped on a bucket of clean water and dunked it, barely
wringing it out before I began gliding it along his arm. It was something my mom had done when I was a kid and had a fever. It always made me feel better. Cole laid still with his eyes closed and breathing labored while I wet down each of his limbs. Once I’d finished, I began again, the skin already dry on the arm I’d done first, which I found very troubling.
It went from troubling to worse when I visited Sadah. In the demon world she hadn’t yet contracted the deadly cough, but now she spewed the blackest tar from her lungs every few minutes. Aryn lay beside her, sleeping fitfully, with Grae tucked between them. He, at least, seemed peaceful, though I winced when I noticed black sores dotting his tiny arms.
“Is there anything I can do?” I said, kneeling beside her.
“No,” she said, her voice thin. “But it is good to see you well.”
I tried to smile reassuringly, but instead began to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding her hand. It was hot with fever and her arms were covered in bandages. “If I’d known that bringing you here…”
“If you’d known, then what? You’d have left us there to die of starvation or at the teeth of Dahraks?” Sadah said. She squeezed my hand tightly. “This is better, Ember. This so much better. I look out that tent flap and I see sky. A real sky. And Grae—he’s sick, but he’s fighting. The healers think he will make it. Do you have any idea what that means to me? It’s more than I ever dared hope for him.”
“I hate seeing you like this,” I said.
She shook her head. “You don’t have time for hate,” she said, squeezing my hand. “And I’d rather you not make the room in your heart.”
“You’re a good woman, Sadah,” I said.
“I hope you always think so,” she said, her eyes closing.
“Of course I will,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
But her eyes stayed closed, and her breathing deepened, so I left without getting an answer.
That afternoon I sat outside with Aldous and Michele, a meal of bread, goat cheese, and tomatoes laid out between us.
“We did work with man,” Aldous said, in answer to my question of why they had isolated themselves. “After the Separation we spent years enchanting the area around the Gateways, ensuring there was a safe place for the first Keepers.”
“That was you?” I said. “Your ancestors created the Sanctuaries?”
“They sang them into existence,” Michele said. “Chanting for months at a time.”
I’d never considered that ‘enchanted’ literally meant there had been chanting.
As though reading my mind—a quick check of my shield told me it was firmly in place—Michele smiled and said, “Several bands traveled from Gateway to Gateway, meditating and chanting protection mantras until the land itself became inhabited by the spirit of protection.”
“In the beginning,” Aldous said, “the size was far greater than it must be today.”
“Why is that?” I said.
“By the time we retreated and formed our Colony, both worlds were beginning to intrude,” Aldous said.
“Intrude?” I asked.
“To weaken what we’d done,” Aldous said. “Do you still meditate within the Sanctuary?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“That is the reason the Sanctuaries still exist at all,” Michele said. “When you meditate you are accessing a vibratory level much higher than that of the demon dimension—even higher than that of this Earth plane. Even if you no longer chant the spells, that higher vibration reinforces them.”
“But most of us aren’t Daemon,” I said. “Only two of us—Gretchen and me.” Taren didn’t meditate. Or, at least, he never had at the Institute.
“It makes no matter,” Aldous said. “Humans and Daemons alike can reach the state of oneness. Yes, we can do more once we’ve reached it, but for purposes of keeping the Sanctuary alive, it is the vibration that matters.”
“Then why has the world…intruded?” I said.
“There are less of you, and you no longer chant the mantras,” Michele said.
“Will you teach them to me? If we could strengthen the Sanctuaries, even extend them so that they once again surround the Gates completely, we might buy more time.”
Both Michele and Aldous returned my excited expression with their usual tranquil ones.
“As you wish,” Michele said simply.
I dipped some bread in olive oil and considered my next question. But it wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact. “We need you, you know that.”
They exchanged glances, looking as close to troubled as I’d seen them.
“It is not that simple,” Aldous said. “We have kept ourselves apart from man for a reason.”
“What reason was that?” I said, setting down the bread, my appetite vanishing in a suddenly tight stomach.
“The last time we got involved with man,” Michele said, “it did not end well.”
There was no arguing the point, but that wasn’t their fault, and I said as much.
“What answer are you hoping for?” Aldous said, not unkindly, just straightforward.
“I want you to say that you will help us fight the demons when the time comes. That you won’t let them destroy this world without a fight,” I said.
“It was fighting that got us where we are now,” Aldous said.
“So what, you just want to give up? Let the demons take over?” I asked, both angry and incredulous. “It’s not just us they’re coming for. No matter how much you chant, they’ll find you eventually.”
“We all must meet our fate,” Aldous said, which was about the most infuriating thing I’d ever heard.
I quickly excused myself before I said something there wouldn’t be any coming back from. Even if—not if, when—Cole and the others got better, it wasn’t going to be enough. We would never be able to kill all of the demons. And it was clear to me that that was the only end game. We’d passed the point of strengthening Gateways and hoping for the best. There was no denying that something was organizing the demons. The attacks on Aryn’s patrol and the Oasis had been coordinated, and I wasn’t naive enough to think that killing another Root—when there were six more still left—had solved the problem. The demons on the other side were reaching critical mass, and it was only a matter of time before they came for us. What then? What’s your plan, Ember?
The only plan that made sense was to convince the Colony to help us. No matter how tranquil they seemed, when demons came for their children, they would fight. I just had to convince them to do it before it was too late.
That night I drifted somewhere between being awake and asleep. It wasn’t dreams, but memories that flashed behind my eyes.
At first I saw Taren, remembering our first kiss next to the body of a Red he’d just killed.
Then I thought of my mom and how we loved to go treasure hunting at thrifts stores, which reminded me of the time we’d taken an unsuspecting Kat with us. We’d both looked so ridiculous in our outfits, but I wished I’d let Mom take a picture.
Next came the first time I’d seen the Institute with its alabaster walls and impressive grounds. I’d been so awed, so relieved, and so terrified.
Then I saw the Los Angeles Root demon—me jumping into its mouth, my flesh burning, surrounded by an ocean of light.
A minute later I saw the dragon Root and how I’d killed it—the deadly kiss gaining power until it crackled with an electricity akin to lighting.
Then I was in the long passageway that depicted the history of the Oasis, my vision narrowing until I was focused on the image of the very first Dahrak, smaller and surrounded by sparks of color and lightning.
Before I’d realized what I was doing, I opened to the Chasm, its chaotic churning beckoning me. From inside the Sanctuary I couldn’t touch its power, but I sensed it. My fingertips tingled with electricity and sparks danced in my mind’s eye. Yellow sparks. Red sparks. And sparks that looked like lightning.
My eyes snapped open.
I raced to Cole’s tent and threw open the flap.
Sweat matted his hair to his forehead and his lips were cracked and dry.
Yesterday I’d been moved by his suffering; today I didn’t care.
“Ember, what is it?” he said, struggling to sit up.
“I know,” I said, and lowered my shield.
I wouldn’t have thought his face could get paler but it did. The cave paintings—the ones he’d tried to keep me from seeing—held the answer. Smaller Dahraks, with only one row of teeth and flesh that hadn’t yet turned black. Surrounded by a field of energy—that’s what the orange and yellow dots had been—the Chasm.
Dahraks had begun as Daemons. Daemons who’d used the Chasm.
“Ember, I’m—”
“Save it,” I said. “I don’t want your damn apology."
“I’m not apologizing,” he said, his face now a hardened mask. “I did what I had to do.”
“‘What you had to do?’ You had no right to lie—”
“I didn’t lie,” he said. “I always told you that using the Chasm was dangerous. You just wouldn’t listen.”
“Wouldn’t listen?” I was incredulous. “I was saving your life!”
“I never asked you to do that,” he said.
Fear—not my own—stabbed at my belly and I gasped.
“What is it?” Cole asked, concerned.
“Stop talking.” I said, then closed my eyes and focused on the source of the emotion.
It was Taren—his fear so strong that I was feeling it thousands of miles away. I called out to him but got no reply.
“Ember, what is it?” Cole said. “Maybe I can help.”
I opened my eyes and gave him a flat stare. He was the last person I wanted help from, but I swallowed my fury.
“It’s Taren,” I said. “I think he’s in trouble, but he’s not answering.”
“Have you tried seeing through his eyes?” he asked.
“I don’t know how,” I said. “I’ve seen him in my dreams, but that wasn’t through his eyes and I don’t know how I did it anyway.”
“The best way for me to teach you is to show you,” he said. “But you’ll have to trust me.”
The Gateway Trilogy: Complete Series: (Books 1-3) Page 49
