My eyes are groggy, struggling to focus as the tug keeps pulling me closer. Nothing seems different about the outside world. It’s the same as it’s always been at this late hour. Not a single person out in the street. Not even a glow of light shines from neighboring windows. So why do I feel this urge inside me to look closer?
I search the yard outside our house. The wind picks up and the rattling leaves grow loud and fierce. From the bushes lining the gate that separates our yards, a shadow emerges. It happens very little at first. It rolls like a mist from the darkness, melting into the grass. A puddle of black trickles like water, before it slowly raises itself like a strong fog seeping from the ocean, getting taller and wider as it forms.
Am I dreaming? This can’t be real. It can’t be here.
The black mass stands in my yard, watching me through my window. Daring me to come forward. Fear strikes through my chest, sending my heart pounding into my throat. I can’t deny how terrified I am, but if there’s one thing I hate it’s fear. Giving something the power to make me lose sight of myself only makes me weaker. I won’t let this thing do that to me anymore.
I bolt for my door, and with long strides, I make it to the porch without causing a sound. The shadow is no longer in plain sight, but I’m not giving up that easily. Which might not be all that smart, but it’s time I find out what it wants. And where it’s coming from. I step off the porch, the cold grass stabbing into the bottoms of my feet. The night air is freezing with no shoes or sweatshirt, and I’m regretting not putting something warm on.
Each step makes my heart beat harder and harder. A breeze bristles through my hair and tickles my scalp, urging me to turn round and round, but I stand my ground. The bush’s shadow is not as threatening as it had been seconds ago. Nothing but the moonlight glistens on the brittle leaves.
“Where are you?” My question drifts into the wind. “Come out, you son of a bitch.”
Each step takes me closer, my eyes darting right, then left. Could this be a trick? I wait for something to sneak up on me, but only dead air follows. I approach the line of bushes, attempting to peek over the rim for something hiding near the fence. Leaves rattle to the right of me and I jump back. It only takes a second for me to collect my bearings before I dart toward the sound.
“Come on!” I growl, daring it to face me.
A yelp sounds from the bush where I’ve smacked leaves aside. I’d prepared myself for something, but what I get is the thing I least expected.
“Koren?”
Koren’s hands protect her face as she lifts herself to her feet. Small abrasions redden her cheeks as if she’d gotten into a scuffle with the pokey branches. The sight of her is disturbing for so many reasons. Two of them being that she looks so fragile and broken. It’s difficult to understand how someone could change so drastically in a matter of a day. She’d always been so confident. So bright. Now she’s so far away from those things.
“Please,” she begs. “Don’t hurt me!”
“Koren,” I say again. Is she lost or something? Sleep walking? “What are you doing here?”
Several emotions collide and I can’t decide if I’m concerned or frustrated. Koren has latched herself into my Gateway world and she just doesn’t fit. Not knowing what her part is in all of this is driving me mad.
She steps out from behind the bush, gathering her coat close to her chest. Her eyes search around us, possibly looking for the very thing I’d come out here to confront.
At the risk of sounding insane, I ask, “Did you see it?”
Her head swivels just enough to check her surroundings, but she plays it off with a shrug. She knows, but it’s clear she refuses to answer. The frightened look on her face says as much.
“What was it, Koren? Where did it go?” Suddenly the idea that she is here, in my front yard, isn’t nearly as important as whatever the hell that thing was. Koren is something I can deal with, but that thing? Just what the hell is it?
She can’t keep still. Her head shakes back and forth, and her hands tug at the dangling strands of her hair. “I… I don’t know. I… I followed it. It led me here.”
“You need to calm down.” I grab her hands, and grip them tight to steady her. “Tell me what it is. Where did it come from?” It’s difficult keeping my voice as such a low whisper. In reality, I want to yell it out, to call whatever it was from its hiding place.
Koren is so distraught, I don’t know what to do. I wish she would speak whatever it is she’s holding back. She knows something. She has to. But the way she’s holding herself, shock written all over her face, there’s no way I’ll find out tonight.
“You’re freezing. I need to drive you home. Okay?” What else am I supposed to do with her? She’s hysterical. If my mother knew who stood outside our house at such a late hour, she’d freak.
I’m sure she’s heard the news that Koren’s back, but that doesn’t mean anything else has changed. Her parents have yet to make an appearance at church, or anywhere for all I know. I wonder if my mom’s heard from them. I have to remind myself to ask her. How could they let their daughter wander off like this? Where the hell are they?
I shake the thought from my mind, because right about now, as I watch Koren crumble in my arms, I’m not so sure I know anything about this girl standing in front of me anymore. One moment she was the girl who watched cheesy horror films with me while snuggled on the couch. A Friday night routine that began in sixth grade, when Mom decided we were old enough to watch them. And now, here in the dark, Koren’s more like a stranger than anything else.
She follows as I pull her toward the front porch. I quickly consider how I’m going to grab my keys fast enough without waking my mother, and without leaving Koren on her own for too long. It could still be out here for all I know. I can’t leave her alone.
She speaks softly to herself now and all I can catch is: “You can’t go back there. You can’t go back.”
“Where, Koren? Where can’t I go?” I ask.
We stand at the bottom of the porch, the air around us quiet and still. She clings to me and stares directly in my eyes. Her body is no longer shaking and her voice is steady and clear.
“You can’t go back to the church, Aiden. Promise me. Promise you won’t go back.”
“How did you know—?”
“Promise me, Aiden!”
I hush her, looking back toward the house. My mother could wake at any moment, but I have to know what she’s asking of me.
“I can’t promise that. Not unless you tell me why.”
She shakes her head once. The movement is slow and robotic. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Seeing her like this gives me chills. Everything about her is so unnatural, so disconnected. She’s not Koren anymore when she acts this way. The thing haunting her is doing this, changing her. It led me here, she’d said.
The shadow is doing more than following my every move. It’s terrorizing her, because of me. Whatever this is, I have to stop it.
“Please let me help you,” I beg her.
Her voice is empty when she says, “You can’t help me, Aiden. No one can.”
y the time I come back downstairs with the keys, she’s gone. Despite the cold, I manage to run around the block once or twice in search of her, but come up empty.
I can’t get back to sleep after that. I’m afraid for Koren, afraid of what might have happened to her. It was stupid of me to leave her there alone. Maybe it got her. She could be dead. I call her old cell number and in return get nothing. The phone number has been unavailable for God knows how long. And like before, I’m haunted with images of Koren’s dead body, alone in the woods somewhere. Only this time, it would be my fault.
I’m in Izzie and coasting silently down the driveway before Mom wakes. She’ll be up for church soon, and I only have twenty minutes at best to get to Koren’s house before she notices my absence. On the way there, I consider what I’ll say to her parents if they answer. Two people I haven’t see
n in over a year. People who had been like second parents to me once. And with all the secrets happening behind closed doors, it’s hard to comprehend what had become of them. Or what they did to Koren to make her so, well, strange.
I roll Izzie through the stop sign at the corner of her street, and let off the gas just enough to whip into the turn without losing control.
Koren’s house is exactly the same. The lawn is cared for, the flowers barely pulling through the winter. A welcome mat at the foot of the door is the only new fixture, aside from the red minivan in the driveway. I’m pretty sure her parents owned sedans. Did it really matter?
I hurry to the door, forgetting the early hour. Raising my fist, I knock gently at first. When no one answers after a good twenty seconds, I bang a little harder.
This time someone opens the door. I’m taken aback.
“Can I help you?”
The man is old. Like old-old with an even older-looking woman cowering behind him in her robe. They’re both wearing sleepy expressions filled with alarm from a kid beating down their door before the sun is even up.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m looking for someone. Is… Koren here?”
The answer is obvious.
“Kid,” the man says, “if you don’t leave our porch, I’m gonna call the cops.”
I raise my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “My mistake.”
“Damn right,” he adds before slamming the door.
I drag my feet down the driveway and back to the car. Sitting in Izzie, I stare back at the house in complete disbelief. If Koren doesn’t live here, where the hell is she going every night?
In my Sunday best, I half-listen to Father Martin preach. My leg shakes as I peek at my phone, checking for a message from Koren. I ignore that small fact about her phone being disconnected. Nothing can stop me from wondering where she is, or where her parents are. Nothing fits. Her life and mine have become this impossible riddle, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Koren’s not the girl I used to know. I’ve accepted that now. She’s an enigma. Someone so unreal, I begin to wonder if I’ve been imagining her all along.
I check my phone again in case something’s changed from thirty seconds ago. It hasn’t. After a disappointed glance from my mother, I decide it’s best to wait it out.
The atmosphere in the church today is nothing like the day before. With the people gathered as one, that comforting feeling makes itself known; the warmth of love and faith that encases me in its energy. I’m safe here for the time being, and I tell myself that Koren must be mistaken. She couldn’t have meant this church. What could possibly keep me from coming here?
“Would you mind if I spoke with Aiden for a moment, Beverly?” Father Martin asks after concluding Mass.
“Of course not,” she says, smiling. Mom counts so much on him to replace the father I never knew. With the way I’ve been acting lately, I think she needs that sense of security.
“How about it, son?” He places an arm over my shoulder, giving me a gentle smile.
I nod, thankful to have this moment to finally tell him what I can’t tell anyone else. On our way to his chambers, we pass Julie. She looks away the second she sees me. Behind her, Justin Chase and his father rise from their seats, his sneer matching his father’s as they watch me go. A jolt of something hits me then, but I ignore the hum. It can’t be.
Justin and his dad stand out in their dark suits, his father’s arm heavy around his shoulders as he guides him from the church. The disdain seeping from Vincent’s last expression while he watched me is clear as day in my mind. I really hope what I sensed at the sight of Justin was a mistake. Because if he’s another Gateway, I want to return my Gateway Card, stat.
The way Justin and his dad scrutinize me is unnerving; a reminder of my friends’ expressions that day on campus. The day I was so sure that the monster inside me had shown itself to them. It’s been dormant for so long, I fear that it’s waiting for something. Like a ticking time bomb waiting for its detonation. How long will it be until it goes off again?
Father Martin’s office is brightly lit, bouncing off the cherry wood desk and the matching bookshelves lining the walls. A wooden crucifix, which looks handcrafted by precise fingers, hangs over the doorframe. Encyclopedias and centuries-old books fill each shelf. By the looks of some, they could fall apart by a simple touch. If it weren’t for the lights, the room would have been absent of technology. No computer, no phones take up the space on his desk. Instead it’s layered with piles of Bibles in different languages and paperwork with Father Martin’s scribbled writing. The chamber is his own private study. I avert my eyes from his things, afraid of violating this room that seems so personal to him. It’s been a while since I’ve found myself here. It feels new and curious all over again.
“Please, have a seat.” Father Martin gestures to the chair in front of his desk, as he places himself in the leather-bound chair behind it. “No need to be so nervous. You act as if you haven’t been here before.”
As I sit down, I say, “I’ve just been out of sorts lately.”
“Yes, I can see a great change in you, Aiden. You’re different now than you were during our last meeting. Perhaps we shouldn’t have given up on those.” With a stern gaze, he places his elbows along the arms of the chair and folds his fingers together.
“I think you might be right, Father.”
He takes in a deep breath. “What troubles you?”
This is the moment of truth. It’s here and now, or not at all. I listen for the faint voices within the church making their way home, working up the courage to confess my secrets.
“I think something’s been following me.”
Father Martin remains still, untouched by my words.
I continue. “This thing… ever since I saw it, it’s like the Bleeders have been affected by its presence. At the parade, they were everywhere. It’s like they were more desperate. Demanding. I’ve never experienced something like that before.”
“And this thing, what does it look like?”
The silhouette pops into my head and I shudder at the faceless image.
“I can’t make out the features. It’s not a person. I mean, I don’t know what it is. It’s just… black.”
Father Martin pushes himself forward, hands still clasped. “Black?”
“Yes. Like a shadow.”
Abruptly, he gets to his feet and begins searching the shelves. His fingers graze along the spines as he whispers the titles under his breath. For a moment I think he’s speaking to me, but I’m not sure.
“Excuse me?” I say.
Just barely audible, I hear: “You should have spoken sooner. Much sooner.”
“What is it, Father Martin? What do you know about it?”
“This is very serious, Aiden. Very serious.” The way he repeats himself makes the situation more severe. He always gets this way under stress. A nervous tic.
“Father?”
He throws a book on the desk in front of me: Brethren of Shadows.
I can’t describe what I’m thinking. It’s too much at once.
Father Martin reads the confusion on my face, and says simply, “The Brethren.”
I’ve heard this term before. It was something he spoke of during our early meetings, but never did we fathom that we’d actually encounter the Brethren. Not after all this time. The Brethren of Shadows were legends, things he swore had been sent back to where they came from by Men of Light—men like me. If Men of Light were the Originals of our kind, the Brethren were the opposing team. Where there is light, there is dark. Where there is good, there is evil. You know the saying.
From what I remember of this lecture, the Brethren were savages, warlocks of their time. Warlock was the only way people could describe them, much like how they described Gateways as gods or angels. A way to put a name to the face. But they weren’t warlocks or witches. Those are chump change in comparison. The Brethren were demons who
pillaged lands far and wide, consuming life, bringing death. If you didn’t follow them, you were against them. There was no in-between. Their sole purpose was to consume every trace of good from the world. Spreading darkness everywhere. Hell on earth, I guess you could say.
The Great Plague of London. Influenza. The Black Death. These are a few of the fatal marks they’ve inflicted upon our history. But each time they found their way back, causing more devastation, the Men of Light were always there to destroy them. With each new war inflicted upon humanity, God sent more of his soldiers—Gateways—to earth. For those unfortunate souls left behind, they turned Dark, recruited by the Brethren. And even though they’ve been cast back to Hell, the Brethren’s curse still consumes each unclaimed soul. The Dark Ones.
From the looks of it all, I guess the time of the Brethren’s next resurrection has come, and this time, I’m supposed to be the one to stop them. I just hope wherever the others are—the other Men of Light—they will find me in time.
I don’t examine the book in front of me, as if the pages would expose me to things I never wanted to know. Leaning into the chair, creating distance from the book that stares back at me, I watch Father Martin as he paces the room.
“Are you saying they’re back?” I ask.
“If what you’re saying is true, and I have no doubts, then yes. I don’t know how, but the Brethren seem to be forming once again.”
“But what do they want?” It’s a dumb question, I realize, but I’m too stumped to say anything else.
Father Martin stops; his stricken eyes stare into mine. “Son, they’re after what any dark being wants. Power.”
A knock at the door shakes us from our reverie.
“Father,” my mother calls from the other side. “I hate to be a bother, but…”
The Gateway Through Which They Came Page 12
