A dry laugh leaves my throat. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”
He doesn’t say a word, but stares at me, his eyes holding back emotion.
With a shake of my head, I add, “Well you’re damn right I have a lot of questions! Where the hell have you been? Why didn’t you come back? How could you leave me with this…” My words fail to convey my thoughts. “How could a father leave his son knowing what was out there waiting for him?”
The weight of a thousand bricks settles on my shoulders, from all the minutes and hours since he left me. I always thought I’d be thrilled to see him, to finally understand what he’d done. Why he left me. Left us. All my life I’ve wanted this moment, to see him in the flesh. To hear him and know that he was real. But now that he’s here, an undeniable ache pricks in my chest. Anger and resentment I’d denied all this time.
I believed my mother when she said he was a great man. Someone that, despite what he put her through, she still found perfect in every way. To me, he’s a man who abandoned his child, leaving him to suffer through the curse he’d embedded in his blood. Forcing his son to face alone the confusion, the terror, the unbelievable reality that he is different from everyone else.
Even through all of this, as much as I want to despise him for what he’s done, a part of me has to accept that he’s here now. That at the time I needed him most, he came back.
For me.
“Son.” Hearing him say it, it carries a different feeling than when it comes from Father Martin. My chest throbs, as if the very word is the one I’ve waited to hear all my life. “I never would have left you had I not believed you could get through this. You’re brave, and stronger than you give yourself credit for. Trust in yourself that you don’t need me to guide you. Look at all you’ve done on your own.”
“On my own?” I scoff. “How could I have possibly done this on my own? If not for Father Martin—”
“Father Martin is a Protector. Surely you’ve figured that out.”
A Protector?
“A what?”
He sighs. “Your presence at this church was not by accident. Your mother knew about Father Martin all along. I told her as much before I departed.”
“She knew? How could she…?”
“She doesn’t know what you are. I only told her that Father Martin would watch over her, and you, while I was away, for however long that would be.”
Exasperated, I run my hands through my hair, taking it in. “All this time? He knew you.”
He takes a step forward, but goes no farther. “I would never leave my son without someone to protect him. Father Martin was trained for this. He’s been doing this all his life. How else could he possibly know what to do with a boy who invites the dead into his body?” He says this as if the answer should be obvious.
Sure, I found it strange that a random priest could pluck me from church, and teach me all these things I never imagined anyone knowing anything about. But somehow it seemed fitting that a man of God would know these things. I mean, who else if not a priest? But now I know that Father Martin was waiting for me to make myself known. To come to him when the time was right. Him finding me that night seven years ago, the night of the Christmas Mass, was no accident. He’d been watching out for me all along.
“We have much to discuss,” he says. “I intend to stay until all matters are resolved, and until I know for certain you are safe.”
My head snaps up. “You’re gonna leave again?”
He doesn’t answer right away. I begin to think he never will, until he says, “I have to.”
“Why?”
My father takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his body as still as can be. “I’m sorry for my absence all these years, Aiden. What you have to understand is that there are things I must accomplish before I come back.”
I step forward, heated with frustration. “You’ve been gone my entire life. And you’re just gonna leave like that?”
He rubs his jaw as if unsure what to say next. “It’s not fair to you, I know that.” His gray eyes lock with mine, his hand dropping back to his side. “None of this is fair to you, Aiden, don’t you see? I want more than anything to take you away from all of this.”
“I never asked to be saved,” I tell him, despite the absurd rage lingering inside me.
Maybe I didn’t want to be saved, but I can’t deny the times I longed to be normal.
“Yes,” he says with a nod, “but you never had a choice. You’re my son, and you deserve a choice. One I couldn’t make.”
“So all of this. The Shadows. The Dark Priest.” I look around, my hands in the air as if to signify the world around us. “You’ve been trying to find a way to take away my gift?” It’s true that at a point in my life I would have wanted that, but now, I’m not so sure.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d have to face the consequences of what you are. I was hoping to find the answers before…” His eyes avert, and I can see his regret. Not for having had me, but for not finding the answer in time.
“It’s too late now,” I say. “I’m a Mortal Gateway, and I’ve already seen what that means. Just stay.” It comes out as more of a plea than anything. My father is finally here, in my life. How can I let him go? “Stay with us,” I beg.
My father’s attention has found me again through whatever inner battle he’s having with himself. “If I could, son, I would. But my mission is not yet over. I will find a way to save you, before anything else becomes of your gift. It’s my duty to you.”
“Your duty is to be my father,” I say with spite.
“Exactly,” he says.
I look toward the wall, looking everywhere but at him. I refuse to let him see the pain his harsh truth is causing me.
The scuffle of his boots signals him closing in. I can’t look at him now. It hurts too much.
My eyes remain locked on the floor when he says, “It’s time.”
And without another word, I understand. Everything he just told me falls away, if only for a moment, because another person in my life is about to leave. Someone I can’t imagine myself without. The clock has run its course, and I have to find it in me to say goodbye.
It’s time to send Koren where she belongs.
Far away from here. And too far away from me.
oren rests in the front pew, tapping her feet anxiously against the floor. Her face brightens when she sees me rounding the corner, but the gleam in her eye is short lived when she acknowledges the gloomy expression on my face.
Father Martin pushes himself up from in front of the altar, tapping his fingers in the shape of a cross against his body before leaving. A gentle touch on my shoulder is felt as he passes me, a sign of comfort for what I’m about to do.
Slowly, I push myself toward Koren, standing before her as she lifts herself from her seat.
“I’m not ready,” she says, panic beginning to set in. “I didn’t… Aiden, I didn’t do those things he said. He was lying! I—”
“I know,” I say, hushing her gently, because I do know. That was the Dark Priest’s game all along.
I reach for her hands, and my heart sinks when she grips them tight, begging for me not to let go.
“I could stay, just a while longer.” Her shaky voice is so soft, so low. If she spoke any louder, her tears would break.
“No,” I tell her. “You can’t.” I hate myself for saying it.
Her cold hands begin to tremble and I feel on the verge of snapping in half.
“I can’t risk anything happening to you,” I say. “If you stay too long, there’s no knowing when or if it could take over again.”
She’s been blessed by the Light. I can see it in her face, her hair, her eyes. She’s been restored, but how can I risk her reverting to what she was? No Bleeder can stay for too long, for risk of becoming a Dark One. I’ve already seen what it can do, and I could never be selfish enough to wish that upon her, even if that meant having her a litt
le longer.
“But—”
“Koren.” My jaw tightens, fighting back the surge of emotion. With my eyes on hers, I shake my head once. “Don’t.”
Her hands rip from mine. Before I register what she’s doing, I feel her arms tighten around my waist, her head pressing hard against my chest. A soft whimper vibrates against my bones, and her breaths grow deeper as her tears soak into the material of my shirt. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her close.
I imagine all the times I made her laugh when she needed it most, and all the times I watched her carve her initials into her desk, or sing along to her favorite song during lunch. Or the way she danced around the room like a ballerina as a child, and painted small yellow flowers on every paper she could find. I remember how she went from the girl with the freckles and sunbathed hair, to one day being the most beautiful girl I have ever known. The day my heart sped up when she looked at me with those vibrant blue eyes, and I knew then that I’d love her forever.
All these things are what made her so very much alive, and all those things I will never see her do again. Because she’ll be gone, somewhere safe and far away, and I’ll still be here, waiting for the next Bleeder to cross my path. But no matter where we are, I’ll think of her, waiting for the day when I’ll see her again.
When she looks up at me, her mesmerizing gaze glistening in the candlelight, I know this feeling is more than some high school crush. It’s something I’ve felt for her my entire life, and where she’s going, she’ll take that part of me with her. When my lips find my way to hers, all salty tears and memories, I know this is how she’d want it to end. No words. No goodbyes. Just this.
With her icy lips against the warmth of mine, I take her in. My eyes pinch tight as the feeling of her lips fade and the chill of my blood pierces through my veins. The remnants of her tears crystallize like icicles along my face. I crumble to my knees as she passes through me, and collapse into myself onto the cold floor. When it’s all said and done, and every trace of her body has absorbed into me, it’s then that I truly let go.
I lie there for a while, catching my breath, and try not to move. For fear that if I do, even just barely, that the taste of Koren’s lips will fade along with her.
My mother crushes into me as soon as I walk through the front door. I have to admit that I’m surprised to find zero squad cars in the driveway when I get home.
“I know now,” she says into my ear. One surprise after another. She’s handling it well. A little too well, but I suspect the shock will wear off any minute now.
Trevor and Evan stand behind her, looking like neither got any rest after I left. Trevor shrugs apologetically, and I guess I’m not surprised he told her. The time to keep it a secret has long passed. A hum from the TV is low in the background, as if it were simply on to kill the tension that weighed heavily in the room.
When Mom finds it in her to pull away, Trevor takes her place. We’ve never much hugged before, but seeing as I nearly brought on the apocalypse, and survived it, what better time than now?
“It’s good to see you,” Trevor says into my shoulder, hugging tighter than I could handle. My body feels abused and broken after all that happened. I wince a little and he catches on. “Sorry.” He takes a step back, allowing Evan to barrel in.
“Dude!” Evan, oblivious as always, smacks me hard on the back as one guy would to another during an awkward embrace.
“Where’s Koren?” Trevor asks, glancing from me to the open door.
Mom waits anxiously for my answer, seeming almost hopeful. Apparently they told her everything.
My lips tighten, unable to form the words I can’t speak.
With a simple tip of his head, Trevor claps his hand against my shoulder as if to say, you did what you had to do.
But somehow it still doesn’t feel right.
“Well,” Mom chimes in, using her motherly instincts to brighten the situation, “let’s get you something to eat. We could all use a little bit of normalcy right about now.” Yeah, she’s definitely in shock.
A sliver of a smile forms on my face, forced.
“Yeah. Normal,” I mumble.
“Care if I join, Beverly?” My father appears at the door, and as I see my parents side by side for the first time, I notice how young he looks in comparison to my mother. He’s aged, but the process seems slower and more forgiving for him than for her. And for a second I wonder, could this be another reason for him leaving? Anyone could see he hasn’t changed, much that is. His youthful appearance seems stunted in time. Frozen. It seems the Immortal Gateways like him hardly age at all.
It occurs to me then, how old is my father?
“Michael,” Mom says with a whisper of breath, her hand grasping the cross around her neck. The way she holds it between her fingers this time is different, as if it has become the most precious object in her possession.
It sinks in. The reason she holds to it so tightly. It was a gift from him. My father.
There’s no bitterness in my mother’s eyes as she looks at him. Only love. Lost love. And right then I see that my mother and I have more in common than ever.
The expression in his face returns her affection, but not in the way one would expect. More like the way a man loves a woman he respects and cherishes deep in his soul. But not as a husband, as a friend.
Trevor and Evan don’t move or speak. For all they know, my dad was some deadbeat that left us behind. But anyone could see from looking at him that he’s much more than just a man. The energy seeping off him tells us so.
“Please,” Mom says, “come in.”
“Thank you,” Michael replies, stepping past the threshold. The lights within the house glow slightly brighter than before.
I clear my throat to break the stares between them, knowing that if I don’t, it could go on all night.
Mom’s shoulders jump at the sound. “Trevor. Evan. Help me in the kitchen.” She places her hands against their shoulders, and pushes them toward the kitchen as they stare in awe.
“Sure, Mrs. Ortiz,” Trevor says, tugging Evan’s arm.
Evan finally snaps his attention back to them. “Um… yeah! Okay.”
Michael and I watch as they leave. The last thing we hear is Evan saying, “Who the hell is that guy?”
Only Evan.
I shake my head and look up at the man standing out of place in front of me.
“So, what now?”
Michael steps away from the door, walking the perimeter of the living room as he glances at the pictures along the walls. “Now we wait and see if everything is as it should be.”
“This is about Vincent Chase and his family, isn’t it?”
They’re still out there. More followers like them coming out of hiding. With the Brethren of Shadows missing, the world is far from safe. Other Gateways could be sent at any moment. At least with their growing presence, next time we’ll be ready.
I watch as Michael picks up a frame that holds a picture of my sixth grade graduation. He smiles to himself, but it’s short lived.
“It’s more than that,” he says. “The others know about you, Aiden. About what the Dark Priest had planned for you. That’s not something anyone can easily disregard.”
“What do you mean? I’m okay now. There’s nothing—”
“You’ve been infected.” His sharp gray eyes dart in my direction. “We have to be sure that the binding worked on you as well.”
“Or what?”
He places the frame back where it belongs and closes the gap between us.
“Or the others will come, and they’ll finish what I didn’t.”
When he says this, I want to say he’s wrong, that whatever was in me is gone.
But I can’t.
I can’t lie and say what he wants to hear.
Because in the pit of my stomach, deep within the part of me that nourishes my gift—my curse—something cruel and wicked scratches at the depths of my soul. Ripping and tearing at the d
oor, demanding to be unleashed.
And by the way his eyes burn into mine, I know he can see it, too.
Thank you to Alisa Gus for plucking Gateway from the slush and believing in it from the beginning. It would be nothing without you. Thank you to my editor, Cait Spivey, for helping me see what I couldn’t before, and bringing Gateway to life. To my amazing team at Curiosity Quills Press: Clare, Holly, Courtney, Andrew, Nikki, Helga, and Eugene. Thank you to Ricky Gunawan for turning my crazy cover idea into something spectacular. You are so very talented, sir.
Thank you to my husband for encouraging me to keep writing, even when I was sure I’d give up. To my parents, my brother, Jennifer, and the munchkins, for all their support. You are the most incredible family anyone could ask for.
Thank you to Andrea Hannah for being there through all the tears, happy and sad. Your friendship is a blessing. Thank you to my amazing friends, Jessica and Joanna, for breaking me out of my box and inspiring me. (We made it, you guys!) Thank you to my incredible critique partner, Farrah Penn, for reading Gateway at the drop of a hat over and over. Your love for these characters means the world.
Thank you to everyone who read Gateway in the early stages, whether it was a chapter or the manuscript in its entirety. Jenny P., Stephanie, Alexis, Jenny K., and Angie; this means you. Thank you to my amazing Secret Life of Writers family: Alex, Stefanie, Leah (and Kelsey, too). Thank you to Shannon and Jenny for all the wonderful insight into the industry and guiding me along the way.
Thank you to all my friends and family for spreading the word about Gateway. And thank you to you, the reader, for giving Gateway a chance. Thank you so much to everyone on Twitter for your words of encouragement, and for creating a community I’ve come to love and rely on.
And once again, thank you to my grandmother Virginia who sacrificed so much for me. You are my heart. I miss you every day. This is for you.
Heather Marie lives in Northern California with her husband, and spends the majority of her time at home reading.
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