Tales from the Gateway

by E. E. Holmes

  “It’s not kindness. It’s my job. Durupinen safety is the pinnacle of our duty, and I take my duty very seriously,” I replied, forcing myself into the most aloof and professional of tones.

  It seemed to work. A little of the light seemed to fade from Elizabeth’s eyes, and I instantly hated myself for extinguishing it. “Yes, of course. Well, I’m grateful all the same. Good day, Carrick.”

  “Good day, Miss Ballard,” I replied with a respectful nod.

  She dropped her eyes and hurried past me, tying her Casting bag to her waist as she went. I waited until she passed, then turned to watch her go, the breeze snatching at her hair and flinging it out behind her, like the tail of a kite. Within me, a kind of war was raging, and I felt dizzy with the disorder of it all.

  Part of me, the part who was a Caomhnóir and an instructor and a member of the leadership, was ready to take myself out behind the barracks and dress me down for my weakness and my lack of discipline. Another part of me, a part I must confess I had never known existed, seemed to be awake and alive and breathing for the very first time, thrust into existence by the very presence of Elizabeth Ballard.

  This was dangerous. This was bloody dangerous and I knew it, and there was sod all I could do about it.

  I spent the next few weeks desperately hoping that Elizabeth would forget all about my offer to help her. She was clearly a force of nature—surely, she could learn the skills she desired on her own without interference from the likes of me. I paid close attention to the way she and her sister Karen interacted with Liam but, as I would have expected, their exchanges were always short and tense. In fact, the more I watched, the more I became convinced that we had rendered trust between Durupinen and Caomhnóir nearly impossible. How had I never seen it before?

  “Deputy High Priestess, do you trust me?”

  The question came in a quiet moment as I waited for Finvarra to finish a written proclamation to the rest of the Council. The surprise I felt in asking it was nothing to the surprise on her face when she heard it.

  “Why, Carrick, what kind of a question is that? Of course, I trust you. I would never have chosen you as my Caomhnóir if I did not trust you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said at once, dropping my eyes and hoping that she would let it go.

  She, of course, did no such thing.

  “Where did that question come from all of a sudden?” she pressed.

  “Nowhere, ma’am. I’m sorry to have—”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” she went on.

  “No, of course—”

  “Some reason I should not trust you?”

  I lifted my eyes to hers, horrified. “No, ma’am, of course not! That’s not at all what I meant.”

  “Well, then, what did you mean? Explain yourself, Carrick!” Her gaze was both stern and concerned.

  I hesitated, trying to choose my words carefully. “As you know, I’ve been overseeing Prophecy protocols on Clan Sassanaigh, and that means I’ve spent a good deal of time in the classrooms watching the students work. I’ve been… preoccupied when watching the Novitiates and the Apprentices working together in classes. It doesn’t feel as though they are connecting with each other.”

  “I don’t follow. Connecting in what way?”

  “They don’t seem to be establishing the proper kinds of bonds with each other.”

  Finvarra looked slightly alarmed. “Bonds? I should certainly hope not.”

  “That’s not what I… I just mean… it doesn’t seem as though they… trust each other very much.”

  Finvarra gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “That will come with time. They are mere children, most of them.”

  “And yet they are being tasked with adult responsibilities. Do you ever wonder if we are doing them a disservice, training them the way that we do?”

  Finvarra put down her pen and looked at me with the kind of penetrating gaze that seemed to go not only through me, but to burn a hole in the wall behind me. “Carrick, what in the world are you on about? What’s brought this on?”

  “I’m not sure, ma’am. I suppose I’ve just been thinking.”

  “It seems out of character for you, questioning the Code of Conduct,” Finvarra said. “Is there someone—or something in particular that you’ve—”

  “No!” I said, entirely too quickly. “It’s simply… perhaps it’s just this particular group—the pairings and the way they work together—but I just worry how functional some of them will be, moving forward.”

  “Do you doubt the Novitiates’ abilities to properly protect their charges?”

  I shook my head. “No, no, it’s not that.”

  “The Apprentices, then? Are they failing to meet their required—”

  “No,” I replied. “They’re all quite capable, all working very hard.”

  “Then I’m going to take you back to the topic with which you first opened this discussion: trust. Trust in the system, Carrick. It has served us well for hundreds of years, and I do not anticipate that it’s in any serious danger of breaking down imminently simply because you’ve witnessed the growing pains of early training. These things have a way of working themselves out, Carrick. Look at us. We have an exemplary working relationship. I have no doubt that, with time and patience, our younger counterparts will attain the same.”

  “Yes, of course. You’re right, ma’am. Please forgive me. We’ve experienced quite the shake-up in our leadership ranks of late. I think it’s rather thrown me for a loop.”

  “Perfectly understandable, Carrick. But let’s hear no more of this questioning our Code of Conduct. I would hate for your seeds of doubts to plant themselves in younger, more impressionable minds.”

  “Of course not. I have spoken of this to no one but you, and it shall remain that way.”

  Finvarra gave a satisfied smile. “Very good, Carrick.”

  In that moment I understood my relationship with the Deputy High Priestess as I had never fully understood it before, and it did absolutely nothing to quiet my mind. In fact, I was more full of doubt than ever. How had I lived my entire life in a world the boundaries of which I had never even thought to question? And why had such a fleeting acquaintance with Elizabeth Ballard acted as such a sudden and violent catalyst to the upheaval of that world?

  It was at this time I began to panic in earnest. Perhaps I ought to go to Finvarra and demand another assignment—the furthest outposts of Northern Clan territory—Skye Príosún, perhaps, or even as a gifted Guardian to Havre de Gardiennes. But at almost the same moment the impulse seized me, I stamped upon it violently. Chased from my life’s work, from the pinnacle of Caomhnóir leadership and rank, by some… some girl with whom I had only ever had one real conversation? I heard the contempt in my own thoughts and hated myself for it. For all my recent questioning of the Code of Conduct, it could not be clearer that I had been poisoned by it. That “girl” was a young woman, not a child. How could I revel in my own assertion of my youthful abilities and influence and in the same breath, scoff at hers? The answer to that question rose in my throat like bile, and I choked on it.

  What was worse, I turned my frustrations on the Novitiates, pushing them harder, raising my expectations, demanding standards students could never meet. It was Seamus who suggested I step back and let him take the reins, and though he pretended it was because he was eager to prove himself, I knew the real reason. I was failing my charges. Willingly, I agreed that it was time for Seamus to oversee more of the training. It was with great relief that I handed over my comprehensive assessment of Clan Sassanaigh to Calista, having been able to conclude that the Ballard girls were not, in fact, the twins of the Prophecy, and that they needed no further observation. That done, I stepped back into the shadows, spending more and more time away from classrooms, retreating both within the castle and within myself, all the while terrified that somehow, someone would figure out why.

  It was nearly spring before I spoke to Elizabeth Ballard again. She cau
ght me as unawares as on that very first day she arrived, with a laugh like a siren song, and me, dashed upon the rocks like a bloody fool.

  “Carrick! Hey, Carrick!” She was running along the path behind me as I made my way to the barracks. She must have been in the gardens as I passed, but I had not seen her.

  “Miss Ballard,” I said, cringing internally at the sound of my own voice, so flustered. “What are you… that is to say, how are you?”

  “I’m well,” she replied. “I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank you.”

  I blinked. “Thank me?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I did what you said. I used the tactic you suggested for me, about compartmentalizing spirit emotions, and it worked!”

  “Is that so?” I asked, trying to hide the relief that sprung up inside me like a geyser.

  “It’s true!” she said, as though she doubted I believed her. “I found a spirit—she used to be a maid here, and she still hangs around the Apprentice sleeping quarters quite a bit, out of habit, you know. I explained what I was trying to do, and she practically fell over herself to volunteer before I even properly asked her! Of course, she’s not the kind of spirit likely to overwhelm me emotionally, but I used your trick, and I did it! First, I expelled her emotions from my head, and then I Expelled her from my Summoning Circle!”

  She was positively glowing, elated with her victory. It was utterly disarming, and I smiled before I could stop myself. “I am very glad to hear it. Well done. No small feat for an Empath of your sensitivity.”

  “Thanks,” she replied, although her face fell almost before the word had left her lips. “I also think I owe you an apology.”

  “An apology? To me? Whatever for?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “I think I may have offended you, that day that you found me in the graveyard,” she said, biting at her lip and no longer able to meet my eye. “You helped me—rescued me, really—and all I could do was scold you and complain about Caomhnóir. I was just so angry at Liam, and I’m afraid I took it out on you.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” I replied, unable to bear the look on her face. “I was in no way offended. You were justified in your anger toward Liam, and I was only too glad to be of assistance.”

  “Are you sure? Because it seems like…” she began, and then a rose-colored glow splashed across her cheeks and she dropped her eyes again.

  “Go on,” I urged her, feeling my heart begin to pound inexplicably.

  “It’s just that… you’ve barely been to classes since it happened. You haven’t looked at or spoken to me…” Her whole face was scarlet now, and she twisted her hands together in front of her. “I thought maybe it might be because you were angry or…”

  “Please put that out of your mind,” I replied, barely able to catch my breath, my voice escaping my lips in a hoarse kind of whisper. “How could I be angry with such strength… such passion? You said nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong. I am only sorry that I gave you such an impression.”

  She lifted her eyes to mine and I was nearly lost. “Do you truly mean that?” she asked quietly.

  “I do.”

  A smile bloomed over her face—a sunrise just for me. “Thank you.”

  She turned and walked away, and I knew, from that moment, that no matter how hard I battled, how fiercely I fought to escape the pull of Elizabeth Ballard, I would lose.

  I had already lost.

  4

  Karen's Story

  CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS WAS A RIOT of warm fall colors, and I was a riot of tumultuous emotions. (That’s a pretty way of saying I was a mess, by the way. An absolute mess.)

  On the one hand, I’d realized my greatest ambition: my sister and I were starting our very first semester at the school of my dreams. On the other hand, it was Harvard, and now that I was here, getting what I had always wanted had suddenly become terrifying and overwhelming.

  “Karen? Are you okay?” Lizzy was looking at me, a knowing smirk playing at the edges of her mouth.

  “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied, although I’m not sure why I bothered. She was my twin—she knew me better than I knew myself. She let it slide, however.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “I said, do you want to grab a coffee or something before class? We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “No,” I replied, my stomach roiling at the thought. “I don’t think I can handle caffeine right now. I might explode.”

  Lizzy chuckled, reached out and squeezed my hand. “Just keep breathing. You’re meant to be here. You’ll be fine.”

  I tried to return her smile, but all the muscles in my face seemed confused. I’d have felt better about starting at Harvard as a transfer student if my transcript hadn’t been a total lie. As far as the admissions staff knew, I’d spent the last two years at Fairhaven Hall, a prestigious and highly selective private university in Cambridgeshire, England reading for pre-law. In reality, I’d spent the last two years at Fairhaven Hall, a secret epicenter of Durupinen power, learning how to Cross trapped spirits into the Aether. And though I had kept up a rigorous workload with a private tutor to ensure I wouldn’t be behind when I arrived, I still felt like an imposter.

  “What if I’m not meant to be here?” I whispered, the wave of my fear cresting and breaking at last. “What if the only reason we got in was because Mom pulled strings and used her Durupinen influence to get us to the top of the admissions application stack?”

  “So what if she did?” Lizzy asked, crossing her arms and glaring at me.

  “What?” I gasped, my mouth hanging open.

  “Oh, come on, Karen. She’s Mum. Of course, she did. She pulled every string she could get her interfering fingers on and you bloody well know it.”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working,” I muttered.

  “Do you want me to lie to you? What’s the point? We’ll both know it’s a lie, and you’ll go on worrying because you haven’t faced up to things as they are. Mum did what Mum always does. So what? Are you going to pack your suitcase and go home with your tail between your legs, or are you going to prove you’re Harvard material on your own merits? She only got us through the door, she can’t do the work for us. Not that I think that would stop her from trying,” she added with an exasperated roll of her eyes. “I’m still not convinced she submitted the essay I actually wrote.”

  “She ought to have. It was brilliant,” I replied.

  Lizzy narrowed her eyes at me. “We both know the brilliant one here is you. I’ll be clinging to your coattails for the next two years. Just make sure I don’t fall off, okay?”

  Secretly, I thought Lizzy was the brilliant one. I’d always gotten better grades than she had, but not because I was smarter—it was merely that I was better at following the rules. We both had our strengths, of course. I was the logical, practical one, memorizing facts and figures and whizzing through research and equations and committing whole textbooks to memory. Lizzy, on the other hand, was extremely perceptive. She could read between the lines, dig beneath the surface, unearth new ideas. She was creative in a way I could never be, but this flare often landed her at odds with her teachers, especially the ones who disliked being questioned. I hoped Harvard would be the kind of place that would nurture an intellect like Lizzy’s, rather than squash it, but that remained to be seen.

  “Where is this student guide anyway?” Lizzy muttered, glancing down at her watch.

  “I’m not sure, but the welcome packet said this was where we’re supposed to meet, so… oh, wait, I think this might be him coming now,” I said, looking up and pointing to a figure who was approaching down the walkway.

  He was tall and trim, with blonde hair and a square jaw. He had a bag slung over one shoulder and his hands thrust casually into the pockets of his jeans, until he extracted one of them and raised it in welcome.

  “Elizabeth and Karen Ballard?” he asked, though he was al
ready smiling and nodding as though he’d answered his own question. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Michael Chandler. My friends call me Mike.” He thrust out a hand, his confident smile broadening. His mouth was just a bit out of proportion to the rest of his face, his teeth just a little too square and white, so that what was meant to be a friendly smile felt like an invasion of personal space. I took a tiny, involuntary step back even as I reached out to take the handshake, which threatened to pull my arm from its socket.

  “Quite the handshake you’ve got there, Mike,” Lizzy said, hitting the “k” in his name just a little too hard. I nudged her in the ribs, but she ignored me.

  Mike didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks,” he replied, clearly taking her comment as a compliment. “My father always told me you can size up a man by his handshake.”

  “Your father is bang on,” Lizzy replied. I suppressed a mad urge to giggle.

  Mike squinted a bit. “Whoa, are you from England?” he asked, in an awed kind of tone that implied England might be on Mars. I jumped in before Lizzy could say something snide.

  “No, we’re from Boston. But our mother is English and we’ve spent a lot of time there recently, so the accent sneaks in sometimes” I said.

  “That’s wicked cool,” Mike replied. “My mom never mentioned…” He stopped as though he’d caught himself saying something he shouldn’t.

  “Your mom?” I asked, confused.

  “So, I bet you’re wondering how to get around the campus, huh?” Mike asked, ignoring me. “I thought we’d start with a quick tour of the academic…”

  “Actually, we were hoping you could start by showing us where you keep the coffee,” Lizzy interrupted.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” Mike replied. “Of course! I’ll show you.”

  Mike escorted us to our assigned dining hall, which was Eliot House, and then, coffee in hand, we set off on a whirlwind tour of the campus, during which Mike barely seemed to need to take a breath as he rattled on in a constant monologue full of historical facts and personal anecdotes. It might have been interesting if I hadn’t been so busy trying to memorize the locations of all the buildings and making notes for myself on the crumpled map I kept folding and unfolding. In fact, I was so wrapped up in my attempts to get my bearings that I hardly noticed the way Mike was walking closer and closer to me, how he directed more and more of his conversation toward me, so that by the time we had arrived at the building where Lizzy’s first class was located, we were practically shoulder to shoulder.