I am scared and alone, and I want to go home.
As soon as I think it, I am there. The Watch Room surrounds me, silent and familiar. I jolt back into consciousness and scoop Oman’s universe up into my hand before turning around, intent on heading out the door and seeking the comfort of Nim. But there, something blocks my path.
Three cloaked figures, their faces hidden in the dark fabric of their hoods, stand before me. Each raises a skeletal hand to point in my direction when I see them, and their actions send a rocking chill up my spine.
As the figures advance on me, I do the only thing that comes naturally, and scream.
Chapter Ten
My voice pierces through the door and echoes out into the hallway beyond. I scream for one person and one person only.
“Nim!”
I can hear her muffled footsteps down the hall as she comes to me, but the sour odor of the cloaked figures’ breath cancels it out. Their skeletal hands reach out for me, begging to sink their decaying fingers into my flesh, and it’s not until I’m backing into a wall, shrinking away from them that the door to the Watch Room flies open.
“What’re you going on about now?” Nim says, rushing to my side.
Her face is much too calm, much too rational. I point at the hooded entities, my arm shaking all the way. “Don’t you see them? They’re right there, in front of me!”
Nim glances over at the cloaked figures and nods. “I see them just fine. What of it?”
“So they were in Oman’s universe!” I exclaim. “They’re the ones that killed him and the world inside his orb.”
She doesn’t look scared, as I do. Instead she holds one hand up flat in front of her, and the ominous figures stop in mid-glide. I gape at the fact that they follow her command.
“You’re overreacting,” Nim says. “Calm down, and I’ll explain everything.”
My mind is a whir of emotion and fear, and though I know I should listen to my mentor, I can’t. I dart to the right, trying to dodge around her and make a break for the door. She catches me around the midsection with one arm, sliding me back into the corner as if I’m nothing more than a ragdoll on an ice skating rink.
“They’re murderers!” I shout. “You’re in league with them!”
“How do you know that? Have you seen them murder anybody?” Nim says calmly.
I blink up at her. “No. But—”
“But, exactly! These beings aren’t killers at all, Amara. They’re helpers of The House. We call them Harbingers.”
“They’re—they’re what?” I stammer.
“Harbingers,” Nim repeats. “Beings that cause the collapse of universes when they’re due to die.”
“Then how come I’ve never seen them before?”
Nim sighs. I can tell her patience wears thin. “The House is huge, Amara. Members can go full lifetimes without seeing a Harbinger in the halls. Plus, they’re not exactly fond of company.”
The Harbingers glide backward several steps, stopping in a shadowed corner across from me. I eye them suspiciously, not letting my gaze break away from their dark hoods and skeletal hands.
“Then why did I see them in Oman’s universe? Why did they run?”
“They were in Oman’s universe to help it die, of course. They probably ran because you scared them. They’re not used to interaction. And what about you? What were you doing watching someone else’s world?”
I shy away from Nim’s scathing look. “Oman gave me his orb. I figured that meant he wanted me to see inside.”
“He dropped it in your hand by accident, most likely!” she says. “I’m sure he didn’t mean for you to go gallivanting around in a dying universe. You could’ve gotten yourself seriously hurt.”
I groan in exasperation. “You’re missing the point, Nim. These things—Harbingers, or whatever they’re called—they’re bad news. I saw them on Earth in my own universe, and then again fleeing from the scene when Oman died—”
“You saw them where?” Nim interrupts.
I open my mouth to reply but just then the Harbingers glide from the room, sneaking through the open door and out into the hall. I duck past Nim and run after them, but they’re fast, and by the time I make it to the corridor they’re already rounding a corner.
I rush forth, snaking through the crowd as Nim screams my name after me. Soon I’m around the corner, and we play the same game for a while: the Harbingers just out of sight, their cloaks whipping around turns as I dodge pedestrians and struggle to keep up.
We angle down a lesser-used hall, and the crowd thins. The House becomes hollow and echoing as my footsteps slap against the marble floor. The Harbingers don’t make a sound; instead they glide just above the ground, not touching but not flying either. They float like disembodied spirits from the ghost stories I read in books, part of this world but not really in it, either.
I wonder if I reach out and touch them, they’ll be solid, or if my hand will slide right through them like mist hanging low to the ground on a rainy day.
The Harbingers don’t float to a stop until they’re by a door with a blazing star etched into the surface. I halt a few feet in front of them, breathing hard after my near-sprinting pace through the corridors. After a beat of silence goes by and they don’t run, I take a step forward, but they burst into plumes of smoke before I can get any closer.
Their clouds zoom around me like a tornado, whizzing past my head in circles and zooming down to my toes. I’m caught in a cyclone of black smoke, waving my arms wildly to beat them away, but the Harbingers are unfazed. The mist of their incorporeal forms comes too close to my face and my eyes burst into streams of irritated tears. I’m forced to narrow my gaze and then close it altogether, and by the time I’m done coughing and spluttering and I can look up again, the Harbingers are gone.
I don’t know where they’ve gotten to, but they’re not ahead of me in the hall, nor are they behind. I pick the most logical explanation and burst into the Archives Room, but my grunt of anger falls to no one but Elli when I find the room vacant except for her hunched form behind the desk.
“Looking for someone?” she asks without looking up from the piles of parchment in front of her.
“Cloaked fellows,” I say. “Three of them. Might’ve been smoke by the time they went past you.”
Elli shakes her head. “Sorry, dear. Not seen anything like that down this way.”
I run a hand over my face and lean against the cool wall, sliding down until my backside meets the floor and my knees draw into my chest. Confused by my lack of response, Elli glances up, and upon seeing me crouched on the ground rounds the desk and comes to sit cross-legged in front of me.
“What’s wrong, Amara?” She asks.
“So much,” I reply. “Oman’s dying, and I’m being chased by these figures. Nim calls them Harbingers and acts like they’re nothing to worry about, but I know the truth—”
“Harbingers, you say? These wouldn’t happen to be the cloaked figures you were going on about earlier?”
I nod, my expression serious. “The very same.”
Elli whistles, low and dramatic. “I’ll be. I’ve only seen the things twice during my entire time in The House. They don’t come around often, and they run into people even less. They have a way of avoiding crowds.”
“Then how come they let me chase them through Oman’s dying universe all the way back to the Watch Room? It was like they wanted me to find them there. And the way they acted once I got back—you’d think they were closing into kill me or something.”
“Harbingers don’t kill things themselves. They bring the killing. It’s what they’re about.”
I tap my fingers against my knees and furrow my brow. “Explain.”
Elli clears her throat in preparation of a lecture. “When a planet meets its end, Harbingers are there to make sure it dwindles down to nothing. When a galaxy needs snuffed out, Harbingers wave one sick, skeleton hand and it’s goodbye, Milky Way. And most importantly, ever
y time a universe reaches its end date—”
“—Harbingers are there to make sure that happens,” I finish. “But how? How can they have the power to snuff out entire worlds?”
“That’s not for us to know,” Elli answers. “The point is, they can, and it’s a good thing their abilities are under the control of The House. It’s a wonder they obey us at all, after what we put them through.”
“And what was that?”
Elli frowns. “I’ve said too much already. Nim’ll have my hide for the things I tell you.”
“Please,” I beg her. “I deserve to know. After all, they’re coming for my planet next. I saw them on Earth, following me while I watched my universe.”
Elli sits bolt upright. “You’re lying. You really saw them on the little blue planet?”
I nod, my blood running cold. “Does that mean I’m next? Will I die like Dena and Oman?”
“No, no,” Elli says, her voice growing absentminded. “If they meant to end your world, you’d be feeling it already. So now the real question arises: what were they doing there in the first place, if they didn’t mean to destroy your universe?”
“Not only that,” I add, “but why did they stray so far from the prophecy of the Seer about Oman’s universe? You said yourself it wasn’t due for death for another seventy billion years. If they work for The House, shouldn’t they abide by the law that the Seers put forth?”
Elli shrugs, but her usual good-natured smile is absent from her face. “A lot to think about, but nothing the Leaders of The House aren’t already asking themselves, I’m sure. You can bet if you’ve wondered it, so have they.”
I struggle to my feet. “You’re putting a lot of faith in the hierarchy. That’s not like you at all.”
Elli follows suit, raising from the ground and walking back to her desk. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf. Or maybe I don’t have a choice. If the Harbingers are straying against the rules—well, I’m sure you can imagine what that means for The House. Chaos, outrage, mass destruction. None of it good.”
My mouth turns to cotton and suddenly I want to be anywhere but here. The air feels as if it’s suffocating me, and beads of sweat form on my forehead.
“I’ve got to go,” I say, and rush to the door, exiting out into the bright light of The House’s halls.
I stand with my back to the door, my head resting against the wood as my breath comes in gasps. Panic clenches my stomach and causes bile to rise up my throat. I swallow it back down, praying to forget Elli’s words of warning.
The Harbingers aren’t after us, I tell myself. They’re Harmless, just as Nim says.
The mantra does little good, and soon black dots close in on my vision. I focus on a point in front of me—the keyhole drilled into the door across the hall.
Before I can stop myself I’m walking across the corridor, standing before the locked room. I jiggle the handle, but it still doesn’t turn. Bending over and squinting an eye, I press my socket against the keyhole, but the space is too small to see through.
Groaning, I sink to the floor and splay out on my belly, turning my head to the side so that my ear presses against the ground and I can look through the crack beneath the door. All I can see is a glowing light that sends a kaleidoscope of colors across my vision—yellows and blues, pinks and greens, silvers and golds all at once—and for a moment I am blinded. I slide my hand to the edge of the door and the illumination that dances across my skin radiates with the same warmth that the sight of Noah brings me.
I feel a nudge in my gut and flip over. Nim stands above me, her toe sunk into the soft flesh of my belly.
“Haven’t we had this talk already?” she says. “Doors are locked for a reason.”
I stumble to my feet and avoid her stern gaze. “Sorry, Nim,” I reply, and let her lead me back down the hall to my room. She lectures at me all the way about watching dying universes and peering into places I don’t belong, but I don’t really listen. I’m thinking, instead—about what seeing the harbingers on Earth means, about what lies on the other side of that door. It can’t be a coincidence the cloaked figures disappeared right in front of it.
No; they left me before the Archives Room for a reason, and despite Nim’s dubious warnings to forget my investigation into the Harbinger’s intentions, the only way to assuage my curiosity is to find out what they’re up to.
Chapter Eleven
Oman’s funeral is much worse than Dena’s.
Perhaps it’s because I know what he looked like before he fell ill. Even if we encountered each other for only a split second, it was enough to make me realize this isn’t how his life should be treated: disposable, like garbage cast into the void.
I cry into Nim’s shoulder the whole time. Elli stands next to me, squeezing my hand tight as I sob. For once the two of them look at each other without disapproval; instead they’re just concerned, though I don’t know for what. For me? For the ominous air that has befallen the room after two deaths inside such a short span of time? Maybe it’s a combination of both that brings them together and makes them realize now isn’t the time to fuel their dislike.
I watch Oman as the Aiders carry him to the door. I see Dante cast him into the void. I remember Oman’s face—tight and terrified—as he blinks out of existence. His expression haunts me every time I shut my eyes, as if his image is a waking nightmare I can’t shake.
Afterwards, I tell Nim I want to be alone and head into the Watch Room. She doesn’t follow me inside the chamber, but I can feel her hovering right outside the door, waiting for a moment in which I might need her. The act is both annoying and endearing at the same time.
I drop my orb into a clear basin, admiring the flash of galaxies and stars that project onto the walls. Then, in the blink of an eye, I am gray smoke, funneling into the crystal ball and flying through the universe held within. I dodge planets and meteors as I careen through the black expanse of space, seeking the little blue planet that can give me a distraction from all that has gone wrong in the past few days.
Rocketing through the atmosphere, my molecules shudder and reform as I alight the beach. I am surprised when droplets of water plunk down against my head and shoulders. The lake in front of me is swept up in a jittering dance as the rain spatters across the surface.
I look to my left at an empty stretch of wet sand, and then to my right. Noah sits on the only dry patch of silt, a black umbrella hoisted above his head as he stares out at the rolling current. The sound of the rain coursing down from overhead masks my footsteps and he doesn’t look up until I set my hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I say before he can get a word in edgewise. Raindrops flick from my lips as I speak. “I was rude last time we talked.”
Noah stands, turns to me. He inches forward, sheltering me under the curve of the umbrella. It creates a dome of muted sounds around us, as if we’re in our own little world together.
Noah is so close I can feel his breath against my skin. He tilts his head down, bending ever nearer, and I stay him with a flat palm held gently on his chest. Even through his thick sweater, the warmness of his skin radiates up my fingers.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
His lips are inches from mine as he responds. “I was afraid you’d never come back, and I promised myself I’d do this if you ever did. I have to do this, Amara. Before I lose my nerve. Before I never see you again.”
Noah tilts in again, and this time I let my elbow relent as he leans closer. His mouth closes over mine and my head goes fuzzy. My hand drops away from his chest, my fingers reaching up to entangle in his hair. Suddenly the urge to be even nearer overwhelms me, and I press my body against his with a hunger I didn’t know I had.
Forgetting the umbrella, he lets the handle drop from his hand so that it is cast away in the sand. Rain pours down and intermingles with our kiss. He wraps one arm around the small of my back and pulls me in tight, so tight that I can feel his heart pound on top of mine.
When he finally pulls away, he runs a thumb and forefinger gently across the line of my jaw, his gaze locked onto mine. He must see the conflict held in the silver there, because he whispers, “Was that too much?”
“Never,” I whisper back, and lean in again.
We don’t come up for air until we’re drenched to the bone and the rain has ceased to fall.
“Just a little farther,” Noah says.
He’s leading me up a winding path carved into the side of a hill. My sandals sink into the mud as I walk, splattering onto my knees and staining my skin a ruddy red color. When Noah sees me struggling he takes my arm and helps guide me forward, up and up until we reach a rocky peak that overlooks the lake below.
“What is it you wanted to show me?” I ask while staring down into the swirling water below. The waves beat against the cliff face, breaking through the haze of mist hanging low over the surface after the rainfall.
Noah places a finger under my chin and tilts my head back until I look up at the sky. Above us, an array of colors is painted across the clear blue atmosphere. I’ve seen rainbows in drawings held within the books of the Archives Room, but they don’t compare to reality. My breath steals from my lungs and I am left speechless, gazing up at the beauty overhead.
“I’m sure it doesn’t compare to the things you see flying through universes, but it’s pretty cool,” Noah says.
I turn to him, my eyes sparkling. “It’s lovely.”
My legs are tired from the walk, so I slide down into the wet grass and sit with my legs overhanging the edge of the cliff. Noah follows suit, taking off his glasses and rubbing the lenses against a dry spot on his shirt.
“I needed this,” I say after a time. “It’s a nice break after what’s been going on at The House.”
“Why? Is something wrong?” he asks, sliding the glasses back onto his face.
“Two Watchers died. Their universes were destroyed. It shouldn’t be happening, not so close together, but the other members won’t listen to me when I warn them that something’s not right.”
Across the Universe Page 7
