Tether, page 14
“We all hear the voices now,” Bridget said. She was training to be a Guardian which should have made her immune. “They’re relentless.”
“We stay inside the Sanctuary as much as we can,” Madison added. “Although there’s been talk of bringing us on patrols.”
Trainees on patrol? The Institute had to be desperate.
“I might be able to help with the voices part,” I said. “I don’t know if it’s strictly a Daemon thing for not, but I might be able to teach you to shield yourself from them.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Crystle said, her face grim.
I wasn’t the only one who had changed. When I’d left, Crystle had been bubbly to the point of effervescent. Now there was an undercurrent of sadness about her. All the girls seemed on edge, but I noticed the change in Crystle most of all.
Kat burst in then, and I stood up to hug her. She lifted me from my feet and spun me once before letting me go.
“You are a sight for very sore and tired eyes,” she said. She did look tired. Dark rings rimmed her green eyes.
“Taren told me you guys were planning to come get me,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she said. “But don’t take that as an excuse to go back.”
“I won’t, trust me. Once was more than enough.”
“And you got them all out?” she asked.
“I did,” I said. “Though I don’t know how much better they are for it.”
I told her that Cole’s people were still sick, stuck at the Colony and not seeming to get better.
“That’s a worry for another day,” she said. “Today, let’s just be happy you’re home.”
“And Taren’s awake,” Callie said. “Let’s not forget that.”
“No,” I said. “Let’s definitely not forget that.”
But I had forgotten something. Or more to the point, two someones. I told my friends I’d see them later, and fighting off the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm me, went to find Michele and Cole.
Kat joined me, unwilling to let me walk around without a Guardian.
“Honestly, what trouble can I get into here at the Institute?” I said.
It wasn’t that I minded her company, I just didn’t want to overwhelm either Cole or Michele, which is why I made the rest of the girls wait back in the dorm.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kat said. “Maybe jump into a pit of Hell?”
“That was one time,” I said, going along with her.
“I’m not kidding,” she said, stopping to face me. “I let you go last time, and I’ve regretted it for every second since. I know you’ve got Taren, but you’re stuck with me too. I’m not going to let anything do you harm—not even you.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said quietly. “You couldn’t have stopped me any more than Taren could have. Even if you’d tackled me, I’d have found a way. I had to go. And you knew you had to let me, so thank you.”
“I don’t feel right saying, ‘You’re welcome,’” Kat said, “but I hear you.”
We started again toward Master Dogan’s office. Cole needed to be kept out of the Sanctuary, but I’d told Michael to take Michele to see Master Dogan. He’d know the best place care for Cole.
We stepped inside the yurt to find Michele and Master Dogan in the middle of the meditation circle, kneeling next to Cole, who writhed in pain.
“What are you doing?” I cried, rushing forward. “I told you he can’t be inside the Sanctuary.”
Cole was moaning, his face contorted in agony. I remembered the feeling—like every nerve ending was on fire—and grabbed his hand, ready to drag him to safety.
“No,” Master Dogan said, laying his hand on my arm. “I know what I’m doing. He agreed to this.”
I looked at Cole, at the sores on his arms that had broken open. “You’re killing him,” I said.
“I’m not,” Master Dogan said. “Please, trust me. He needs to get the poison out of his system. He will feel better once he does.”
With that, Cole vomited into a bucket. Michele took a wet washcloth and wiped his lips.
“Um, Em?” Kat said. I’d forgotten she was there. She looked almost green. “I, uh, don’t do so great with puke, so I’m gonna wait outside.”
She left, and I turned back to Master Dogan and Michele as they tried to calm a writhing Cole.
“How can you think this is helping him?” I asked. He was in agony.
“It is,” Michele said, lifting his arm. “Look, two of these sores are beginning to heal over. The Sanctuary is pushing out the evil.”
I knelt down to inspect Cole’s arm, when I heard him in my mind.
I think they’re right. I think it’s working.
Even his thoughts seemed pained. I took his hand in mine, and he gave me a feeble squeeze.
I settled in, knowing where I’d be spending the night.
Morning found three of us still awake—though truth be told I’d dozed whenever Cole had. Now he slept soundly, his color looking better. The few sores he had were almost completely healed. He’d even kept down a few sips of water.
I stood up, my joints creaking, and yawned.
Master Dogan, stifling a yawn of his own, said, “He seems to be out of the woods. Michele, if you’ll watch over Cole, there’s something I need to show Ember.”
I wanted to protest, to say, No, my brain can’t fit in another thing until I’ve gotten some sleep, but instead I trudged after Master Dogan as he exited the yurt.
When he turned toward the path that led into the woods, I broke my silence.
“Nuh-uh. No way. No hiking until there has been real sleeping.”
“I thought you’d want to know how I knew that being inside the Sanctuary would heal Cole,” Master Dogan said placidly.
“I do. I want to know. It’s just that I want to know after I’ve gotten some sleep,” I said.
“Even if the reason I know is because it worked on a Dahrak?”
40
Master Dogan’s question and its implications were enough to propel all the way to the cottage in the woods where Taren’s parents lived. Half a dozen yards away, a lean-to had been erected against some trees.
I stopped in my tracks a good thirty feet from the cottage when I saw them. “Is that…? Are they…?”
“They were Dahraks, yes,” Master Dogan said. “Now they are…something else.”
Even from this distance, I noticed a few of things. One, they were tall. Like, freakishly tall. Two, their tar-soaked, leathery skin had begun to fall off. Three—and this seemed the most important—they weren’t trying to kill me. Or anyone, for that matter.
“How did you know to take them to the Sanctuary?” I asked.
“We didn't," Master Dogan said. “These are the three that brought Taren to us—”
“What are you talking about?” I said, incredulous. “He was saved by…Dahraks?”
I’d been so worried about him, I hadn’t even asked how Taren had gotten back to the Institute. I’d just assumed his fellow Guards had found him.
“Inconceivable, I know,” Master Dogan said. “But they laid him on the ground right over there,” he said, gesturing. “Gretchen saw it happen from her kitchen window. And then one of them sent her a mental picture—not images, she says, just colors—and it made her feel peaceful and convinced her that they meant no harm.”
“So you just let them stay?” I said. On one hand, I was incredibly grateful that they’d saved Taren’s life, but on the other…well, they were Dahraks—killing machines.
And former Daemons…
“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “Richard and Gretchen carried Taren to the infirmary, concerned only with getting him help. They had the sense to keep quiet—only tell me the truth of what had happened. When I got here, I found all three Dahraks writhing on the ground in agony, but unwilling to move. It was as if they knew that being here would heal them, however painful.”
“Poison as medicine,” I said, still hardly able to believe it.
Master Dogan and I shared a smile. I’d been skeptical the first time he’d shared that philosophy, but time and again it had proven true.
“Are they turning back into Daemons?” I asked, trying not to get my hopes up. If we could heal all of the Dahraks…
“That is the reason for the secrecy,” Master Dogan said. “As they heal, their powers are very slowly coming back to them. If the other Elders knew that I had three Daemons this close to the Gateway, they would surely expel me from the circle and quite possibly the Institute altogether. If they knew those Daemons were also part Dahrak…”
He didn’t need to finish. I’d been getting sidelong glances from the circle ever since they’d found out I was Daemon. I could only imagine how they’d feel about former Dahraks.
“Do they speak?” I asked. Dahraks in the demon world seemed to communicate via grunts.
“Not yet,” he said. “But they seem to use some kind of telepathy with each other.”
“Has Gretchen tried again?” I asked.
Master Dogan shook his head. “She hasn’t left Taren’s bedside except to sleep. And even that she’s done at the infirmary in an empty room I arranged for her and Richard. I thought it best they not come back here until this is sorted out. They readily agreed.”
“You’ve been doing this all yourself?” I said, thinking what a burden that must have been.
“Not exactly,” Annys said, stepping out behind a tree. I’d forgotten how stealthy she could be. Once a Guardian, always a Guardian.
I couldn’t hold in my smile. The thought of Annys—as hard-nosed and by the book as a person could be—helping Master Dogan commit treason against the Institute was ridiculous and wonderful at the same time.
“It’s for the higher good,” Annys said, her expression and tone firm, as if she’d read my thoughts.
“I agree,” I said. “This is amazing. If we could round up all of the Dahraks and heal them so that they could help us fight the real demons—”
“Before we round up any Dahraks we need to make sure this works,” Annys said. “And even then, we need to make sure that any we approach are able to understand our intentions. Which might prove difficult, as Guardians don’t speak via telepathy or grunts.”
“But they do,” I said, indicating the three healing Dahraks. “Let me talk to them. I can show them with pictures.”
“It seems you’ve gotten good at reading human minds also,” Annys said, a small twinkle in her hawk-like eyes.
“That’s why we’ve brought you here,” Master Dogan said. “If you’re able to communicate our intentions and they can communicate it to the Dahraks still left out there, we’ll send one with each patrol.”
“What if it’s a trick?” I said, thinking of how vulnerable Taren and the others would be if a newly healed Daemon—would they really turn back into Daemons?—decided to double-cross them.
Annys and Master Dogan exchanged looks. “It’s a risk we believe is necessary,” Annys said. “When the time comes, the Guards will be briefed, and the missions will be on a volunteer basis. Given our current situation, we think they will readily agree.”
I thought so too. Taren said the Guards were gnashing their teeth over feeling helpless, like no matter what they did, it wasn’t enough. This could be a game-changer, and I had no doubt that Taren would be first in line. I wouldn’t expose him, or Kat, or anyone to the three in front of me unless I was absolutely sure they could be trusted.
“What are we waiting for?” I said. “Let’s get started.”
I decided to start with the female, though the other two were attentive as I sat on the ground across from her. Her features didn’t look quite human, but they weren’t strictly Dahrak either. Her nose was decidedly large, but didn’t resemble a bug squashed across her face, and her eyes, while narrow, weren’t slits. It was her skin that was most disconcerting. It was a disturbing mix of tar-soaked leather and new pink flesh.
My mouth suddenly dry, I realized how colossally stupid this might be. She seemed calm, but there was definitely something feral behind her eyes. And pained. I could see it as well as sense it. She’d passed the agony stage, but not by much. Would a Dahrak go through all of this just to trick us? It seemed unlikely.
I tried to think of a picture to indicate, “Hello,” but before I could, an image of the sun, shining bright and happy, bloomed in my mind. I smiled and returned the image. She made an awkward attempt at a smile, and I noticed that her mouth held only one row of teeth. Very sharp and pointy teeth, but still.
“Thank you for saving Taren,” I said, sending an image of him hurt and them carrying him to safety. I had no idea if that was what actually happened, but she seemed to understand.
Then, before I could send anything else, I was flooded with pictures. They came in a torrent and I gasped, trying to remember as much as I could. A moment later, the flood receded and the being across from me looked unblinking into my eyes. I sent her the picture of the sun—Yes, I understand—and got up.
“I know why some of the Dahraks don’t want to be helped,” I said when Annys and Master Dogan rushed closer. “These three were once Daemon. But not all Dahraks were. Most are the offspring of other Dahraks, which means they have no memory of being Daemon, because they never were.”
“Of course,” Master Dogan said. “Why would they want to get better if they have no idea what better is?”
“Exactly,” I said. “But the good news is that they can tell them apart. Which means the Guards can approach only those who might agree to come here.”
“And kill the others,” Annys said grimly.
“I don’t think they’d like that,” I said, indicating the three. “If I understood her, she wants them to be given a chance too. They won’t become Daemon, but she thinks they’ll heal in their own way.”
“If they refuse to be helped, we cannot allow Dahraks to roam Los Angeles, killing whomever they please,” Annys said.
“No,” I said. “But once we’ve helped more Dahraks become Daemons, we can round them up and imprison them if necessary. Give them a chance to change their minds.”
“We do not have the manpower or resources to—”
“Annys,” Master Dogan said, “if what Ember says is true, you would be asking them to give us license to kill their children.”
“Exactly,” I said while Annys remained silent. “There’s no reason not to try it their way. Once we have more of them on our side, we can see about what to do with the more resistant Dahraks.”
“You’re both making a dangerous assumption,” Annys said, eyeing Master Dogan and me in turn. “You’re assuming that once there is a group of healed Daemons—descendants of the very Daemons who started the war that split the worlds—that they will remain on ‘our side.’”
Annys’s words weighed heavy on me as Master Dogan and I walked back toward the main grounds of the Institute. Annys had stayed behind to guard the Dahrak-Daemon hybrids. She was right—it was a huge risk we would be taking.
“Fortune favors the brave,” I muttered.
“Let us hope,” Master Dogan said, pulling me form my thoughts.
We were silent for a few minutes, the only sound that of twigs snapping beneath our feet.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said, gathering my courage.
Master Dogan was my friend but he was also a shrink, and I was afraid of what he was going to say when I told him, “While I was in the demon world, I started having symptoms of being bipolar."
“What kind of symptoms?” he asked.
“Euphoria,” I said, my face flushing as I remembered some of my behavior. “And then depression. Really bad depression.”
“You must have been terrified,” he said slowing his pace.
“So terrified,” I said. “I still am.
“You said ‘episodes.’ How many have there been?” he asked.
“Two, unless you count the one when I first got there. But I’m not sure if that was a side effect of being bipolar or just dehydrated.”
“Two or three complete cycles within such a short period of time is very unusual,” he said.
“I know,” I said. Then I asked him the million dollar question. “Do you think they might have been caused by being in the demon world?”
“Very possibly,” he said, and I felt my heart lift. “How have you been feeling since you returned?”
“Better, mostly,” I said. “I went into a short depression right after we crossed over, but nothing since then. Of course, it’s only been a few days.”
“That’s true,” he said. “What does your gut tell you?”
I was taken aback by his question. I’d never been asked that by a shrink.
“Um… I think it tells me that I don’t have enough information, and I shouldn’t assume one way or another.”
“A wise gut,” he said, smiling. “Until we do have more information, do you want to start on medication?”
“Not really,” I said, and though I’d hated it every time my mom had used the same excuse I said, “I don’t want to deal with the side effects—not now when there’s so much to do. Not unless we know it’s necessary.”
“I agree,” he said. “But we’ll need to keep a close eye on your symptoms. And if medication is needed—”
“I’ll take it,” I said, without hesitation. “There’s too much at stake.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” he said, “but if the time were to come that you weren’t thinking rationally…”
“Do what you have to do,” I said. “Talk to Taren and Kat—they’ll know if I’m going off the rails. If the time comes and I refuse to take the medication… Do what you have to do.”
He gave me a nod, his expression a mixture of respect and sympathy. Then he stopped and turned toward me.
“Thank you for trusting me with this,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”
I tried to think back to a time when a man had ever said that to me and came up blank.
“Thank you for believing in me,” I said, fighting back tears.
