Chasm, page 9
12
Well before dawn, I rolled out of bed and into the clothes I’d laid out the night before. Our flight left LAX at 7 a.m., which meant we had to leave the Institute at 4:30. Being fairly useless at that time of the morning I kept getting ready to the bare minimum, brushing my teeth and hair and calling it done.
I lifted my backpack to my shoulders took one last look at the room I’d called home these past few months. A wave of panic washed over me and then receded, leaving behind a residue of worry. Would I see this room again? With the trip always in the future I’d managed to avoid contemplating that I might not make it back. But the future was now, and reality could no longer be ignored.
Sure it can, I thought as I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and hurried from the room.
Once downstairs I was surprised to find Callie, Crystle, Madison, and Bridget curled up on sofas in the common room.
“She’s leaving,” Callie whispered when I approached the tired group.
The other three roused themselves.
“Guys, you didn’t have to get up so early,” I said.
“And let you leave without saying goodbye?” Crystle mumbled sleepily.
I immediately felt guilty. That had kind of been the plan. I hated goodbyes. But I was touched they’d made such an effort to see me.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”
“Us, too,” Madison said, giving me a hug.
“Be safe,” Bridget said as she hugged me.
“And tell Taren I said goodbye to him, too,” Callie said after she embraced me.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Crystle said as she hugged me tight.
I chuckled and said, “Why do I think that leaves me a lot of options?”
Her answer was a mischievous wink.
After a final goodbye, I made my way outside, where I saw Taren and his parents ambling toward me from the direction of their cottage. After his patrol, Taren had stayed over rather than go all the way home.
“Hey,” Taren said, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You ready?”
“Bags packed, passport in hand,” I said.
Master Dogan was there waiting when we made it to the parking lot and climbed into our vehicles.
As we eased past the front gates of the Institute I was once again confronted by the possible finality of the situation. With Richard, Gretchen and Master Dogan assigned to different cars, I snuggled into Taren’s arms and allowed myself to be comforted, refusing to let the fear take hold.
The drive to the airport was a quiet one. There’s something about being awake before the sun that didn’t lend itself to conversation. Once again we traveled by caravan. The five of us would appear to be flying as a group, but as with Great India Cafe, we would be shadowed by Guardians every step of the way. Once we’d made it to Italy, the Guardians from the Italian Gateway would take over all but Richard’s and Taren’s duties, and the Los Angeles Guards would return home.
In stark contrast to our drive, the Tom Bradley International Terminal was buzzing, even at that early hour. It was a controlled chaos, lines snaking this way and that on their way to ticket agents or baggage screening.
I allowed Taren to lead me. I’d only ever been in an airport once, when Mom had decided on a whim she’d had enough of Southern California’s lack of seasons and we needed to see the leaves turn colors in New England. That had been a few years back, and the longest of both flights only four hours. I was completely out of my element when it came to international travel. Taren hadn’t been overseas either, but he had a way of inspiring confidence—making it seem like he could handle whatever was thrown at him.
Surprisingly quickly given the length of the lines, we were through security and awaiting our departure at the gate. For once I’d decided against coffee, hoping to make up for lost sleep on the plane. I was well stocked with snacks, however.
“When do you take that out?” I asked Taren, nodding toward the comm device in his ear.
“Once the cabin door is closed,” he said. “Not much need for it after that.”
“Oh, right,” I said, remembering. All passengers were forced to remove their sunglasses in order to compare them with their passports, which ruled out Reds as passengers. Slim chance a Dahrak was going to get past security, either.
Across from us sat Kat, pretending both to be a complete stranger and to read a newspaper while scanning the crowd. It had been decided that, in order to not leave a paper trail, we would fly into Charles de Gaulle, then make the trip from Paris to Rome by train. Even though Kat would have to turn around and go home once we reached the Gateway in Rome, I was glad to have her along for at least part of the trip.
No matter how excited I’d been about the flight, six hours into it, I was over being on a plane. Unfortunately, we had six more hours to go. I’d eked out a bit of sleep, but not enough to feel rested. I was sandwiched between Taren and Master Dogan, while Gretchen and Richard sat several rows in front of us.
Taren had headphones on, pretending to watch a movie—even with us safe in the air, his vigilance hadn’t waned.
I turned to Master Dogan, his head stuck in a book. I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask about Crystle’s fading Mark, and I’d been both worried and curious.
“Crystle’s birthmark…” I said.
Master Dogan shot me a warning look, even though what I’d said was certainly innocuous enough.
“You must have a theory,” I said, undeterred.
“Theories are not fact,” he said, going back to his book.
“Still...” I knew he’d have come up with something by now.
“I fear...” He looked at me and paused, seemingly unsure if he should continue. “I fear it could indicate a weakening.”
“Of Crystle?” When he didn’t answer I added, “You mean the…other thing?”
My stomach turned sour. I was the one who remade the L.A. Gateway. If it was weakening, it was because I hadn’t done a good enough job.
“It’s impossible to be sure,” he said. “Perhaps both. If either were to continue it would be equally dangerous.”
True enough—if either the Keepers or the Gate failed we were equally screwed.
“Is this happening at the other…anywhere else?”
He hesitated just a second before shaking his head, but it was enough to give away the lie. I expected that sort of thing from Annys, but Master Dogan… ? No doubt he was duty bound not to reveal Elder secrets but I felt angry all the same. Didn’t I, more than anyone, deserve to know everything? I told myself that it wasn’t a mystery I was equipped to solve, and my skills, such as they were lately, we’re better spent fortifying the Gateways, but I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice when I said, “Well, that’s a relief.”
I pulled the in-flight magazine from the pouch of the seat in front of me and proceeded to flip it open and pretend to read.
Master Dogan sighed almost imperceptibly and returned to his book.
By the time we landed in Paris, a couple of more hours of sleep and a feeling of excitement bubbling in my belly was enough to put some spring back in my step.
The airport was just an airport, but it was an airport in Paris, which made it way more interesting. The signs were in French and the announcements over the P.A. system sounded like poetry. The fact that I understood neither did nothing to diminish their charm.
I hadn’t seen Kat since boarding, and now I only caught a glimpse of her back as she and another Guardian hurried toward baggage claim. No doubt they were to scout the area ahead of us.
I was antsy as we waited for the bags to descend from the shoot and drift by us. We had several to wait for— even the Guards that would be returning home in a few days had a cache of weapons not allowed in carry-on luggage. While we waited, I looked around, wondering which of those present were Italian Guardians.
As it turned out, the answer was quite a few. Richard took the lead, walking directly toward a line of sedans waiting outside. A handful of men and women who had waited with us at baggage claim, yet emerged without bags, flowed into the vehicles. Richard and Gretchen entered the second car, while Taren led me to the third. A fourth tailed us as we made our way out of the airport.
No pleasantries were exchanged, just some polite nods, but I’d expected that. Guardians were all business until the danger had passed. Who knew when that might be? I might not learn a single Guard’s name the whole trip. Taren was preoccupied as well, so I contented myself to peer out the tinted windows at the new landscape.
Forty minutes later our caravan made its way into the heart of Paris. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky with soft oranges and pinks. In the distance I made out the Eiffel Tower.
“We are actually in Paris,” I said, feeling awed.
“We actually are,” Taren said, smiling and giving my hand a squeeze.
13
I was too restless to sleep. While Kat showered, I stood on the balcony, the city glittering below. I longed to stroll those romantic streets with Taren. Someday, when I’d learned enough, when I was powerful enough, I would find a way to lock the Gates forever, and then my life would be my own again. I’d fulfill my purpose and instead of being separate from the world I was looking down upon, I’d be a part of it. Funny that I should long for that after spending most of my life wanting the opposite. Though I’d grown to question even that. Maybe, instead of wishing to be left alone, I’d always hoped for inclusion—not based on my social or economic status, but for who I really was.
“Wishing you could be down there?” Taren said.
I turned, startled. My mind wrapped up as it was, I hadn’t heard him approach from the adjoining room.
“Yeah,” I said, and turned back to my melancholy study of the Parisian lights.
“It won’t always be like this,” he said, coming to stand next to me at the railing.
“That’s what I keep telling myself,” I replied. “Sooner or later I’ve got to remember how I did what I did with the Root Demon, right?”
“Yes,” he said, “you will. Be patient, Ember. It will come.”
“I’m not so sure you’re the one to lecture me about patience,” I said with a wry smile, “I’ve seen you when your iPhone loads too slow. And in my case, the stakes are slightly higher.”
He grinned.
“Touché on both counts,” he said, but his expression turned more serious. “I mean it, though. The way you’re working, how hard you push yourself—it’s going to pay off.”
“It has to,” I said. “There’s no other option.”
“I hate that this is all on your shoulders,” he said, “I keep thinking, if we could just find another Daemon... There have to be more. For instance your father—”
“I highly doubt that even if we found him he’d have much knowledge to offer. What kind of higher being has unprotected sex in a nightclub bathroom?” I asked.
He knew my father was a touchy subject. I knew the Institute was looking for him, despite my protests, but with nothing but my mother’s description from nearly eighteen years ago there was little to go on, which meant there was little hope of finding him, and that suited me just fine.
“You’re probably right,” he said, “I just can’t help but think that if you had someone to teach you...”
“Yeah, I keep thinking that, too,” I said. “Which means I will happily—and sometimes grumpily—travel the world for the next two months without really seeing any of it. Although as views go, I guess I can’t complain; it’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, turning to me.
I blushed, as I always did when he said that.
“I mean it,” he said, lifting my chin to face him. “I wish you could see you the way I do.”
“Well, maybe when I finally learn how to be a proper Daemon I will,” I said with a small smile.
Though Taren and I shared an electric connection, I’d only heard his thoughts once, when he was still keeping the secret that his mother was Daemon. He’d been sure I would never forgive him. Since then I’d had no flashes of insight into his thoughts.
“Hhhmm,” he said, with mock concern. “I’m not sure that even when that day comes—and it will—that that would be such a good idea.”
“No?”
“Well,” he said, his voice pitched low, “while my feelings toward you might be pure, my thoughts most certainly are not.”
“Ah,” I said, as warmth cascaded through my whole being. “Well, that makes two of us, then.”
I felt his grin against my ear, and then we were kissing. All thought of wishing I were anywhere else, even on those romantic streets of Paris, fled. His hand slid under the back of my shirt and caressed my skin, the other tangled itself in my hair. More than warm, I was aflame, wanting to tug his shirt off, wanting to feel the weight of him pressing down on me. Being in his arms felt like coming home—one built just for me.
“Uh, son?”
Taren and I sprang apart at the sound of Richard’s voice.
He cleared his throat and continued, staring at the floor. “The, um, American Guards are getting ready to meet with the Italian Guards. I thought you’d want to be included.”
“Yeah,” Taren said, trying to recover. “Definitely. Who’s going to be with Ember?”
“I am,” Kat said, stepping into view. “You can fill me in later.”
When had she gotten out of the shower? It was just like her to let us go on kissing even if she was there to witness it. I wasn’t sure if I should thank her or strangle her. Either way I was blushing scarlet.
“OK, so I’ll see you later,” Taren said, giving me an awkward peck on the cheek and following his father into the other room.
“Who knew straight kissing could be so hot?” Kat said, answering my question as to whether she’d watched.
“You suck,” I said, scuttling toward the bathroom.
“I mean it,” she called as I shut the door behind me. “I thought breeders were boring, but—”
“Can’t hear you,” I shouted as I turned the water on full blast. “Taking a shower.”
Either Kat gave up trying to embarrass me or the water really did drown out her voice. Either way, I was grateful.
When I emerged wearing my pajamas, a plush towel wrapped turban-style around my head, Kat was lounging in a chair and flipping through magazines.
“You’re not going to stay awake all night, are you?” I asked. After all that travel and a hot shower, I was more than ready for bed.
“Well, I would,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure that lover of yours is going to insist on taking over when the meeting is done. I thought he was anal about your safety before...”
“Hard to deal with?” I said, sliding under the soft covers.
“Impossible,” she said. “Not that I blame him—that was way too close of a call you had the other day. Especially now,” she said.
“Why especially now?” I asked, concern breaking through my sleepiness.
“Well, because now I know you’re such a good kisser,” she said with a grin. “No wonder he doesn’t want to lose you.”
“Goodnight, Kat,” I said, simultaneously flipping her off and smiling into my pillow.
14
Morning was filled with pastries and espresso. Kat and I joined Taren and his parents for an extravaganza of French deliciousness.
I popped another of the best tasting strawberries I’d ever had into my mouth, and for the moment was contented to be confined to a suite overlooking Paris. But then Kat let slip that she was leaving to do some scouting for our trip to the train station and that on the way she might “stop by” the Louvre.
“Stop by?” I said. “You’re going to ‘stop by’ a museum I’ve been wanting to see my entire life?”
Taren shot Kat a warning glance.
“I was thinking I might...” Kat said, clearly unsure what response was going to elicit less anger on my part. “Did you not want me to?”
“No,” I said, my bluster deflating somewhat. “I’m just being a brat. Go—see one of the best collections on Earth. I’ll stay here and watch French MTV.”
“It’s not much fun, is it?” Gretchen said, pushing her plate away.
She was the only one who really understood. She seemed to be handling it with much more grace than I was, however.
“At least we’re off Institute grounds,” I said, then held up my orange juice in a cheers. “Right?”
“Right,” she said, and clinked my glass.
“So, French MTV it is then,” Taren said, relieved the land mine had been diffused.
An hour later, Kat had gone and Gretchen and I sat at the table with Master Dogan. Taren was catching up on sleep—Kat had been right, he’d relieved her shortly after the meeting and guarded us all night while we slept—while Richard sat in an armchair, reading.
Gretchen’s palm rested lightly on mine. Though she had sensed I held something back on my birthday, for the most part, we both struggled with telepathy. Master Dogan suggested we try touching while we practiced. So far it hadn’t helped.
We closed our eyes and I waited for her sending.
It was then that I felt it. You know when you get that itch that’s not quite in your ear, but not quite in the back of your throat? You swallow hard and dig at your ear, but you can’t get rid of it? I had that.
In my brain.
I waited for the itch to turn into a thought from Gretchen, but none materialized and I couldn’t take it any longer. I shook my head, trying to stop the sensation. It was vaguely unsettling, almost reminiscent of when I first heard the Root speaking to me.
“What is it?” Master Dogan asked.
Gretchen opened her eyes, looking hopeful. “Did you get it? What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” I said. “It was this weird feeling... maybe it was the thought trying to come through...”
Please, let that be it.
“Perhaps,” Master Dogan said. “Try again.”
We did, over and over again, and there was no itch—or anything else for that matter—for the rest of the session.
