Chasing Before (19 page)

“Didn’t feel a thing,” Autumn whispers, smiling. Her arms are folded across her chest, and she looks alert, as if she’s on duty.

“Right, of course not. Mind over matter.” Annoyed, I glance around the tent and see Cash off to one side, also standing at attention.

Neil finishes his song to wild applause. He laughs and
elbows Libby. “Sing this next one with me.”

Even though few know the words to the next song Neil launches into, I recognize it from my church days. It’s one of those repetitive ones that’s easy to learn, and soon enough the sides of the tent ripple with the voices contained within.

Peace washes over me, an assurance that everything will be okay, that there is no reason to panic. Autumn sways behind me. She reaches out for my hand and then spins me in place until we’re dancing.

Neil plays several more songs, and my cheek muscles hurt from smiling. The faces of my fellow students glow with something powerful that’s been all too scarce lately: hope.

Libby stills Neil’s guitar playing by patting his arm. She thanks the audience and asks them to return to the dorms. They comply, even those in the cots, and with Autumn and Cash directing traffic, the crowd eventually thins. Up front Neil slaps Keegan on the back and turns the bill of his baseball cap from side to front. Keegan gives him a high five and follows the others out. Neil and Libby confer in hushed tones and animated hand gestures. I trace figure eights in the air while I wait.

“You could’ve gone up there and joined him,” Autumn says, startling me. Now that she’s finished leading everyone out of the tent, her arms hang loosely at her sides.

I giggle. “Me? No. The last time I sang in front of anyone was our performance of Crocodile on Your Rock.”

“Croc, croc, croc, stay up on your rock,” she warbles.

“That’s it!” I pull up a snippet of the memory of the silly musical we wrote and then performed at our neighborhood picnic back when we were about ten or eleven. I bust out with the second line. “Croc, croc, croc, don’t bite and don’t shock.”

Autumn mock grimaces. “Wow, we were terrible, weren’t we?”

“Oh, everyone loved it, though. They even let us go first in line for the hot dogs, remember? And your mom told me I had tons of talent.”

“I remember.” A shadow passes over her face.

Libby approaches, done with her private chat with Neil. “Great concert.” She runs her hands down the tight skirt of her suit. “Neil has a real knack for bringing calm to a tense situation.”

“After the bomb went off,” Autumn explains, “people panicked and raced for the bridges to cross over into Areas One and Three.”

My heart bangs in my chest, bursting through my happy haze. I frown. It makes sense that people would want to flee. All the incidents have been isolated to Area Two so far. “Why not let them go?” I ask. “If they’d be safer?”

“Right?” Autumn shakes her head. “But Furukama-Sensei says if we don’t retain as much normalcy as possible, we’re letting the Morati win. The rest of the career council agrees. The security team blocked off the bridges and sent people here.”

“And I used Neil’s music as a conduit to distribute mood
stabilizer,” Libby says. So that’s the reason she was touching him the whole time. She had to in order to amplify her healer skills to the crowd. It’s pretty genius, actually. “Instead of being on the edge of rebellion, they’re now happily returning to their rooms.”

Libby smiles at us, waves at Neil, and then she’s off in a cascade of red curls and a puff of pressed linen. Autumn follows her out. “I’ll come by later,” she calls to me.

Now that the tent is empty except for me, Neil, and two lone metal folding chairs, the flaps flutter noticeably in the wind. Neil sets his guitar case on his knees and lovingly tucks his instrument into it. He closes the case and pats the chair next to him, inviting me to sit.

“You know why I always went to church?” Neil asks.

“Because your parents went. Because your friends went,” I say, even though this more accurately describes the reason I went. Neil’s a true believer.

“Well, yes, that’s part of it.” Neil smiles ruefully. “But the reason I loved going was the music. Everyone singing and worshipping together, it made me believe I was a part of something bigger, that I was communicating with a higher being. I was given a talent that I could use to minister to others. And when I was sad or angry, the first thing I did was pick up my guitar. If I learned anything on Earth, it’s that music has the power to heal. Did you see how those people looked tonight? When I first got here, after the bombing, they were inconsolable.”

“I bet.” Neil was always in his element singing in front
of a large group, so it’s no surprise, really, to find him so engaged in it in Level Three. But I hadn’t expected him to become some sort of revival tent leader.

“I think this is my calling. This is what I’m supposed to do. Like maybe even permanently.”

I don’t like Neil using the word “permanent,” especially when I’m not in the sentence. “But what about our plan to join the muses together?” I ask. What about me? Did he really mean what he said in our fight right before this bombing? That he doesn’t care anymore?

“This might fit me even better. In any case, the muse program is on hold indefinitely until they can replenish the library. Miss Claypool already announced a muse collection drive, where anyone can go in and donate a memory.”

I notice he uses the word “me,” not “us.” And he’s glowing, excited about this. I can’t deny that his music was effective. My mood was certainly lifted, at least until he hinted at abandoning me. “You are exceptionally good. I’ve always said so. Wouldn’t it be great to use your talent as a muse to inspire those still living? It could be your legacy.”

“I’m needed more here, in Level Three.” He snaps the closures of the guitar case and stands up. “You could accompany me on piano.”

He’s throwing me a bone. “And be a healer, too?” There’s no way I could switch to healing right now. I’m on a mission to uncover the Morati posing as seraphim guard trainees.

“Sure. Why not? We’d probably start small. Maybe in the common room in the dorm. If the demand grows, we
can move to a larger venue, like Assembly Hill.”

“Seems like you have a pretty big following already.”

“Nah.” Neil blushes and ducks his head slightly, his usual way of receiving compliments. “It’s not me they stayed for. It was the music.”

I give him a playful shove. “Only because you were the one playing it.”

He smiles, but as we walk back to the dorms together, he doesn’t say a word. Once we get to our rooms, Neil gives me a quick good-night peck on the side of my mouth, says good-bye, and closes his door firmly behind him. I stand in the hallway, drained after all this drama. I have no idea where I stand with him.

I press my ear against the wood of the door, straining to hear the muffled strumming of his guitar. He starts off with an upbeat song, but stops after a few measures and segues into a ballad. And not just any ballad but the one he played for me that first day I went to his house. The one that dredged up all my pain and brought it so close to the surface, I thought I might burst with it. He played it for me to show me that he understood what I was going through. That he had moments in his life he longed to forget too. And that he would be there for me, anytime I wanted to talk.

His closed door is a broken promise. If I can’t go to him to talk, who can I go to? Not Julian. I almost crossed a line with him today, and what if I can’t help myself next time? My relationship with Neil is fragile enough as it is. I could
talk to Autumn. I never would have believed it five days ago, but I’ve gotten my best friend back. She’s my one comfort right now.

I wrench myself away from the sound of loneliness and shuffle over to my room. Autumn walks down the hallway toward me. “You look like you could use a friend,” she says.

My eyes well up with tears. It’s like she instinctively knew I needed her. I invite her in.

She heads straight for my collage wall. “I like what you’ve done with the place. No pictures of Julian?” she teases.

Her delivery is light, but I can’t help thinking that if she’s bringing him up, she must still hold at least a shadow of a grudge. Maybe it
is
time we hashed out my betrayal and completely cleared the air. “About that . . .”

Autumn holds her hand up. “I know what you’re going to say. I’m not angry with either of you for what you did. All of that is so far removed from me, it’s almost like it never happened.”

She could be a role model for detachment. “So you forgive us?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She gives me a wistful smile that makes me nostalgic for the early days of our friendship, when she was the first person I thought of when I got up and the only one I wanted to whisper my secrets to. Impulsively I hug her, tracing a crude outline of a dolphin between her shoulder blades. It used to be what we’d do every time we met, to make sure the other was still herself,
and not a clone or possessed by an alien. She hugs me back, laughing. “It’s so amazing, isn’t it? How buildings can crash down around you but you feel like nothing can touch you because you’re in the company of a friend?” she asks.

With Julian incapacitated and Neil mad at me, my reserves of hope are running dangerously low. But Autumn gives me a vital boost. I regret the way our relationship soured in those last months before Autumn’s murder. I’d once thought her moodiness charming. I’d told myself it gave her depth, made her interesting. But the unrelenting nightmares of my mugging in Nairobi had left me sleep deprived and brittle, increasingly unable to keep myself together. I took it out on her, and became hostile when she pouted. I gave up on trying to appease her. That’s the way it is sometimes with the people you love the most. You pile abuse on them because they’re the only ones who will take it from you. Until they don’t anymore, and you find yourself alone.

“I want to return something of yours.” Autumn extends her palm, revealing a dolphin charm. Autumn gave me two dolphin charms as a symbol for our friendship, but after she caught Julian and me kissing in the back of the taxi, she ripped one away from my bracelet, telling me I didn’t deserve it. I never imagined I could ever earn it back.

“Are you sure?”

She smiles. “Just a little something for passing the entrance exam today. I’m proud of you.”

“And I am in awe of you.” I take the charm and hug her tightly.

“Pedicures?” she asks. Whenever we had bad days, Autumn would always bring over her nail polish, and we’d cheer ourselves up with the bright, glittery colors. No amount of polish can fix all my current troubles, but maybe being with Autumn can take my mind off them for a while.

“Definitely,” I say. We spend the next several hours chatting. She comments on many of the photos, and we reminisce about our travels and afternoons after school together. By the time she gets up to leave, my heart is full of joy.

I walk her to the stairwell, where we bump into Nate. They glower at each other.

“See you in training tomorrow,” Autumn says to me before rushing down the stairs.

Nate is the last person I want to deal with right now. He reaches out to tap me on the nose in that annoying way of his, but I dodge his finger. He plucks at the air and produces a single yellow rose, which he holds out to me with a flourish. “I brought you this.”

I make no move to take it from him. “Why are you here?”

He snaps the stem of the rose between his thumb and forefinger and lets it drop to the floor, all pretense of friendliness gone.

“I heard that you impressed Furukama at your seraphim guard screening today.”

“How would you hear that as a demon hunter? I didn’t think you all got along with us.” The “us” is stretching it, since I’ve been to only one session so far, but Nate’s left eye
twitches ever so slightly. I’ve rattled him. I walk back to my room, and he follows.

“You have a good chance of getting one of the open ascension spots this rotation.”

“I doubt that.” I’m suddenly feeling very worn out, and I don’t want to invite him in. I crouch down and sit on the floor, slumping against the wall outside my door. “Nearly all the trainees have more experience than I do. Like Autumn. She’s been here forever.”

Nate sits on the floor too, across the hall, next to Neil’s door. He stretches his left leg out completely but rests his right arm on his bended right knee. “Don’t you think it’s odd that Autumn has stayed in Level Three? She’s content to serve as Furukama’s assistant while term after term others ascend to serve in the guard.”

“Maybe it’s because she enjoys her position.” Or maybe it’s because no one knows what the seraphim guard actually do in Level Four, and she worries that she would like it.

“Maybe.” Nate regards me with a calculating expression. “I think it’s suspicious. She has what it takes to move on, and yet she stays. It’s almost like . . . she’s been waiting for someone.” Is he implying that the someone she’s been waiting for is me? Did Autumn sacrifice her place in the guard in order to have the chance to repair our friendship?

“Who? Me?”

Nate barks out a laugh and then mumbles under his breath, “And people tell me I’m self-centered.”

I let his insult roll right on by. “Whatever.”

“Think about what’s been going on lately . . . the bombings . . .” Nate looks pleased when my eyebrows jump about two inches.

“Wait. . . . You think Autumn’s involved in all this?” Autumn’s no criminal mastermind, and since she skipped right over Level Two because she was murdered, there’s no way she could have met or had any contact with any of the Morati, unless they recruited her in the past four months. “That’s impossible.”

Nate shrugs. “There’s more to Autumn than your experience with her. I wouldn’t underestimate her if I were you.”

It seems to me that Nate’s trying his best to cast suspicion elsewhere. That makes me even warier of him than I already was. “She’s helped me practice so I can view the memories others are trying to hide. Maybe you’re worried that I’ll soon be able to get whatever I want out of you without having to make shady deals.” Okay, so maybe we’ve practiced only once, but Nate doesn’t need to know that.