Gateway (The Gateway Trilogy, Book 1) (17 page)

I repeated it over and over, every second an eternity. I imagined the crack that ran the length of my torso being knit back together, each tug of the thread bringing it closer. The minutes stretched and I knew that soon it would be too late. It would win, and I would die. We all would, in the horrible ways I'd learned about in Mistress Bowen's class. I had to be stronger, had to work faster.

I shut out everything: the agony, the sounds of battle, my fear. There was only me and the Gateway. It pulsated with life and I could feel its desire to be whole. The sense that it was working with me emboldened me, and I pushed harder, the hole closing more quickly.

And then it was done. I lay on my side, panting, knowing there was nothing left to do. The Gateway wasn't fully formed, I could tell by the feeling of wrongness in my gut, but it was closed. For now.

Eventually, I struggled to my hands and knees and crawled back toward the path. The Voice of the Demon was a low buzz, my head splitting with the effort it took to silence it. I collapsed in a heap on the dirt path, my mind finally quiet but the pain all too real. Though I tried, I couldn't stand, my legs buckling beneath my weight. I crawled, inches at a time, never able to see more than a few feet in front of me. At last I reached the end and saw a group of Guardians, eyes wild as they scanned the grounds. The last scrap of strength left me and everything went black.

I woke with a start, the smell of ammonia deep in my nostrils. My head jerked to the side, sending an avalanche of pain throughout my skull.

“She's awake,” said the woman looming over me, the small vial of smelling salts going back in her pocket. “No need for a Retrieval on this one.”

I shut my eyes against the harshness of the fluorescent lighting. When I opened them again, smelling salt woman was gone and Annys stood over me. Her clothing stained with blood, her hair uncharacteristically wild, but her expression giving away nothing.

“Where does it hurt?” she said.

“All over…” I said, “but my head, mostly.”

“Any blurred vision?” She shined a small flashlight in each pupil.

“No.”

She palpated my abdomen. “Any pain when I do this?”

Before I could tell her no, she bent down, her face inches from mine.

“Taren told me you felt it opening,” she said, probing my scalp for injuries. “He sent a group of Guardians looking for you. He'd have gone himself if I hadn't insisted he get stitched up.”

“Stitched up? Is he—”

“Just listen. No one can know about this. When you are asked, you must say that you were out walking when you heard the alarm. You ran back but were confronted by a demon that hit you—hard. The next thing you remember is waking up here. Do you understand?”

Dumbstruck, I nodded, sending another cascade of pain through me.

A woman in a nurse's uniform approached. Annys straightened and said, “She doesn't appear to have internal injuries, but you should rule out a concussion. She suffered quite a blow.”

The nurse nodded, making a note on her clipboard. “We'll get her in as soon as we can. Thank you, Annys, for helping with triage.”

“Of course,” she said, “all hands are needed.” Then she moved on to the next bed.

The infirmary was in a state of ordered frenzy. People rushed about, but seemed focused on their tasks. I heard some patients pronounced too injured to be cared for by the Institute medical staff. Those unlucky souls were rushed to the hospital. For a time I was forgotten, which in itself was comforting; I was appreciative of not needing serious care. Knowing I didn't really have a concussion, I allowed my eyes to close and tried in vain to still the pounding in my temples.

“You saved a lot of lives today.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of Taren's voice. He sat next to my cot, his shirt off and his chest crisscrossed with fresh wounds, the largest a four-inch gash along his rib cage, held together with blue stitches. A nasty welt bulged at his forehead.

“You're hurt,” I said, struggling to sit up.

“So are you,” he said, easing me back to the pillow. “I mean what I said. You saved lives. Exposing yourself like that… it was very dangerous, but very brave.”

“To be honest, I'm not sure what it is I did.” I had known when it was happening that I was connected to the Gateway, but still didn't understand how.

He looked around, careful not to be heard and said, “You closed the Gateway. Demons were streaming through, dozens got loose, lives were lost. But you… you stopped it.”

My heart sank with regret at his admission. I hadn't been quick enough. “How many died? Who was it?”

“Two Keepers: Matthew and Carissa, and four Guardians: Hunter, Jessica, Jeremy and… Tom.”

My mind registered the one name I knew. “Tom? But he was just a student…”

“He advanced last week. It was only his second shift.” Sadness darkened his face.

“I didn't know…” Tears welled in my eyes, slid down my cheeks.

He reached out, his thumb caressing them away. “Ember, when we become Guardians, we know the risks. You did what you could.”

“But it wasn't enough.” I had to be stronger, had to learn faster.

He looked into my eyes for a long moment, a mix of pride and sorrow on his face, and I knew he was back—the Taren I knew. The Taren I'd been falling for since the moment I'd met him. It was small comfort on such a terrible night, but I clung to it.

He leaned over and kissed my forehead, his lips barely brushing my skin, sending shivers down my spine. He put his lips near my ear and whispered, “Be careful.”

I reached for him, but he was already gone, striding out of the infirmary. I wasn't sure what had just happened, but it felt final.

This time, my tears weren't only for Tom.

It was well past midnight when I was released to go back to the dormitory. Though the grounds had been thoroughly searched and deemed safe, I was escorted by a Guardian. Walking hurt, but so did lying still. As the night wore on, the pounding in my head had receded to a dull thud, but my muscles had grown sorer. The spasms mixed with adrenaline had left them raw.

Once inside the dorm, the Guardian left, and I shuffled to the common room. The air crackled with tension as frightened students huddled in groups, arguing in hushed tones. Most seemed to have a theory on what had caused the breach and what to do about it. Others sat in silence, too traumatized to participate.

All eyes turned to me and Callie leapt from her seat.

“Ember!” She threw her arms around me and I couldn't help wincing. “Annys said you'd be OK, but I was so worried.”

I answered through gritted teeth. “I'm fine, just banged up.”

Callie released me and said, “She said you got attacked by… a demon.”

The last word hung in air of the now quiet room. All eyes were on me. I repeated Annys' story.

“You're so lucky you survived,” Callie said when I finished.

“Not luck, strategy,” a boy said from across the room. “The Guardians say they weren't interested in fighting, just freedom. They fled, probably in search of a hiding place and easier prey.”

I had overheard the same account while I was in the infirmary. Had the Guards been willing to let the demons flee, they surmised they would have suffered no casualties at all. The demons had only fought when engaged. None of us were foolish enough to think that would have been the end of it, though. For every demon that got loose, dozens of lives would be lost to their appetite for death and destruction. I thought of Tom and hoped he'd managed to take out his fair share before falling.

“What kind of demon was it?” asked another boy.

I hadn't prepared an answer for that. “I-I don't know. It was dark and it happened so fast.”

The boy was dogged. “Was it really tall? Or did it wriggle on the ground? Did it spit any paralyzing fluid on you?”

“Um, medium height. No wriggling, and no fluid.” My headache was getting worse with the effort it took to manufacture more lies.

Crystle stood. “Jeez, people, give her some space. She's got to be freaked.”

I smiled gratefully as she walked over. “Seriously freaked,” I said.

“Right, so let's all just leave her alone for now.” She took my hand and guided me to an empty chair.

I remembered her boyfriend and said, “What about Michael? Was he hurt?”

“Tracking as we speak,” she said, “those demons don't stand a chance.”

She was putting on a brave face but I saw the worry behind her eyes. I gave her hand a squeeze.

Bridget was seated nearby, her face drawn. “Why,” she said, “Why after all this time?”

Even knowing what I did, I couldn't answer her question. Why had it happened two months ago? Was the Gateway just too old to work properly? It had felt so weak, even while pulsating with—

“Huh?” I had missed something. Crystle was looking at me expectantly.

“I asked if you'd seen Taren before he stormed off.”

Stormed off? “I saw him a few hours ago in the infirmary. He didn't seem upset.”
That wasn't true. He had seemed upset, cryptic even, but not angry.

“That must have been before. Michael said he was fit to be tied,” Crystle said. “He was temporarily relieved of active duty.”

“What? Why?” I asked.

Crystle leaned forward. “The official reason was that he was too injured, but Michael said his hunting party had Guardians worse off than Taren. He had a screaming match with Annys and took off.”

He'd had a screaming match? With Annys?

“That doesn't make any sense…” I said.

“Nothing does anymore,” Bridget said, her eyes still unfocused, and I had to agree.

It was almost dawn when collective fear and need for camaraderie gave way to exhaustion. I stumbled up to my room and stripped off my mud-stained clothes before crawling under the covers. Classes were cancelled for the day so I turned off my alarm clock and slept the sleep of the dead.

When I woke, the sun was high and the clock read 1:12. I rolled over, using my pillow to block the light. I wanted to go back to sleep. How many times did the world need to shift on its axis before I stopped being thrown by it? Tom with the blue eyes was dead, Taren was gone, and the Institute was reeling. Which meant, I decided, that I didn't have the luxury of reeling as well.

I sat at the edge of my bed, my body protesting the movement. My muscles ached but were no longer on fire, my mind dull but no longer caught in a vise.

The warmth of the shower was a comfort. I let it cascade over me, watching as the rivulets ran down my legs and into the drain. I started to follow them, sliding down one of the small holes, but stopped myself. I couldn't afford to be distanced from this. I needed to use the pain to make me better, stronger—able to lock the Gateway for at least another few thousand years. 

I fumbled my way through getting dressed and went downstairs. The dining hall was half-empty but open, so I made myself a plate and took a seat at an empty table. I chewed methodically, each bite tasting like ashes. At the table next to me, a group of students discussed the events of the previous evening.

“I heard the tiles just slid back into place,” one of the girls said.

“That's what I heard, too, but how is that possible?” another girl asked. “The pieces just moving by themselves?”

“The Daemons were telekinetic, and the demons came from Daemons,” said the lone boy.

“Yeah, but the demons want it open, why would they close it back up again?”

They continued to argue but I tuned out. The pieces had moved. Was that what I had done? Was I telekinetic? I looked down at the napkin balled up near my plate and willed it to move. It didn't so much as flutter.

I bussed my plate and left the dorm, on my way to Master Dogan's office. I wanted to check to see if we would still have our meeting at four. His door was closed and his small “In Session” plaque hung from the knob so I took a seat on one of the meditation cushions and waited.

When the door opened, I recognized the six adults that emerged as the Elders, one of which was Annys. Upon seeing me, they looked startled in unison. All but Annys scurried away, heads bent low. Annys was back to looking regal; her hair pinned up, her clothing crisp.

“It's as well you're here, Ember. I was going to send for you,” she said. “Come in.”

I entered and saw Master Dogan, seated in his usual place, his trademark cup of tea absent. Shadows ringed his eyes and I wondered if he'd slept at all. I sat, but Annys remained standing. She paced back and forth.

“It's good to see you. I'm glad you're alright,” Master Dogan said, his smile looking weary.

“Me too,” I said. Glad you're alright, that is.”

Annys went to look out the window and I wanted to assure her I'd done as she'd instructed. “I've told everyone the story about being knocked out by a demon. No one suspects it isn't true.”