Oppression (6 page)

“Well coming out of hiding didn’t go so well,” William continued, talking through my loss for words. “Clearly we’re living in secret again, but that’s where the myths came from. People embellished the truth. Our ancestors led humans to believe they were gods because of their abilities, and it got out of hand. There was a war between our race and the humans, and we didn’t necessarily lose, but we retreated back into hiding. Now, here we are.”

His entire story sounded like something completely made up, but I didn’t get the feeling he was lying to me. I didn’t know what to think. Then there was Kara.
You really don’t know anything do you?
Her words had been confusing at the time, but suddenly they made sense. Maybe William was telling the truth.

“What about my father?” I asked, digging deeper.

“Your father had the power of Hephaestus. He could manipulate materials, metal, stone, wood, that kind of thing.”

“How do you know so much about me and my family?” I asked, realizing he knew more about my parents than I did.

“My dad,” William answered. “He was friends with your parents.”

I looked down at the picture of them with so many others.

“How many are there?” I asked, handing him back the photo.

He tucked it into his back pocket and leaned back against the wall. “Over 300 families here in San Francisco, but there are many others elsewhere. There are five mainstream communities in the U.S.—New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, Chicago, and here. Of course there are smaller ones other places, and you can always live on your own if you want, like you did. Living alone is hard, though. There’s no support, no safety net. Not many of us choose that.”

“I didn’t
choose
that,” I corrected, “my parents did.”

I didn’t know why I felt so suddenly defensive and bitter about their choice, probably because I didn’t understand it. Why would they pull me out of this life and hide me away like I didn’t exist? I wished I knew the reason. I wished they had told me what I was, that I didn’t have to dig around for answers like a dog sniffing out game, searching for the broken buried pieces of my life.

“Do you know what made us the way we are? What gave us abilities?” I asked, feeling the place on my leg where the cut should be.

“What made any of us? Evolution, God, the big bang? We’re just as lost as everyone else on that one.”

“But there’s got to be some theology around it, right? I can’t imagine the myths are true. Are they?”

“Parts of them are, but nobody really knows where the abilities came from. There are theories. Some say our powers are God-given, and associate the 500-year lifespan with the Bible because people lived hundreds of years back then. Others reject that idea because there really isn’t any proof of the connection. We still debate over it, but no one really believes our ancestors were gods. They were just like us.”

“What do you believe?”

“I try not to dwell on things I can’t be sure of, and just try to live in the moment.”

“You aren’t even the least bit interested in where you came from, to know why we’re different?”

“Who says we’re different? To me, being a Descendant is completely normal. They’re the ones who are different.”

I never really thought of that. I’d always thought of myself as the only one, the outcast. Now that there were more, lots more, maybe it no longer made sense to see it that way.

“So what’s your ability?”

He thought about it, apparently unsure he should tell me.

“Persuasion.”

I smiled to myself remembering the intense urge I had to kiss him at the end of our date. “Well, I guess the way you acted last night makes more sense now.”

He smiled back, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I got a little carried away.”

“And Kara?”

“Occupational hazard,” he answered with a shrug. “
She
kissed
me
. I mean, she was in a dominating position. I didn’t see it coming. I couldn’t have prevented it.”

He realized when he looked at me that wasn’t what I meant.

“Relax,” I said. “So you kissed. Why do I care?” I looked away. If he couldn’t see my eyes, maybe he wouldn’t see the lie in them. “So, what’s her ability?”

He lost himself in thought for a moment, confused by my reaction.

“She reads minds,” he finally answered. “She’s also a highly trained super killing machine, but that’s not really an ability, more of a skill she’s picked up over the years.”

“So what you’re saying is my jewelry box might not of have been very effective,” I said, setting my useless weapon down in front of me.

“That was the best you could do, huh?” William asked. “Your plan was to kill her with your little metal box?”

“Yep,” I answered, unconcerned with what had already passed. I had questions. “Why does she want to kill me?”

“She doesn’t want to kill you,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s complicated. She’s not on our side.”

“So, what does she want from me?”

“I think deep down she wants the prophecy to be true. She wants freedom.”

“What’s the prophecy?”

He looked at me with empathy. “You should get some sleep,” he said in place of an answer.

I didn’t accept it. “You have to tell me. You said people have been waiting for me, to change things.”

“They have.”

“Well, I want to know.”

“Of course you do, but I can’t tell you everything all at once.” He stood up, stretching his arms above his head before turning to face me. “There is a lot you wouldn’t understand.”

He took both of my hands, subtle heat building in his fingertips, and lifted me onto my feet.

“And what is with the hot hands?”

“Tomorrow.”

He walked me to my room and watched me pull the covers up around me.

“What
were
you doing here?” I asked, hoping to get even the smallest answer out of him.

“I was spending the night on the fire escape, waiting for Kara.” He shook his head angry at the thought of her. “I knew she’d come.”

“Don’t you need to sleep?”

“I’ll doze off on your little blanket couch. If that’s okay,” he answered.

I nodded.

“It just makes me feel better if I’m close by.”

“Me too.”

6.

“WAKE UP, sleep-o-holic,” William said with a nudge. “We have class.”

“Huh?” my voice grumbled with sleep.

William laughed, clearly amused by my morning grog. “Hey.” I must have dozed off again. “Wake up.”

I sat upright in bed, realizing if William was here, it must all be true. I hadn’t dreamed it.

“Class?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“Yeah. Get dressed. I’m taking you to The Institute.”

“What’s The Institute?”

“It’s where I go to school.”

As the details from last night began to come back to me, a sense of anticipation had me wide awake. “Are there others there?”

“Descendants? Yeah, that’s the idea.”

I had no clue what class or The Institute would be like, but I wanted to know more. As I pulled on some Levi’s and a blue top, I realized that although not everything was clear to me, the one thing that mattered had never been so closely within grasp. If there were others, love was a possibility, and although my insecurities tried to convince me otherwise, the truth was for once in my favor. I smiled at myself in the bathroom mirror, unable to hold back my happiness.

The way to The Institute was nothing like I expected. There was no elaborate campus or secret road leading to some mysteriously secluded location. In fact, it was quite the opposite. William drove us straight into the heart of downtown San Francisco. I should have known that the bustling city so full of people would be the best place to hide an organization of this kind. A sideways grin settled into his cheek as he watched my curious eyes try and understand where this place could possibly be.

“What?” I finally asked him, a little embarrassed by his excessive interest in me.

“Nothing, you’re just . . . fun to watch.”

The corners of my mouth gave away the hint of a smile. “Why?”

“It’s like you’re trying to find Mount Olympus out the window or something. It’s cute.”

“Well, I don’t know,” I said, laughing at myself. “I have no idea what to expect.”

“What are you imagining?” His eyes stayed forward on the road as he waited for my answer.

“Honestly? I can’t stop picturing people walking around wearing togas and olive branch headbands.” I smiled, knowing the thought was completely ridiculous, but it was what my mind had conjured up.

He burst into a belly laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“You asked.”

“You’re way off,” he said, still chuckling to himself. “Not even close.”

As we pulled into the drive of a gated underground parking structure, William stopped to enter his keycard. The Institute was nothing but an indistinct office building. Nothing drew attention to it. There were no numbers, no signs, nothing suspicious about it whatsoever, tall enough to blend in but not tall enough to stand out. The gray outer walls were neither new nor old, and the windows that sat above the bright clear ones of the first floor were tinted dark as if that part of the building was asleep. Never in a million years would I have guessed it was a center for people with powers.

We parked close to the elevator and took it to the first floor, but as the doors opened, I was suddenly confused. I had expected something unusual, but what I saw was certainly no school of any sort, and there was nothing strange about the place.

The inside of the building was nothing like the bland outside. The floors were a brilliant white marble that reflected sound up from the ground like a drum, as sharp heels click-clacked over the surface. Directly above the pristine floor, the ceiling was just as remarkable, decorated with elaborate scenes from famous Greek myths. Whether on their own or as part of a collaborative image, nearly every figure was depicted. The paintings covered the entire surface with explosive color and technique that reminded me of the Sistine Chapel. Dramatic crystal chandeliers hung in all four corners of the room surrounding a more grandiose one that dipped low and gleamed like the sun. A gold border of crown molding connected the extravagant ceiling to the sleek walls.

“What is this place?” I whispered. It was noisy enough to talk aloud and keep my words quiet, but I felt intimidated by the purely business setting of the lobby. It was busy with people. Men in suits and ties and women in skirts and heels hurried in crisscross patterns across the floor—a multilane intersection of people taking care of daily business.

“It’s San Francisco Headquarters for Descendant Affairs,” he said at normal volume.

“I thought this was The Institute.”

“That’s on the top floor, but we have to get you registered first.”

My ears perked up. “Registered for what?” Betsy and I had spent years making sure we stayed anonymous. Registering for something wasn’t okay in my mind.

“For classes.”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.” People rushed past us, irritated that we were standing in their way.

“Trust me. I wasn’t either,” he empathized, “but my dad said it was necessary. These are your people, Elyse. It’s time for you to be a part of this.”

It didn’t take much to convince me. Things were different, these
were
my people, and I didn’t have to worry about hiding who I was or being exposed. We were all in the same boat.

“All right,” I said with an eager smile.

We walked toward the front desk dodging the streams of oncoming people and took our place in line with the rest of the casually dressed citizens.

“Hello, miss, how can I help you?” the young secretary asked the old woman at the front of the line. Her hair was a natural red, tied back in a bun that reminded me of the 1930s. Her features, gentle and pink, reacted calmly to the aggressive tone of the woman she was helping.

“I filed for an extension on my community residence expiration a week ago.” The old lady’s nasally voice was upset and worried. “It expires today and I haven’t heard back.”

“All right, ma’am. If you go through that door on the right you can talk to someone in Processing.”

“So I waited in this line for nothing?” the woman spat.

“I’ll let them know you’re on your way,” the receptionist said, unfazed. As the woman stomped away, I watched her rickety body wobble with fury. I realized that she must be about 400 years old. I thought a bit about what that woman had been through. That many years of life was bound to make someone a little jaded.

“How can I help you, sir?” Her voice was closer now as we moved through the line.

“Yes. I got my notification for identification renewal. I’m just checking in,” said the man in front of us. He looked around forty, which would make him 200 years old or so. His hair was salt and pepper black, and everything about him seemed so normal. That’s when I noticed that everyone here was a little too normal. Where were all the crazy powers people were supposed to have? It was all just too boring for a community of mythological Descendants.

“Why isn’t anyone using any powers?” I asked William.

“Oh, they are forbidden on this floor. Just a precaution.”

“What about the other floors, why not take precaution there?”

“Well you need an ID card to access the elevators, so it’s pretty safe.”

Suddenly there was nobody in front of us, and we were next.

“Hi,” I blurted out, but beyond that I wasn’t sure what registration entailed so I let William continue.

“We’re here to get her registered. She’s new to the community,” he explained.

“Name?” I noticed she asked him and not me.

“Elyse Adler,” I made a point to answer.

As she typed my name in, I half expected the computer to reject the entry, to shoot off bells and whistles declaring me an imposter. Instead she responded with: “Here we go . . . It looks like most of the information has already been entered. Let me just print out her ID card,” she talked to me through William of course. I understood her desire to address him—it was the perfect excuse to admire his jaw-dropping good looks—but I still resented it.

“Really?” I asked confused. “I don’t remember filling anything out. How can you be sure that is my file?”

She raised her eyebrows at my apparently ridiculous question.

“The picture,” she said, turning her screen to show me my profile. Sure enough my most recent driver’s license photo stared back at me from her computer monitor.

“We’d also like to enroll her in school,” William added.

“Certainly,” she fluttered.

I rolled my eyes, which made him laugh a little under his breath. He was polite, but not flirtatious as he wrapped up the transaction.

“Does that ever get old?” I asked, a little peeved as we walked to the internal elevator.

“What?” he asked obviously playing dumb.

“Oh come on. Having women drool over you like that.”

He pretended to think about it for a second. “Nope, never,” he joked. “Why, are you jealous?”

It only took a minute before I decided. “Maybe,” I said.

He laughed, clearly thinking I was absurd. “You are.”

He handed me my new ID, no more complex than a simple library card, and grabbed my free hand as we reached the elevators. Although my attention was strongly aware of the warm skin of William’s palm, I watched as each person scanned their card upon entering and did the same. I wondered briefly what would happen if you entered without a card, but let the thought drift away as William gave me an excited look. We rode the lift to the top floor as instructed, stopping every few floors to let out small groups of well-dressed people.

When we finally reached the very last floor, I didn’t know what to expect, and as the doors opened up I stood dumbfounded at the unworldly display of activity. We were let off in the middle of the passing hall, and students were making their way to and from class. None of them seemed to notice our arrival. They simply kept on as they would normally, or as was normal for them. But they were no ordinary group of kids. There were plenty of students who, like us, had no outwardly visible ability and walked to class just as we were, but interspersed between the mobs, there were those who stood out amongst the crowd. The closest passerby, a boy who was seemingly feeble and small, carried a girl on each shoulder like it was nothing.

“Show off,” William teased him.

“You’re just jealous,” the boy joked back.

A blurred image of a girl whipped past us at a speed that was incomprehensible, and like a flash of light she was gone. The boy walking next to me grew two feet in less than a second, apparently looking for a friend down the hall, before shrinking back to his regular size. A few people ahead of us, I could see a girl surrounded by what seemed to be a force field that kept people at a distance.

Adding to the whole effect was the stream of airborne objects that ran just above the teeming traffic of the hallway, like a moving river of debris. Desk chairs, scattered paper, books, computer parts, backpacks, a cell phone, were all floating above our heads with a number of other items on their way somewhere.

“How is this happening?” I asked, pointing above my head.

“Mr. Gransky.” William smiled at the objects above us. “He is the janitor here. Makes it easier to keep an entire building cleaned and organized when you can move things with your mind. He does favors for people too, interdepartmental mail and things. He’s always moving random stuff around.”

“Quite a multi-tasker,” I added with amazement as the items continued to soar above us.