Gateway (The Gateway Trilogy, Book 1) (16 page)

The week passed in a blur of classes, meals, and private sessions with Master Dogan. I was living an accelerated reality where there was something new to learn every day. Every hour, at times. Mistress Bowen's class was a wealth of information. Her lecture on Reds, and those temporarily overtaken by the demons, explained much about Callie's attack on me, including her strength. Crystle might have thought the stories of Reds were exaggerated, but I knew better. At the end of that class, Callie had again apologized. I wished I could tell her that she was never meant to kill me, no matter what the voices had told her. It had been a ruse, just as everything that led to my escape to the Institute had been.

I found myself thinking of the string pulling the Demon had done and how It must hope that I could be brought over to Its side. I was determined not to let that happen. With increased exposure to actual Keepers, it became clear they were able to overcome the voices that intruded upon them, and I was sure I could do the same. My desire fueled my studies, and for once in my academic career, I paid attention in every class.

My teachers marveled at my progress, but it was Master Dogan's praise that meant the most. For the first time I looked forward to sessions with a psychologist. I found myself opening up and telling the truth about what I was thinking and feeling. In return he answered me honestly, which was also a first. When I asked him if being part Daemon might account for my mother being bi-polar, he hedged, saying that she didn't display the signs, including not recognizing the symbol when she'd seen it either on my skin or on my wall. He thought she was just garden-variety mentally ill. I was saddened by that, having been holding out hope that the Institute might cure her as well. He then asked me about my father but, as usual, that discussion went nowhere.

I often thought of Taren, wondering how he was, what mental hospital he was in. It was hard to fathom the sacrifice it took to spend so much time in and out of institutions, just on the hope of finding another would-be Keeper. But when I noticed my thoughts drifting in his direction I brought myself back, bent on not losing focus. By the end of each day I was spent; my normal nighttime brooding giving way to dreamless sleep.

***

The following week my class in linking became more than just theory. Mr. Conrad brought us outside to one of the boundaries that marked the consecrated ground. My stomach twisted at the thought of stepping beyond the threshold. It had been less than two weeks since I'd gone fleeing back to safety when I'd heard the Demon inside my head. Mr. Conrad stepped past the marker, indicating that we stay put.

“You will each step past the boundary one at a time and stay for as long as you are able, up to one minute. There is no shame in crossing back to the other side before the minute is up. This is not a contest. The purpose is to simply expose you to the forces that lay beyond the marker. It takes time to master holding your center, and we will do it over and over for the next few weeks in preparation to form links.”

His explanation did little to calm my nerves. I imagined myself leaping back over the line after half a second. So much for my stellar progress. 

“The first step before you cross is to relax,” Mr. Conrad said. “Use your meditation training to become still and focused. Indicate you are ready by raising your hand and I will call you forth.”

“I hate this part,” Crystle muttered. “I think my record is forty-five seconds.”

“What happens to you?” I whispered back.

“The voices, the darkness. An all around symphony of badness. I can't handle it and bail. That's why I'm still in first year.”

I sympathized; how upsetting it would be to never progress to the point of freedom.

The others settled down, and Crystle and I followed suit. I still wasn't able to meditate with my eyes closed—the concept of entering light was foreign to me—so I stared at a leaf on the ground. It was mottled with dark spots, and I chose one to focus my awareness on.

I was getting better at approaching slowly and I felt myself inching inward. My stomach unclenched. I was aware of my fear, but it was muted. I took a few more breaths and raised my hand. Another student was across the boundary, but before his minute was up, he crossed back, dripping with sweat.

“Ember, you're next,” Mr. Conrad called, his voice drifting down a well to reach me.

I took a hesitant step forward and then another. One more and I would be across. I forced myself to take the step, coming face to face with Mr. Conrad.

“Just keep breathing, stay focused,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

I gave a slight nod, still holding his gaze. Queasiness seeped through my wall of concentration. My vision dimmed, but I held fast.

You're learning, Ember.

I blinked. Mr. Conrad noticed and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Steady, you're doing fine,” he said.

A bead of sweat trickled past my brow and down my cheek. I was on the verge of vomiting and swallowed hard. I can do this. I can—

Of course you can. That's why I brought you here.

I dove back into the sanctuary. I tumbled, coming to a stop on my hands and knees. My focus broken, I was hit with a tidal wave of nausea and proceeded to retch noisily. Once the contents of my stomach had been expelled I slumped back on my heels and noticed the entire class watching me. I flushed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Crystle rushed to my side.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

I nodded weakly.

“Come on, then, let's get you cleaned up,” she said, and helped me to my feet.

My legs felt like that of a new doe, ready to buckle at any second. Mr. Conrad gave me a concerned look, but allowed Crystle to lead me away.

Once out of earshot, she grinned and said, “And I thought I was bad at that…”

***

An hour later, I was physically recovered but still shaken as I sat talking with Mater Dogan.

“What do you think It meant?” I asked when I'd relayed the story. “What does it want me to do?”

Master Dogan was seated on his usual cushion, gazing at me across the table. “I suspect it wants to use you to open the Gateway.”

I bit my lip to keep from telling him I already knew the Gate had been breached, and I hadn't been necessary to do it.

“But I'm here learning to fight it,” I said instead, “and am only exposed to It when I choose to be.” Or when I wander off of paths in the woods.

“True, and you are doing remarkably well. You must not look at today as a failure in any way. This demon you hear is more powerful, more cunning, and much higher functioning than the lesser demons that invade the thoughts of other Keepers. It will require greater vigilance on your part to block it out, but if your current progress is any indication, I have faith you will succeed.”

His words were a soothing balm to my wounded ego. I drank them in as I did the jasmine tea he served me.

From then on, each time I crossed the boundary both the nausea and the Voice became more and more distant and my time got longer. By the following week, I was able to stay still for the full minute before Mr. Conrad instructed me to cross back over, which I did, stepping calmly. That night at dinner, Crystle asked if I'd be willing to give her pointers, and I happily obliged.

Later, as I was gathering my things for my nightly shower, movement from outside caught my eye.

Taren.

I could tell by the posture, the set of his shoulders. Taren was back? Was he coming to see me? My pulse quickened. But instead of entering the dormitory he kept walking, past all of the buildings and toward the path that led into the woods. I didn't stop to think about it. I threw on a jacket and raced downstairs. Curfew wasn't for another half-hour, I could at least say hello. The nagging voice that told me if he'd wanted to see me, he would have, was shoved into the background.

The sky was streaked with pink and orange, the L.A. air pollution putting on a spectacular sunset. I hastened down the path that Taren had taken. In the two weeks since I had last seen him I hadn't allowed myself to indulge in longing, but seeing him again brought it all back. His expressive eyes, the strong angles of his face.

I reached the tree line and quickened my pace even more. With the leaves filtering out the last of the sunlight, I couldn't make out more than a few yards in front of me. My feet were still on the path, but an eerie feeling settled over me.

“Taren?” My voice drifted into the darkness. I took a few more steps and called again, louder this time. “Taren, where are you?”

I heard his footsteps first; a moment later he came into view.

“What are you doing out here?” he said.

I hadn't thought about what I'd say when I actually caught up with him. “Oh, well, I saw that you were back…”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn't be walking in the woods,” he said, his mouth set in that firm line I'd come to know meant he didn't want to talk.

Was it me? Or had something gone wrong on his mission?

“Is everything OK?” I asked. “You seem… different.”

“I'm fine,” he said in a way that let me know that he was anything but.

“If you need to talk—”

“Actually, I just need to be left alone,” he said.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling very small.

It wasn't that I couldn't understand the need to be alone, but why wasn't he as happy to see me as I was to see him?

“Did I… did I do something wrong?” I asked.

Taren looked me square in the eye and said, “Not everything is about you.”

“I-I know that,” I said, “I just thought…”

My pride wouldn't let me finish. I was grateful the waning light hid the embarrassment rising on my cheeks.

“Look, Ember, you're a cool girl. But I think you might have gotten the wrong idea. Once I realized what you were, it became my job to get you here safe. And you are safe, as long as you stay where you're supposed to. So, that's the end of it. You're not my responsibility anymore.”

Taren's words hit harder than if he'd struck me. I stared at the ground, wishing it would swallow me whole. Had I really misread every signal?

“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice softening a fraction, “I just think it would be best if you made other friends.”

“So… we're not even friends, then?” I had thought he was saying he didn't like me in a romantic way, but he was really saying he didn't like me at all.

“I can't be who you need me to be,” he said quietly.

“But I—”

“I have to go,” Taren said.

He turned away from me and paused, his shoulders hunched. He took a deliberate step off the path, past the boundary—then continued on.

I stared after him, frozen. My mortification quickly thawed to anger and I strode after him. He didn't know how far I'd come in the two weeks he'd been gone. At the sounds of my footsteps he whirled around.

“What are you doing? Get back on the path. Do you have any idea what could happen if—”

I stopped hearing him when my chest exploded.

I looked down, shocked to see my body still in one piece. The pain was unbearable, as though I were tied to horses running in different directions. A deep fissure was opening and—

“The Gateway.” My words were a strangled cry.

Taren loomed over me, fear etching his beautiful face. I'd fallen and was looking up at the darkened canopy of trees. He was trying to help me up, but my muscles refused to cooperate, locked in spasm. 

An alarm sounded, then another. When I couldn't stand, Taren drug me back to safety. The pain receded, though my muscles still twitched in aftershocks. He looked down the path then back at me.

“Go,” I told him through clenched teeth, “they're going to need you.”

He gave me one last pained look and fled, tearing down the path and out of sight.

I knew what I had to do, and braced myself. It was a struggle getting my body to cooperate, but I pulled myself back across the border, pain slamming into me the instant I succeeded. I wrapped my arms around myself and curled into a fetal position, willing my body and my psyche to stay in one piece.

Don't fight it, Ember, this is meant to—

NO! I wouldn't listen. I focused on the hole in my chest. It wasn't physically real, but I knew the hole opening in the Gateway was. I squeezed my eyes shut so hard that spots danced behind them. I picked one and dove in. I was still on fire. I was still being ripped to shreds. But it was just far enough away that I could focus on pulling the pieces back together.

I heard distant screams and knew that demons were streaming through, maybe even attacking the dormitory. I thought of Callie, of Crystle and Bridget. And I thought of Taren, having reached the battle by now, fighting for not just his life, but for all of us. I was writhing back and forth on the ground, hugging my knees into my chest.

Back together, be whole, back together…