Weavers (The Frost Chronicles) (17 page)

The sound of a Watcher. I would know it anywhere. I had spent my life straining for any hint of that sound. And I was caught like a rabbit, unable to move or even think. The night was hot and my fear was a shroud around me. I waited.

Silence seeped into the world again as my heartbeat slowed. Nothing moved against the trees. I was hallucinating, exhausted, hearing things. The difficulties of the day had muddled my mind.

Turning, I went inside to my room. I put thoughts of phantom Watchers and Adam Brewer and Ann in Astralux out of my head with the force of my iron-forged will, and miraculously, I fell asleep as soon as my neck relaxed against the pillow and my eyes shut.

I SPENT THE next seven days grimly trying to smoothly navigate the bewildering world I’d been thrust into. I returned daily to work at Echlos—or the Labs, as everyone in this time called the white buildings that housed the gate—and mopped more shining floors until they gleamed like glass beneath my boots. Workers in white robes flowed around me, their faces somber and their mouths muttering to each other in whispers, but because of my olive garments and the mop in my hand that marked me as a swabber, no one looked my way. I relished the invisibility, because it made my job a thousand times easier. I kept my eyes open, absorbing everything I could from this fascinating place as I worked. I had already discovered many things on my own—like the fact that there were no horses here, at least not in this place. All the vehicles moved on their own, propelled by mysterious power much like the airships and trains of Aeralis, although these vehicles of the Ancient Age moved even more swiftly and silently than anything Aeralian. I’d also discovered that this place was completely isolated—the Compound, as they called it, was far from the cities of the south. The only people who lived in the village were workers for the Labs or the Security Center or other places connected to the Compound. We were isolated, remote, just like in my time.

Travelers came through the gate at times, although few people seemed to want to stay here, and few remained long. The only arrivals I saw were men and women in dark red uniforms trimmed with black, people with dark hair and solemn faces and unsmiling, flat mouths. They walked the halls at a brisk pace, not stopping to make way for me or anyone else. They moved with the authority that spoke of people used to being silently accommodated, and the swabbers and other workers scurried away from them like mice. Only the people in white robes did not cower at their approach, I noticed. The red and black uniformed people seemed irritated by this.

The swabbers said nothing and only whistled to each other in lilting tunes while they worked, but other workers were not so tight-lipped. The people in the white coats were the ones who built the gates, I soon learned, and the ones who maintained the one here. They were scientists, inventors, geniuses brought from all over the world to labor here in this secluded place. They worked on other inventions, too—devices for convenience and health. The people in the red uniforms were here because of the health inventions. There were murmurs about “the Sickness,” furtive glances among some of the workers and whispered words.

I wondered what was happening. What was this Sickness?

No one would speak of it. Not in enough detail that would give me any clues.

Almost every minute of the day, when I wasn’t worrying about the mission, my thoughts were on Ivy and Jonn back at the farm. Anxiety burned like a smoldering bed of coals in my chest, keeping me breathless and harried, and Adam and Ann were never far behind in my spiral of thoughts. But rumination did me little good, so I fought the thoughts, doing my best to focus.

Claire worked alongside me at times, but never spoke. I saw Gabe in fleeting glimpses. We rarely had time to speak, but every time our eyes met, my stomach felt tight and words that I wanted to say filled my mouth. The memory of his fingers brushing my cheek filled my head, and I didn’t know what I wanted.

I understood his secrecy now. I couldn’t fault him for it. The hurt from it had leaked away, leaving in its wake emotions I didn’t understand. I felt older now. Tired. I had loved Gabe like I had never loved any boy before, but now my heart felt twisted, stretched, pulled apart into different directions. Because now when I looked at Gabe, another part of me whispered Adam’s name. And yet, I still cared for Gabe.

I didn’t know what to think.

Several times, I spotted Doctor Borde, but I was never close enough to speak to him. And however was I supposed to barter with him in order to get whatever Jonn wanted me to get from him?

Concerns plagued me.

Every evening, I worked alone at the Security Center cleaning hallways. I saw Jacob in passing, but true to his promise, he never looked at me or spoke to me. I tried to hover in the background, observing and picking up information about the world. Several times I passed the door to the room we’d spoken in, the one with the large sign that read CAUTION in bold white letters. I did not clean inside, however, because the doors were never unlocked and no one ever opened them for me.

On the seventh night after my arrival, a shadow fell across my path as I was making the trek to the Labs, and Gabe stepped from behind the corner of a building.

My skin prickled with awareness of him. We hadn’t spoken or spent any time together since our last conversation at the top of the hill following our visit together to see Jacob at the Security Center. My cheek still burned with the memory of his fingers against it. A soft ache hummed in my chest and whispered in my blood as I raised my eyes to meet his.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello.”

“How are you doing?” The words were soft, almost gentle. They were also shy.

“As well as can be expected,” I said. The words felt furtive, exchanged like whispers of love, but we were all business. We were standing close enough to be touching. His hand almost brushed mine, and I could feel the heat of his shoulder near my chest. The air around us felt on fire, and inwardly, I burned.

Gabe’s eyes were unreadable. His eyelashes shivered as he squinted around us. “The fugitives have a meeting again tonight.”

“Am I welcome there?” I asked quietly.

“Of course. You are one of us now.”

I had felt somewhat isolated. Claire avoided me. I hadn’t seen Juniper since my arrival. I didn’t know most of the fugitives by sight yet, but the ones I did recognize seemed reluctant to make my acquaintance or form any sort of friendships. I wondered if they were wary of associating themselves with me specifically for some reason, or if they were simply slow to grow close to newcomers.

“Accompany me,” Gabe said, and it was a question even though he sounded so certain. I met his eyes, and I saw a spark of something there that looked like hope. My stomach twisted and I found myself nodding.

“I’ll find you after the third meal,” he promised, and then he slipped away and left me standing there alone.

We had not touched, but I felt shaken and warmed all the same.

~

We reached the basement room late, just as last time. Most of the fugitives were already seated in a circle, murmuring to the person seated beside them or staring off into space. Most looked tired, some unhappy. I wondered briefly how they would all react if I raised my voice and announced that they could all return home in a week. Would they be relieved? Did they even want to go back?

They were mostly Aeralians, I supposed. They’d been fleeing for their lives, and if they returned with me to the Frost, they would only be fugitives again. But surely they had families, friends. People who they would never see again if they remained here.

I didn’t know what to think. The weight of my secret tugged at me, and I took a deep breath. Gabe put a hand on the small of my back to guide me toward an empty seat, and I noticed Claire noticing the gesture from her place at the edge of the group. She glanced away when she saw me looking, and her long hair brushed her hands as her head turned sharply to avoid me.

I sank into the chair and looked around.

A woman stood up and spoke briefly about changes in meeting times. A few people protested, but most nodded in weary agreement. There seemed to be little official to talk about—the gathering seemed more for support than anything else.

They began telling their stories.

A man stood first. He shuffled his feet nervously, his eyes darting around. A long scar traced a path down his left cheek and ended at his neck. He traced it with his fingers as he spoke. “I was in southern Aeralis,” he said. “The soldiers took my whole family when we wouldn’t support the overthrow of the king. As far as I know, they are still in prison. Thorns operatives rescued me off a prison wagon and brought me here.”

The next person to stand, I saw, was Juniper. He grinned at us, but pain lingered behind his expression. “I barely remember my life before the jump,” he said. “I was so scarred up when I got here.” He pulled down the edge of his collar, and I saw the web of scar tissue crisscrossing his chest. “But I remember the soldiers beating me with the butts of their guns.” He touched the back of his head. “Had a cut here as wide as my finger. Miracle I survived at all.”

My stomach turned at the sight of his scars. Would any of these people want to go back with me?

A woman spoke next, a story of dead children and a broken heart.

Claire stood after the woman had sank into her seat. She brushed at her long red hair with shaking fingers, looked around the room, and licked her lips. Then, she shook her head and sat down again.

“She always does that,” Gabe murmured to me. He frowned. “She’s never told her story.”

A hand touched my shoulder. I looked up and saw Jacob. He motioned for me to follow him, and I left Gabe and went out with him into the hall.

“One week remains,” he said as soon as we were alone. “Are you sure the device is safe?”

“It’s safe,” I said. “Have you made all the arrangements for those who are coming back with us?”

“I am working on that,” he said. “I will contact you the day before so we can meet and make final preparations. Until then, continue as you’ve been doing, avoid attracting undue attention, and keep this quiet.”

“I will.”

Jacob started to say something else and stopped. He frowned, shook his head, and started toward the room with the others. He stopped. “What if we missed the jump next week?” he asked lightly. “What then?”

“We’d go at the next time,” I said. “But we aren’t going to miss it.”

He nodded and stepped through the doorway. I remained alone in the hall, staring after him.

The door behind me opened and closed. I turned slightly, just enough to see who had joined me. It was Gabe.

“Jake seemed displeased,” he observed, moving to my side and shoving his hands in the pockets of his garment.

I shrugged, because I didn’t know what was going through the leader’s head, and because I didn’t really want to talk about that at the moment. Gabe’s closeness was making it hard to think about Jacob, but I struggled to keep my mind on task. “We have only a week left,” I said. “I think he’s feeling the pressure of the...restrictions.”

“You mean who we are supposed to bring back?”

I fiddled with the edge of one of my garment pockets.

Neither of us seemed to want to discuss it, so we didn’t.

“How is your family?” Gabe asked. “Jonn...Ivy...?”

“Jonn’s health is better. He’s almost happy. And Ivy is growing like her namesake.” Talking about them left a sweetness on my tongue that tasted bitter after the words faded. I sucked in a deep breath and blinked. “I hope they are well.”

“I’m sure they are. They are strong,” he said. “Just like you.”

Our gazes connected. Mine stuttered away, but his was confident and sure. He took a step closer to me.

My heartbeat scrambled. I felt like a colt—skittish, ready to bolt.

“I’ve missed you,” he said quietly. It was a confession. He dropped his head and then raised it again, gazing at me as if looking for any signs of condemnation, as if he expected them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I didn’t dare speak. If I spoke a word, I might shatter this moment. I kept my lips shut and my eyes trained on his.

“Every single day I’ve been gone, I’ve thought of you. I’ve dreamed about you every single night. And I know we had made no promises...I know we have not spoken for each other, but—I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you,” he said. The admission came out of him painfully, almost brokenly. “I admire your strength, your intensity, your intelligence. You are the bravest person I know.”

“Gabe—”

“I know you’ve moved on,” he interrupted, rushing on. “I know I’ve been gone months. And as I said before, we’ve made no promises. And I was not honest with you. And—”

“I’ve missed you, too.” The words ripped themselves from my throat. I hadn’t meant to speak them, but they came out anyway. “I’ve tried not to think about you, but I...”

“Lia...” He closed the distance between us with a single step. His hands found my neck, his fingers slipped into my hair, and then he was kissing me. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I exhaled against his lips. I was lost and found at the same time, and he was the only anchor.

The kiss lasted seconds or days. I couldn’t tell. All I could think about was the feel and taste of him, and the way I could feel his heart beating in his hands and through his chest. When we broke apart, he buried his face against my shoulder.

We stayed that way for a long time, drinking in the warmth of each other, relishing the precious closeness of another human being. I was drowning in the sensation. It had been so long since someone had taken me in their arms and whispered care and concern for me. My heart felt fragile and full, aching with the sudden rush of feeling.

The door jerked open behind us, and we jumped apart. A few of the fugitives streamed out. The meeting was over. Gabe and I exchanged glances, and without speaking we slipped upstairs with them and out into the night.

We walked back to the workers’ barracks in warm silence. Where the previous silences between us had been walls, shutting out our feelings, this was like a blanket that wrapped us close and made us safe. Every time his hand brushed mine, I felt a burst of prickles over my skin. My mind was still a scramble, and my whole body had betrayed me by going dizzy and faint.