Life Eternal (27 page)

I felt the boy’s face close to mine, his breath cold against my cheek. And then we hit the ground. The unfinished floor scuffed my knees, and the boy’s grip grew loose. Peeling him off of me, I scrambled away and watched his cloudy eyes grow bloodshot. They rolled back in his head. I gasped as he twisted his neck one way and then the other, as if in pain; faster, faster, until he was writhing on the floor.

Noah grabbed my arm.

“Wait!” I said, staring at the boy’s slim body, his button nose, his chubby cheeks smudged with dirt. “He’s dying. We have to help him.”

“Leave him!” Noah said.

“He’s just a child!” I said.

“He isn’t anymore. He’s a monster.” Before I could say anything else, Noah took me by the waist and pulled me toward the back of the room. It was a long stone basement filled with bales of hay and rusty farm equipment.

“Maybe there’s a ground entrance,” Noah said, scanning the ceilings until he found a set of metal doors. Standing on a bale of hay, he pushed them open to reveal the night sky, blue and wild with stars.

He lifted himself up and then leaned over to me help me, but I was right behind him. A vast field stretched before us, the snow packed into ice. We ran through it, the air sharp on my lungs as we headed for the lake and the woods beyond.

I skidded to a stop as we reached the shore, where the ice met the snow.

“Is it safe to walk on?” I shouted, my hair whipping about my cheeks as I turned. Behind us, the Undead boys were slipping out of the farmhouse, their skin pale in the moonlight, like moths.

“Of course it is,” Noah said, slowing as he stepped onto the lake. “This was an ice farm. They had to have gotten it from somewhere.”

I wavered as I listened to see if the ice beneath Noah was cracking. But all I could hear was the snow crunching beneath the feet of the Undead behind us.

The blackbirds nestled on the surface scattered as we ran across the lake, our shoes slipping on the ice as the January winds numbed my lungs. When we made it to the woods on the other side, I saw the boys through the branches, their pallid faces a dim blue in the darkness. It looked like they were going to follow us, until a deep voice boomed behind them. “Enough,” it said, as a dark figure appeared, tall and narrow like a scarecrow. I felt the Undead children gather and become still along the perimeter of the lake, their dulled eyes following us as we vanished into the night.

I
CE,
THE GAS STATION ADVERTISED IN NEON
.

It had taken us an hour to get there, trudging through the woods until our legs were numb and caked with snow.

“There was no riddle in there,” Noah said, catching his breath. “What was that place?”

“I don’t know,” I said, bending over my knees. “A place where the Undead live. A place run by the Liberum.” I looked up at him. “They’re looking for the riddle, too. They’re trying to find the secret.”

“They said that?”

I shook my head, my eyes watering. “No. I can just feel it.” Suddenly I regretted not looking for the last part of the riddle sooner. What would happen if the Liberum found it first?

“Why would you have a vision of that?” he asked, incredulous. “Why would your dream tell us to go there?”

“It’s not my fault,” I cried out defensively, and then covered my face, embarrassed.

“I never said it was,” he said, and held the door of the gas station for me.

“I know.” I stepped into the fluorescent lighting.

Noah nodded to the cashier, a greasy man sipping coffee. “Do you think they followed us?” He glanced out the window at the trees.

I closed my eyes, remembering the tall dark boy hovering behind the children as we ran away. “I can’t feel them anywhere.”

While Noah approached the cashier to ask about a taxi, I wandered to the side of the store, trying to calm my nerves. But as I pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, all I could think of was Dante doing the same thing in my vision.

Had the dark figure by the woods been a Brother of the Liberum? Had Dante been working with them to find the secret of the Nine Sisters? Is that why he had gone to the farmhouse and taken Cindy Bell’s name from the mailbox?

“Renée?” Noah said. “Are you okay? You look sick.”

I swallowed, realizing I was hunched over a counter, my stomach queasy. I knocked over a cup of plastic lids as I picked myself up. “Sorry, I’m fine,” I said, and bent down to collect them.

“Here, let me do that,” Noah said, helping me. “The cashier told me there’s a late ferry, but we might have already missed it. He said he’ll call a taxi to come pick us up, if we want to try and make it. What do you think?”

I nodded. I wanted to tell Noah everything about me and Dante, but knew that I couldn’t. How could I explain that I’d fallen in love with the person who might have killed Miss LaBarge and Cindy Bell; the person who could have killed my own parents? I didn’t understand. Was he lying when he said he loved me? Did everything that happened between us mean nothing to him?

I listened to the gas station coffee trickle through the drip while we waited for a taxi, Noah pacing by the pastry shelf, gazing out the window. The fluorescent lights buzzed over the gas pumps, illuminating the snow as it fell atop the canopy above them. The horizon beyond was black. I knew we had escaped, that the boys from the farmhouse had stopped at the words of the tall scarecrow figure, but for some reason I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched.

Thirty minutes later, a blue car picked us up, its windshield wipers squeaking against the snow as we wobbled through the icy streets. A faint light shone from the ferry station, but after we paid the driver and went inside, we realized that it was empty. The ticket counter was closed and locked with a metal cage. I followed Noah into the darkened waiting room. It was lined with rows of cheap plastic chairs and metal rubbish bins.

He checked a note on the wall. “The last ferry was canceled due to inclement weather,” he said. “The next one isn’t till morning.”

“Now what?”

“We wait here, I guess.”

“What if they come?” I said, staring out the glass doors.

Taking an inventory of the room, Noah picked up a mop from a corner and barricaded the door handles. Joining him, I helped move two trash bins in front of the back door, and then locked all the windows. “At least now we’ll hear them,” Noah said, and sat at the end of a row of seats.

Using my scarf as a pillow, I lay down on the chairs across from him. And as the rush of the night wore off, the air between us grew tense.

“It’s different now,” Noah said, staring at the pipes on the ceiling. His eyes were melancholy. “We’re different.”

“No we’re not,” I said, but my voice fell flat. Should I have pulled him toward me in the farmhouse? Should I have kissed him back? Part of me wanted to, but the rest of me had screamed
no!,
as if I were betraying something buried deep within me.

“Who is he?” Noah said. “What’s so great about him?”

I felt his eyes on me, pleading to tell him something. But what could I say? I didn’t know where love came from or why it attached itself to some people and not others. Despite everything that had happened with Dante, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him behind.

“Do you believe in soul mates?” I whispered.

“You mean a human who has the soul of an Undead?”

“No. The idea of a soul mate. That there’s only one person that’s really right for you in this world.”

I could hear Noah breathing as he thought. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because it gives us no choice. It means that some cosmic force has already chosen the person I’m supposed to love. But that’s not how it works. I don’t want to be with someone who completes my soul; I want someone who will open it. I want to be able to choose.”

I closed my eyes. “What if the choice isn’t that easy?”

“Choices are always easy,” Noah said, a hint of spite in his voice. “It’s our heads that get us confused.”

“What do you mean?”

Leaning forward, he reached into his pocket and took out a penny. “If it lands on heads, he’s your soul mate.” His voice hardened on the last words. “If it lands on tails, soul mates don’t exist.” He gave me a level look. “Okay?”

Confused, I shook my head. “It doesn’t work like that—”

“Give me a chance,” he said, and then looked away, embarrassed. Before I could say anything more, he threw the coin in the air. It landed on the ground with three clinks. Bending over, Noah picked it up. My shoulders went taut as I waited, surprised at how involved I was in something as meaningless as a coin toss.

Noah opened his hand. As he said, “Heads,” I felt tears prick my eyes.

“Now be honest,” he said. “Do you wish it had fallen a different way? It could have, you know.”

I hesitated, too ashamed to admit that I didn’t think it could.

“See?” Noah said, his lids growing heavy as he watched me. “You already made your decision. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

I couldn’t sleep that night. I had nightmares of fingers scratching at the windows, of the tall shadowy figure lowering his face to mine, his skin riddled with veins as his cold breath lapped against my lips.

The next morning, the ferry manager woke us up by banging on the door. The white winter sky was bright as I rolled off the plastic chairs and let him in, gazing at the empty streets beyond, unable to shake the feeling that the Undead were watching us.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Noah as we waited for the boat to leave.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, and gave me a meager smile, pretending it was easy for him, even though I knew it wasn’t.

When we arrived on campus, we walked through the St. Clément school gates as real Monitors. We had killed an Undead in the farmhouse; I had watched him writhe on the basement floor. But as I made my way with Noah down the snowy path, I couldn’t help but feel like I was taking steps backward. The more I learned about myself and the people I loved, the more I found myself looking back, trying to reread the past and see where it had gone wrong.

“Where are you going?” Noah said as I walked toward the girls’ dormitory at the fork in the path.

“Back to my room.”

“We have to go to the headmaster’s office. We have to tell him that we found a house full of the Undead and maybe a Brother of the Liberum.”

“No,” I said quickly. “We can’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because they’ll ask us how we found the farmhouse, and I’ll have to tell them about my visions, and then…”

Noah waited for me to continue. “And then what…?”

“And then…” But the more I searched for an answer, the more I realized I didn’t have one. I let my arms drop to my sides. “I don’t know.”

“It’s not your fault that you’re having these visions. If anything, the headmaster should be grateful. It’s because of you that we found the Undead in the first place.”

Feeling all the more miserable, I gave him a slight nod.

The windows of the headmaster’s office gave off a warm yellow glow as we walked toward them. The cobblestones were packed with snow.

An older woman wearing a heavy sweater and a brooch answered. His secretary. She surveyed the state of our outfits, which were stained from the night before. “Out late practicing?” she asked.

“We need to speak to Headmaster LaGuerre,” Noah said.

“I’m afraid he hasn’t arrived back yet from the winter holidays. Is everything all right?”

Noah glanced at me. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“He’ll be in the office tomorrow morning. Do you want to leave him a message?” she asked, and took out a pen.

“No,” I said firmly. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

After we made plans to meet before class the next day, Noah walked me back to the dormitory. The snowflakes caught in my eyelashes as I stood on the stoop.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Please don’t say that,” he said softly, though there was an edge to his voice. “It makes me wonder if I could have changed your mind.”

I pushed a lock of hair from my face. “No—I—”

But before I could say anything more, he backed down the stairs. “Keep safe, Renée.”

I was so dazed when I got back to my room that it took me a few moments to notice the closet door was ajar. “Strange,” I said, flipping on the lights and glancing inside, where nothing seemed wrong. But as I went to my desk, something crunched beneath my feet. A few pieces of broken glass were strewn in front of my bed; the remainder of a water jug I kept on my nightstand. Bending over, I picked up a shard and then checked the trash bin, where I found the rest of the glass. Someone had been here.

Throwing my stuff down, I burst through the bathroom and banged on Clementine’s door.

To my surprise, the headmaster opened it.

“Renée,” he said as he put one of Clementine’s bags down. He was wearing a coat and hat, his shoulders dusted with snow. Clementine was standing behind him in tall fur boots and earmuffs.

“Headmaster LaGuerre,” I said, my shoes squeaking against the wood as I stopped short. “You’re here.”

He gave me a bemused smile. “Yes I am. Were you coming to say hi to Clementine?”

A smirk spread across Clementine’s face.

“Oh, um—yes. I’ll come back later. Sorry to intrude.”

“Well, don’t leave on my behalf,” he said. “I’ll be gone after I help Clementine carry her things in.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I said, and made for the door, when Clementine stepped forward.

“Did you want to ask me something?” she said, taking off her gloves. “You can do it now. No need to be shy.”

I glanced at her, and then at her father. He blinked, waiting. “I just—found something in my room. A broken water jug. And the closet door was open, but I’m certain I closed it before I left. I was wondering if you saw anyone go into my room while I was away?”

Clementine raised a delicate eyebrow. “But I only just got back. How would I know?”

The luggage by her feet was wet from snow. Maybe she was telling the truth. But then who had been in my room?

I slept on Anya’s couch that night, beneath a coarse patchwork quilt that her grandmother had made, with the sign of the cat embroidered on it for good luck. Anya lit candles around the room while I told her about the farmhouse and the dark figure that had been standing behind the children as we’d run into the woods. Even long after she fell asleep, I stayed awake, the candles around me flickering as the clouded eyes of the boy I’d left writhing on the basement floor blurred into Dante’s, haunting me until I drifted into dreams.

Anya shook me awake the next morning. The candles had all burned out, and the January day was peeking in between the curtains. “We slept through Strategy and Prediction,” she said, throwing clothes on. Our class was supposed to have been held at a location outside of the city. By the time we made it out the door, class was over, and the van was already parked near the school gates. I spotted Noah by the curb, holding his gear.

“What happened?” he asked. “We were supposed to meet the headmaster this morning.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, lowering my voice when I noticed Clementine watching us. “I overslept.”

Noah studied me, as if trying to figure out if I was telling the truth. “You didn’t not show up because of—”

“Of course not,” I said, before he could finish.

The headmaster was carrying the last of the supplies out of the van when we approached him.

“Headmaster?” I said, tapping him on the shoulder.

He jumped. “Oh, Renée. And Noah. What can I do for you?”