Protecting Truth (21 page)

::35::
A Truce

Our collision comes in an exhibition of power. Cece and I are so evenly matched, it’s as though she can foresee my strikes and I hers. Flip. Kick. Jab. Punch. Roll. I direct a blow to her head and change my mind at the last minute. Instead, I kick her legs out from under her. The new “change-my-mind-at-the-last-minute approach” helps. I gain the upper hand until Cece, I think, applies the same tactic.

Her knuckles crash across my jaw then again across my face. My nose instantly burns with blood. It drips uncontrollably down my lip and over my chin. At the sight, Cece’s hungry eyes look as though they want to devour me. Not me, my blood. She rushes me again. I elbow her ribs, sending her crashing away.

Ricocheting, Cece leaps, soaring over my head, reaching to grab me from behind. I flip her over, throwing her body to the ground and drop both my knees onto her chest. Her ribs break and crush. At the exact same moment, Exeter and Cerberus, who have been fighting their own vicious battles, collapse in my peripheral view.

I pause for a split second at what has happened. Cece, Exeter, and Cerberus—they’re connected, truly connected. To hurt one is to hurt all of them. To
kill
one may
kill
them all. I stare down at Cece, thinking I’ll find her in pain, near death with punctured lungs. Instead, her mouth gapes open, and she’s catching the blood dripping from my nose—sucking it like some kind of sick, messed-up vampire.

I jump back in horror.

She licks her lips and smiles. Her chest, which was caved flat, reconstructs before my eyes, expanding like a balloon. She and her team jump to their feet, apparently stronger than they were before. The fighting mayhem continues.

“Figure it out yet, Sera?” Cece paces. Some of my blood has dripped across her face. She reaches her hand to her cheek and smears it into her skin, just like she did on our first meeting. A long, deep cut on her cheek shimmers, magically returning to glowing perfection.

My blood heals her, heals all three of them.

“If you could only find my weakness, you could win this.” She laughs.

I jolt at her words. She really does know me. It’s the tactic I apply for all my fights, often helping me win.

“But you won’t find any. I have none.” She lures me to the stage. “But you do. Many of them.” She looks around. I follow her eyes. Bishop fights Exeter for the crystal. Turner struggles with the dog-beast. Together, Sam and Mom scuffle with two Underground members. They’re all fighting for me, suffering, taking beatings, to make sure my dreamdrive does not fall into Cece’s hands.

Turner, closest to me, crashes to the ground with Cerberus growling and snapping on his chest. From his hand, a square object skids across the floor, landing at my feet. I look down. It’s a remote. I look up and smile at Cece. “Seems your weakness at the moment is lack of help,” I say. I step on the biggest button on the remote, knowing exactly what it’s for—holograms.

Within seconds, Cece’s guards have no chance. A hundred holographic soldiers glimmer and zap into being. Turner has installed hologram machines around the theater. That’s why he left Sam and me earlier.

The holograms are every single beast I ever fought in the training room and many more that I have never seen. They’re horrifying. Warriors made with a mishmash of mythological animals, men, and women. Each carries their own weapon: swords, knives, clubs with spikes, and other menacing tools of violence. I always viewed the touchable holograms as training exercises, but never imagined that they could be used for true warfare.

Cece screams and leaps away. She lands on my mom, wrapping her white hand around her neck. “I’ll kill her if you don’t do everything I ask,” she screams.

I lock eyes with my mom. Despite her situation, she smiles as though she’s looking at me for the first time. She searches my eyes, as if memorizing my face, and says softly, “I’ve been with you always.” There’s a long second where I search her violet eyes, realizing that I’ve never heard her voice before. It’s beautiful, like angelic bells and soothing wind chimes.

I’m rocked out of my thought when the floor violently shakes. An earthquake jolts, whipping us. I heave right and left while the world tilts, teetering back and forth. I fall backward onto a theater chair and grasp its armrest. Gibeon is apparently moving to a new location in time, just like Mr. Tash explained.

The theater rips apart, right down the middle. A gash opens, a crack in the earth so deep that I can’t see its bottom, zigzagging the length of the main aisle of seating. The chair I’ve latched on to sinks, disappearing into the hole. I wobble backward with unsure footing and almost fall in. I clasp on to a nearby incline of stairs. Throwing my leg over the risers, I pull my body upward, and latch on to the edges. When I steady myself, I make my way back onto the stage.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” I say to Cece as I pull myself to my feet. My hands are held high, surrendering. I’ll do anything to save my mom.

Plaster crumbles from the ceiling. Chandeliers rattle and shatter, crashing to the floor. Fighting between the Underground and the Society holograms continue despite the earthquake.

When I’m a few feet away from Cece, so close she can reach out and exchange Mom’s position for my own, Cece makes a quick motion with her hands, snapping my mother’s neck.

“No!” In slow motion, I reach for my mom. Her eyes shut at the moment her body hits the floor. Cece leaps over her body, ready to attack me in my most vulnerable state. She barely grasps my shoulders when Turner crashes into her, rolling her away.

I turn to see them struggle, ripping, punching, and kicking like madmen. Except they keep rolling together in their combat, moving farther away with each new strike. And finally, before I can stop it, before I can yell out, Turner and Cece whirl together over the edge of the crack created by the earthquake, plunging into the endless pit.

On hands and knees, I scurry to the edge, looking over in disbelief. My hand reaches out for Turner, ready to pull him back from death, but they’re already gone, swallowed by the sinking blackness.

Gut-wrenching screams tear from my throat.

Turner—Mom—Mom—Turner. Gone. They’re both gone.

I push away from the edge on all fours, then turn, collapsing onto my mother’s lifeless body, like she’s some kind of lifeboat that can save me from my grief. Tears, so many tears drop onto her, willing her to live.

In a moment of desperation, I grab a nearby shard of glass and puncture my palm. A steady stream of warm blood oozes from the wound, and I rub the liquid around her broken neck and let it drip into her open mouth. Cece and her team healed with my blood, so I pray that, somehow, my mom will, too.

I wait and gather her into my lap, holding her close, praying for a miracle. Minutes pass. My gaze roams her body for any indication of life, but she doesn’t recover. I frantically try again but nothing happens. She’s gone. Really gone. In shock, I blankly stare at her face and then off toward the pit.

Mom’s gone. Turner’s gone.

My screams, piercing and tormenting, give vent to my anguish, as everything that’s ever been good in my soul begins to die a sickening, bitter death. I rock my mom in my arms until the earth stops shaking.

Then, for several moments, there is complete silence and stillness. I look around, taking in the eerie destruction. Amazingly, though I don’t understand how, objects begin to move with the tiniest tremble again, but this time, on their own.

Life reverses in slow motion. This is real slow motion, happening in real life, not just in my head. Plaster that had fallen from the ceiling floats upward. Shards of glass rain in reverse, returning to their chandeliers. Chairs move, forcing themselves upright. Everything that’s broken mends, healing to its original state of perfection.

Leaning into my mother, I rush to inspect her for any sign of life: a breath, a jolt, or any minuscule movement to give me hope. I pinch her wrist, testing for a flutter of a pulse. But still, there is none. The reversal does not affect her.

I slump back and stare at the pit, desperately hoping for Turner and Cece to reappear, emerging from the hole, returning to me. But instead, the gash closes. The fissure sews itself shut, as though it’s devoured Cece and Turner, together, forever.

::36::
Hearts Lost

I scream repeatedly, clutching my mom’s body. Sam rushes to my side and pulls me into an embrace. Tears spill down her face as she tries to console me. Bishop barrels to where the pit closed, throws himself to the ground and screams, slamming the ground with his fists, willing the earth to split back open, so he can jump in to save Turner. But there’s nothing he can do.

Shocked, I look around.

The fighting has stopped. The Underground, the ones who survived the chaos, have fled. Holographic soldiers, sensing the end of the fight, dematerialize, swirling into the air, leaving in electrified sparkles. Exeter and Cerberus are nowhere to be found. But if Cece is dead, so are they, I suspect.

“Bishop, Sam, leave us. I must speak with Sera before more Society officials arrive,” Terease says. Unfortunately, she’s survived. Sam and Bishop step away, but not too far. I’m sure they trust her less than before.

“Your mother.” Terease looks down at my mom, still cradled in my arms. She tenderly sweeps a strand of dark hair away from my mother’s beautiful face. “She was a great woman, extremely brave,” Terease says, and gently rearranges her lifeless hands, folding them on her chest.

“You knew her? You knew she was alive?” I lean down and kiss her forehead.

“Yes, I’ve known her since we were teenagers at the Academy. She’s been fighting her own war for a very long time, and now she’s at peace.”

“What does that even mean? What war?” I look up. There are so many things I need to ask her.

“We all have our own parts to play,” Terease says, confusing me further. “Here,” she continues, “this is your dreamdrive. Keep it and the other one close.” She tucks it into my hand. “Tell the Society that both dropped into the pit with Cece. Do you understand?”

I nod, though I don’t understand why I need to lie.

Society soldiers thunder into the theater. Terease and I look up. Phineas Levi, the Grand Master of the Society, storms in behind them and points to Terease.

“Arrest that woman for crimes committed against the Society,” he screams.

I look at her in shock.

Terease whispers in my ear, “All you need to know is that your mom loved you. For now, whatever you do, deny that you know who she is, or you will have the same fate as me.”

Two men in uniform seize her by the arms, dragging her away. But for once, she’s looking at me smiling, like she knows something I don’t. She doesn’t engage my mind with her flame-searing eyes the way she has in the past. She looks serene. And for the first time ever, the sickly blackness that has always followed her disappears.

Sam places her hand on my shoulder. I roll my mom gently away, placing her completely on the floor, and stand.

I hide my dreamdrive in my pocket next to the Underground’s.

Grand Master Levi descends. He’s tall, dark-skinned, well dressed, and there’s an air of dangerous authority that follows him. “Explain yourselves,” he says, crossing his arms.

Bishop steps forward. “Terease Ivanov tried to offer Seraphina’s dreamdrive to Cece to stop the Underground’s attacks.” He gestures toward me.

“Why?” He walks around, surveying the mess in the theater.

“I don’t know, sir.” Bishop shrugs.

“Do you have this dreamdrive?” He stops, regarding me with curiosity.

“No, sir.” I step forward before Bishop can speak. “It was taken by Cece along with the Underground’s dreamdrive,” I lie through my tears.

“And where is Cece now?” He looks around with his hands held out.

“Dead, Grand Master. My brother, Turner, gave his life, killing her.”

The Grand Master allows the information to settle. He paces, tapping his finger to his lips. Abruptly, he stops and responds, “Good.”

We stiffen at the piercing word. How can a boy’s death be
good
? A tear slips down my cheek. Sam stifles a sob.

“He’s a hero. He’ll receive a hero’s funeral.”

The Grand Master walks away momentarily, leaving us in the care of a soldier. Soon afterward, we’re interrogated for hours, recounting the events repeatedly before a committee of high-ranking Society members. Several times I catch Grand Master Levi scrutinizing me with calculating eyes. His intensity makes me nervous, but thankfully, he never returns to question me himself. My intuition tells me we’ll talk, eventually.

•

Two soldiers cover my mom with a sheet and lift her body, taking her away. I want to reach for her, but I have to remind myself that she’s not really there, and I need to let go.

::37::
A Sacrifice

The sunset is pink, purple, and cyan blue. A thousand people stand at the edge of the sacred river that cuts the city of Gibeon in half. I tightly grip two white lanterns. One is for my mom and one is for Turner.

A Grand Lodge Master officiates at the ceremony, which I can barely make out through my pain. I only know that it’s time to release my lanterns upon the water’s surface when everyone around me bends down to do so.

My fingers dip into the cool river. The two lanterns float, bobbing. I give them a gentle push, and they drift away. This is a Wanderers’ funeral. Each flickering flame symbolizes setting the deceased’s soul free.

My extra lantern is the only tribute here to my mom. All the others are for Turner. To most, she’s been dead for a very long time. I replay her final words repeatedly in my head. “I’ve been with you always.” It’s a sentiment that I don’t completely understand. Her words are infused with a mother’s love. Love that I have only seen by her actions to protect my dreamdrive from Cece.

Farther away, Mona leans in and places a lantern on the river. She sadly looks up at me from her crouched position, and I look away, still bitter for what I’ve learned. With the death of Turner and my mom, my emotions are compounded, perhaps even more elevated from where they were originally. Yes, I understand Mona’s actions, pretending to be my aunt to protect her boys, but I’m still hurt by the deceit. Bishop appears at her side, pulling her into a hug. He glances at me, and I turn to look away.

Thousands of lanterns drift out to the center of the river, and suddenly they lift from the water’s surface, slowly launching, drifting through the air. Lanterns are everywhere, dotting the sky like fireflies.

When this happens, this signals the end of the ceremony. The crowd disperses, silently walking away. But I can’t force my eyes from the beauty, and perhaps, I’m not ready to let either of them go.

Alone, I walk the muddy embankment. When I reach a bridge, I climb onto a cold marble slab and tuck myself into a nook. Hidden, I watch the lanterns float above the city for hours, until I can no longer sort out the lanterns from the twinkling stars.

In a fog of sadness and confusion, I stumble off my hiding spot. There are many people walking through Gibeon, but I’ve never felt so alone or so dead inside. Sam and Macey are the only ones I’ve truly spoken with since Mom and Turner’s deaths. And even that’s very little. I can’t make my mouth form any words that don’t sound hateful. So I keep quiet, allowing angry thoughts to scream through my head. They’re a turbulent mess that needs to be dealt with, but not yet. For now, I need to feel the animosity to understand the pain.

Yes, I’ve dreamed of going back to save both Mom and Turner. But for once, this can’t be done. To die in Gibeon is final.

On several occasions, Bishop tries to explain himself. But I can’t deal with him—not yet. Looking into his eyes will not calm my rage. His explanations will only ignite the fire. I hate what the Society has brought to my life: the revolting lies, the chaos, the lost choices, and the tormenting pain. I long to be Normal and to have never known this world.

•

The next morning, I’m sitting on the couch in my apartment. I’ve stayed awake all night. After hours of infomercials, Gabe’s morning show begins. He’s taking the newscast very seriously, as he reports on Cece’s death, Turner’s heroism, and the lingering threats of the Underground.

The next headline story discusses Terease. She’s been given a hasty trial by the Grand Master Elders for infractions upon the Society, including attempting to trade my dreamdrive to the Underground. The reason Cece would want it is still a mystery to me and everyone else who’s tried to decipher the meaning. Clearly, Terease knows much more than others of this and certainly more about my mom. I find myself thinking of Terease’s motives, often wondering what they mean, and if there’s a way to seek her out to get the answers.

In the end, Terease is found guilty. She’s immediately exiled to Nocturna—the wandering city for criminals where time speeds up, pressing rapid aging upon all inhabitants. Living within its walls is a death sentence.

The last story talks of Perpetua and her team, who are expelled for good, their records still marred by their previous dealings with the Underground. Maybe they just went home to their families to be Normal? Gabe doesn’t say. From my perspective, the true torture would be forcing them to take the oaths to the Society.

Bishop walks into the living room, fresh from his shower. He nods, not bothering to say anything. He knows I’m not ready to talk. I wearily glance at his eyes and stand to make my way to the place I’ve gone every morning since Turner’s death—his apartment.

The first morning I entered Turner’s apartment, I barely made it past the couch. Every morning since, I’ve returned, acclimating myself to the heartbreaking emptiness. But then I remind myself that the apartment was always empty and lonely, just like Turner. I frown.

I stand in front of his bedroom door for several moments before I’m brave enough to walk in. When I do, the musty and stagnant air sours my stomach. Gadgets, inventions, and rolls of drawings sit on every surface. I smile at the thought of him working on them, tinkering with the inventions, bringing the machines to life. I walk along the walls, lightly touching items as I pass, wishing the relics would send me their memories of Turner, just as if I were a Seer.

Given the opportunity to look into his eyes now, I would not look away and pretend that there was no connection between us. I would live there forever, knowing he could be taken away in an instant. Those feelings, the unwanted love I feel for him, although tampered with, were ones I denied myself for months. Now, they feel raw and unresolved. Maybe he was meant to be my Protector all along. In the end, after all, isn’t that what he died doing?

A stack of envelopes, shiny and silver gray, the exact color of Turner’s eyes, stops me in my tracks. They sit on his desk. A pair of scissors sits next to them—and beneath those, a photo—a photo that’s been cut in half.

I slide the photo out and stare at it. In the photo stands Turner, dressed up and smiling with his arm slung over someone who was next to him—before the two were separated. I pick up the photo, holding it to my eyes and feel the ragged edge. The other half of the missing photo, I realize, was of Bishop.

My emotions hitch in my chest, and my heart tightens with convulsions. I cry, so hard my stomach feels as though it will turn inside out.

“Sera,” Bishop says. His hand rests lightly upon my shoulder. He’s followed me.

“He—he knew he was going to die to protect me.” I heave uncontrollably and turn to Bishop.

“What are you talking about?”

“Here.” I hold out the envelope and the half picture. “I received a letter in the mail before I ever came to Chicago. It was in an envelope just like this, and it had
your
photo in it. After Sam told me what you did to make sure you were the Protector chosen for our team, I assumed it was you who sent the photo—so you could secure your place. But now I see, it wasn’t you. It was Turner. He sent me your photo, wanting to secure your spot because he knew he’d risk his life to protect me.”

My tears fall, understanding Turner’s complete and utter selflessness. All of his actions from the beginning, no matter how annoying, were for me—all of them—for me.

Bishop gathers me into his arms and holds me tight.

He cries too, holding nothing back.

After a while, once our tears have slowed, I step away and hold the envelope. “He must have sent the envelope from Gibeon before we found your meeting place with Cece. The post office there can send mail to any time period.” I gasp a sob.

“Yes, I’m afraid it does.” He takes the envelope and photo and sets them on the desk, and then he grabs my hands.

“I’m so sorry for everything I did, Sera. I’m so, so sorry.” He leans in to level his eyes with mine.

“Stop. Just stop,” I say and look away. His timing couldn’t be worse.

“Please, if I don’t tell you now, you may never hear my side of the story.”

I shake my head, staring at the floor, wiping my nose with my sleeve.
Let him say what he needs to say. Just get it over with.
“Fine,” I relent.

“When I first went to the L train station, the day you arrived in Chicago, I only went to watch you from afar. I had to know who you were because I was so certain you would never choose me over Turner. Even now, I’m certain it would have never been me. I’ve seen the way you look at Turner through Sam’s mind. The way you two kis—” He stops and stiffens before he can finish the word. He looks at the floor, composing his thoughts.

As he does, the memory of the one all-consuming kiss I shared with Turner flashes in my mind. Sadly, I have nothing to respond. I don’t know whom I would have picked given the choice. Even now, I’m unsure.

“Then the Underground’s gang came after you, and I had to stop them. You were in danger, and I didn’t stop to consider the consequences. The instant I grabbed your arm to help you, it was done. You were mine, and I was yours. I loved you from the first moment I touched you, and I couldn’t stay away from you after that. So I watched you in the courtyard of the Normals’ Academy, talked to you, helped you figure out you were a Wanderer, and did many, many things I should not have. I’m so sorry for what I did to you and to Turner. I’ve been living with my guilt for so long, quietly making it up to you in every way I can by trying to be the perfect boyfriend. The truth is that I’m not perfect. In fact, being with you is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me, Sera?” Bishop pleads.

I seek his eyes. I’d been uncertain what my answer would be when I thought of this moment. But I instantly know the answer. “Yes.” I say it out loud, surprising myself. “We’ve both had our secrets. So I suppose there are things you must forgive me for, too.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” He moves forward for an embrace. “My Seraphina,” he whispers in my ear and leans in to kiss me.

“No!” I hold him away, acting the way I know I should, against what my body, my mind, and my heart tell me to do: to reach out and embrace him, and never let him go. There’s shock and instant hurt in his red-rimmed eyes.

“Why? I love you,” he says, reassuring me.

“But what we feel is still fabricated by our heritage.”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.” I shove him away and stomp across the floor. “True, I love you. Even now, I still can’t deny it.” For what he’s done, I shouldn’t love him, and it makes me angry. “Somehow, it’s irrefutable, perfectly clear. But I’m so confused by everything that’s happened. I haven’t figured out what to do about it. The Society is lawless, controlling our hearts, our minds, our dreams, and our souls. Do you really want to live this way—with no choice?” I swivel to face him.

“No, but this is who we are. What can we do?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I think I know someone who can help me understand everything.”

“Who?”

I look down, clenching my hands into fists as I take a deep breath, considering. He won’t like what I have to say, and will be even more unhappy with my daring plans. With a huff, I let my breath out in a rush, and look Bishop squarely in the eye.

“Terease.”

•••
To Be Continued
•••