Sanctum (Guards of the Shadowlands, Book 1) (22 page)

Malachi searched my face, as if he wasn’t sure I was all there. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

“That really sucked,” I mumbled hoarsely.

“Yes, I think that just about captures the experience.” He squeezed me tighter. It felt incredibly good.

My brain came back online, and I started to process what I was seeing. He was very pale. “Are
you
all right?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ve been through there hundreds of times, so it’s not as bad as it once was. I get through pretty quickly. But I almost didn’t make it out the first few times.”

“How did you get past me? I went in first.”

“I probably walked right by you without either of us knowing. You are always alone in there, left to fight your own worst memories. It’s why the Mazikin are so terrified of this place. They can’t handle both their own memories and those of their human hosts. They never make it through.”

I looked up at the menacing black silhouette of the tower, imagining what Malachi might have seen as he walked through the building. For me, the Holocaust was history. For him, it was
memory
.

I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face against his neck, wishing I could chase away his memories and keep him safe. His pulse raced against my cheek, and his breath rushed out in a huff.

He froze for a moment, but then put his hand on the back of my head. He held me there, comforting me, maybe comforting himself.

“I was getting worried,” he said. “I went in after you. I tried to call you back and explain more about it, but you were already gone. I’m so sorry I didn’t explain it earlier. I should have tackled you when you bolted for the door.” He drew in a shaky breath. “It took you a long time to get through.”

“I almost gave up. And I saw…” I didn’t want to describe what I’d seen.

He stroked my hair for a moment, then seemed to catch himself and pulled his hand away. “I know what you saw. Some
cannot bear to re-experience the worst parts of their lives. They lie down and give up. The building, it…”

“Eats them?”

“Well, yes.” He looked down at me. “I don’t think it hurts.”

“No, it looked like…nothing. Like not existing. It was really tempting for a few seconds there. I wanted all of it to stop. But then I heard you talking to me.” His eyebrows shot up, and I paused. “You weren’t talking to me?”

He shook his head. “You heard
my
voice? You’re sure it was mine?”

“Yes. It’s what got me through. You told me to keep walking. And you…” I trailed off, not sure I wanted to tell him the rest, as it appeared to be a figment of my imagination.

He shivered against me. “Never mind,” I said quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m better than I was, now that you’re through. I guess I should be honored that you came up with my voice to help you do it.”

I ducked my head, totally embarrassed. “Sure, anytime.” I looked around. “Where’s Ana?”

“She always runs through and then needs some extra time to clear her head. She’ll be back soon.”

I was becoming increasingly aware of how close we were to each other, of how his arms were tight around me, of how little effort it would take to close the distance completely. Heat pooled in my cheeks.

“I think I’m all right now,” I said quietly. He raised an eyebrow in question, as if the intimacy of our position hadn’t occurred to him. Then his gaze fell to my cheeks, and he noticed my blush.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he set me down on the curb and got to his feet, like he suddenly needed the distance. He walked over to a pile of gear heaped on the sidewalk and put his armor on again, all smooth, efficient movement. His body had a grace all its own; every motion had its purpose. I sighed and wiped my mouth, wondering if the drool was visible from a distance.

“Ah, Lela made it through. Good girl,” Ana called out as she approached. Her face looked a little raw, like she’d been scrubbing at it. What had she seen as she went through the tower? She saw me looking and swiped a hand across her cheek, like she thought there might be a stubborn tear still clinging there. She gave me a tense smile. “Glad to see you’re not fatally damaged.”

I winced at her description. For some reason, I wished Malachi hadn’t heard it. He pretended he hadn’t and appeared entirely focused on getting ready to resume our trek through the city.

Ana held out her hand, offering to pull me from the curb. “It’s always hardest the first time. Now you know what to expect. And you know you’re stronger than it is.” I accepted the help and rose to my feet. Ana looked me over. “We’ll have
to rebraid your hair tonight, girl. You did a number on yourself in there.”

I put my hand to my hair, abruptly understanding that I probably looked like a total freak show. I hadn’t thought about it while Malachi held me. The way he looked at me made me feel…beautiful. Now I felt anything but.

Almost frantically, I pulled the rubber band from the bottom of the braid and ran my fingers through my hair. I bent over and shook it out, letting it fall heavily around me. It bounced happily around my face, delighted to be released.

When I raised my head, Malachi was watching me. The look on his face took my breath away and brought the heat back to my cheeks…and everywhere else.

He turned away quickly. “Ladies, let’s go. We’ve got to make good time if we’re going to get to Harag tonight.” He shouldered his pack and walked up the street.

WITH ANA’S HELP, I
removed the armor I’d worn all day. It had become more flexible as I walked and turned out to be pretty comfortable. By the time we got to Harag zone, I’d almost forgotten I was wearing it. But once it was off, I felt the difference. Newly freed, I slumped onto the couch with a sigh.

Ana laughed at my boneless sprawl. “Toughen up, girl. Today was easy.”

“Piece of cake,” I agreed, looking around our temporary home. We were in an apartment building a few blocks into the zone. Apparently, Malachi spent so much time in Harag lately that he’d claimed this apartment for himself. Although there were a dozen far-flung Guard outposts within the sprawling city, he and Ana also had several apartments, places where they
could stash extra equipment and supplies, nurse wounds that didn’t require immediate attention, and rest safely after long patrols.

This apartment looked no different from the one near the Station, where I’d spent those few days with Malachi. It had one bedroom, which contained a narrow cot and a chest of drawers. The small living room held a couch, a coffee table, and, sitting atop a squat table against the wall, a television.

I went up to the heavy, square TV and peeked behind it to see how it was plugged in. I hadn’t actually seen any electronic or mechanical devices in the city yet. The streets and all the buildings were lit with gas lamps, and I hadn’t seen any light switches or outlets. When I saw the back of the TV, I shuddered and nearly fell backward. It was attached to the wall by a cord, all right.

An umbilical cord. At least, that’s what it looked like to me.

I warily backtracked to the couch, really,
really
glad I hadn’t had anything to eat recently. I spent the next few minutes trying to fool myself into believing I was
not
sitting in the sparsely furnished stomach of a living, breathing creature.

Ana sat down next to me on the couch and followed my gaze to the television.

“Reruns,” she said. “
The Brady Bunch
. And lots of commercials for hair products.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. At least, that’s what it’s been in recent years.”

Malachi walked in from the bedroom, armor still on. He looked too big for the apartment when he was wearing it. He saw us staring at the television and laughed.

“I was completely puzzled when they first appeared in these apartments and replaced the radios. I never turn them on, but Ana is a
Brady Bunch
addict.”

I eyed Ana with suspicion. “I thought you might have better taste.”

Ana sniffed. “It’s sweet. I used to watch telenovelas only, but I decided to branch out as my English got better. I don’t even want to know what you would see when you turn it on.”

“What, you mean it’s different for different people?”

“Sure,” said Malachi. “It’s whatever you want to see. But the reception’s not that good.”

“And they never show my favorite episodes,” Ana complained, tossing a throw pillow at Malachi.

I rolled my eyes. Of course. Whatever you wanted to see, but you couldn’t see it very well, there were lots of commercials, and it never quite hit the spot. Television in hell.

Malachi snapped his baton to his belt and looked at me. “I’m going to do a quick patrol to the east to see what kind of Mazikin activity we’re going to have to deal with. We’ll use this as our base and start searching the zone tomorrow, all right? We’ll go door-to-door if we need to.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, touched by his consideration.

He smiled at me, nodded at Ana, and walked out the door.

Ana got up and went into the kitchen. She opened a bread box on the counter and, with a shudder, closed it quickly. She rummaged through the pantry, removing a can of vegetables and some tinned meat. After a few futile seconds spent searching for a can opener, she whipped out a knife and tore into the cans. The sickening plops of food chunks hitting the bottom of a bowl made me turn away. I didn’t want to make Ana feel worse about having to eat that stuff, so I took my churning stomach into the living room.

I parted the curtains in time to see Malachi walking down the street, headed deeper into the zone, his strides smooth and assured. I set my forehead against the filmy glass, clinging to the sight of him for as long as I could.

“He won’t be gone long. Don’t worry about him,” Ana said blandly. I turned to see her, spoon in hand, digging into the brown mush in her bowl. “He knows how to keep out of sight.”

“They all seem to know who he is. They call him by name,” I said. It seemed like that would make him a target, and he was out alone with no one at his back.

“Of course they do. He’s like the Mazikin bogeyman. He’s been their worst nightmare for decades and succeeded in keeping their population pretty small until recently.”

“But what about you? How come they don’t seem to know you as well? They wanted to recruit you, so obviously they had no idea you’re a Guard.”

Ana paused in the midst of her methodical scooping and chewing. “Malachi made sure of it. No one who’s seen me has survived. He does all the interrogations himself. He goes into all the worst places by himself. It’s better that way because I can serve as bait. It’s all ruined now, of course, because Sil got away.”

I closed my eyes to shut out the guilt. “I’m sorry, Ana.”

“It couldn’t last forever. Mazikin have a weirdly collective memory. I’m surprised it worked as long as it did. Anyway, there’s a flip side to the Mazikin knowing Malachi by sight. It makes them cautious. Even if they spot him, which is unlikely, they wouldn’t attack unless they had him very outnumbered.”

My stomach did an uncomfortable jackknife, and I threw her a sour look. “Oh, good. Thanks for that image.”

“Lela, that boy can take care of himself. Why is it your job to worry about him?”

Because I care about him much more than I should
. “It’s not—but shouldn’t it be yours?”

Ana shook her head stiffly. “No. Way. We’re colleagues. If he gets himself killed, it’s because he was stupid.”

“Now I know you’re lying.”

Ana poked her spoon at me. “Girl, you have no idea what we’ve been through, so I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

I didn’t risk more words. Instead I rolled my eyes and turned back to the window. Malachi had disappeared. I stared at the place he’d been.

Ana sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I can’t really afford to feel anything for Malachi. I’ve known him for nearly four decades, and we’ve bled together, laughed together, and fought together that entire time. He’s like my brother. But I can’t care about him like one. If I did, I might not survive it. Can you understand that? He’s going to leave or he’s going to get killed. Either way, he’s gone.”

Ana’s voice was shaking, and in it I heard the tears she would not shed. I decided to risk getting gutted with the spoon. “You’re not talking about Malachi anymore.”

The bowl clattered into the sink.

“Fine. You want to hear about it? About me and Takeshi? Let this be your lesson, because don’t think I can’t see what’s happening between you and Malachi.” She saw me open my mouth to protest. “Shut up and listen.

“First you need to understand: I came from a rough place. El Salvador is not like America. After my papa died, my mama worked the fields morning to night, and so did I. I wasn’t even eighteen and my back and hands ached so bad I didn’t want to move sometimes. I looked at my mama, all worn out and hunched over, and I knew that was my future. But I also knew how big the world was—my parents let me go to the missionary school when I was a little girl. They probably regretted it after—I was so desperate for a way out of Rancho Viejo.

“The men from the People’s Revolutionary Army had a base in the hills outside the village. My mama had warned me about
them, but they were kind to me when I passed by to fetch water. They talked to me about a better life, and it was the escape I’d been looking for. I started sneaking out at night to visit them.”

She gave me a sad smile. “They taught me how to fight a little. I never thought I’d need it, but it made me feel like I had some control over my life. Over myself. I didn’t give them much in return. Just some tortillas and beans. My mama would have been so upset if she’d known. And you know what? She would have been right. Because a few months later, the death squad came. They accused us of helping the guerrillas. Nobody knew what they were talking about. Nobody except me. But I kept quiet, too stupid and selfish to speak up.”

Ana covered her face with her hands. Her voice was so flat and quiet, like each word was dragging her further back in time. “I tried to get away when they started going door-to-door, but they caught me and dragged me back to my mama. I fought them, but they said they would hurt her, so I gave up. She screamed at them to let me go, that I was a good girl, that I would never help the guerrillas. They laughed at her. And then they held us down and hurt us from the inside out. I thought it would kill me, and when they used their machetes to make my mama’s blood splash on my face, I wished it had.”