Blood Awakens

by Jessaca Willis

  Santiago held back another scoff. He wasn’t sure he considered himself the kind of person who “saw hope.” That sounded more like his sister to him as well. The only driving force that inspired him to reach the sanctuary, if he were being honest, was Mara.

  It was nice of Sean to try, but this wasn’t what he had in mind when he thought about being active. This wasn’t what he had practiced for years for. He wasn’t a jailor. He was an athlete. He longed to be running on a field with his buddies. It wasn’t in his plan to become a strict, grouchy prison guard.

  If Sean thought that’s who he was, then he was sorely mistaken.

  “But most importantly, you come off as being a just person.”

  The sentiment took him aback and had him questioning everything about himself. Never before had he considered himself the just type, or at least that wouldn’t have been one of the first words he chose to describe himself. But at the same time, it resonated with him on a visceral level.

  Sean continued, planting a friendly palm on Santiago’s shoulder. “Even before I could explain the purpose of the holding cells, you were questioning our ethics and integrity. You seek to relieve people of injustice, and you won’t sit idly by if you believe someone is being wronged. Above everything else, we need someone like that to help us understand how to best care for the people inside, because they are still people. We need someone delivering polygraph tests who will understand and speak to the complexities of the emotions, not just identify the problematic ones.”

  The oration left Santiago speechless, although his thoughts ran rampant, a nimiety of responses swirling around the wheel that was his mind. He couldn’t quite seem to put any words to them. It was strange, for the first time since he realized what he had become, he wasn’t fully ashamed. This was the first moment that he thought there might be a benefit to his affliction, an upside.

  But feeling it and saying it out loud were two completely different things. After all, he still had his reservations. “I don’t really know what to say, Sean.”

  “That’s fine. Like I said, we know you aren’t ready to be sent in with a packed lunch today.” Sean released another of his airy laughs. “But I just wanted to give you something to help motivate you in your training. Everyone has a role here, and I hope, in time, you will accept yours, or at the very least give it a try. If we find out this isn’t for you, then we can find something else. No problem. I just want to make sure you feel useful here, like you belong, like everyone else.”

  Up until that point in the speech, Santiago had felt open. The thought of feeling useful, of doing something meaningful, appealed to him deeply. But to fit in? To belong? As long as he was Awakened, he’d never belong. He didn’t want to.

  Finally he had contained himself long enough. “I don’t belong here! I’m not like you.”

  “Santi!” his sister scolded, mortified by his outburst.

  “What? The Awakening? It wasn’t some blessing that came into my life and transformed me for the better. It was a curse. I’m an abomination to the order that the Gods intended. I do not wish to belong because it wouldn’t be me belonging, not the real me. It would be this tainted version of myself who I-I…”

  Santiago wanted to say it, wanted to outwardly admit that he hated himself for it. But with his sister’s presence, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words.

  Instead, he finished with, “All I want is to be Unawakened again, to have control over my life like I used to.”

  Santiago didn’t look either of them in the eyes. Part of him hoped they would leave him to his sorrows, well aware that neither of them understood what he was going through. Sean seemed to flourish in his Awakened status, like it had become a part of him that only seemed to make him a better person. And his sister was so blissfully ignorant, sometimes he hated her for it. Though, not really.

  But neither of them left.

  “I had no idea you felt this way,” Sean said finally, breaking the silence. “Maybe you’d be interested in something different then. There are…initiatives, looking to reverse the Awakening.”

  With this information, Santiago perked, his ears eagerly tuned in.

  “There’s one nearby actually. I think they’re called TULIP: The Unawakened Learning Intensive Project. I haven’t heard of much success, but I haven’t really heard of failure either. If that’s what you want, obviously we support you in any decision you make.”

  Santiago was at a loss of words. All this time, he’d been hoping to find a way to be normal again, and it seemed like the answer was just next door. Was there even a word that would encompass the sense of jubilation he was experiencing? At the same time, it terrified him—not to lose touch with that part of himself, but because he didn’t want to get his hopes up, just to have them torn down again.

  He was quiet for a long time before awkwardly asking, “What do they do there?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I myself never went. But I hear they teach people how to become Unawakened, how to lose touch with the part of them that’s Awakened.”

  So it was true. He always knew it would be.

  “I mean it,” Sean continued. “If that’s the route you want to take, I’d be more than happy to get you in touch with them.”

  “Thank you, I’ll… I have a lot to think about.”

  “No problem. You’ve got time. And I’ll be around,” Sean called over his shoulder as he followed the path back to where he had come from, leaving the siblings to themselves again.

  “He’s not wrong you know. I could actually see you being good at something like this—”

  “Just stop!” If he had to hear one more word about his future, the Awakened, or anything else, he feared he might explode. Silence was all he needed, silence and solitude. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mara

  The sharp smacks of wood colliding rung in the air, each blow vibrating down her apprentice’s untrained arms and softening her stance.

  Mara could no longer count how many times she had instructed Graciela to keep her feet slightly farther than shoulder-width distance apart, knees bent, abs locked tight, eyes open.

  “Again,” she told the shaky young woman.

  Graciela’s gaze was pitiful and sorry. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I can’t feel my elbows. I didn’t even know I had feeling in my elbows until I couldn’t feel them anymore.”

  “If this were a real attack,” Mara said, “the person on my end of the stick would not relent. Ready your pole. Keep your back straight, shoulders down, eyes alert.”

  Without further warning, Mara swung her pole at half speed, half strength.

  Graciela raised hers just in time to deflect, but again her eyes blinked on impact, and she lost some ground.

  Instead of parrying like she had been taught, Graciela stood there waiting for Mara’s next move. The newcomer didn’t have an offensive bone in her body. Not yet anyway, but she would once Mara was done with her. They just needed time.

  Mara spun under the block and swiped her staff below Graciela’s feet. There was progress this time, because Graciela saw it in time to move, even if she looked about as graceful as someone running on hot coals.

  Another swing hit Graciela across the flat of her back, arching her pelvis forward and almost making her fall to the ground. The inexperienced, yet determined woman latched onto her pole for support and propped herself back to her feet. Like an aged woman, she shifted to face her teacher, her attacker.

  It baffled Mara to see someone with so much uncertainty and fear in their eyes. Most people, when hit, had a flash of rage or determination about them, a sudden change of demeanor driven by something primal inside of them. Not Graciela. She was about as menacing as a butterfly.

  Resituating her grip, Mara held the pole with either hand and released a series of swift blows to either side of Graciela’s frame. Left, right. Left, right. The fury of taps were gentle but sharp, a
nd Graciela tried tirelessly to block just one. Most hit her shoulders and sides, until the final blow thudded her thigh, a few centimeters above her knee.

  She yelped through the pain and fell to a shin, all the while still death-gripping onto her weapon.

  Mara gave her a moment to recollect herself. It was the least she could do for someone who had just spent a few weeks bed-ridden. In all actuality, Mara was impressed by her energy for that matter alone. Not many would be able to bounce back so well.

  Gasping, Graciela finally forced herself back to her feet.

  Butterfly or not, she didn’t give up, and that was something Mara could work with. “Okay. I think that’s enough for now.”

  Graciela blew her lip out in relief.

  “I want you to work on thinking about those countermoves I showed you.”

  “Do you really think that will help? I feel so useless out here when we spar. Everyone else looks like they can at least stay standing. You hit me once, and I’m on the ground, every time.”

  “You will get it, Graciela. But remember, fighting isn’t just about blocking. That will save you from a few concussions and abrasions, but there’s more to it. It is a balance between defense and offense, knowing when to strike and when to deflect.”

  Much like Hope’s current predicament. All week they’d been receiving reports and calls of other attacks like the ones in Surviving & Thriving. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Zane and his Sanguinatores were behind it, what with all of the bloodless bodies being reported. Now they were faced with a dilemma, to either take an offensive stance or a defensive one. Though it was Mara’s decision to play defense back in Texas when she charmed Zane, she was now beginning to wonder if it had been the right choice. Awakened Authority or not.

  She knew that Sean was conflicted about it as well. But as Head Sentient, he had the entire sanctuary to think of, and right now the best thing for his people was for everyone to abide by the Awakened Authority’s commands, which in this case, were to stay put.

  Mara worried though that the longer they remained complacent, the larger the target on their back grew. If they needed to defend themselves, Mara wanted to make sure they were ready, and that meant everyone.

  “It isn’t everyone’s nature to know how to counterattack,” she told Graciela. “It’s something you have to train your brain to do. So, think about the moves. At mealtimes, before bed, even when you’re using the restroom. Every second you do, you are rewiring your brain and giving yourself a better advantage in a fight.”

  “But how do you know? How can you tell when to do which? You start swinging and immediately my heart races so fast I can’t even hear my own thoughts. I think my brain powers off completely.”

  Mara smiled, amused by Graciela’s inadequacy but proud of her desire to improve.

  “Fighting is a lot like dancing. Once you are taught the steps, your brain then teaches your body.”

  Mara almost felt guilty hammering into Graciela the art of fighting. Of all the people in the world, she seemed like one of the decent ones remaining, someone who’d managed to maintain a pure heart despite all the doom and gloom that surrounded them.

  Then again, as an Unawakened, she of all people needed to know how to protect herself.

  “The more you practice, the more it becomes second nature. Only once it becomes second nature can you start anticipating someone else’s moves because you start to understand the steps and what options are available given any moment.”

  The giggle that exuded from Graciela was shrill and heartwarming, like that of an innocent child.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She was still laughing when she said, “I know how to dance, and so far, the two are nothing alike.”

  “You know how to dance?” It gave Mara an idea, one that made her nervous because it exposed one of her own secrets, but if this was the key, then maybe it was worth a shot. “Then maybe we should start there. Tomorrow morning meet me for my daily run. I’ll show you where I go to do my other training, and we can work on some of the steps together.”

  As Graciela nodded, she shoved her pole back into the weapons rack and started off for lunch.

  Another thought tickled Mara’s nerves. “But, Graciela,” Mara called to her, “what we do tomorrow, stays between the two of us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Graciela

  A secret. Graciela could do that. After all, how bad could it be? Mara was every bit the rule follower, so it’s not like she would take Graciela anywhere too dubious. Right?

  Graciela was pleasantly surprised by how little the exertion of the morning run bothered her. Although the crisp morning air felt like glass in her lungs, she hadn’t felt this strong and capable in, well, possibly ever. The past few weeks had been a testament to her vigor and will. Never before had she given her physical power a second thought. She’d always seen herself as weak—which admittedly, she still felt most of the time. But then there were days like these when she’d run for an hour without stopping and she would realize that she was not as feeble as she’d once believed.

  Every muscle pulsed and throbbed with power as she tore through the ever-changing terrain.

  It was the first time she had been outside of Hope’s walls in over a month, and she had almost forgotten what it was like to see landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. It had a way of making a person feel infinitesimally small but also strangely, ineffably, important. Purposeful.

  The two women kept each other’s pace well, Mara leading the way through what she described as her usual morning loop. Graciela had no bearings here, no way of telling where they were in relation to Hope. She only knew that they had jogged far enough that the community was no longer in sight.

  They wound up through the sandy dunes, the barren flatlands below, with nothing to shade them from the incoming sun aside from a singular cloud in the sky. Zigzagging, she trailed the warrior woman’s every step, careful not to snag a foot on a buried rock or root and send herself tumbling back down the hill.

  To her surprise, the hour went by fairly quickly, and although she was sweating by the end, she wasn’t nearly as tired as she would’ve expected.

  When Mara finally came to a stop, Graciela’s mouth dropped. The hill opened into a perfectly flat shelf that hung off the remaining cliffs above. The farthest side, the one that received the most shade, was dotted by low hanging flowers, poppy yellow and dessert white. The secluded platform overlooked the world as if it laid judgment upon everything below it.

  Graciela gazed out at the horizon. The vantage point left nothing to the imagination, every nook and cranny visible to them. Her blood buzzed at the beauty, the pure awe of it, before she turned to Mara.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  Mara held her arms open, chest exposed to the view. “This is my sanctuary. It’s where I come when I’m…when I need a break from life or a reminder of why I’m still fighting.” Graciela fell under Mara’s scrutiny. “Do you like it?”

  “Like it?” Graciela puffed incredulously. “I love it! It’s beautiful! How did you ever find it?”

  “I was out running one day, and like fate, my feet led me here. From down below you can hardly see it because it blends in with the rocks and a tree shields the edge. But from up here—” Mara plopped herself on the edge, swinging her feet carelessly while she continued gazing outward. Graciela followed suit, tucking her feet into her chest rather than dangling them off. “You can see the world from up here.”

  “It makes you feel so…so…”

  Two breaths coalesced in unison. “Free.”

  Graciela peered over her shoulder to find Mara smiling back at her.

  “I come here in the mornings sometimes. Usually once every few days I look out there, thinking.”

  It seemed to Graciela as if Mara was doing that just now, tears all but welling in her eyes as she trailed off in whatever thoughts bogged her down.

  Before Graciela could
ask her what was on her mind, she continued, “You know, you can come with me, if you want. Any day you need a break all you have to do is find me, and we can come back here.”

  Mara didn’t have to tell her outright that she couldn’t go there on her own. Graciela already knew the risks that posed to someone like her. Someone defenseless. Unawakened.

  “I think I’d like that. I appreciate you bringing me out here. I’ve been so choked at camp. Santi will hardly let me leave his sight, and no one will let me wander outside of the compounds.”

  “No problem. They don’t understand what it’s like to feel smothered, to crave the freedom of a bird and to wonder at the beauty still clinging to the world.”

  As Graciela thought on it, she wasn’t so sure she knew either. Wanting an escape—if that’s what it could be called—was an entirely new longing for her.

  Before the Awakening, she would have been perfectly content living out the rest of her days as a nurse’s assistant, cleaning house, entertaining her family and friends with home grown meals, never once stepping foot outside of where she grew up. She wouldn’t have known the difference otherwise.

  But now. Now that she had tasted a bit more of the world and been exposed to not only the dangers but also the gifts it had to offer, shutting herself away seemed so foolish and wasteful. There were things worth fearing, true, but there were also things worth living for. For one, had they stayed in Guatemala she would have never met Mara, who was starting to feel more and more like a true friend every day. She couldn’t just hide for the rest of her life.

  She was grateful that at least Mara understood, for whenever she touched on the topic of leaving Hope in her conversations with her brother, they quickly soured. He wasn’t a controlling person, normally. It’s just he worried about her and her safety—something she could relate to, quite honestly. But now that they had found a place that would shelter them against the evils in the world, he was sure to encourage her to stay within that safety net.