What a pair we make.
I hear him exhale, but it’s more of a buckling sigh, like he’s caving in to something. His mouth opens, and then words flow out like welcomed honey. “I umm…I dream about my parents too,” he says quietly, his eyes on the floor. He tugs on his hair one last time, and then drops his hands to the bed, his shoulders slumped over.
I don’t say anything. I want to know, and I know I should ask, but my tongue is in knots and my throat is tight. I don’t want to think about my parents. It hurts too much.
He shifts a little and continues, “I think about my mom a lot, and about my dad…about what happened to him.”
“What?” I ask, my voice as soft as a whisper.
He picks his head up and looks at me. His eyes are green pools of liquid sorrow. “He died.”
I can feel my heart shattering for him, breaking off into tiny, miserable pieces. I try to swallow the lump still growing in my throat, but it doesn’t budge. “I’m so sorry,” I say, clearing my throat as best as I can. My hair falls in my face. I use it as a shield to blink the warm moisture back.
Through my curtain of hair, I see he shrugs and looks away, back to the spot on the floor. I don’t ask him how it happened. I don’t want to open his wound further. My heart is a mixture of pain and relief. Relief that he let me in, even just a little, but pain because inside there is nothing but unanswered questions.
He’s chewing on his lip, probably holding on to just as much hurt as I am, probably living in just as much denial, but one thing I’ve realized, especially after my dream, is that denial is as brittle as glass. It’s solid until a force you never saw coming crashes into it and shatters the thin wall you’ve constructed to protect yourself from the truth.
And when it came to us, I don’t think either of us could have seen each other coming. Even if we had, I don’t think we would or could have stopped it. Like comets in the night sky.
Before I realize it, I’m sitting next to him, pulling him into a hug. He buries his face into the curve of my neck and clings to me. I cling right back. The shadow of hair on his face scratches along the delicate skin of my neck, tickling yet soothing. I can feel his warm breath, coming out slower, calmer now. We stay like this, wrapped around each other, until the door to the bathroom opens up. Gavin takes one look at us, and then shuts the door again.
Jaxen pulls out of the hug and clears his throat. “You umm…you can go before me.” And then he stands up and heads out the bedroom door.
I guess my denial is more brittle than his.
STANDING OUTSIDE OF MACK’S OFFICE, liquid fear drips down my back and along my forehead. My pulse is thudding in my wrists and throat, making my mind spin, or maybe it’s the room that’s spinning. Jaxen and Gavin are on either side of me, and down the hall on a bench sits Chett with Nathaniel. Waves of menace pulse off of him, rolling down the hall in my direction, but I don’t even acknowledge it.
He got what he deserved and no one could tell me otherwise.
When the door opens to the Elder’s Room, my heart trips over itself. I can feel each one of their eyes on me. They have to know what I am now. They have to know I’m not a dormant, and the sad thing is, they weren’t supposed to know. It’s my fault that they do. This is it. This is the end of something that never even really began. This is me being told that even though I proved not to be a Defect by blood, I’m still a Defect in the mind. This is me losing it all.
Jaxen’s hands are by his sides, bunched up into white-knuckled fists, while Gavin guides me through the door. Six Elders sit behind the table at the end of the room, all wearing blood red robes with the Coven’s symbol woven across the breast. Hoods hide their faces from me, so it’s hard to tell which one is Mack. It isn’t until he speaks that I realize he is dead center. The ring leader.
I have to will one foot in front of the other and force my gaze to remain straight ahead. Mack stands as we approach the table, and Gavin and Jaxen stop, meaning I have to stop. I cement my feet to the floor with borrowed courage.
“Faye Hadley Middleton, is it true that you went against the Academy rules and used power within the dining hall against another novice?” Mack’s crisp, clear, diplomatic voice dominates the room. It demands respect. It demands an answer.
My heart lurches in chaos. I give one brief, brisk nod, making sure to keep my chin in the air and shoulders back. No matter what happens, I have to stand behind my decision. I have to stand behind Katie.
“Care to explain?” a female Elder next to him asks. She pulls her hood back. Raven-colored hair spills down around her round, pale face. Pristine lavender eyes peer up from under a fan of dark lashes, settling a curious, cold gaze on me. Her thin lips are painted a soft pink which matches the slight blush on her high, defined cheekbones.
It’s Mack’s Witch. The one who spelled the Culling quartz.
I know what I say next has to count. It has to be right if I’m going to have a chance at evading punishment. For a moment, I panic. I can feel every inch of me in front of them, every inch of blood and skin and pain underneath the hard exterior of the Watchman uniform. Then I realize that there’s no need to panic. Panicking isn’t going to form my defense. Panicking is for the weak.
I am not weak.
With much force, I shut my emotions off and look over at them with fearless eyes. She’s a Witch. Three Elders on this panel are Witches. I can sense them. If I have any chance of defending myself, then I need to make my story count. I need to appeal to them, to bring them to my side. The thundering of my heart calms to a manageable storm. Chett doesn’t realize how easy he made this by running his mouth about Witches.
I take a step forward and make my peace. “Chett hurt my friend,” I say, eyeing down each one of the hollow spaces inside the hoods. “He’s the Hunter to my best friend Katie. I saw her in the dining hall and went to sit with her. She was acting weird. After explaining that he’d been going on about the fact that Witches are nothing but property to Hunters, and shouldn’t be considered as equals, she finally looked at me. That’s when I saw the mark across her face. It was fresh. He had struck her, and recently, because I saw her not an hour before dinner and she had no marks on her face.”
I can tell I have their attention now. I take a step forward, willing them to understand as the words spill from my lips like water gushing from a fall. “I told her I was going to report this to you, to our respected Elders, but Chett wouldn’t stand for it. He yanked her out of her chair, and I feared he was going to hurt her further.” This next part is the tricky part. I could have left it to Jaxen to handle. I could have refrained from violence. How would I justify that?
I swallow and say, “He was going to hit her. He was taking her out of the dining hall. She tried to get away. He lifted his hand, and that’s when I saw red. I know that what I did could have been handled differently. I know violence is not permitted, and I know using my power was wrong, but I also know that as Primevals, we stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. I couldn’t let him treat her that way. I couldn’t let the dining hall full of novices think, even for a moment, that a Witch could be treated that way. We have to remain a united front, a perfect balance, and the only way we can do that is by respecting one another. I hope you can understand and pardon my actions.”
I step back in line with Jaxen and Gavin and take in a deep breath. The truth is out now, and I know my parents would have been proud. I’m sure I stood by the way of our people. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Mack stands again. His hands are clasped by his waist. “You say we have to remain a united front, a perfect balance?”
I nod, inhaling.
“Yet, you’re a walking contradiction.”
I exhale and I think my heart takes its exit with the breath. I stammer, reaching for an answer, but there is nothing. I am a contradiction. I am my own balance.
I am a threat.
“We need a moment to speak with Chett, and then we will deliberate,” he says, sendi
ng us off without another word. I can’t breathe by the time we’re in the hallway. I reach up to my neck muscles and rub. Chett passes by me. He takes one long look, and then his eyes disappear into slits, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.
I turn away, feeling another crushing need to hurt him, to wipe the look off his face. Jaxen moves in front of me, blocking him. I don’t know what look he gives Chett, but whatever it is, it pales Chett’s face. Nathaniel pulls him into the room. “He won’t win,” Jaxen says, his voice almost a growl. The door closes in his face, but he still stares, still holds his hands in fists at his side.
I stare ahead of me, feeling like I’m about to lose what little bit of sanity I still have.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. He lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Forget about the reasons why you think you won’t win. Focus on the one reason why you will.”
“What reason is that?” I ask, lost in his eyes and confidence, lost in the embrace of hope.
“Because you’re a fighter.” He lets my chin go and moves back against the wall. His words dance around in my brain and wrap around my heart, pulling tight.
Gavin paces in front of me on the phone. “Yeah. We’re waiting for Chett to finish now.” He pauses, and then sighs. “I know, Cass, but what were we supposed to do? Hide her in my apartment? She’s better off here, at least until she’s trained.” He stops and a small ripple of shock courses over his face. “No, Cass, that’s not how we do things. We don’t go around the Coven.” He stops again. “Because! It’s wrong, Cass.” He flicks a glance at me, and then lowers his voice. “Look, I’ll call you after it’s over. We’ll discuss it more then.”
He hangs up and turns to me. “Your argument was valid and can’t be contended with, not with how you worded it. You have the mindset of a strategist, just like your father. Hunters, the good ones like me and my bro, the ones that make it into the Elite squads, they’re strategic thinkers. They’re the ones who make the big kills, the nests and shit.”
I tuck my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes. He compared me to my father, to the man I’ve looked up to my whole life. My heart clenches. I’m a lot of things, most of which are still hidden and undiscovered. I’m a riddle unsolved.
“Hey,” he says soberly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know your dad is highly respected, especially to me and my bro. I can see him in you. That’s all.”
I drop my hands and look at him. I know I must look a mess, and honestly, I don’t care. “I’m not upset,” I say easily. It’s only a partial lie, and lies are something I’m getting good at. “I just don’t want Chett to get away with it. If he does, he’ll probably continue to hurt her, and if he does, that might mean I’ll have to murder him.”
Jaxen stiffens a little next to me. I look out the corner of my eye at him. His back is against the wall, one foot propped up. His head hangs low as he chews on his nails. The more time I spend around him, the more I begin to understand him. I begin to see little pieces of myself in him, down to the way he holds it all in.
“Yeah, well, I can’t see them letting him get away with that. The Elders always fight for what’s right.” The door opens next to Jaxen, and Chett comes out. Nathaniel escorts him down the hall. His head is hanging low; no smirk, no winning grin. My heart beats a little faster. Four of the Elders leave the room soon after, none of them looking in my direction. Crimson robes float down the hall, away from me, taking my fear right along with them.
Mack appears in the doorway. “Come in,” he says, sounding tired. There are faint bags under his eyes. He directs us back to the couches where the raven-haired Witch sits. “This is Clara, my Witch,” he introduces. He doesn’t sound enthused. In fact, he sounds as if he’s on his last leg; worn out, torn, broken.
She stands with her hand offered out. I look at it for a moment, and then take her elegant fingers in mine, shaking it awkwardly. “Pleased,” she says, smiling. There’s no warmth in her smile, nothing for me to relate to. She sits and gestures for me to do the same. Gavin and Jaxen stand at the ends of the couch like Mack does.
“So you’re the Everlasting?”
“Yes.”
Her high arched eyebrow lifts. “And you were able to bypass the magical force that keeps novices from using their powers outside of the classrooms, thusly blowing the cover Maddock specifically asked you to keep?”
“I guess so,” I say, shifting in my seat. I force my eyes to stay on hers. “It wasn’t intentional though. I didn’t really realize I was doing it.”
“No, I assume you wouldn’t have. You’re an anomaly in the Primeval gene, something never believed possible, at least not by anyone with a straight head on their shoulders. You’ve proved them wrong.” She reaches for the tea pot on the table between us and pours herself a cup. She looks to me to ask if I want one, but I shake my head.
“So, what’s going to happen?” I’m too nervous to refrain from asking.
“Chett’s being taken to the disciplinary ward. He will be taught that Witches are his equal before he can return to your friend’s side,” Mack says. I don’t even want to know how he’ll be taught. “What you did, you must keep from doing in the future, at least until we find your place inside this Coven.”
“Her place?” Jaxen says, already stiffening from the top of his head all the way to his unlaced boots.
Mack looks over at him with warning in his eyes. “Yes. Her place,” he says slowly, punctually. “Since her outburst, I had no choice but to speak with the other Elders. I explained the truth of her nature, and have informed the High Priesthood of her anomaly. I must be frank with you.” His steel eyes fall on me. “They are nervous. You make them nervous. Pulling stunts like last night, showing the way you can bypass magic that is beyond your years without hesitancy, will not sit well with them. I’ll do my best to keep this within the Academy, but at the end of the day, I can make no guarantees. When Chett’s parents are informed of his behavior, they will surely want to take this up with the Priesthood, at which point, you will be indefinitely ousted to the Coven.”
“What are you saying?” Jaxen says, moving a step closer to me. Gavin looks over at him, his forehead creased, and then moves with him. Their arms fold over their chests.
Clara sets her tea down with pristine elegance, and then changes position on the couch. “What he’s saying is that she needs to be careful if she is to survive inside this Coven. Change, though welcome, is also feared when the change is directed at the way our Coven views things. Your power is unlimited, not held back by a partner. Just like before the proclamation. You can do what no other in this Coven can anymore.”
I flinch back. “That doesn’t mean I would use it like that,” I say, my voice hardened.
“That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t either,” Mack points out, coming to his Witch’s side. He sits next to her. “No one can predict your future. I’ve had every clairvoyant in the Coven worth speaking to take a look, but none of them can see yours.”
My face reddens as my blood pressure rises. I never asked for this. I never even showed a sign that I would go against the Coven. I just want to do what’s right, what my parents would want me to do. I want to find them, and then hopefully complete my training to be a Night Watchman like them, but not if everything they did was in secret and resorted to means of spying.
“You spied on my future?” I can barely get the words out straight. Just thinking about someone knowing something I didn’t about myself…it already happened once. Look where it got me. I wasn’t about to let it happen again.
“We attempted to, but I wouldn’t label it as ‘spying’,” Mack says. “Look, before you get upset, you have to understand. We work alongside of the United Nations. We have to maintain our security and our place in this world. So long as we keep our Coven in line, we can continue to work under them, using their funds to take care of our people. We don’t have to hide.”
“Yet the only ones who know of us are officials i
n the government. We aren’t free. We still hide in plain sight,” I say boldly, knowing those words are better left unsaid.
Mack looks at Clara. Her eyes are raised, bordering offended. “This is what I mean,” she says. “Uncharted territory. Wild, reckless, dangerous.”
She can’t be talking about me.
“She needs to be handled. We should leave this to the Priesthood,” she continues.
She must be talking about me. I can’t even hear Mack’s response because of the deafening drum beating in my ears. I look up at Jaxen and Gavin, searching their faces for some form of how I should be taking this, but they look just as unpleased. “Handled?” I breathe out.
“We will not discuss this right now, Clara. There’s still plenty of training to be had. I expect her to be given one hundred percent of Gavin and Jaxen’s attention.” When he looks back at me, there’s a placidity to his eyes, as if none of this occurred. “You are dismissed.”
I stand, walking to the door without looking back. I don’t want anything to do with them, at least, not right now. At least, not until I figure out what the hell is going on around here.
GAVIN AND JAXEN ESCORT ME back to my room. I try to make sense of what just happened. Sure, I had been let off the hook when it came to the dining hall incident, but only to be placed on an even bigger one. I now have the High Priesthood to deal with, to fear. I’m seen as a threat, but a threat to what? What, other than not needing a partner to control my power, could I possibly do to them? What the hell could they possibly have to protect that I could pose such a threat to?
I let these questions move around my mind, because it helps to keep me from thinking about my parents, about the fact that I never got to ask Mack if there was any word, about the fact that he had no word to share. If I let myself go down this road, thinking these thoughts, then I know I’ll begin to question why I’m even here and not out there looking for them. I’ll begin to doubt my reasons. I’ll find a way to make myself leave.
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