Eternal

by Grant, Alasdair

  “Mistress Song! She knows! She…she knows, and I can’t find her!”

  Mistress Song rises from her silk pillow, holds one palm outward in a calming gesture.

  “Take a deep breath, Jade. Who is she and what does she know?”

  “L-Lily,” I stammer. “Someone told her about my Amplitude training. Either that or she figured it out on her own.”

  My eyes dart around the room, checking every corner, stopping at the wooden screen. I suddenly realize I’ve never found out who was lurking there. Could it have been Lily? I remember the knife and immediately discard that notion. Lily couldn’t harm a fly. Whoever it was, they had nothing to do with Lily.

  “You’re certain she knows?”

  Mistress Song touches my face, pulling my attention back to her.

  “Lily specifically told you she knows you come here for Amplitude training?”

  “No…” Some of the tension drains away. “She didn’t actually mention the Amplitudes. But she was so angry. She ran away during evening meal, and I haven’t been able to find her.”

  “There’s no reason to panic,” Mistress Song says. “Not yet. But we should certainly investigate.”

  She stares thoughtfully at the decorative window screen, and I see worry lines crease her perfect mouth’s corners. She returns her attention to me and points toward the door.

  “Come.”

  We slip outside into dusk’s purple shadows and march briskly around center campus’s circular footpath. It takes only a moment to realize our destination is High Master Ning’s pagoda.

  Mistress Song doesn’t pause to strike the gong when we reach the white door. Instead, she turns the handle and briefly scans the grounds behind us before motioning me inside. When we’re in, she shoves the door firmly shut and locks it.

  “The Master is in his library. He’s expecting you.”

  The diminutive housekeeper who greeted me here the other day comes through a doorway to our right.

  Mistress Song bows to the nameless woman before placing a hand against the small of my back to lightly guide me into the library.

  “Welcome.”

  Master Ning smiles at us. Someone is already seated beside him at the turtle table.

  Lily.

  She lifts her head, meets my gaze for a fraction of a second, and quickly looks away. The glance lasts long enough to see the conflicted feelings churning inside her. Her eyes are a little red. She must have been crying.

  “It appears the four of us have important things to discuss,” Master Ning says.

  He places a thin hand on Lily’s shoulder and smiles gently at her before redirecting his attention to Mistress Song.

  “How would you feel,” he asks, “about adding a second student to your special evening class?”

  SEVENTEEN

  十七

  JENNA

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Huh?”

  I tear my eyes away from the side view mirror, blink them back into focus, and look at Mom.

  “I asked if something’s bothering you.”

  “No, I was…um…daydreaming.”

  “That’s a relief. For a moment, I thought our car was being followed by demented psychopaths.”

  I stiffen, glance in the mirror again, and she laughs and nudges me with her elbow.

  “I’m kidding, Jenna. So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or not?”

  A passing car’s headlights cast flickering shadows across Mom’s concerned face. I hesitate before answering.

  “I had a strange dream,” I say. “On the plane.”

  “I noticed you were doing your best to catch up on lost sleep. Probably a good thing. You’ve had those dark circles around your eyes for nearly a week now. So what about this dream? What was so interesting you can’t stop thinking about it?”

  “Have you ever had a dream so real,” I ask, “it seemed like it must be more than a dream?”

  She nods. “I had one of those once.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe I’m not insane after all. Maybe other people experience these things.

  “It happened when I was in high school.”

  I shift toward her, interested.

  “It was so vivid I could feel the asphalt’s texture under my bare feet and the sun in my hair.”

  “What happened? Where were you?”

  Mom grins. “I dreamed I’d just woken up after a night of sleepwalking. I had walked several miles from my family’s house to the high school parking lot, and I was still in my pajamas, with no make-up on, and my hair was a ratty mess.”

  She pauses to laugh.

  “The worst part was that other students were starting to show up. I was getting frantic—looking for a place to hide—when my alarm clock finally went off and woke me up. What a relief!”

  I half-heartedly add my laughter to hers.

  “Some researchers,” she says, “believe dreams are the brain’s way of coping with insecurities and problems we face during our waking hours.”

  Oh, no. I’ve awakened the behavioral scientist that lurks within her. I know what she’s going to suggest next.

  “So what happened in your dream? Where were you and what were you feeling? Maybe we can interpret what your brain is trying to tell you.”

  I shake my head.

  “Maybe later, Mom. I’m really tired and not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed.”

  She looks hurt. I glance away, trying to act like I don’t notice I’ve wounded her.

  My dreams are nothing like what she described. Her dream was embarrassing but still just a dream. My dreams are real. I’m sharing Jade’s life in a frightening alternate universe. Our brains are linked like conjoined twins. How am I supposed to explain that?

  It’s almost ten o’clock when Mom pulls into our driveway. Ten on a school night which means I’ll soon be in bed repeating the whole exhausting dream-cycle. I don’t want to share Jade’s problems anymore. I have problems of my own.

  I wonder what would happen if I refused to fall asleep. Could it break the mind connection? Would Jade fall into a coma and never wake up?

  That thought makes me feel guilty, and yet…

  I shake my head. I can’t think about this anymore.

  In the house, I throw my things on my bed, rub my throbbing temples, and go to the kitchen. Mom has the phone on conference mode as she checks missed phone calls. A cheerful voice warbles out of the speaker.

  “Hi, Emily. This is Dr. Braithwaite…”

  Someone from the university.

  I get a glass from the cupboard and fill it with crushed ice.

  “Second message,” a computerized female voice announces. “Unavailable number. Received today at 7:35 p.m.”

  “Hi, Dr. Clark.” A male voice this time. “This is Ben Fowler. From your Intro to Psychology class. I have a question about the report due on Wednesday…”

  Another one of Mom’s students tracking her down through those invasive “people search” web sites. She can’t escape her teacher role even at home.

  I fill the glass with water until the ice floats, rub my aching head again, and bring the glass to my lips.

  “Final message. Unavailable number. Received today at 9:55 p.m.”

  We hear raspy breathing. Someone starts speaking.

  “He’s watching you,” the voice says. “Soon he’ll find her, too. When he does, it will be too late to stop him…”

  The caller quits talking and makes a choking noise as if attempting to strangle himself. After a moment the gagging stops.

  “Protect yourself,” he says. “He’s coming. I can’t hold him back much longer.”

  The message ends. I drop my drink, and broken glass skitters across the wood floor.

  Mom stares between me and the shattered glass. Her face looks pale, and her hands are shaking.

  “A stupid prank call,” she says, suddenly angry. “Probably a student who got a bad grade. Nothing to worry about. Here. Let’s cl
ean this up.”

  I get a dishtowel. Mom grabs the broom and dustpan, and we clean the floor in silence.

  He’s coming. Coming for me. He’s searching for Jade, too.

  But who is he, and how can he search two worlds at once?

  I’m done with these dreams. I have to find a way to stop them. Jade can fend for herself because I’m finished. These dreams have to end.

  EIGHTEEN

  十八

  JADE

  “I suppose I don’t need to explain why the two of you are here today.”

  Lily and I stare at our hands which we’ve folded penitently in our laps. Master Yao looms over us, attempting to crush us with the force of his willpower, but it’s hard to listen to him while the disturbing Jenna dream keeps replaying itself in my mind.

  “You created a spectacle at the evening meal,” he growls. “You disregarded rules of female decorum…”

  Rules of female decorum? What on earth is that supposed to mean?

  Master Yao clasps his hands behind his back, puffs out his barrel chest, and struts back and forth in front of us.

  “You are a disgrace to this academy, and, as Chief Officer of Educational Discipline, it is my duty to make an example of you.”

  His nostrils have flared. His face is red. Lily and I exchange surreptitious glances. Master Ning warned us this might happen. He also explained he and Mistress Song could do nothing to intervene. At every imperial academy there are three positions assigned to particularly overzealous teachers. Always males who have demonstrated extreme loyalty to the Emperor, they are appointed as Discipline Officers, Amplitude Instructors, or Culture Administrators. At this academy, Master Yao holds all three titles.

  “The penalty must be as public as your reprehensible behavior,” he says. “Something that will remind you who you are and why you’re here. Tomorrow morning you will present yourselves at Recitation where I will announce your punishment to the entire school.”

  He stops pacing to glower at us.

  “Have I made myself understood?”

  “Yes, Master Yao.” We answer in quiet unison.

  “Very good. Return to your class.”

  We move with bowed heads toward the door. Lily, even though she was behind me, somehow gets there first. We make sure we’re well away from the pagoda before we dare lift our heads to speak.

  “I’m sorry, Jade. This is my fault. Your punishment will be worse because you’re my friend.”

  “What makes you think that?” I ask.

  “Because someone at this academy has special reasons to hate me.”

  Lily wears a brooding look. Very uncharacteristic. But the moment she notices me staring, she wipes it away.

  “Master Yao likes to scare students and listen to himself talk,” she says. “He’ll probably make us scrub dirty rice bowls in the kitchen or clean squat toilets in the lavatory. That’s the punishment he gives to everyone. He thinks it’s as terrible as a death sentence.”

  I laugh quietly. Then I become serious again and ask, “How did you find out?”

  “Find out about what?”

  “My special training. How did you know?”

  She looks sheepish. “I circled back.”

  “Circled back?”

  “After Mistress Song told me to go to class, I circled around the Martial Pavilion and stood outside the infirmary’s back door. If you stay in the campus wall’s shadows, you can reach a lot of places unnoticed.”

  “Have you been sneaking around the academy a lot?” I tease.

  She doesn’t answer my question. Instead she says, “I didn’t hear much. Only the last few things Mistress Song said before Mistress Tianshi showed up. Something about Amplitude training and how she wanted you to leave evening meal early so she could start teaching you.”

  We stop beside a bed of wine-colored orchids and Lily stoops to pick one.

  “Don’t let Master Yao catch you doing that,” I say. “He’ll have you crawling through sewer pipes with scrubbing pads on your hands and knees.”

  Lily rolls her eyeballs. “I live for danger. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

  Would she be so lighthearted if she understood the danger we’re really in? Do I even understand that danger?

  “I wanted to tell you about the training,” I confide. “I wanted to tell you everything. Like Jenna tells her Lily everything. But Master Ning and Mistress Song asked me not to discuss it with anyone.”

  “Jenna? Who’s Jenna?”

  I realize my mistake and clamp my mouth shut.

  “Who’s Jenna?” Lily demands.

  “A long story,” I whisper. “One that can’t be told here.”

  She watches me a moment and finally nods, willing to wait.

  “I’m sorry about getting angry,” she says. “And sorry about getting you punished with me because of it. I’ll wash the rice bowls by myself. You don’t have to touch any of them unless Master Yao shows up to check on us.”

  “No,” I say. “We’re in this together. We share a dangerous secret, and we have to be prepared to share its consequences.”

  Lily grins.

  “Partners in crime,” she whispers.

  I try to grin back, but I can’t be as cavalier about it as she is.

  And now, because of my unconscious slip, I’ll have to tell her about my dreams. I haven’t even made it a full day and already I’ve done exactly what I was warned not to do. I’m hopeless. No wonder Jenna despises me.

  NINETEEN

  十九

  JENNA

  The grass is damp beneath my bare feet and a slight breeze whips my oversized nightshirt around my knees. I’m dreaming. It’s the same kind of dream Mom had, only I haven’t made it to the school parking lot yet.

  My legs move mechanically. I’m not in control. My body has decided on a destination, and it’s carry me there of its own accord. Interestingly, this dream isn’t taking place in Jade’s world, and that brings me a brief flash of euphoria.

  I’ve now traveled halfway across our next door neighbors’ yard, and the chill seeping up through my feet’s soles makes me shiver. That’s when he steps out of the shadows and breaks the silence with his hacking cough.

  My body shudders.

  My pulse thunders in my ears.

  “The jade necklace,” he says. “You took it off.”

  I regain control of an arm and place a shielding hand against my neck.

  “It limits his power. Why didn’t you leave it on?”

  “Who…who are you?” I demand.

  The homeless man ignores my question.

  “He knows about your dreams. He can feel your amplitudes. Find the Seventh Prophecy and use it to save yourself. Anqi Sheng’s Seventh Prophecy. Convince your link to read it.”

  “My ‘link’? What are you talking about?”

  The homeless man staggers, falls to his knees, and presses both hands against his head.

  “Run!” he says. “He’s coming!”

  My legs, like two concrete posts, have up to this point held me immobile, but now they’re gelatine. I stagger, regain my balance, and slowly edge away. A glance over my shoulder shows me I’ve left the front door wide open. I’ve definitely been sleepwalking, but this is no dream. I’m literally standing in the neighbors’ yard in the middle of the night.

  “Come to me, girl!”

  His voice has changed. It’s somehow harsher and colder.

  The new voice has a greater effect on me than the earlier command to run, and I sprint for the house, gasping, warm tears streaking my face.

  This can’t be real! This can’t be real! And yet I’ve never experienced such tangible fear. I look back, and the man in the straw hat is getting to his feet. He’s striding forcefully toward me, his eyes hollow like two black pits.

  I stumble through the door, slam it, lock the deadbolt, and slap the security chain in place. Why isn’t Mom waking up? Why doesn’t she hear this? I open my mouth to call to her, but an invisible fo
rce grasps the muscles in my throat and squeezes my voice off.

  My fingers reach for the deadbolt and fumble to unlock it. What am I doing? I don’t want him in here! I yank my hand back as if it’s been burned.

  First Amplitude. Mu waves. The power of manipulation. He’s attempting to control my mind and body. I fight against his terrible power.

  “Necklace!” I gasp.

  I stumble into my bedroom, snatch it off the dresser, twist it around my neck. The effect is deeply felt and immediate. It’s like black cords are unraveling from around my brain.

  When Mom enters the room and turns on the light, she finds me sobbing on the floor. Somehow she comprehends enough of my babbled explanation to look out the window. Finding nothing, she pulls me against her and strokes my hair.

  “Shhh,” she whispers. She does it the same way she did when I was a little girl with night terrors. “It was just a bad dream. It’s all right now. I’m here to protect you.”

  Just a bad dream? Or am I going crazy? I can no longer tell the difference between fantasy and reality.

  I’ll feel humiliated in the morning, but for now I hang onto Mom, allowing her to soothe my fears away.

  TWENTY

  二十

  JADE

  “Concentrate,” Mistress Song says. “Force everything from your mind. Relaxation is essential. It’s impossible to properly focus your amplitudes if you’re too tense.”

  It’s difficult to remain relaxed with Jenna’s terrifying experience still ringing in my head. The worst part is I feel like it’s my fault. My dreams led him to her.

  “You’re still not relaxed,” Mistress Song says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Breathe in through your nose. Breathe out through your mouth.”

  The boys practice deep meditation every other day with Master Ai. I thought meditation was a way to relax, but this is strenuous.

  “Inhale slowly,” Mistress Song tells me. “Let the air flow through your body like water. Let its cooling strength wash in and out of you like waves on a sandy beach.”

  I feel some of my tension evaporate, but I think it’s due more to my teacher’s hypnotically soothing voice than anything I’m doing.