by Jess Evander
“Naw, more like computer whiz.” Eugene yanks his glasses from his face. One side catches on his ear, and he has to pull again. Finally off, he rubs them on the tail of his shirt and puts the glasses back on. If it’s even possible, they look dirtier.
Finished, I set the tray on the ground. “Let me guess, you did something awful and your punishment was to bring me dinner.”
His voice takes on the tone of a game show announcer. “Oh no, folks. It looks like Contestant One loses the prize. Shame too, it was an all-inclusive trip to the Bahamas.” Eugene gestures to a fake audience. “Should we give her another try?”
“How about you just tell me?”
“It’s so much less fun, but if you insist.” His face drops back into a solemn expression. “It’s simple. I’m here because I wanted to meet you. I asked for the honor.”
I inch to face him, my eyes narrowing. “But you don’t even know me.”
Eugene leans back, crosses his ankles. “You’re right, but I want to.”
“Why?”
“Because, Gabriella, I believe in you.”
“That’s crazy. Besides, there’s nothing worth believing in here.” I shoot to my feet and pace away.
He shakes his head so hard I fear for the health of his brain. “That’s not how I see it.”
I lean back against the wall. “Yeah, well enlighten me, computer whiz.”
“Some of them think you’re dangerous. The Elders, and some of the others too.”
I make a show of glancing around the cell. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”
He shuffles his feet. “Let me talk. It’s just because you present something new, something they can’t explain away. I happen to think that doesn’t necessarily make you bad. There are a lot of us who feel the same way. I saw Darnell in the mess hall. He’s not supposed to, but he showed me your blood reading. You’re different, Gabriella. Special.”
“But I’m not.”
He leans forward. “You are.”
“Why me?” I take a step closer. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong. You were created this way. Born to accomplish something out of the ordinary. That scares people, terrifies them. But not everyone. There’s a group—a fraction of us that support you.” Eugene’s voice is low.
Supports me? This is starting to sound like war. Icy terror skitters across my spine. I open my mouth to speak, but the words stick in my mouth, because my cell door swings open again. What now? Have they come for Eugene? Angry at him for bringing me food? I’m expecting a Teal Team guard, but instead, marvelously, there stands Michael.
A sense of calm blankets my heart.
I can’t explain it, but we’re like North and South ends of a magnet. Instantly attracted. Meant to stick together. The look in his eyes tells me he’ll always come for me, no matter what. I don’t know why I didn’t sense it when we first met. My first instinct now is to lunge at him, toss my arms around his neck, and hug tightly. That, and then admonish my Obi-Wan to never, ever, let me out of his sight again. But my muscles freeze because Michael looks angrier than a bull that sat on a bee. It wouldn’t be surprising if he started pawing the ground. Seriously.
The width of his shoulders seems to have grown. He takes up the whole doorway. His dark hair has gone limp, cascading into his eyes. Even still, his glare is unmistakable. Something boils in his chocolate eyes, deep and menacing. Bathed in shadows, he looms like a dark angel—come for vengeance. Michael’s intensity would frighten me, if his look was aimed my way. But he’s focused on poor, squirming Eugene.
Michael’s lip pulls up. “What are you doing here?”
I pop to my feet and begin to ramble. “Oh, me? Thanks for asking. There was this creepy meeting with Lark’s dad—who I think has some serious mental issues by the way—and he—”
Michael silences me with a look. His eyebrows are drawn low.
Eugene’s foot nudges the tray on the ground. “I brought her dinner.”
My dark angel folds his arms across his chest. He leans a shoulder against the door frame. “And you’re still here—alone with her—because?”
I hold my tongue this time.
“Because, last time I checked—Keleusma and us Shifters for that matter—are free to do as we want.” For a skinny guy, Eugene can sure puff his chest out when he needs to. He snatches up the tray, and does a sort of an awkward bow to me. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Creed. Until I see you again. Take care.” Eugene makes a move for the doorway, and Michael steps aside and lets him into the hall.
I wait for the sound of Eugene’s footfall to die before squaring my shoulders toward Michael. He’s not going to get my originally planned warm welcome. Not when he was rude. “Okay, and what was the Mr. Creep act for?”
Michael relaxes his stance and shoots a smile my way. “He’s an odd one. Sorry if he said anything weird to you. When it comes to the technical problems around here, he’s our go-to. Otherwise, Eugene’s known to talk a lot of nonsense.” He takes a step closer. “He didn’t say anything strange, did he?” He takes my elbow in his overly warm hand and gives a squeeze.
Can I trust Michael? A fist tightens in my gut. I jerk out of his touch. “Honestly, everyone here talks in riddles. Present party included.”
“Well, I have something to say that’s perfectly clear.” He grins at me, and for the first time I notice he has a dimple, but just one, on his left cheek.
I work my jaw back and forth. “I’m all intrigued.”
“You’re free, Gabby. Let’s get you out of here and to your new room in the residential wing.”
He doesn’t have to say another word. I bolt to the door. Michael’s boisterous laugh follows me down the hall, and he has to jog to catch up. “Hey, slow down, Trigger, you don’t even know where you’re going.” He lays a protective hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the passageway on the left when I was aimed for the right.
“Let go.” I jerk away from his touch.
He stops walking. “I’ll apologize, if you tell me what I did wrong.”
“Why were you so rude to Eugene? He came and helped me and you didn’t, so—”
“Wow. Well, I’m sorry. I was busy petitioning The Elders on your behalf. I mean, if you’d like to still be in there…”
No wonder. I should have known he was trying to convince them to let me go. I gulp. Now I’m the one who should apologize for being rude. “Thank you. Whatever you did, it worked.”
“Follow me.” He brushes past me and heads down another hallway.
I now have to jog after him to keep up.
He motions toward an elevator and ushers me inside. When the door whooshes shut, he looks my way. “I just asked them to seek guidance from Nicholas. They listened.”
“Funny, I tried to talk to him and heard squat.”
He scans a card over the reader in the elevator. “Maybe you were talking so much you couldn’t hear him.”
“Unlikely.” I shrug. “I take it he doesn’t want me rotting in a cell?”
“Nope.” He leans toward me, and shakes his head. We’re so close inside the elevator. He must have showered since the last time I saw him. Michael smells like pine trees with a touch of peppermint.
I’m suddenly worried that I don’t smell as fresh as he does. I take a step away, and lean against the far wall. “What then?”
“The same thing he wants from all of us. He wants you trained and working. Nicholas is all about taking action on things, not sitting idly by.”
The elevator wobbles to a halt and the doors ease open. I grab Michael’s arm. “Take me to him.”
“To who?”
“To Nicholas. I’m sick of all this second-hand information. I want to talk to him, face to face. I have so many questions.”
He tugs me out of the elevator before the doors slide shut. “You can’t see him. It doesn’t work like that, Gabby.”
“Really? What? Am I not good enough for him?”
“No, it’s not like that at all.�
�� He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve never seen Nicholas. The Elders have never met him, either. No one has.”
“But that’s ridiculous.” I stop walking, forcing Michael to turn and look at me. “So all these people, this whole place, follows the orders of a man you don’t even know.”
“Careful, Gabby.” His gaze darts up to the ceiling, scans as if he’s searching for something, then lands back on my face. “It’s called trust. You should try it some time.” Michael swings around and punches a code into a keypad on the wall. A door whispers open.
There are groups of people walking in a large corridor. We can’t continue our conversation without being overheard, and something tells me I don’t want to be heard arguing Nicholas’s merits, or lack thereof. Unless I want a one-way ticket back to that cell. No thank you.
“Your room is just this way. Girls ward, number 309.” Michael withdraws a purple keycard from his back pocket and hands it to me. “Go ahead. Use it.”
“Are you allowed here?”
“Sure. Because of the Pairing, they aren’t too strict about keeping us out of each other’s residential area. There isn’t much to worry about there.”
“Right. Of course.” I wave the card in front of a black box on the wall. There’s a clicking sound, and then the door rolls open to reveal a spacious bedroom with a small sitting area. My first thought is that the cat-lady Elder must have decorated the space. The bedspread is an eye-piercing orange, complete with flashy pink pillows. Avocado green walls scream to be repainted, and a loud floral-print couch does nothing to improve the look. An overpowering scent of roses accosts my nose.
Michael steps in behind me. “Wow, sorry. The last girl who had this room grew up in the seventies. She had a flare for the eccentric. I’m sure you could change it if you want.”
I finger a string of beads hanging in a curtain from the ceiling. “What happened to her?”
He glances at me over his shoulder as he walks to a ledge on the wall. At first, he doesn’t say anything, just traces his fingers over the wooden shelf, gathering dust. With a long blow of air, he sends dust moats waltzing across my new room. Then he turns back to me.
“She died, Gabby. People die.”
I take a step in his direction. “Of old age. Something like that?”
“No. Cathy was twenty, I think. She died shifting. Last we heard she was in the midst of a typhoid outbreak. It happens. That’s why the Elders cautioned you.”
“I’m so sorry about your back.” The words spill out before I can rein them in.
Michael shakes his head, inching closer. “I didn’t mean—”
I lick my lips. “It was my fault. I should have listened to you.”
“You saved a child’s life,” he says. Michael’s close enough to smell again, fresh like the sunshine splashed outdoors. Using one finger, he tucks a chunk of bangs behind my ear. His light touch sets loose an army of traitorous butterflies, beating their wings against my stomach.
I have to lean closer to hear him as he lowers his voice. “And when I look at that scar, or feel it pull, it’ll only make me think of you.”
Um, lungs—take a breath already. “Is that a good thing?”
His dimple comes back out to play. “Very good. Sleep now, Gabby.” He takes a step toward the open doorway.
I fight the urge to grab his arm. Yank him back. He’s the closest thing to home right now. “You can’t just leave. What happens in the morning? Will you come for me?”
He smiles, and his eyes are only half open. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Michael strolls back to the hallway, but at the last second, he turns and points to the ledge on the wall.
I notice a piece of paper that wasn’t there before. I’m already pacing toward the wall when I hear the door close. Michael’s gone, and somehow the room feels colder. Trepidation nibbles on my heart as I unfold the paper and scan the words:
Be careful. Don’t ask any more questions. The Elders are watching you.
Loud pounding on the door wakes me with a jolt. I snap up in bed, pulling my covers to my chin like a shield. What now? Did I do something wrong? I can’t think of anything. Why would they come for me again?
After Michael left last night, I paced my room. Folded his note and tucked it into my back pocket. I tried to figure out how to work the overly technical shower in the bathroom and failed miserably. In the end, I curled on top of the bed, and sleep tip-toed in quicker than I would have imagined possible.
My eyes dart around the room. There’s no place to take cover. Unless you count ducking behind the couch or hiding in the bathroom. Besides, they probably slipped a tracking device under my skin while I slept. The Elders seem the types.
The door opens before I can compose myself.
Lark saunters in, shaking her head as she surveys me, her hands on her hips. “Still in bed. What are we ever going to do with you?”
I glare at her and flip down my covers. “How did you get in? I locked the door.”
She waves a black keycard. “Elder’s daughter comes with the occasional privilege.”
“Well, that’s just great.” When my feet hit the chilled floor, I snatch them back up. A rug would be a nice touch. An eggplant-colored one would match this wacky room.
Lark wrinkles her nose. “Gross. I can’t believe you slept in your clothes.”
“It’s not like I had a choice.” My muscles flex, bracing against the cold as I touch my feet to the ground again.
“You have a closet full of stuff right there.” She points at the wall.
The wall is just that, a wall. No door handle, nothing to hint at a closet, just peeling avocado paint.
I tap my finger on my chin. “Are you sure?”
“You’re hopeless, completely hopeless. How will you ever figure out what to do when you shift?” Lark strides to the wall and presses her palm to it. A wave of light flickers over her, and a door appears. She pushes it open. “Voila! Plenty of clothes.” Her eyebrows are lowered when she turns back around. “Tell me you showered.”
I stand. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t figure it out.”
“Ugh. Swipe your card. There’s a slot by the soap tray.” She pushes a pillow off the couch and grabs a seat. “Go. I’ll wait.”
First, I stumble into my walk-in closet. Rows of matching shirts and pants line one side. On the other, there are drawers filled with underwear and pajama-type clothing. I snag a change of clothes and head to the bathroom. She’s right. There’s a small slot I didn’t see before, right under the empty soap tray. I slide my purple door card in.
A touch screen appears on the wall with buttons for different kinds of soap, shampoo, and conditioner. I pick apple blossom, and small bottles appear out of the wall and fill the soap tray. Another button gives me a razor and shaving cream. Lark’s waiting, so I try to hurry, but I didn’t realize how tight my muscles were and how good the warm water would feel.
I stand there. Eyes closed. As if the water can wash away the deep knots in my back. But it can’t. Nothing ever will. Less than two days ago, I stood in my small kitchen with Dad. Can that be right? Will I ever get back home? Tears trickle down my cheeks, mingling with the green shampoo. Hands braced against the wall, I drag humid air into my lungs like a drowning victim. Get a hold of yourself! Lark can’t hear me. I don’t want word getting out that I’m prone to breakdowns. A liability. Weak.
After toweling off, I yank on my clean clothes and braid my wet hair. A few splashes of cold water from the sink helps take away the blotchy hints of crying. I reach for the door, raising my chin. Movies always depict the resilient hostage as the one that survives. The other Shifters need to think I’m strong—indifferent to how horribly I’ve been treated. It’s the only way to find a chink in their armor. The only way I’ll get home to Dad, Porter, and Emma. All that matters.
Lark’s on her feet when I come back into the room. “Great. Clean. Let’s go.”
I toss my wad of dirty clothes near the unmade bed,
and follow her to the door. A moment before she opens it, Lark spins around, facing me. “I’m sorry about my dad yesterday. He ... he can be a bit much.”
“I really don’t think I should say anything.”
She gives me a meek half-smile. “It’s not like that. It doesn’t have to be. Just because my dad’s one of the Elders, it doesn’t mean I agree with everything he does.” Her last words are barely audible.
The only answer I can give is a nod. She looks sincere, right into the depths of her crystal blue eyes, but one word against her father’s not about to buy my trust. For all I know, she’s a set-up. I’ll take actions over words any day.
Reaching around her, I press the button that opens my door. “So what’s on the agenda today?” I brush past her. She has to double-step to catch up, but I don’t wait.
“You start training.”
“Okay, what exactly does that entail?”
“Oh, everything.” Lark shrugs. “Guns, combat, horse-back riding.”
People sweep past me in the hallway. Yesterday, they seemed afraid of me. Today, they keep their eyes on the ground, or on each other, seemingly deep in conversation. Or they’re ignoring me. Or they couldn’t care less about me. Wow, I think way too much.
I focus back on Lark. “Why is horse-back riding so important?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe because since the beginning of the world, the horse has been the main way humans have traveled. Cars didn’t start being used until the late 1800’s. Even then, most people still rode horses. If I’m right, a lot of the world still rides horses in the time you’re from.” She guides me to the entrance of the horse arena and flings open the doors.
That brings me up short. “My time ... so you’re not from then?”
Blonde hair flies as she shakes her head. “A bit before your time.”
No wonder she talks weird sometimes.
Michael’s on the far end leading a reddish horse. He raises his hand in welcome when he sees us, like we might miss him, even though he’s the only person there.
I seize Lark’s arm, stopping her. “Can you train me? It doesn’t have to be Michael, does it?”