Master Dogan nodded. “It was the Daemons that created the Gateway; it makes perfect sense that you would be attuned to it. The texts refer to it being imbued with a self-preservation instinct—which is why Marked Ones continue to be born now, millennia after it was created. That also explains the feeling you had of the Gateway wanting to be reformed.”
“I'm really not sure how I did it,” I said. “I just knew that it needed to be done.”
“And so you did,” Master Dogan said, a spark of pride behind his weary eyes.
“We would like to show our gratitude,” Annys said, “though our options are limited just now.”
“What? No, I don't need a reward,” I said hastily. “I'm grateful Taren found me; that he brought me here, where I'm not a freak. Or, well, still a freak, but a useful one.”
“It's really nothing to get excited about,” Annys said. “I feel badly that because of our current state of disarray, we won't be allowing visitors for a time. Your mother was scheduled to visit this week. I thought perhaps you might like to go see her, instead.”
“You mean leave the Institute?”
It was the last thing I wanted. This was the one place I felt safe, and it had been Annys who had assured me that my mother was safer with me gone. I'd just make her understand the delay in visiting.
Annys’s expression was contemplative for a moment, but then changed to one of resolve. “I didn't want to say anything,” she said, “but your mother doesn't seem to be doing well in your absence. She's made several calls over the past two weeks, and I think seeing you might do her some good.”
“Oh.” She had sounded OK when we'd spoken on the phone, but that didn't mean things couldn't have changed since then.
“It's not just for her,” Annys continued. “As you can imagine, the Elders have questions and would like the opportunity to observe you and be kept abreast of your progress. When classes resume on Monday, I fear your schedule will be even fuller than it has been.”
I pictured myself as a lab rat running through a maze, the Elders holding clipboards and stopwatches.
“What about the Demon?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry. “It'll be inside my head the whole time.”
It was Master Dogan who answered, his tone reassuring. “Ember, you've progressed leaps and bounds from where you started, and even before, you weren't under its control, not really. It convinced you of certain things that then led you to act, but now you know not to believe it.”
“And remember,” Annys said, “the influence of the demons is strongest here. Away from the Gateway, their strength wanes. In addition to the Guardians already protecting your mother, I've arranged for Katrina to join you, as your own personal protection. It's not unusual that programs for at-risk youth require a peer mentor to accompany them on trips.”
Annys was saying I had a choice, but I had the feeling the matter had already been decided. My mother must have been driving her crazy with phone calls if Annys was willing to go to all this trouble. I couldn't see the harm; it seemed safe enough with Guardians watching us, and I had gotten better at blocking out the Voice. And, as Master Dogan had pointed out, listening didn't mean believing. I had to admit, it would be good to see my mother; we'd never been apart this long.
“Thank you,” I said finally, “for going to all this trouble.”
Annys waved her hand dismissively. “It's nothing. Especially when compared with what you did for all of us—for the world—last night. Go, enjoy yourself. Come back Sunday, refreshed and ready to learn.”
I smiled, my spirits genuinely lifted. “I will,” I said, “I promise.”
Kat came to get me at four o'clock that same day. She looked as bone-weary as the rest of us, but on her, it seemed sultry.
“I hope you know I'm giving up some prime demon-killing to babysit for the weekend,” she said.
Her tone was teasing, but had a sharp edge. Could she actually be disappointed to not be out fighting? The concept was foreign to me—I hated conflict. I didn't like raised voices, let alone raised weapons.
“Sorry,” I said with a shrug, “but if you're good, I'll take you to an open mic night where lesbians spout angst-ridden poetry.”
“Whoa, someone's feeling sassy,” she replied, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
She was right. The good mood that had started in Master Dogan's office had only grown. I was being allowed out in the world again, to the land of Indian food take-out, perfect lattes at Buzz, and unrestricted Internet usage. If Master Dogan and Annys both felt I was ready to be released into the wild, who was I to doubt them?
We exited the dorm and strolled down the path toward where Kat was parked. We reached the boundary line and she glanced at me.
“Ready?” she asked.
I took a step past the boundary and smiled. “Piece of cake.”
It wasn't cake, exactly—more like Brussels sprouts. I didn't enjoy the walk, but got through it. By the time we reached the car, I was queasy, but held it at bay. The nausea eased as we wound our way down the mountain. I leaned my head out the window, delighted by the breeze and the fact that, so far, I'd heard nothing in my head but my own thoughts.
“Kat,” I said, when my curiosity got the best of me, “what happened with Taren? Why did Annys take him off duty?”
She gave me a sidelong look and said, “You heard about that, huh?”
“It's a small institute,” I said, hoping I sounded casual.
Friday rush hour traffic was in full effect, and Kat wailed on her horn. “Come on, it's not going to turn another shade of green.”
We moved forward a few car lengths, but stopped again when the light turned red.
“Perfect,” she muttered.
I waited. I couldn't ask again; I didn't want to seem desperate for information.
“The truth is, I don't really know what happened,” she said finally. “He won't tell me, which is infuriating.”
“He didn't say anything?”
I couldn't let it go. It wasn't purely selfish—I was worried about him.
“I made it back to the house around dawn to get some sleep—demons are less likely to strike in crowds or during daylight—figuring I'd meet up with Taren and arrange to go on a sweep later. When I got there, the house was empty. I called him and texted him a dozen times, out of my mind with worry, and then he showed up an hour later, slamming doors and cursing. I asked what was wrong and he told me to mind my own business and shut a door in my face. I took the hint and crashed at a friend's place. I haven't heard from him since.”
“Have you tried calling again, or—?”
“Ember, I've known Taren most of my life—we trained together, became Guardians together, and in all the battles where it counted, he's been there to watch my back. It's killing me that I have no idea what's going on with him, but he's made it clear he doesn't want my help. And I swear I'm not trying to be a bitch, but it sounds like he's made it clear to you, too.”
The words cut deep, more so because she was right. Even before Taren had been suspended he'd been distancing himself from me, and my attempts at closeness had only driven him further away.
“I'm sorry,” Kat said. “I had hopes for you two. If it makes you feel any better, he’s said some really nice things about you. And who knows—when he gets over whatever he's going through, maybe there's still a chance.”
“Yeah,” I said, the word sounding hollow.
“See, this is why being a lesbian is so much easier. You don't have to deal with men,” she said, cracking a smile.
At first my smile was forced, but then became genuine when I realized that she was right—there was still a chance for Taren and me. Neither of us was going anywhere anytime soon—he was too valuable for Annys to suspend him permanently, and aside from this brief trip home, I was going to be at the Institute for the long haul. I could be patient.
“So,” Kat said, “where's this Mecca of lesbian poetry goodness you told me about? I could go for some coffee.”
We left Buzz with bellies full of latte and pastry. It was too early for poetry, but Kat found a table of cute girls to flirt with while I caught Clyde up on my new “boarding school.” I also inquired if anyone had been in asking about me, but thankfully, the answer was no.
An hour passed and I got antsy to get home.
“Hey Kat, you ready?” I called to her from the bar.
She was whispering in the ear of a petite blonde with cropped hair who then giggled, a blush rising in her pale cheeks.
“Kat?” I said again.
She looked up. “Yeah, sorry, I'm ready.” She walked over to me. “Not sure what you had in mind for tomorrow night, but Magda says her band is playing down the street.”
“Oh really? Is that what Magda says?”
“So are you up for a little music?” she said, ignoring my smirk.
“Is that OK?” I asked. “To be out?”
“Crowded place, remember? And don't worry—anything pops up, I got your back.”
It was a tempting idea; I loved live music. Who knew when I'd get the chance to go to a club again. Besides, Kat was giving me the puppy dog eyes—which I was apparently not immune to, despite being straight.
“OK, sure. Sounds fun,” I said.
“Awesome, I've already got all the info,” she said, holding up a flyer. She waved to Magda and I gave Clyde a hug before leaving.
Minutes later, we were pulling up outside of the apartment I used to share with my mother. I felt the need to warn Kat that Mom might not be on her best behavior.
“So, my mom is kind of…”
“Bi-polar,” she said, “I know, you told me. Don't worry, being raised within the Institute, I've been exposed to all levels of sanity or lack thereof. Wherever she's at on the mood scale, we'll deal with it.”
I sighed with relief. What a difference it made not to feel ashamed.
It was strange to knock on the door, but I realized as I walked up the steps that I had no idea where my key was. Probably still in the dish on my desk where I’d left it that dark night weeks ago. My hand still in mid-knock, the door flew open, and before I could say anything, my mother pulled me into an embrace.
“Em, it's so good to see you.” Her heart wasn't pounding, her breathing even. I relaxed into her arms.
“It's good to see you, too, Mom.”
She gave me a last squeeze and released me. Her eyes were bright; she looked great. I wondered how long it had been since Annys had spoken with her and deemed her on the brink.
“Mom, this is Kat,” I said, “Kat, this is my mom, Rachel.”
“Nice to meet you,” Kat said. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”
“My pleasure. I was thrilled when Annys said Ember could come home for the weekend. Make yourself at home.”
She stepped back from the doorway and we entered. The place looked lived-in, but tidy. It was when things got too dirty or too clean that I worried.
Kat went to the living room to put down her overnight bag. All I’d brought was my satchel; everything I needed was already here. I followed Mom into the kitchen where she poured us some iced tea.
“What did you want to do tonight?” she asked.
“Whatever you want, Mom, really.”
“How about pizza and a reality TV marathon? I recorded a whole season of one of those housewives shows.”
“Sounds great,” I said. “Let's do it.”
She put an arm around me and guided me to the living room. A part of me would always be on the alert around her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I'd learned to enjoy her during these times when she was lucid, happy, and just my mom. Kat joined us on our garage sale sofa to watch crap television on our outdated set, and I couldn't have been more content.
As it turned out, Kat's threshold for reality programming was apparently lower than mine and Mom's; she drifted off after the first few episodes.
When I went into the kitchen for another slice of pizza, Mom followed me.
“Honey, I didn't want to ask in front of your friend, but how are you? Do you like where you are? Do you think you'll be ready to come home soon?”
It was the one question that could spoil the evening. How could I tell her that I wasn't coming home? That I belonged at the Institute, and I'd be living there until I graduated. I'd always known that as soon as I turned eighteen, I'd be out of her house. I think she knew, too, and was preparing for it. But to leave a year and a half early… I was worried how she would react.
“I like it, Mom. A lot, actually.” It had to be done. Whether to break the news slowly or all at once was the question. “The classes are really advanced. I'm learning stuff I never would have gotten to in public school.”
I searched her eyes for a reaction. So far so good.
“It's not just a place for troubled teens. Even once they decide I’m not a threat to myself, I can stay, if I want to.”
“And do you want to?” Her voice was quiet but didn't break, and no tears were forthcoming.
“If you say it's OK, then, yeah, I think I would like to stay.” There, it was done. I added, “But I'll come home as much as they'll let me.”
She let out a long sigh. “Well, if that's what you want. I miss you like crazy, but you look better than you have in a long time. If being there is making you happy, then it's what I want for you. God knows I don't want you to end up like me…”
Her face clouded, but her eyes remained dry. “I'm sorry, Mom,” I said.
“No, Em, I'm sorry. I know…I know what I am. And I can only imagine what it's done to you. Don't end up like me, and don't raise a child like this. Whatever they're teaching you, it's working. I guess it's time I grew up too.”
I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much.”
With the television marathon over and Kat already fast asleep on the sofa, Mom and I climbed the stairs to our respective bedrooms.
“Love you, honey, see you tomorrow,” she said.
I returned the sentiment and opened the door to my room, finding it exactly as I'd left it. Art supplies in stacks on the floor, bed unmade. I entered and stopped cold.
The mural.
My heart raced. Kat was right downstairs. She couldn't be allowed to see this. I didn't even want to see it. It loomed in front of me like a gaping mouth, threatening to swallow me whole. I scanned my room. The only paints I had were in small tubes, not nearly enough to cover the wall. In a panic, I pulled one of the blankets from my bed. It was lightweight and meant for a king-size bed. I'd folded it to fit my twin. I shook it, watching it unfurl. The fabric was all black with a violet lotus woven into it. It would more than cover the symbol.
I yanked open the drawers of my desk and found a full box of thumbtacks. They would have to do; I couldn't start pounding nails at midnight. My mother might not have found it odd, but I was certain Kat would come running. I pulled my chair over to the wall and began the arduous process of pressing thumbtacks through drywall. Fifteen minutes later my fingers were raw, but the blanket provided a thin sheath that covered the symbol completely.
I sat down on my bed, spent.
Covering it up doesn't change what you are.
I don't want it to. Otherwise, I couldn't stop you.
If the Demon replied, I didn't hear it. Master Dogan was right; I was much better at blocking it out now.
18
My sleep was fitful, but I'd been expecting that. If there was a way to meditate while asleep, my classes hadn't yet covered it.
In the morning I stumbled downstairs, the smell of coffee filling my nostrils and making me smile. Kat was already seated at the folding card table we ate at. Mom was at the stove, flipping a pancake.
“This one's for you, babe. Kat's already had three,” she said with a grin.
“I couldn't help it, they're too good.” Kat said, patting her belly.
I poured myself some coffee and refilled Kat's cup.
“What do you girls w
ant to do today?” Mom asked, sliding my pancake onto a plate.
“Up to you,” Kat said to me. It stood to reason; Kat could come and go as she pleased from the Institute.
I poured a generous helping of syrup and considered the options. “How about some shopping?”
“Ooh, I like this plan,” Kat said.
I wondered if she realized that our shopping trips consisted of hunting for treasures at secondhand stores.
“Great, it's settled, then,” Mom said, stealing a bite of my pancake.
As I ate, I noticed the pill minder on the table. When she was on the wagon, my mother portioned out her meds into the daily slots. Friday's and Saturday's were still full. Missing one day didn't usually have an adverse effect, but I popped open today's and held them out for her to take.
She shook her head. “No thanks, I'm good.”
I tilted my head. We'd had this conversation before. “Yes, you are good. Let's keep you that way.”
“Em, it's fine, I'll start again tomorrow. You know how cloudy they make me. I just want to be awake enough to enjoy your visit.”
“Mom, you know—”
“I said it's fine. Now please stop embarrassing me in front of your friend.”
My mother's tone was firm, and I knew it was a lost cause. I put the pills back in the case. Kat just stared into her cup.
An awkward moment later, my mother smiled and said, “Which store do you want to hit first?”
As expected, Kat was less enthusiastic once we pulled up to the first thrift store. Mom and I searched the racks while Kat chatted with a painfully emo kid. For her part, my mom seemed to be doing well, but I found myself in the familiar role of studying her, watching for any sign of an impending apocalypse.
I tried on multiple pairs of jeans; Mom modeled a poodle skirt and several hats. We didn't find anything at the first store, so we headed off to the next. Kat was a decent sport about it, never complaining, but never trying anything on, either.
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