The Gateway Trilogy: Complete Series: (Books 1-3)

by Christina Garner

A few hours and several thrift stores later, I'd found a pair of jeans, an alligator shirt I hoped I could pull off as ironic, and a vintage dress I had only tried on at my mother's pleading and then bought at Kat's insistence. Mom had made out like a bandit, her best find a tailored pea coat. We were at our last stop, and Kat was clearly bored.

  “Try this on,” I said, holding out a tie-dyed lime green jumpsuit.

  She laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Try it on,” I said again, “and I'll try on these.”

  I held up a pair of gold hot pants and a black sequined halter top. Kat laughed in spite of herself.

  “You're on,” she said, grabbing the jumpsuit.

  We each disappeared into a dressing room and changed into our outfits. I was painfully self-conscious as I emerged—I looked ridiculous—but a deal was a deal. I stepped out to see Kat in the one outfit that could make her look less than gorgeous. The jumpsuit was four inches too short and sagged in the crotch. I looked just as outrageous, the pants skin tight and the top dipping low where there should have been more cleavage to fill it out. We both burst out laughing. Mom walked over to see what was going on and howled. She pulled out her cell phone to take a picture and Kat and I dashed back into our respective dressing rooms.

  “Not fair, Mom! That's against the rules,” I called out, hastily changing clothes.

  “Sorry, sorry, you're right,” she said. “You girls ready for some food?”

  We were, and the three of us went to my favorite Indian place. It was fun to hit all of my favorite places in one day, like living a highlight reel. It was early evening by the time we made it home. Mom had already OK'd us going to the all-ages show, so Kat and I laid down for what Mom called a “disco nap.”

  I woke, groggy in the way you can only get from sleeping in the middle of the day. Downstairs, Kat was watching television.

  “Where's my mom?” I said.

  She shrugged. “She wasn't here when I got up.”

  “I'm going to hit the shower. You need anything?” I asked.

  “Nope. I'll hop in when you're done.”

  Kat refused to let me look in the mirror.

  “I've been doing my own hair since I was six,” I said above the noise of the hairdryer.

  “Don't I know it,” she said, her concentration on my dark locks.

  “Hey—”

  “Oh, hush,” she said, “I'm teasing. I just thought you could use a break from the norm. If you don't like it, I will personally get out my flat iron and give you back stick-straight hair.”

  She was using a diffuser, twisting and rolling sections of my hair as she blew it dry. I closed my eyes and submitted to the treatment. She had already done my makeup, and I could tell by the soft brown colors she’d used that it wasn't my normal look.

  “And voilà!” She spun me around so I could see myself. Soft waves framed my face and fell past my shoulders with just enough of a tousled look to make them seem effortless. My eyes looked bigger than usual, with just a hint of smokiness at the corners.

  “Well?” Kat asked. “What do you think?”

  I considered my reflection. It didn't quite look like me. There was nothing edgy or different looking in what I saw, especially wearing the dress Kat had insisted I buy. I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

  “I guess I didn't know I could look… pretty,” I said finally.

  “Ember, you're always pretty,” she said. “You're beautiful. I just thought you might want to try something new.”

  I had to admit, the look was growing on me.

  “Thanks,” I said, giving her a hug, “you did great.”

  “So no flat iron?”

  “Not tonight,” I said and laughed.

  “Good, because it's almost nine,” she said. “We should go.”

  I grabbed my bag and slung it across my body. “All set.”

  We bounded downstairs, her excited to see Magda, me just happy to go out after dark.

  I stopped short when I saw my mom on her hands and knees cleaning the kitchen floor. She'd come home soon after I'd gotten out of the shower and had been busy downstairs ever since. Seeing her now, scrubbing a non-existent spot, my heart sank.

  “It looks pretty clean, Mom. Why don't you relax and I'll make you a snack?”

  She shook her head. “It is not clean. And it wouldn't kill you to give me a hand before you take off for the night.”

  “Can I help tomorrow?” I asked. “The show starts in—”

  “Forget it, I'll do it myself,” she said, dusting herself off.

  She strode into the living room—her pace too quick, her tread too heavy. I wanted to beg her to take her meds, but I knew it was too late for that.

  “No, Mom, we'll help. It's no big deal to miss the first few songs.”

  I tidied the coffee table, lining up remotes and stacking magazines. Kat caught on and folded her blanket. She began fluffing pillows, giving one of them a smack, which caused a cloud of dust to rise. She had no idea what she'd just set in motion.

  “Look—look at that. It's filthy in here. You can't just slap the dust around, Kat. Don't you know what dust mites are?”

  Kat looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I'm sorry, Ms. Lyons—”

  “Forget it. Just go, both of you.”

  Kat looked at me, unsure of how to respond. I'd seen this before and knew she was going to be at this all night. The neighbors would be complaining about her vacuuming at two a.m. again.

  “OK, Mom. We'll see you later,” I said, but she was paying no attention. She was busy pulling the covers off the couch cushions and muttering.

  I edged out of the room, Kat close behind.

  “Is she all right?” she asked when we reached the door.

  I shook my head. “No, but once it's started, there's no choice but to let her go. If we stay out late enough, she'll burn herself out and be asleep by the time we get back.”

  The door clicked shut behind us, and I knew I'd have a different mother by morning.

  19

  The club was filled with smoke despite the No Smoking signs posted throughout. We'd been too late to say hi to Magda before the show, so Kat flirted and muscled us up to the front of the stage. The lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into applause as the all-girl band sauntered onstage. Magda was stunning in thigh high boots and a short red dress. Her face brightened upon seeing Kat at the front of the crowd.

  The music started, and when the applause died down, I was impressed with the hypnotic sound. Kat was entranced, too, but by Magda, not the chords emanating from her guitar. I closed my eyes, swaying to the music.

  Be careful.

  The intrusion was jarring, but I refused to give in to fear.

  Shut it, I replied, then opened my eyes and gazed at the soft glow of a blue stage light. Slowly, I sank into it. Though I hadn't mastered meditating on a point of light in my mind's eye, I had learned to be selective about what I shut out. I opened more fully to the music, letting it wash over me while silencing the Voice.

  The first set was over too quickly. Kat took me by the hand and led me backstage, where Magda was having a smoke.

  “I'm glad you could make it,” she said.

  “Wouldn't have missed it,” Kat said.

  Magda turned to me. “How about you? Are you enjoying the show?”

  “Definitely,” I said. “I love your sound.”

  We made small talk for a few minutes, which included Magda inviting us to a party when their set was over. We agreed, wanting to put some distance between us and the cleaning frenzy going on at my apartment. The lights dimmed, indicating it was time for the band to go back on. The audience had grown, and people crowded the stage.

  “Why don't you watch from here?” Magda said. “Best seats in the house.”

  We agreed, and Kat went to stand at the edge of the stage while I took a seat on an amplifier not in use.

  Once again I concentrated solely on the music. I wondered what it would be like to kiss someon
e while I was this focused. I closed my eyes and imagined Taren's lips touching mine and having that be all I could feel, every part of me surrendering to him. The image was so real, it was like he was there, touching my shoulder, his warm breath on my neck. His hand slid from my shoulder and clamped over my mouth.

  My eyes flew open, darting wildly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw who had a hold of me. A man wearing dark sunglasses. I clawed at him, kicking furiously, but to no avail. I was no match for the strength of a Red. He pulled me backward. The last thing I saw before darkness engulfed me was Kat staring transfixed at the stage.

  My eyes adjusted quickly. We were in a storage room. Extra chairs were stacked atop each other, a large broom and a mop bucket in the corner. My eyes dimmed again, but this time it was because I was losing consciousness. One of my attacker's hands was still clamped firmly over my mouth while the other encircled my throat, thumb pressed deep into my carotid artery. My feet drummed weakly against the floor.

  From far away I heard the door bang open, and I was dropped to the cement floor. Air rushed into my lungs and I welcomed the pain of it, taking huge gulps. My vision cleared and I looked up to see Taren fighting the Red with a short blade. The Red's eyes glowed like fire, his sunglasses now broken on the floor. He was also armed with a blade, and the two sparred. For all of the Red's strength, his skill was outmatched. Within a minute, Taren knocked the knife from his hand and pinned him to the floor. Without hesitation, he plunged his blade into the Red's chest, sending a spurt of blood into the air. The Red gurgled and blood streamed from his mouth before his head lolled to the side, the unnatural light in his eyes winking out.

  I shook uncontrollably. I'd never seen anyone die before. I knew he—it?—had been about to kill me, but it was still too much.

  Kat hurtled into the room, coming to a halt and taking in the scene.

  “What happened? Are you OK?” She rushed to kneel by my side.

  I was still too stunned to respond. Kat probed tenderly at my neck.

  “Guess we'll be heading back to the thrift store,” she said, forcing a smile. “We're going to need to get you some scarves to cover the bruising.”

  “Scarves?” Taren said, wiping his blade on the dead man's pants. “You almost get her killed and you're worried about her wardrobe?”

  He rose. He'd never looked so dangerous, not even while killing the Red. Kat stared at the floor when he spoke.

  “Well, Katrina, what have you got to say for yourself?”

  “Nothing,” Kat said. “There's no excuse. I'm so sorry, Ember.”

  I opened my mouth, but didn't get the chance to speak.

  “Sorry doesn't keep her alive,” Taren said, his anger showing no signs of abating.

  I wanted desperately to diffuse this powder keg. “Honestly, Taren, it happened so fast. One second—”

  “Which is why she should have never taken her eyes off of you,” he said. “Because a lot can happen in a second. Annys will not be pleased.”

  “Annys?” Kat said, rising to her feet. “You're going to report me?”

  “You haven't left me much choice. Ember needs a Guardian who is more committed to taking care of her than lusting after some—”

  “Hey! Lay off, Taren.” No longer abashed, Kat now fixed him with a level gaze. “Don't forget, I've saved your ass a time or two. You're not always so perfect.”

  “This is different,” he said. “She's different.”

  Because I was a Daemon.

  For a moment when he’d been battling the Red, I’d let myself believe that he was fighting for my life because he cared about me. But he was just worried what it would mean to his cause if I died.

  “Do you have any idea what would happen if—”

  I didn't let him finish.

  “What are you even doing here, anyway?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Shouldn't you be sucking up to Annys so you can get your job back?”

  My words hung in the air.

  “Kat, guard the door.” Taren's voice was all the more commanding for its quietness.

  Kat looked to me, not moving until I gave a slight nod. She shut the door harder than necessary on her way out.

  When she’d gone, Taren paced a moment before speaking. “You have no idea—”

  “I have every idea,” I said, standing. “I know what I am, and I know what I'm expected to do. You've made it very clear that your concern for me is strictly professional. I’ll ask you again; what are you doing here?”

  He stood in front of me, a pained expression on his face. “Ember, if anything happened to you…”

  “I mean it, Taren. I'm over it. Don't pretend—”

  And then he was kissing me. One hand gripping the back of my neck, the other at my waist, pulling me closer. I melted into him, leaving no space between us. Every atom of my being came alive and mingled with his. Our mouths pressed together urgently, then slowed and became soft, fluttering against each other, until we were still, our lips barely touching, breathing each other’s breath.

  “Not completely over it, I guess.” I was delightfully dizzy, torn between wanting to kiss him more and wanting to bask in the moment just as it was.

  “Good,” he said, his fingertips tracing my jaw.

  “I thought…” I couldn’t say it.

  “I know what you thought,” he said, “because it's what I wanted you to think. I thought it would be easier.”

  “Easier than what?” I asked, searching his eyes.

  “Everything OK in there?” came Kat's voice from the other side of the door.

  Taren released me and went to open it. “Yeah, Kat, we're fine. I'm sorry I was a jerk.”

  She took in the scene—Taren now calm, me flushed—and smiled. “No, problem. Glad it all worked out. Except for him, of course.”

  Taren and I followed her gaze to the body lying on the floor. The most romantic kiss of my life had just taken place next to a corpse.

  “We should go,” Taren said. “There's no way for me to get him out of here without being seen, and I want us long gone by the time he's discovered.”

  We exited the storeroom and walked back toward the stage. Taren's hand was on the small of my back, sending shivers of the nicest kind up my spine.

  What did he mean, that he thought it would be easier to push me away? I had a feeling it wasn't just some guy thing. I was torn between wanting to know, and not wanting to spoil the feeling that hung between us. I scanned the crowd. I felt safe with both Kat and Taren protecting me, but I couldn't help wondering if more than one Red had been sent after me. They were rumored to work alone, but they were also rumored to avoid crowds, so it seemed the usual rules no longer applied.

  Instead of stopping in the wings, Kat continued down the steps and into the audience.

  “Hey, don't you want to wait for Magda?” I had to shout over the din.

  “Ember, I almost got you killed tonight because I was distracted. I'll just text her that something came up.” She turned and continued toward the door.

  Once out front of the club, Taren said, “We need someplace with a lot of people. Well lit, even at this time of night. Cameras would be good.”

  “City Walk?” I hated to be the one to suggest it, but it did fit the bill.

  Kat groaned. Universal City Walk, perched atop a hill overlooking Universal Studios, was filled with theme restaurants, souvenir shops, a mega-plex theatre, and a bowling alley. From open to close, it was crammed with tourists snapping photos and locals who liked all of their chain restaurants in one location. It was a place I wouldn't normally be caught dead in, but since it seemed the most likely place to keep me alive, I was willing.

  “Perfect,” Taren said. “I'm parked just down the street.”

  We left Kat's car where it was and piled into Taren's. Kat made a point to take the backseat, leaving me to sit up front.

  “Why do you think the Red came after me in such a crowded place?” I asked once we were underway.
<
br />   “I don't know,” Taren said, “and until I do, we're all going to have to be on high alert.”

  I wanted to ask if it was because the Demon had finally realized I couldn't be won over to its side. With me able to influence the Gateway, maybe I was too much of a liability to let live. But Kat didn't know those details, so I held my tongue. Besides, there was something that tugged at my memory about what Taren had just said. We had to be careful… Then it came to me.

  “That's what I heard the Voice say just before the attack—that I had to be careful. Why would It warn me like that?”

  “You heard it say ‘be careful?’” Taren asked. “And you're sure it was the same voice you always hear?”

  “Positive. It's very distinctive.”

  “Maybe there's some kind of discord among the demon races,” Kat said, “or some wires got crossed.”

  “Maybe,” Taren said, but I could tell he was as troubled as I.

  We drove up a steep hill and entered the Curious George lot. The parking garages at City Walk were named after cartoon characters and actors. It was the weekend, which meant spaces were hard to come by. Taren finally spotted one, and once parked, we made the long trek to the elevator.

  We reached our floor, and the moment the doors opened, our ears were assaulted. The sound of 90's pop hits blasting from one establishment mixed with the mariachi band from another, and intermingled with the screams of excited children up way past their bedtimes. All three of us recoiled.

  “Come on,” Taren said, stepping out of the elevator. “it's exactly what we need.”

  He was right. Besides, it had been my idea. Kat and I followed, our faces grim.

  Taren led us to a faux-fifties diner, and over a side of fries, he asked when my curfew was. Kat and I shared a look.

  “It's kind of fluid tonight,” I said. “My mom stopped taking her medicine so the apartment is crazy central right now. We're kind of hoping to wait it out. I'm thinking three-ish?”

  “Perfect,” Taren said. “Plenty of time for a game.”

  I followed his gaze upstairs to Lucky Strike.

  “Bowling?” I hadn't been bowling since I was seven, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t liked it.