I’d heard it said that there are moments, perfect moments, when the stars align and all is right with the world. I’d heard about them, but I’d never actually had one. Until this one.
My eyes took in my surroundings. Smaller than a hospital room, it reminded me of the nurse’s office at school.
“The infirmary?” I said.
“We would have taken you to the E.R., but Dr. Meade swore she had a salve that would work better on your burns than anything they would have there.”
Dr. Meade entered holding a jar filled with a sticky green paste. “It's true. Nothing in a hospital can treat demon burns as well as this will.”
My eyes bulged and darted to my mother.
“Mom, what she means is…” I groped for an excuse.
“It’s all right, she knows,” Taren said.
My eyes narrowed. “She knows…what, exactly?”
“About the Gateway. And the demons. And the demons coming through the Gateway,” my mother replied, as though she were discussing the weather.
“What?” I said and tried to sit up.
My head swam and I sank back into the pillows. The change in pressure set my back on fire. Covered in bandages as I was, it still wasn’t enough to dull the pain.
“We thought it best to tell her the truth, under the circumstances. You’ll be recovering for a while and we had to explain your injuries somehow,” Taren said. “She took it very well.”
“To be honest, it sort of fits with some theories I had anyway,” Mom said. “I mean, you can’t live in Los Angeles as long as I have and not believe there are a few demons running around.”
“Good point,” I said, my laugh more of a husky bark. “But I thought it was against the rules to tell her.”
“Well, you’ve caused quite a bit of discussion about the rules and which of them might need changing,” Taren replied, his voice filled with pride. “You’re quite a heroine, you know.”
“I am?”
I hadn’t meant to be heroic. I had just wanted to save whatever lives I could, and killing the Demon had seemed the best way.
“Of course, it was an incredibly dangerous thing to do, and as your personal Guardian, I’m going to have to insist you never do anything like it again,” he said. “But yes, it was courageous and selfless, and all-around heroine-like.”
“My Guardian?” I asked, bewildered.
“You had someone else in mind?” Taren said.
“No, but to have a Guardian, I would need to be…”
“A Keeper,” he said. “Don’t act so surprised. You more than earned it.”
My mind had spun with the knowledge I'd been allowed to remain at the Institute's infirmary; now it reeled.
“But…the Gateway,” I said. “I destroyed it.”
“The Gateway,” Taren said with a smile, “is something you're going to need to see to believe.”
26
It was two weeks before I was well enough to be wheeled into the hall where the Gateway was. Dr. Meade had been right—her salve was working wonders—but the burns were severe, and I spent much of that time in terrible pain. Taren, Kat and Mom continued to sleep in shifts, and a moan never escaped my lips that wasn’t answered with a soothing word and whatever else I asked for. The bandages had been removed the day prior, revealing new, healthy skin. I continued to peel, some of the skin flaking off in strips, but the doctor assured me that this was normal, and scarring would be minimal.
I insisted on being taken to see this new Gateway I kept hearing about. Mom was resting. For all their willingness to tell her the truth, the less physical evidence they showed her to support that truth, the better. I had my doubts as to whether the Institute would have been so free with that truth had my mother’s word not be tainted by an already documented mental illness.
Taren pushed my wheelchair through the main house. The hall was undergoing construction. The chaos of the battle could not simply be swept away. Scaffolding rose to the ceiling where workers were repairing burned areas of walkway. Singed tapestries and broken fixtures were being replaced. As we neared the spot where the Gateway was, what Taren and Kat had been telling me finally sank in.
Nine Keepers sat in meditation at their appointed stations, but where there once had been nine heavy stone slabs, there was now one sheet of thick glass, the Gateway’s seal intact. The darkness beneath it absorbed the light of the room, allowing me to see glimpses of shadows that moved beneath, as well as my own reflection.
“The sand…” I whispered, remembering the granular dust that each of the nine segments had been reduced to.
“You melted it when…”
Taren’s voice trailed off. He didn’t like talking about that night. The thought of losing me was too painful, he’d said.
It was Kat who’d filled me in on what had happened after I’d leapt inside the Demon. According to her, It had burst into flames and then melted, leaving nothing behind but ashes and me, naked and severely burned, in a heap atop the new Gateway.
The sound of footsteps pulled our attention and we watched as Annys and Master Dogan entered. Neither had been to visit, though Taren told me they asked about me regularly. The oversight would have once caused me to feel unimportant in their eyes, unworthy of their attention, but I found my old thoughts creeping in less and less. We had all had our parts to play in this, and had each not been carried out perfectly, we might have gotten a very different outcome.
“Ember,” Master Dogan said. “It warms my heart to see you up and about.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I'm glad to see that both of you escaped unharmed.”
Scores of others hadn't been as lucky. Taren had tried to shield me from the realities, but news had trickled in of the casualties sustained before the Gateway had been reformed. I had wept for them, hoping that if there was a Heaven, they were all in it. But when my grandfather had passed away when I was six, my mother had told me life was for the living, and I finally agreed with her.
“We have much to beg forgiveness for,” Annys said.
For once her expression was soft, her hawk-like eyes downcast.
“We all do,” I said, “if not for this, then something else.”
“That's very…Zen of you,” Master Dogan said.
I laughed. “Don't get used to it. I'm pretty sure it's a near-death thing and will pass, but let's enjoy it while we can.”
Annys and Master Dogan both chuckled at that.
“Tell me, how did you do this?” Master Dogan said. “You will soon be called before the Elders to answer that as well as many other questions, but before the formal inquiry, please, I must know.”
I reached for words, for jumbled memories to coalesce into a linear timeline so that I could explain.
“As Taren and I ran through the Sanctuary to get to the Gateway, my mind raced for a way to fix things, to make the Gateway whole again. But once we crossed the boundary I knew the damage was too great. The filth and the evil was overwhelming, and it was all I could do to keep it out and to stay focused.
“But then I saw the horror of the battle, saw the condition of the Gateway, and I realized how present it made me. I was meditating, but as usual, I was using it to numb me, to push away the bad feelings so I wouldn't have to feel them. But this—this was too much, and it required all of my strength to hold the pain at bay. And it occurred to me how much more powerful I might be if I embraced the pain. If I channeled it, not allowing it to control me. I didn't know if it would work, but I knew I had to try. And I knew for there to be any chance of success, I had to be as close to the core of the Demon as possible.”
My explanation complete, I waited for their reaction.
“You couldn't have known you would survive,” Annys said finally.
“No,” I said, avoiding Taren's eyes.
“And yet you don’t seem like the girl with a death wish that you were when we first met,” she said.
“I think—or at least I hope, anyway—that there is a dif
ference between sacrifice and suicide. I didn’t want to die, but I was willing to, if that’s what it took.”
“Thankfully, it did not,” Annys said. There was a genuineness to her words, and I found myself thinking that perhaps she was seeing me as more than just a valuable asset.
“Your reason for opening the Gateway completely,” Master Dogan said, “I’m curious if it matches a theory I've been working on.”
I shrugged. “I just never understood why all of the Marked Ones hear multiple voices and I only heard one. At first I used it as an excuse to explain why my voice couldn't be demonic. Even when I'd accepted that it was, I still questioned the difference—why the singular voice I heard was so focused and intelligent. The only answer was that it was no ordinary demon.”
“It had an organizing ego,” Master Dogan said. “An agenda.”
“Right, although I would have never come up with ‘organizing ego,’” I said with a laugh. “It was like all of the other demons—the ones you were killing with arrows and daggers—were just weeds and this one…”
“Was the root,” Annys finished. “Clearly this ‘Root’ demon was too large to fit through a small opening of the Gateway. It needed the Gate destroyed.”
“It tried to use Gretchen to get the job done, but when that didn't work, I guess I became plan B,” I said. “So It got me to attempt suicide, knowing that I’d end up in the hospital with Taren. Then the attack made sure we escaped together, so that he would bring me here.”
“It was a brilliant thing you did, Ember,” Master Dogan said, “brilliant, and very courageous.”
“Yes, and she must never, ever do anything like it again,” Taren said, fixing me with a firm gaze.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “I have no plans for a repeat performance. Besides, I don’t see that there would be a need. The Root, as we’re calling it, is dead, and the Gateway is sealed. We’re safe.”
I smiled in satisfaction, but the others seemed troubled.
“Ah, well, that’s not exactly the case…” Master Dogan said.
“You see, some of the other Gates have been seeing an increase in activity,” Annys said. “Trainees going mad, Keepers requiring Retrievals at an alarming rate. If this Root demon had been responsible, the activity would have ceased when you destroyed it.”
I chill ran up my spine. “What does that mean?”
“It means that as the only two Daemons able to channel the entire symbol,” Annys said, “we will be needing you and Gretchen to visit those Gateways and report your findings—perhaps helping if you can.”
“You would put them both right back in danger?” Taren said, his voice heated. “How can you—”
“Wait, Gretchen is all right?” I asked. “She's well enough to go on that kind of mission?”
I’d never met the woman, yet I felt a kinship with her. I’d seen life through her eyes, felt her pain.
“No,” Taren said firmly, “she isn't.”
“Not yet,” Annys said, “but she will be. She's progressed remarkably since the death of the Root demon and is eager to get back to work. And to meet you, Ember.”
I looked to Taren. His eyes were tight with worry when he said, “She's coherent, but it's a long road, and she has yet to leave the Sanctuary. But what Annys says is true—she is anxious to meet you. I just wanted to give you both time to heal.”
I nodded, grateful his mother was recovering, but the sense of calm I'd felt just minutes ago was replaced with a twisting in my stomach. Eight other Gateways, possibly eight other Root demons to face. And there was the issue of all the demons that had escaped during battle, presumably already procreating.
I had been right those many weeks ago, on the night we fled the hospital, when I realized I would never feel safe again. I shuddered, but instead of pushing aside the fear growing in my belly, I held it gently. There were enough demons in the world; I didn't need to grow any more of my own.
“You OK?” Taren asked.
I imagined myself enveloped in a radiant light and became aware of every cell, every thought, every fear, every mercy.
“Yeah,” I said, and for the very first time I knew it was true. “I'm going to be fine.”
End Book 1 in the gateway trilogy
Chasm: Book 2 in The Gateway Trilogy
I
Chasm
Book 2 in The Gateway Trilogy
Chasm
Ember has a hot demon-hunter boyfriend, a job she loves, and a purpose in life. Too bad that Demon she slayed wasn’t the only one she needs to worry about…
Lesser demons are populating Los Angeles. Gateways around the world are weakening. Even one of Ember’s best friends is losing the Mark that makes her a Keeper. With so much at stake and so many questions, Ember is glad to be traveling to other Institutes in search of answers. That is, until another attack on her life confirms she’ll never truly be safe.
Then she meets Alexander, and Ember can’t be sure if he’s her enemy or greatest ally. Either way, she needs him, because he’s the only one who knows about… the Chasm.
1
I can’t open my eyes.
No, not can’t.
Won’t.
The air surrounding me is electric, and thick enough that I am suspended in midair.
Blind, I have no idea how high up I am. How far I have to fall.
So I hover—skin prickling, heart racing—while an energy I can’t name swirls around me.
It wants something—no, needs it. From me.
The energy darts in and out of my body, sending shivers up and down my spine, testing my defenses.
The shivers turn to jolts, and it’s like I’m being tasered.
The pain builds and I open my mouth to scream, but the electricity rushes in, sending shock waves no human could survive.
No, no, it’s too much, it’s too much!
2
I bolted upright, drenched in sweat, in my room at the Institute.
I’m not trapped; I’m fine. It was just a dream.
I untangled myself from the dampened sheets and lifted my hair, heavy with perspiration, away from my neck. I definitely wasn’t going to get away without showering.
I gave myself one more minute to catch my breath, then forced myself out of bed.
I did what I always did first thing in the morning: check my phone for a message from Taren.
Made it home safe, the text read.
I smiled, relieved that he hadn’t gotten injured on patrol, and because Taren always had that effect on me.
The hallway was deserted as I made my way to the showers. As the only person living in the dorms with a shift at the Gateway, I was also the only one with a reason to be up at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. At least I was guaranteed the shower with the best water pressure: third from the end.
The water cascaded over me, sending rivulets down the all but healed scars that crisscrossed my arms. Dr. Meade assured me that in another week or two the scars would be gone and I’d no longer have physical reminders of—
I forced my attention to the dream. Although “dream” was no longer a strong enough word. It seemed to have crossed into nightmare territory. After three other occurrences, this was the first time the energy had been painful; the first time I’d had reason to scream.
Still, it wasn’t as frightening or painful as the nightmare I’d been having for two months—ever since I’d killed the terrifying Demon that had invaded my consciousness and persuaded me to attempt suicide. The one strong enough to break through the Gateway, leaving death in Its wake. The one we called the Root.
Could it really be considered a nightmare if it was a memory, I wondered? An exact replica of events as they had unfolded?
Me, diving headlong into the gaping mouth of the Root. Darkness engulfing me. Acid burning my entire body, my flesh dissolving layer after—
No. It was bad enough that half of my nights were filled with that horror, I didn’t have to surrender my days too.
I closed
my eyes and turned my face into the stream, letting the memory slide down the drain with the water.
I fumbled my way through the rest of my morning routine, which consisted of twisting my wet hair into a clip, donning clothes comfortable enough to sit cross-legged in for six hours, and brushing my teeth.
And coffee, of course.
Whoever was up first on the weekends had the task of making the first pot, which meant it usually fell to me. I brewed it the way I liked it, heedless of the complaints I knew it would garner about being too strong. As far as I was concerned, when it came to coffee there was no such thing.
Impatient, I stuck my mug under the stream and filled it before placing the pot on the burner. I added some ice cubes to cool it, knowing I’d need to down this cup and get a second before making my way to the Gateway.
I yawned, wide enough that my eyes watered. Nightmares or not, this schedule was killing me. My days started at dawn and went until late into the evening, due either to homework or a shift at the Gate.
The Gate. Out of context, it seemed a fairly benign word. Within context, it was anything but. Short for the Gateway, it was one of nine access points between this world and the demon dimension.
What would once have been too fantastical to believe, now seemed routine. And not just the part about there being real, live, flesh and blood (or more accurately, flesh and bubbling black tar) demons, but that I was a descendant of Daemons, a highly advanced race capable of telepathy as well as telekinesis. The same race that had created the Gateways in the first place, when war had broken out over Daemons mixing with the “inferior humans.” Some of my ancestors used their power to split the world, creating a mirror image, with the Gateways in between. Whatever “separate but equal” intent they’d had, the result was that the other Daemons felt trapped, then angry, finally morphing into the killing machines we called demons—a harsh example of what happens when power turns to hatred and twists in on itself. Over time, their fury infected the entirety of the world they’d been given, causing it to rot and wiping out all but the hardiest species, eventually turning even them demonic. The end result was the demon dimension: a harsh, barren land populated by the most horrific perversions, including Monkeys, Birds, Snakes, and even Dahraks—a hybrid species of some sort.
The Gateway Trilogy: Complete Series: (Books 1-3) Page 19