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

by Christina Garner

  11

  Ugh, why did I leave this until the last minute?

  Everything I owned, which admittedly didn’t amount to much, was strewn across my room. In truth, I probably could have crammed all of it into the large suitcase and backpack I’d been permitted to bring, but I probably didn’t need all of it, and I loathed the idea of having to organize it. So far, the only thing inside the cavernous suitcase was the travel kit of green tea and jasmine toiletries that Kat had given me.

  A knock at my door broke my stupor.

  “Mom!” I said when I opened the door. “What are you doing—I mean, who let you...?”

  I’d been expecting her, but usually someone let me know when she arrived and we visited either outside or one of the dorm areas designated for family visits. You can imagine the Institute couldn’t have parents who thought their kids were in a high-end mental institution to go wandering the grounds and find the Guardians’ practice yard, complete with weapons.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “I didn’t bust my way in. Mae showed me up.”

  I opened the door wider to reveal Mae. “Special dispensation,” she said with a wink.

  “Thank you,” I said. “That was really nice of you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she said, her tone growing slightly more serious when she added, “to anyone.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  Mae left and I threw my arms around my mother. I wanted to tell her about what happened after we left my birthday lunch, but I couldn’t. Not just because I’d been forbidden to, but because it had the potential to set off a terrible episode. Worse—and I hated admitting that this was worse than the potential damage to my mother’s fragile mental health—she would most definitely revoke her permission to let me travel out of the country. One call to the police and I’d be back in the Valley—the both of us living without protection—in no time.

  “It’s so cool you’re here,” I said, forcing myself to release her. “I mean, not just here, but in my room.”

  “I know,” she said. “And it’s a nice room too. Glad to see you’re keeping it in your usual state of cleanliness.”

  “Well, it’s not usually this bad,” I said, clearing a space on the bed for her to sit. “I am trying to pack for the next six weeks.”

  That was the plan: eight Gates in six weeks. I was overwhelmed and excited at the thought of it. Overwhelmed and a bit terrified at visiting that many Gates, meeting that many Elders, and basically feeling like a cross between a trained seal and savior. Excited at the prospect of seeing so many countries. Although, with recent events, I had a feeling the most I’d be seeing was the inside of planes, trains, and Institutes.

  Mom had picked up one of my belts and was turning it over slowly in her hands, not raising her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  Now that was a dangerous question...

  “You’re leaving,” she said. “For six weeks. And I’m not coming...”

  “I know,” I said, “but it’s for the best. We’ll both be safer this way. And I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “I just...I don’t want you to hate me,” she said, finally looking up from the belt.

  I was taken off guard. “Hate you? Why?”

  “Well, because I decided it would be best for me not to come. I don’t want you to think—”

  “It was your idea not to come?” I made no attempt to hide my shock. “I just assumed Annys threatened you or something.”

  “Well, yeah, she did, but she doesn’t scare me... much,” she said with a half-hearted smile.

  “Then what convinced you?” I asked.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to come,” she said, still unable to meet my eyes. “I do want to, it’s just...I have a decent job now—had it for four months, which isn’t a personal best, but it’s close—and the apartment is rent-controlled...”

  She trailed off, again unable to meet my eyes.

  “Mom, look at me,” I said, and wouldn’t go on until she did. “The fact that you want to stay put someplace—the fact that you even care the apartment is rent-controlled,” I said, the awe I was feeling touching my voice. I threw my arms around her. “It’s OK, Mom. It’s so OK, I swear.”

  “Really?” she said, and breaking the hug to look at me with moistened eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Totally sure,” I said. “Promise.”

  I smiled then, and it was mostly genuine. Of course I was happy that my mother was doing well. Therein lay the problem. I couldn’t let myself get too happy. She’d done well before. This well, even.

  When she’d dated Kevin, a mortgage broker from Studio City, she’d stayed on her meds and off the crazy train for a full eight months—double her current track record. But then he went away to Palm Springs for a boys’ weekend and Mom became more and more convinced with every unanswered text that he was cheating on her and by the time he got home she was in full-tilt crazy mode. The fight had been epic—neighbors called the cops in response to the noise, and when they got there they discovered scratch marks on Kevin’s face. He was kind enough to deny my mom had been the one to give them to him, so the police declined to charge her and left after Kevin got in his car and I promised to keep my mom from following him. It hadn’t been an easy promise to keep, but it wasn’t my first rodeo when it came to not letting her chase after a boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend, as turned out to be the case. Kevin had had enough, and with one episode Mom had scared off a man who had been decent and a good influence on her. Mom’s downward spiral had lasted six weeks before I convinced her to get back on her meds.

  But that was always the way it was—she could only hold it together for so long, no matter how well she was doing. So when I hugged her, it was with genuine happiness that she was doing well, and genuine sadness that she might not be when I saw her next.

  “I could put up more of a fuss,” she said when I’d released her. “For all the money this place seems to have, they sure are stingy with it,” she said, her mouth twisting. “Which I suppose means they just really don’t want me to come.”

  Before her mood shifted any further I said, “Mom, one day you and I will do Europe on our own—just you and me. And some highly trained Guardians.”

  “That would be nice,” she said, her smile wistful. “In the meantime, promise you’ll sketch the Trevi for me.”

  “I will,” I said, doubting I’d be allowed to sightsee after what happened on my birthday, “but it won’t be the same without you.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s pretty romantic. You’ll be glad you’re there with Taren.”

  I shook my head. La Dolce Vita was my mother’s favorite movie, and though I didn’t share her penchant for black and white films, I agreed with her on this one. Ever since I saw Anita Ekberg wading in that exquisite Roman fountain, I’d longed to do the same.

  “Taren and I can have every other fountain in Europe,” I said. “That one is all us.”

  “Deal,” she said, her smile broader now. “Now, let’s get you packed.”

  Moving as often as we had made Mom a whiz at packing. In no time at all she was closing my suitcase while I zipped up my backpack.

  “Mom, you’re a lifesaver,” I said, hoisting my backpack up to test its weight.

  “Wow,” she said, looking me up and down. “You look just like...”

  “Like what?”

  “Like me when I was your age,” she said. “Did I ever tell you I had planned to go backpacking across Europe as soon as I graduated high school?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, releasing the pack from my shoulders. “I guess I kinda threw a wrench in those works, huh?”

  “It’s a good thing you did. Lord only knows what kind of trouble I’d have gotten into in Europe back then. Especially going alone. That’s why I’m so glad you have Taren and whole host of people to look out for you.” She took a step closer to me. “That’s the only way I’m not freaking out—or, only mildly freaking out—a
bout you leaving. I know you’ll be safe.”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to keep it together while images of a gun barrel and Taren, beaten and bloody flashed through my head. “Totally safe.”

  “I’m gonna miss you,” Mom said, fussing with my hair. “You know, you’re the best thing that ever came from a terrible decision.”

  I laughed and said, “I’m gonna miss you too.”

  Not living with her had been one thing, but not seeing her for six weeks was still hard to wrap my brain around.

  She kissed my cheek and said, “I love you, Em. So much.”

  I squeezed her back and said, “I love you too, Mom.”

  When she released me we both had tears to wipe away. Mom stepped toward the door.

  “So your fancy phone thing has Skype, right?”

  “For the hundredth time, yes,” I said. “As soon as we get set up at our hotel in Paris I’ll be in touch.”

  “Good—any time, day or night.”

  “I know, Mom,” I said, glad that she was starting to annoy me so that I wouldn’t feel so bad about leaving.

  “OK, then,” she said, her hand on the door. “I guess that’s it.”

  She gave me one more quick hug and hurried away, doubtless hiding more tears. She was sad, but she wasn’t losing it, which led me to wonder whether I was wrong to be waiting for the other shoe to drop on her sanity. I dismissed the notion as dangerous to entertain and instead was reminded of something Master Dogan always said, “Deal with what’s in front of you.”

  For the first time in my life, that didn’t include worrying about my mother.

  12

  Well before dawn, I rolled out of bed and into the clothes I’d laid out the night before. Our flight left LAX at 7 a.m., which meant we had to leave the Institute at 4:30. Being fairly useless at that time of the morning I kept getting ready to the bare minimum, brushing my teeth and hair and calling it done.

  I lifted my backpack to my shoulders took one last look at the room I’d called home these past few months. A wave of panic washed over me and then receded, leaving behind a residue of worry. Would I see this room again? With the trip always in the future I’d managed to avoid contemplating that I might not make it back. But the future was now, and reality could no longer be ignored.

  Sure it can, I thought as I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and hurried from the room.

  Once downstairs I was surprised to find Callie, Crystle, Madison, and Bridget curled up on sofas in the common room.

  “She’s leaving,” Callie whispered when I approached the tired group.

  The other three roused themselves.

  “Guys, you didn’t have to get up so early,” I said.

  “And let you leave without saying goodbye?” Crystle mumbled sleepily.

  I immediately felt guilty. That had kind of been the plan. I hated goodbyes. But I was touched they’d made such an effort to see me.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

  “Us, too,” Madison said, giving me a hug.

  “Be safe,” Bridget said as she hugged me.

  “And tell Taren I said goodbye to him, too,” Callie said after she embraced me.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Crystle said as she hugged me tight.

  I chuckled and said, “Why do I think that leaves me a lot of options?”

  Her answer was a mischievous wink.

  After a final goodbye, I made my way outside, where I saw Taren and his parents ambling toward me from the direction of their cottage. After his patrol, Taren had stayed over rather than go all the way home.

  “Hey,” Taren said, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You ready?”

  “Bags packed, passport in hand,” I said.

  Master Dogan was there waiting when we made it to the parking lot and climbed into our vehicles.

  As we eased past the front gates of the Institute I was once again confronted by the possible finality of the situation. With Richard, Gretchen and Master Dogan assigned to different cars, I snuggled into Taren’s arms and allowed myself to be comforted, refusing to let the fear take hold.

  The drive to the airport was a quiet one. There’s something about being awake before the sun that didn’t lend itself to conversation. Once again we traveled by caravan. The five of us would appear to be flying as a group, but as with Great India Cafe, we would be shadowed by Guardians every step of the way. Once we’d made it to Italy, the Guardians from the Italian Gateway would take over all but Richard’s and Taren’s duties, and the Los Angeles Guards would return home.

  In stark contrast to our drive, the Tom Bradley International Terminal was buzzing, even at that early hour. It was a controlled chaos, lines snaking this way and that on their way to ticket agents or baggage screening.

  I allowed Taren to lead me. I’d only ever been in an airport once, when Mom had decided on a whim she’d had enough of Southern California’s lack of seasons and we needed to see the leaves turn colors in New England. That had been a few years back, and the longest of both flights only four hours. I was completely out of my element when it came to international travel. Taren hadn’t been overseas either, but he had a way of inspiring confidence—making it seem like he could handle whatever was thrown at him.

  Surprisingly quickly given the length of the lines, we were through security and awaiting our departure at the gate. For once I’d decided against coffee, hoping to make up for lost sleep on the plane. I was well stocked with snacks, however.

  “When do you take that out?” I asked Taren, nodding toward the comm device in his ear.

  “Once the cabin door is closed,” he said. “Not much need for it after that.”

  “Oh, right,” I said, remembering. All passengers were forced to remove their sunglasses in order to compare them with their passports, which ruled out Reds as passengers. Slim chance a Dahrak was going to get past security, either.

  Across from us sat Kat, pretending both to be a complete stranger and to read a newspaper while scanning the crowd. It had been decided that, in order to not leave a paper trail, we would fly into Charles de Gaulle, then make the trip from Paris to Rome by train. Even though Kat would have to turn around and go home once we reached the Gateway in Rome, I was glad to have her along for at least part of the trip.

  No matter how excited I’d been about the flight, six hours into it, I was over being on a plane. Unfortunately, we had six more hours to go. I’d eked out a bit of sleep, but not enough to feel rested. I was sandwiched between Taren and Master Dogan, while Gretchen and Richard sat several rows in front of us.

  Taren had headphones on, pretending to watch a movie—even with us safe in the air, his vigilance hadn’t waned.

  I turned to Master Dogan, his head stuck in a book. I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask about Crystle’s fading Mark, and I’d been both worried and curious.

  “Crystle’s birthmark…” I said.

  Master Dogan shot me a warning look, even though what I’d said was certainly innocuous enough.

  “You must have a theory,” I said, undeterred.

  “Theories are not fact,” he said, going back to his book.

  “Still...” I knew he’d have come up with something by now.

  “I fear...” He looked at me and paused, seemingly unsure if he should continue. “I fear it could indicate a weakening.”

  “Of Crystle?” When he didn’t answer I added, “You mean the…other thing?”

  My stomach turned sour. I was the one who remade the L.A. Gateway. If it was weakening, it was because I hadn’t done a good enough job.

  “It’s impossible to be sure,” he said. “Perhaps both. If either were to continue it would be equally dangerous.”

  True enough—if either the Keepers or the Gate failed we were equally screwed.

  “Is this happening at the other…anywhere else?”

  He hesitated just a second before shaking his head, but it was enough to give away the lie. I expected
that sort of thing from Annys, but Master Dogan… ? No doubt he was duty bound not to reveal Elder secrets but I felt angry all the same. Didn’t I, more than anyone, deserve to know everything? I told myself that it wasn’t a mystery I was equipped to solve, and my skills, such as they were lately, we’re better spent fortifying the Gateways, but I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice when I said, “Well, that’s a relief.”

  I pulled the in-flight magazine from the pouch of the seat in front of me and proceeded to flip it open and pretend to read.

  Master Dogan sighed almost imperceptibly and returned to his book.

  By the time we landed in Paris, a couple of more hours of sleep and a feeling of excitement bubbling in my belly was enough to put some spring back in my step.

  The airport was just an airport, but it was an airport in Paris, which made it way more interesting. The signs were in French and the announcements over the P.A. system sounded like poetry. The fact that I understood neither did nothing to diminish their charm.

  I hadn’t seen Kat since boarding, and now I only caught a glimpse of her back as she and another Guardian hurried toward baggage claim. No doubt they were to scout the area ahead of us.

  I was antsy as we waited for the bags to descend from the shoot and drift by us. We had several to wait for— even the Guards that would be returning home in a few days had a cache of weapons not allowed in carry-on luggage. While we waited, I looked around, wondering which of those present were Italian Guardians.

  As it turned out, the answer was quite a few. Richard took the lead, walking directly toward a line of sedans waiting outside. A handful of men and women who had waited with us at baggage claim, yet emerged without bags, flowed into the vehicles. Richard and Gretchen entered the second car, while Taren led me to the third. A fourth tailed us as we made our way out of the airport.

  No pleasantries were exchanged, just some polite nods, but I’d expected that. Guardians were all business until the danger had passed. Who knew when that might be? I might not learn a single Guard’s name the whole trip. Taren was preoccupied as well, so I contented myself to peer out the tinted windows at the new landscape.