I sank into my bed, such as it was, and for a moment I stared up at my drawing before sleep overtook me.
“Ember?”
Sadah’s voice was slow to reach me. I was at the bottom of a well, my head in a vise.
“Taking a nap,” I managed to say then rolled over, tucking myself into a fetal position.
“Ember,” she said again, “you’ve been asleep since yesterday.”
What was she talking about?
But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of it. I needed sleep. I didn’t ever want to get up again.
“Are you sick?” she said, sounding concerned.
“Yes,” I mumbled. Sick of you. Sick of being in this God-forsaken place.
She placed a cool hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel warm,” she said.
Even with my mind stuffed with cotton, I barked a laugh. “I’ve been ‘warm’ since I got to this hellhole.”
My eyes still closed, I felt Sadah recoil. Good, I thought. Maybe she’ll leave me alone now.
And she did, for about five minutes. When she returned, she brought Cole with her.
“Sadah says you’re not feeling well,” he said, crouching down next to me, but keeping his distance.
“Right, so why are you bothering me?” I mumbled.
“I thought maybe I could help,” he said, trying to keep the edge from his tone.
I rolled over just enough so that when I opened my eyes I was looking into his. “You can’t help your own people—what makes you think you can help me?”
Shock and pain took over his expression, but it was Sadah who said, “What is the matter with—”
“It’s all right,” Cole said. “Let’s just let her rest.”
“Finally,” I muttered, closing my eyes and shutting myself off from the world.
Later—an hour, a day?—when I opened them again, I stared at the drawing on the cavern wall. The drawing I’d stayed up all night to complete. Twice. I’d let myself get beaten to a pulp by Cole. I’d kissed him. It hadn’t been much of a kiss, but still. What had I been thinking? You’ve been thinking you’re a superhero—impervious to pain, to rules…
Before I knew it I was sobbing. I stuffed the coarse blanket in my mouth to keep from screaming. Not that it mattered. I was too weak to keep the barrier around my mind, which meant everyone knew.
I’d become my mother.
16
I cried myself to sleep, hoping I’d never wake.
After what I’d done with the Chasm, the demons were most certainly coming, and I’d managed to alienate Cole because of something stupid I’d done in the middle of a manic episode. Why had I kissed him? I felt so ashamed and wondered if I could ever tell Taren, and if he’d be able to forgive me. And then there were the hurtful things I’d said.
I needed to come to grips with the fact that I’d never be the same again. Yes, if I ever got topside, I could go on meds, but as much as I constantly urged my mother to take hers, I knew they were only so effective, and often left her with a glassy-eyed stare. This was my life now. It was hard to believe there could be a fate worse than staying in the demon world forever, but I’d managed to find it.
Sadah kept everyone away from me, even herself, only staying long enough to drop off a cup of cool water now and then. The small loaf of crusty bread she’d left on that first day remained untouched.
I came back to myself by degrees, and though I began to feel better, the knowledge that eventually, inevitably, I’d end up back in the abyss clung to me like a heavy blanket.
Finally, one evening—day three, four?— Cassia, a girl a few years older than I, approached my palette with visible trepidation.
“You like to draw,” she said, indicating the enormous charcoal drawing on the cavern wall.
“Yeah,” I said, my throat raw from crying most of the night. I made myself sit up and gave the best version of a smile I could muster. It was awkward at best.
“I thought…” She was definitely nervous. Not that I blamed her—hell, I was scared of me. “I wanted to show you something,” she said.
“What is it?” I asked, more out of politeness than interest.
“You’d have to come with me,” Cassia said. “I can’t bring it to you.”
I was going to have to get up sometime, so doing my best to ignore my body’s groans of protest, I followed her.
We passed through the main cavern, where I quickened my pace and kept my eyes fixed on the ground. I wasn’t ready to face anyone else. I couldn’t bear to have them looking at me the way I sometimes looked at my mother. A mix of sadness and what the hell is wrong with you?
Cassia grabbed a torch from one of the walls as we left the cavern and headed down a narrow passage I’d never taken before.
“It’s here,” she said, stopping after only a few steps. She held the torch near the wall to reveal cave paintings.
“It’s our history,” she said. “Each generation has added their stories.”
I was fascinated in spite of myself. The entire story of the Oasis as laid out in pictures—some crude, some intricate—in one long passageway.
“There isn’t much room left,” I said, indicating that only four feet of blank space remained. “Have you chosen another passage?”
Cassia smiled sadly. “We hadn’t thought it would be necessary…”
My eyebrows rose and I said, “Right. Because we’ll be getting out of here soon.”
No pressure.
She looked about to say something else, then just nodded and turned away. She knelt down and opened a small box on the floor. She pulled out brightly colored powders and began pouring them into small wooden bowls, adding a few drops of water to each. Once finished she stood, and to my surprise handed me a palette, complete with a brush.
“I thought you might want to tell your own story,” she said.
There was something important about being given leave to paint on this of all walls, and I took the palette with the same reverence with which she offered it.
“Should I start with when I jumped?” I asked, already scanning the wall, planning my part of it.
“It’s your story,” she said simply. “Tell it as you will. But be careful. Cole had us block off part of the tunnel—he said the rocks had shifted and it wasn’t safe. Don’t worry; it’s clearly marked.”
With that, she gave a slight bow of her head and left me alone with a torch and my thoughts. Instead of beginning right away, I set the palette down and walked slowly back toward where the history began. The torch cast an unearthly glow on the mural, lending weight to the story it told. I didn’t understand it all, or even most, but what I could understand was how rich a history these people had and the unfathomable trials they had endured.
Ghastly creatures of all sorts were depicted, especially near the beginning. It seemed as though a variety of animals had turned demonic and then become extinct, killed off by other predators as the centuries wore on. It was the Dahraks I took special note of. Even Master Dogan wasn’t sure how they’d come to be.
When I came to the final portion of the story—what in actuality was the very beginning—I found it roped off. This must have been what the girl had meant. I inspected the area as best I could and didn’t see anything different about it than the part I was standing in. I was about to step over the barrier when I thought better of it. Hadn’t I broken enough rules? I’ll just ask Cole about the Dahraks.
I made my way back to beginning of the passage, which was really the end of the story. I worked from bottom to top, wanting to leave as much space as I could for someone else to paint after me. I didn’t want to be the final story told on this wall.
I started with the Voice. That was really where this had all begun. It had been the catalyst for everything that came after: my suicide attempt, the mental hospital, learning about demons, about what I was. Taren. It was hard to be intricate on a cave wall, but I painted him with every detail I could manage. Why hadn’t I thought to draw him
before? I vowed to paint him on the wall near my bed so that I could see him every night. Seeing his face filled me with happiness and sorrow. Happy that he wasn’t just in my head anymore; seeing him on the wall made him seem more real. And sad because I felt his absence even more.
I stopped after drawing the Los Angeles Institute. Partly because I was tired, but mostly because I wanted to be able to look forward to coming back and painting more. I wiped the palette clean and put everything back in the box, but not before I painted a tiny red heart on the inside of my wrist. My Hart.
I was heading back to get something to eat—I was suddenly starving, which I took as a good sign—when I noticed light coming from Cole’s room. I took a deep breath and bolstered my courage.
“Can we talk?” I said, poking my head in. He seemed apprehensive, so I added, “I promise I won’t kiss you or anything.”
Cole smiled, but it was forced. “Come in.”
I’d never been inside Cole’s room before. It was as Spartan as he was—nothing more than a sleeping mat, blankets, and a few books. He gestured for me to sit across from him on the blankets.
“It would seem I’m sort of messed up now,” I said, feeling like I was about to strip naked in front of him. “You know about my mom, and I guess I’m like her now, and I don’t have any meds down here, so…I don’t think I should keep training,” I said, each word more painful than the next. “I…don’t think I can be trusted.”
Cole didn’t speak, so I kept talking to fill the silence. “I’m just afraid I might do more harm than good,” I said. “Do you have mental illness down here? I’d think you would…”
“We do,” he said, his voice tight, like he was holding back something painful. “But there are worse things that—”
“I know,” I said quickly. He meant the cough that brought up black sputum and eventually turned fatal. “And I’m not saying that if I’m bipolar that it’s the worst thing that could happen.” He looked about to say something, but I had a question I needed answered. “Is it possible that this is just a side effect of me being down here? I am half human—maybe this is my version of the black cough.”
“It’s possible that’s what’s causing it,” he said, still looking troubled. “How are you feeling now?”
“OK,” I said. “I mean, like a total ass, but like myself as an ass, not a superhero, and not like I want to die, so…OK.”
“That’s good,” he said, a small measure of relief in his eyes.
“Except, you know, I thought I’d have more time,” I said, willing myself to keep it together. “I thought if I were going to end up like her, it wouldn’t happen until… I don’t know. I just thought I’d have more time.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at the ground.
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “Just bad luck, I guess. Bad brain chemistry.”
Or maybe it was just being in the demon world. Please let it be that. Let me be fine once I get home.
“This illness…is that what you put in your rock?” Cole asked, gesturing to the pouch around my neck.
“Part of it,” I said. “Most of it, probably. For as long as I can remember I’ve been terrified I would turn into my mother.”
“But you love her,” I said. “I can tell.”
“Of course I do; she’s my mom,” I said. “But it’s…complicated. She’s complicated. And that makes it hard to be around her sometimes.”
“And you don’t think you’re complicated?” he said, doing his best not to grin.
“Not that way,” I said. “Or, at least, I wasn’t. Until now.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve been getting acquainted with all that stuff you put in the rock, then,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, not wanting to admit that that was the one piece of his training that I’d completely ignored. I had enough darkness—I didn’t need to go looking for more.
The suspicious look on Cole’s face made me check my shield, but it was still in place.
He looked about to say something, when an alarm pierced the silence.
“Is it—?”
“Not a drill,” Cole said, his eyes suddenly focused, alert. “They found us.”
17
Taren
“We have 24 hours,” I said to the people gathered around the table in Dogan’s quarters. My mom and dad sat next to Kat and Dogan while I paced.
“I’m going in after her,” I said.
The room erupted in protests from Dogan and my parents. Kat was conspicuously quiet. With all three of them talking at once, I couldn’t make out the finer points for their arguments against me going into the demon world, but that wasn’t important now. All that mattered was Ember, and getting her home by any means necessary.
“I’ll go with you,” Kat said, silencing the others. “If it comes to that.”
She and I shared a look that told me she had my back.
My father spoke next. “Son, I know how upset you are, and how much you love Ember, but—”
“What if it were Mom?” I said. “If it were Mom, would you leave her there?”
He swallowed but said nothing. We both knew the answer.
“Taren,” my mother said, “even if this weren’t a terrible idea, you have no way to open the Gateway. I sealed…”
Her voice trailed off and she knew what I wanted from her. She stared at the ground, shaking her head.
“You would ask your own mother to risk everything—her sanity, her place in the Institute, and the life of her only child?”
“That’s right, Dad. I’m asking her, not you. Mom,” I said, taking a seat next to her. “I hate asking this. I hate it. And if we can avoid it, we will. But if the time comes, and there is no other way, will you help me?
My father was furious now. “Do not answer—”
But my mother did answer. “Yes,” she said quietly. Then she turned to my father and said, “Richard, I’m stronger than I was. And I sealed the Gateway once; I can do it again.”
“We aren’t even discussing this,” my father said. “Not even for one second longer.”
Master Dogan spoke up then. “That’s probably a good idea,” he said. “Because me even hearing such a plan would constitute treason on my part unless I was to go report it immediately. But more importantly, because we are wasting time. Gretchen, it’s been two days since you last tried to reach Ember. Have you even ventured out of the Sanctuary?”
“No, I…” She trailed off and looked to my father.
“I haven’t let her,” he said. “She needed a break from those voices.”
“Isn’t that her decision to make?” I said. “You’re her Guardian, not her dictator.”
“Watch your mouth,” my father said. “Master Dogan isn’t the only one who can report treason.”
“Stop it,” my mother said, getting to her feet. “Taren, show your father respect. And Richard, don’t be ridiculous—you’ve no intention of reporting anything.”
There was a strength in her voice I hadn’t heard in a long time. Maybe before she’d been tricked into opening the Gateway in Los Angeles.
“Master Dogan is right,” she continued. “We’re wasting time. What we need to be doing is trying to reach Ember. We’ll go to Taren’s quarters outside the boundary and we’ll try linking. Maybe with the two of us trying, we’ll reach her this time. If not, we can discuss our options.”
She didn’t wait for us to agree, just strode from the room.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting cross-legged on the floor across from my mother. Master Dogan was lighting candles and incense in an attempt to set the mood, I guessed. My father sat stone-faced in a chair, his eyes on my mother, watching for any sign of distress, but so far she seemed fine. Better than fine, in fact.
Kat had slipped away after whispering that if we ended up in the worst-case scenario, we’d be better off knowing who was going to be on duty at the Gate.
Master Dogan suggested that my mother and I hold hands to
increase our contact, which made me feel like a little kid, even though my hand dwarfed hers.
Awkward or not, holding hands did seem to help. We started with simple telepathy drills in order to test our connection, and two times out of five I correctly guessed what she was thinking. It was progress.
“How are you doing?” I said when we’d been at it for half an hour. “Any voices?”
“I hear them,” she said, “but they’re more of a low buzz. Working like this helps block them out.”
“Ready to try reaching Ember?” I asked, not wanting to push, but needing to.
“Perhaps we should take a break,” my father said, more of an order than a suggestion.
“Richard, it’s fine,” my mother said. “I’m fine. I’ll let you know if I’m not. I promise.”
My father made a sound in the back of his throat that meant he agreed, but wasn’t happy about it.
18
We tried for hours. I’d never have guessed that sitting on my ass all day could be as exhausting as hunting demons.
Finally, even I had to admit we were getting nowhere. My mother fought back tears when I told her it was enough.
“I’m glad you’re seeing reason,” my father said, and I clenched my jaw to keep from answering. “Maybe now you can be talked out of this foolish notion of going into the demon world.”
Kat, who’d returned from scouting that exact mission, spoke before I could. “You’re right, Mr. Hart. It was a crazy idea. There’s no way to make it work.”
“What are you talking—”
“It just won’t work, Taren, I’m sorry.” She spoke soothingly, but a look crossed her face that I knew all too well. She had a plan.
“I need to think,” I said, standing. I was too anxious to hear what Kat had to say to be polite. “This isn’t getting us anywhere, anyway—I suck as a Daemon. But thank you, Mom, for trying.”
The Gateway Trilogy: Complete Series: (Books 1-3) Page 45