“Oh my God!” a male bookstore employee exclaims. “Is she dead?”
“No, just injured,” Marketa assures him.
“Where did the gunman go?” he asks as he looks around frantically.
Marketa says, “He took off that way.” She points toward the back of the store.
The employee anxiously issues instructions to someone at the coffee counter to call an ambulance. A female standing nearby tells him she’s on the line with emergency services and help is on the way. Most of the other customers have fled the building.
My injury isn’t life-threatening, so I decide to play along with Marketa’s ruse. I ask, “Did Max leave his computer?”
She glances over to where he was. “Yes.”
“We have to delete his blog, Marketa. Help me up.”
She lifts me to my feet and helps me to the table. Max’s laptop is logged on to the blog and the file is ready to go. My own face stares back at me on the screen. Another picture shows Jonas lying on the floor in the compound just after the diamond had been shoved against his chest by Freedom. Max must have gotten hold of the surveillance footage soon after the event took place. Our names are listed and Jonas’s picture includes his faked death information. This is bad and must be deleted. I highlight the content and hit the backspace key. Then I go to Max’s blog profile and change the login password so he’ll at least have a struggle to get back into his account. I yank out the flash drive and put it in my pocket.
Blood drips from my elbow onto the floor. The shrill wail of approaching emergency vehicles catches my attention.
Marketa says, “Time to go. The police are coming.” She takes my hand and helps me walk.
“What are you doing?” The bookstore employee points to the front windows, wiggling his finger, shaking his head. “The paramedics are here. You can’t leave until the police come.” Even though I can’t read his mind, his facial expression tells me he’s quite confused with our behavior.
Marketa ignores him and takes me outside.
The paramedics are readying their equipment, waiting for the police to arrive to secure the building first before entering.
Marketa whispers, “Get on my back. We need to get out of here.”
I do so and find it hard to hold onto her with only one arm. As Marketa jogs away from the building, the police arrive. I assume she’s jogging because she doesn’t want to be recorded as an inexplicable flash on surveillance, like Chris and I were. The motion is killing my shoulder.
“Hang on, Calli,” Marketa says, then pours on the speed.
By the time we arrive at the house, I’ve lost a good amount of blood. I’m light-headed and wobbly on my feet, but Crimson said I’d be fine, so I try not to worry. I’m saddened to find Chris hasn’t arrived yet. To get my mind off the pain, I try to focus on finding out why Marketa is a traitor.
Marketa lays me on the dining room table and rips my shirt open, flinging buttons across the room. My shoulder is extremely sore and I really hope Crimson will show up soon and make me feel better.
Marketa asks, “Is there a first-aid kit around here?”
“Under the bathroom sink,” I utter through gritted teeth. Being laid on my back on the hard surface makes my injury even more painful.
She leaves and then returns with the small metal box with a red and white plus sign on the top. She places the box by my feet and opens the lid, then removes the contents and places them carefully on the table in an orderly fashion.
I feel like shouting, Hey, don’t worry about me. I’m just bleeding out here!
Finally, she moves up to my wound holding a pair of tweezers. Instead of going to work on removing the obsidian, she rips my taped-on topazes off my chest.
“You won’t be needing these anymore.” She separates the stones and clutches one of them in her hand and pauses for a moment, then says, “Oh, my. So, that’s how you’re able to do what you do. You have a mind-control topaz. Clever. You definitely won’t be needing this.” She sets the topaz down on the table away from me. She pushes my shirt over my injured shoulder and goes to work picking the easy to reach obsidian pieces out of my flesh with the tweezers. Each piece is dropped inside the first aid box with a barely-audible click sound.
I crane my head to look at my shoulder for the first time. It’s hard to see the full extent of my injury because my neck won’t bend that far, plus doing so hurts badly. I see one larger wound and several smaller openings. I assume a piece of obsidian is in each of the smaller openings.
She digs deeper into my muscle and I scream in agony.
“Come now, Calli. Be the brave girl Crimson thinks you are.”
I try to control my reaction to the pain. I’m not sure I heard her correctly, but it sounded like she just insulted Crimson.
Another clink is heard. This time when she digs into my flesh, she says, “Oh dear, this obsidian is sharp. I nicked a vein that time.”
I feel liquid warmth trickle along my collar bone to my neck and slide down the back of my shoulder onto the table. I turn my head to see what she’s doing and find my wound is much bigger. She’s injuring me in the process of fishing out the pieces of obsidian.
I struggle to get up—Crimson’s expressed wishes be damned. I’ve got to get myself out of this situation before Marketa kills me.
Marketa holds me down. “You’re not going anywhere, Calli. I’m not finished.” She retrieves another piece and drops it into the box.
My powers haven’t returned yet. There must still be more inside my body.
She continues her ministrations while saying, “You know, we stopped Max just in time to prevent exposing your identity to the world. You were going to run when you sensed obsidian . . . run away like a scared child” —another piece lands in the metal box— “but if you had, your name and picture would be all over the Internet now.
I try to think clearly, figuring I might be able to get her to talk. Through gritted teeth, I say, “Max didn’t seem shocked to see us.”
“Well, he probably knew you’d catch him at some point.” Another clink. “It’s too bad we’re all alone in this situation. No one knows you need help. No one can even bi-locate to us.”
“You’re helping me.” I wince with more pain.
“Not really. What I’m doing is helping Crimson and Maetha realize they’ve made a mistake by bringing in a teenager to do an adult’s job. None of the other Bearers were sixteen when they got their diamonds. Why you?”
Searing pain rips through my shoulder, worse than before. I scream and try to get up again. What is she doing to me? I still don’t have my powers back. I don’t have my topaz, but I know it’s not far away. She’d laid it on the table. If I can just get to it, I could freeze her and try to save my own life.
“You’ve got a lot of fight in you, I’ll give you that,” she commends while holding me down. “I’ll have a good tale to tell of how you wouldn’t hold still so I could get the obsidian out before you bled out.”
“Why are you doing this?” I plead.
“Because kids are not Bearers! Giving all that info to Max did a good job of scaring everyone, but probably wasn’t going to ever be as effective as just having you die. This is a much better solution. I’d rather have diamonds without Bearers than have children with diamonds.”
“Why didn’t you just kill me at college?”
“I could have. Thought about it a few times. But everyone would know it was me and I’d be punished. This is much better. An unfortunate accident.” She drops another shard in the box.
I take a shallow breath, trying to ignore my pain and the swimming room. “Why are you still removing the pieces if you want me to die?”
“Got to make it look like I tried everything I could. I have to look convincing to Crimson.”
“How long have you been against Crimson?”
“Ever since you were chosen,” she says.
“How have you kept your feelings secret?”
“I learned a lon
g time ago that the Blue Diamond allows the Bearer to hear other Bearers’ thoughts. So, whenever Maetha or Crimson was around, I minded my mental tongue.”
I say, “I bet you could still save your life if you’d recommit to the Bearers. You haven’t been against nature for very long.”
She laughs. “Listen to you. Acting as if you’re not dying, thinking you still have a position as a Bearer.” She raises her voice in exasperation. “You were wearing a mind-control topaz, for crying out loud. You didn’t even have enough sense to use it on Max!”
I warn, “You’re crossing the line, Marketa.”
“I’ve crossed the line so many times that it’s impossible to know where the line is anymore. All Bearers cross the line eventually. You already have,” she accuses.
“I haven’t crossed the line.”
“Yes, you have. You killed Hunters and criminals.”
“I had to.”
“Exactly. In war, each side crosses the line and kills the other. Yet, each side believes they’re in the right.”
“I wasn’t aware the Bearers were at war with one another.”
“We don’t think Crimson and Maetha are following nature’s will by bringing in kids.”
“That’s ironic. I think Crimson feels you are out of line with nature.”
As Marketa pokes her finger in my wound, she says, “See, both sides feel they’re right.”
I writhe on the table as she swirls her finger around inside my shoulder. My mind becomes hazy.
“Can’t have you clotting up, now can we?” She uses my shirt to wipe the blood off her finger and continues, “Maetha will be shocked, no doubt, to hear of your death. She selected you. We all thought your mother was the better candidate, but Maetha chose you. It’s time Maetha starts listening to the group, instead of running things independently. Once you’re dead, we’ll take out Chris and Jonas and get things back to normal.”
Oh, that’s it! A surge of defiant energy rushes through my deflated veins. I say, “The only person qualified to decide who is capable of keeping a diamond is the Diamond Maker—your boss. You were hired to do a job. You’ve not only failed, you refuse to do the job.”
Crimson appears beside the table.
Marketa takes a step back, completely stunned. “Huh? How long have you been here?”
Crimson says, “Long enough to know you don’t deserve a second chance. Surrender your diamond!”
I turn my head to try to get a better view of what’s going on. I notice a baseball-sized piece of regular obsidian from General Harding’s collection rise off the shelf behind Marketa and float in a stationary position.
Marketa says, still astounded by Crimson’s sudden appearance, “What? You expect me to hand my diamond to you? Now?”
“You’ve lost your right to be a Bearer.”
“I disagree. You’ve lost your mind.”
“This is not a debate. If you won’t give it to me, I’ll take it from you.”
Marketa grabs onto her belt and pulls off one of the medallions, exposing a large piece of obsidian, and laughs. “How are you going to do that?”
“With obsidian,” Crimson states calmly. She raises her clenched fist to shoulder level and in the blink of an eye, pops open her hand, extending her fingers. The floating lump of volcanic glass rockets forward into Marketa’s back, blasting her heart out the front of her chest. The obsidian continues flying directly into Crimson’s open hand. Marketa’s heart lands on the floor with a thud. Her body is a little slower to crumple into a heap.
“Hang on, Calli,” Crimson says, hastily picking up the heart and setting it inside the metal box with the obsidian pieces. She also replaces the metal medallion over the large piece of obsidian on Marketa’s belt to contain the effects. Then in one fluid motion, she reaches into my wound and removes the last obsidian piece. She places the final piece inside the box and closes the lid. My powers rush into my body like a battering ram.
Maetha appears the moment the obsidian is covered.
Crimson lays her hands over my wounds. “Let me heal you, Calli. Save your strength.” She turns to Maetha, angrier than I’ve ever seen her. “This shouldn’t have happened!”
“I’m as perplexed as you are. I thought she was strong enough,” Maetha responds in an emotion-chocked voice.
“Who is nearby? Someone needs to come take care of Marketa’s body.” Crimson nods toward the floor and brings a shaky hand to her forehead.
Maetha must not have noticed Marketa when she appeared. What happened? Was she shot? Maetha directs her thoughts exclusively to Crimson, but I overhear because of the Blue Diamond. How is this possible? Did she remove her own diamond?
I am not able to hear Crimson’s thoughts, but I don’t need to. I am able to pick up on the conversation.
Maetha says, You used the Primal Stone to remove her diamond. But why? Marketa was supposed to protect Calli. If I had any idea she could be injured I would have gone myself. I was certain she wouldn’t be harmed.
I mutter, “Max had obsidian bullets.”
Chris bi-locates to my side, drawing my attention away from Maetha and Crimson.
“What’s happening? Why are you bleeding?” Chris panics.
I reach out for him, but my hand moves through his form. “Max shot me and Marketa tried to kill me,” I mumble. I’m really weak and just want to go to sleep.
Crimson taps my cheek firmly. “Stay with me, Calli. Keep your eyes open.”
Stay with her? Where am I going to go?
I look at Chris and wish I could touch him, but he’s just air, not real. I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, he’s gone. Crimson is still healing me.
“Why did he leave?” I ask.
“Their plane landed a half hour ago. They’ll be here shortly.” Crimson’s voice is strangely quiet.
“Are you okay?” I ask, barely able to get the words out of my mouth.
“I will be, and so will you.”
I notice the glittering blue mist around our bodies. She must not want anyone else to know what’s happened. I wonder why.
Chris and Maetha come barreling through the front door. Chris doesn’t stop running till he’s by my side, stroking my hair and kissing my forehead.
Maetha takes over for Crimson and places her hands over my wounds. Crimson sits down right away, as if all her strength has gone.
Maetha says, “Chris, give strength to Crimson.”
He reaches one hand to her, not wanting to let go of me.
“No,” Maetha says sternly. “Both hands. I’ve got Calli covered.”
Chris moves to Crimson and grabs both of her bloody hands.
The four of us sit in silence for several long seconds. My mind replays the events at the bookstore. I clear my throat and say, “Marketa knew where Max was going. He wasn’t surprised to see her. That was my tipoff. Marketa seemed to know he had a gun and told him to shoot me.” I turn my head a little and look at Crimson. “Why did you tell me I’d be fine?”
“Because you weren’t supposed to get shot. I thought we were about to make a big point to Marketa about why you were chosen to be a Diamond Bearer. It went terribly wrong.”
Chris asks, “What point? What do you mean?”
Maetha looks at Crimson and they exchange glances. Maetha says, “We should wait to begin this discussion. The Healers will be here soon to pick up Marketa’s body.” Maetha’s thoughts continue, If Calli doesn’t make it, there’s no point in discussing anything.
“Maetha’s right. We need to wait.” She stands and drops Chris’s hands. “Thank you, Chris. I’m good now. Take Calli in the bedroom and use your healing power on her shoulder. Maetha needs a break.”
Chris closes my shirt over my chest and helps me sit up. I’d forgotten my shirt was wide open, exposing my bra.
Maetha’s thoughts to Crimson are heard in my mind. This could be over. All this planning will have been for nothing . . . my powers didn’t improve her, only kept her hanging on,
the same as yours. Why did you wait so long to intervene?
Chris lifts me off the table and holds me in his arms. I rest my forehead on his neck. His skin contact with mine infuses some energy into my weak body.
Crimson approaches us. She places a hand on each of our shoulders. “No one will be able to see or hear you.” The glittering mist of secrecy enshrouds us. Chris carries me into the bedroom where my belongings are.
I remember when he helped me after Maetha tried to insert the diamond into my heart at Lake Patoka. Before that, he was the one to remove my lifeless body from the stone altar. Too many times Chris has been in this stressful position of caring for me. I’m tired of feeling so helpless. And I don’t even know how to interpret Maetha’s thoughts just now. She acts as though I’m dying. Maybe that’s why Crimson is isolating us from the other Bearers’ knowledge. She doesn’t want them to know when I die.
“I was so afraid when you passed out earlier,” Chris says. “So was Crimson and Maetha. They argued about your readiness and your alteration, whatever that meant.”
“Crimson has said a lot of confusing things.”
He lowers me down onto the bed. “Let’s take that shirt off.” Grabbing my good arm, he eases the shirt open and pulls my arm out. Then he brings the shirt around my back and pulls it off my left arm, leaving me sitting in only my bra and pants. “Lay back,” he suggests, placing his hand on my back to support my body as I lay down. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over me.
I close my eyes and focus on his touch. He’s not an apparition this time. He’s real and his hands are like magical feathers moving across my skin, infusing me with much needed strength. His fingers travel to my blood-covered shoulder. “Your wound is not healed yet. If neither Crimson nor Maetha could heal you, how are you going to get better?”
“I don’t know. Crimson told me not to use my powers, to save my strength. But I want to try to heal myself now. I need to try, at least.”
“Together. Let’s do it together.” Chris takes my other hand and places it on top of his, on top of my wound.
I access the healing power within the diamond and focus the energy to my shoulder. What happens next is something entirely new. A tremendous, scorching-hot sensation emanates from my shoulder. I open my eyes in alarm and see Chris’s eyes wide as saucers as he witnesses whatever it is that’s happening. A brilliant blue-green glow lights the entire room.
The Diamond Bearer's Secret Page 22