Gravity (The Taking)

by Melissa West

  I nod. “Hey, sorry about…” I motion to her swelling eye.

  “You don’t need to be sorry. What you did was amazing. Your father isn’t the only one who’s proud.” She hugs me again. “Now, remember, my office as soon as you can. There’s a lot to discuss.” And with that, she leaves the library, letting in a sea of students. A few congratulate me, but most rush over to the food tables stationed on the back wall. They reach in with their bare hands, stuffing their faces with the only real food beyond fruit they’ll get this month.

  I turn around, hating the sight of it. When I’m commander, I’m going to force them to change the food laws. That is, if I become commander. A war could change everything.

  I’m about to search for Jackson—for some reason I want him with me more than ever right now—but Lawrence walks in, stopping me before I can go.

  “Congrats,” he says, pulling me into a hug. I glance up at him, but his eyes aren’t on me, they’re across the room on another person, on Gretchen. My eyes dart from him to her. She smiles a little when she sees him, then looks at me and redirects her attention elsewhere. Wow, I hadn’t even considered… Wow. I press my lips together to keep from grinning.

  “So did you get your invite for tonight?” I ask Lawrence.

  “Yeah, I think we’re supposed to go together. Meet at my house?”

  I nod, trying to keep my composure. Gretchen and Lawrence. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner. There were hints for sure. I consider pointing it out to him, but he would never admit it, especially to me. Lawrence is all about expectation and as long as he’s tied to me, he would never publicly act on something with Gretchen. The thought makes me want to tell him about Jackson and me, give him the freedom he needs to be happy. Though, maybe he already knows.

  He looks down at me, his face serious, and then to Gretchen, and then back to me. “I… I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to report to Mom’s office.” He kisses my cheek and leaves before I can even respond. I want to tell him not to feel guilty, that I’m okay with them being together, but I can’t. I turn around and find Gretchen watching me. She walks over once he leaves and we both just sort of stare at each other, unsure what the other knows and what we’re each allowed to say.

  “You know it’s okay with me,” I say finally.

  She sighs with a sarcastic laugh. “I wish it were that easy. He”—she lowers her voice—“he hasn’t… Let’s just say he isn’t as sure as I am.”

  I don’t know what to say to make her feel better, so I reach out to take her hand, but she pulls away.

  “It’s fine.” And she leaves as quickly as Lawrence.

  I feel a lump form in my throat as I make my way to class, tired of the party and what it suggests, tired of being me for the day. I slip into world lit, anxious to see Jackson, but when I get there his chair is empty. Gretchen leans over to me. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t… It isn’t your fault.”

  “Regardless, the last thing I want is for you to be unhappy. I’ll do whatever I can to fix it. I’m so sorry.”

  She shrugs and the final bell sounds before we can say more. Where is Jackson? I peer around the room to be sure he didn’t sit somewhere else today but come up empty. Worry begins to soak into my mind. Maybe the war is starting so he was summoned back to Loge.

  The rest of the class settles down. Professor Kington writes notes on the overhead, which then transfer to our note tablets. I chew on my lip, thinking of possible reasons that Jackson is missing class, when the door slides open and he enters, handing Professor Kington something. She directs him to take his seat behind me.

  I cross my arms to keep from fidgeting.

  “Ari,” he whispers. “We need to talk.”

  “I—”

  “Enough talking!” Professor Kington snaps.

  I lean back in my seat, dread pouring over me. The dreams. The unnatural speed and strength. I can’t deny it any longer. Something is definitely happening to me. All I can hope is that it isn’t what I’m thinking. I can take anything else but that. Because that—that—would change everything.

  CHAPTER 17

  I step into Cybil’s office unsure of what to expect. Mom replied to my message with a cold I know, which tells me both Dad and I will hear it when we get home. She has to understand that this is my job, but even though she’s married to the commander, she’s never been one to support the rigors of an Engineer schedule.

  Cybil motions me inside and closes the door behind me. “We’re going to the lab again today, but first we need to talk. Did you receive your invitation to the ball?”

  “Yeah, I was a little surprised it’s still on.”

  “That’s not a coincidence. The masquerade ball is just a rouse, giving the four world leaders an opportunity to meet to discuss how we will proceed. The attacks are not going unanswered. We have had tests in place with both the Chemists and Engineers for weeks now. This meeting will decide our final strategy.”

  “Negotiation strategy?”

  Cybil laughs. “Our attack strategy. We are preparing to siege war on the Ancients, just not by the traditional means. By midnight tonight, the decision will be made. There are…risks involved when planning an attack. Key leaders often become key targets. I don’t want to frighten you, but your father, we believe, is being monitored.”

  My mind flashes to the list Jackson showed me, to Dad’s name at the very top. “But isn’t that why we should try to negotiate before attacking? They have all sorts of advancements. We can’t possibly—”

  “Ari, you really don’t understand what we’re capable of. We won’t lose. There’s no chance, nothing to worry about. I only tell you this to explain where I’m about to take you.”

  I’m speechless. She really believes what she’s saying; they all do. They all think this is going to be easy. No wonder Jackson sought me out to help find the strategy and insisted I keep quiet. He knew then what I know now—they would never have questioned our superiority to the Ancients, and that arrogance would have guaranteed the wipeout of humankind. Any doubt from before fades away. I won’t let ignorance murder the people I love. I will fight for peaceful coexistence.

  I look up at Cybil, everything in me focused on the strategy. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  Moments later, we’re back at lab three, but this time the lab is hopping with people—and not just Chemists, but Engineers, too. I want to eavesdrop on what they’re doing, but Cybil ushers me to the tight hallway that makes me feel like the walls are caving in, and then to the room full of Ancients and their body parts. The room has changed since the last time I was here. Now the back wall is a T-screen and the front wall is lined with Ancients in water chambers.

  Cybil goes to the T-screen, types in a series of codes, and waits as a photo appears on the screen with data beside it. She points behind her to the first Ancient in line—a male, young, but older than Jackson, maybe twenty. He doesn’t move in the chamber, so I assume he’s technically dead but his body kept alert, like the old woman from before (who is no longer in her previous chamber). I try not to think about where she may be now or what they may have done to or with her body.

  “Check out his bodily fluid percentages,” Cybil says, zooming in on the data with a couple of taps on the screen. “Notice anything?”

  I scan down the list and stop at xylem. “Can that be right?”

  “The human body,” Cybil says, “is roughly sixty percent water. Our blood is roughly ninety-two percent water. Ancients? Water comprises only twenty-five percent of their body, yet like our blood, xylem is roughly ninety percent water. But the composition of water in xylem can hardly be called water. Take water from a human and eventually what will happen?”

  “Death.”

  “Right, but that wouldn’t happen with Ancients because xylem carries water continuously through their body, almost recycling it. They claim that they want to come here because Loge’s water supply is deteriorating. So what? They don’t technically need wa
ter. Which is why we know they would never maintain a peaceful coexistence. Their reasons are built on a lie, so why would we believe anything they say? We can’t and won’t.”

  I fight the urge to question her. Jackson told me they need water, but if what Cybil says is true, I can’t see why. Maybe they need it to flush out their bodies; I don’t know. But something isn’t adding up.

  Cybil closes the screen and opens another one titled INJURY ANALYSIS. “Watch this.” She turns around, crossing her arms. I watch the first chamber, but nothing happens. I assume it’s too technical for me to see, but then the male’s eyes flitter open and round out in horror, while a dark liquid surrounds his left arm.

  “I thought they were dead?” I half shriek, and then force myself to maintain my composure.

  “These? No, they’re Latents sent to spy on us. And they are…asleep,” Cybil says with indifference. “I just gave the command for him to be stabbed in the arm. That’s the blood you see there. It’s a simulation of sorts, but the physical reaction is real.” She points to the dark liquid now floating through the chamber. “Now, watch, watch. It’s fascinating.” She pulls me closer to the chamber and jabs at the place where his arm is slit. We stare at it for several seconds, and then just as quickly as it appeared, the wound vanishes.

  “How did it…? Xylem.” I knew it healed, but I had no idea it was so fast.

  “Exactly. So whatever we do has to slow down xylem’s ability to heal. That’s the only way to kill them.”

  “So the strategy is to stop xylem? How can we do that?”

  She looks at me as though I’m such an amateur. “We have several options already in development. As I mentioned, the meeting tonight decides which course we proceed with. There isn’t a second chance here. Whatever we do has to work and it has to work quickly. Otherwise—”

  “We’re all dead.”

  “Well, that’s a little dramatic. We have this under control, but I needed you to see this so you would know how to read the data. Should something happen…well, there are only four people who have access to this room and this information. President Cartier, your father, me”—she passes me a gold keycard—“and now you. Though I believe Lawrence Cartier will also receive access. This is a restricted area. I cannot convey enough how important it is for you to keep this room and that keycard safe. Keep it where only you know to find it, because that key accesses more than just this room. It’s a universal key. In the wrong hands, it could be very dangerous.”

  I nod, wishing the knot in my stomach would go away, but with each day, I feel closer and closer to losing it. Dad isn’t giving me this card so I can learn. This isn’t part of my training. He’s passing along the torch, just in case he isn’t around to see this thing through. Little does he know, I would never go along with killing off the Ancients. It isn’t right.

  I slide the keycard into my boot beside the trick knife and leave the Engineer building. I hop the first tron I see and wait for my stop, but three stops later I stand in the center of Landings Park in front of a row of apartments, all steel and stretching to the sky. I have no idea where to go from here. I consider phoning Gretchen to look up Jackson’s address, but she’ll ask too many questions. Just when I’m about to turn back, I notice that each building has a large letter etched into it like a name. This section is H through J. Three identical buildings are across the street—K, L, and M. Leave it to Parliament to stay organized.

  I wait outside the main door, wondering if a guard will come or if it requires a special keycard, but after a minute or two, I edge closer and almost jump back in surprise as it opens. Weird. I’ve never been to a building that opened without a keycard. Inside, the building is all business, no composite carpet or tile here. The floor seems to be made of cement, the walls all steel, and the elevator is no different. I slip inside and glance stupidly at the floor numbers, unsure how I’ll find him, and decide I have no choice but to ask Gretchen. I send the message and wait, the elevator doors sliding open and closed every few seconds as though asking me to make up my mind. Finally, my phone beeps— This is all kinds of crazy. 5C. Don’t get caught.

  I shove the phone in my jacket pocket, press the fifth floor, and wait for the doors to reopen. Once on the floor, I ease down the hall, my nerves wound tight, and then tap 5C’s door.

  The door opens and my heart stops. Jackson is sliding on a shirt, his abs still exposed, then his head peeks through the hole in the shirt and his eyes find mine. “Okay, not who I expected.” He steps out of the way and directs me inside. All thought drips from my mind and all I can do is watch as he smoothes out his shirt.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I— Well, no, but…” I turn away from him so I can think and take my time examining the tiny apartment. They at least used composite flooring, though I can’t place what it’s supposed to look like. Not carpet; it looks harder than carpet, but it has a texture to it that isn’t common with composite hardwood or tile. A deep brown sofa sits against the back wall with a small T-screen to its right. There is only one window in the main room, cut into the wall across from me, and Jackson has the blinds closed, blocking the outside view. In front of the window is a small table and to the left an open kitchen that would fit inside my food pantry. A door breaks up the right side wall, which I suppose leads to his bedroom.

  Bedroom.

  Heat rises up my neck, and I wonder if I’ve made a stupid decision coming here. I can’t seem to think. I clear my throat and turn back to Jackson.

  “The ball tonight is just so the leaders can get together. They’re planning to decide tonight what to do. Oh, and they’re researching xylem. Whatever they decide, they want to make sure xylem can’t heal it.” Jackson nods while I continue on with everything Cybil told me, even the part about how sure she is that we will win. When I’m done, he raises his arms, locking his hands behind his head. I’ve noticed he does this when he’s deep in thought, and I can’t help wondering what he’s thinking and how much of it, if any, he plans to share with me.

  He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just finally stands, pointing to the clock beside his T-screen. “You need to get home. I’m sure everyone’s waiting for you.”

  “Wait, aren’t you going to say something?”

  “I’m not sure what to say. I need to think about it. I knew the ball was just to hide their meeting, but I haven’t thought out how we’ll listen in on it yet. By tonight I’ll have a plan. But you can’t help if you’re stuck at home. So”—he points to his door—“see you tonight.” He stands, and I can’t help feeling a little hurt. I’m not sure what I expected, but I hate his shadowed emotions, so obvious yet not detailed enough to reveal anything.

  I edge to the door, trying not to look as pathetic as I feel. Jackson grabs my hand before I go. “Don’t worry. I know it’s a lot to take, but we’ll figure it out.”

  I nod before heading out the door. I hope he’s right.

  CHAPTER 18

  When I arrive home, Mom waits on our front porch for me, her expression lethal. I’m torn between apologizing and acting like I’ve done nothing wrong. She stands as I step up the stairs, and without a word, she points for me to go inside. This is bad.

  Dad is already home and looks as tense as I feel.

  As soon as the door closes behind her, she whips around, jabbing her finger between the two of us. “I know you both seem to think you are immortals, somehow able to survive when others can’t, but I’m here to tell you that when I ask for Ari to come home after school, she is to come home right then, not a second later. Forget training. She is still underage, and I will not have you two pretending that she has the experience that those who have been doing this for years have! Now, we will all be leaving this house as a family in forty-five minutes.” She walks around us without another glance.

  I release a long breath and turn to look at Dad, who just shrugs and follows Mom to their room to get ready.

  What feels like hours of hair pulling an
d nail clipping and sucking in my breath so I fit into my dress later, I stand in the Cartier home, sipping a bubbling drink that tastes both sweet and sour. The sparkling bubbles rise to the top of the lavender liquid, burst once they reach the surface, and send alcohol pouring into the drink. It’s a clever way to ration alcohol based upon the age of the drinker. Around the room older guests’ drinks bubble continuously, while mine bubbles only on the rare occasion, like an afterthought.

  I walk into the foyer, which could be a mini ballroom. Its massive size, crystal chandelier, and real marble flooring—not composite like the rest of ours—reveals the grandeur that is the Cartier name. As I’m staring into the twinkling chandelier, I hear someone enter and smile as Lawrence, dressed in a white tux and simple gold mask, bows in front of me. I wish I knew if Gretchen was watching. I don’t want her to see how he’s expected to act around me and think it’s real. Law’s feelings for me are only a result of expectation, but I know firsthand that actions can hurt, intentional or not.

  “You are…” He takes my hand and brushes his lips against it. “Sinful.”

  I glance down at my dress and give a half smile. It is spectacular. Golden bronze, strapless, with an empire waist. Draping that cascades in folds down to my knees. My hair is swept up into a messy array of loose curls, my makeup simple and enchanting, while a black feather and gemstone mask conceals my eyes. “The perfect blend of innocence and seduction,” Gretchen had said when she created the outfit.

  He leans over to kiss my cheek just as the lights dim, saving me from figuring out a way to avoid the kiss. It’s time to attend the formal portion of the ball. We file into line by the elevators, again a Cartier perk, which lead to the belowground ballroom. There, we will enjoy more drinks and expected mingling.

  Law guides me to the far left elevator. It closes before anyone else can enter. Mirrors surround us, so I’m able to see, really see, Law for the first time tonight. His dark brown hair, full and wavy, hangs over his forehead and ears in that perfect sort of way. He notices me staring and smiles, his teeth startlingly white against his olive skin.