I walk blindly into the dark room, feeling my way as I go. I recognize the stale scent of temperature-controlled air. Overhead a light flickers on, releasing a soft beam from ceiling to floor. A podium rises in front of me, revealing a glass case. Inside, the volume rests upon an invisible shelf. My heart explodes when I see it. I race to the glass case and hover as near as I can get, marveling at the similarity of the soft red leather, the black embossed title. Volume II.
I turn back to France expectantly. With the push of a button, the glass case retracts. My hands find the book. I lift it from the case, feeling a sudden rush of electricity in my fingertips. This is it. A second book that survived Fell’s fires. We are that much closer.
A guard enters the vault and strides up to France. “Forgive my intrusion,” he says quietly. “I have a message for you.”
“Go on.”
The guard glances at me, then back to France. “It is confidential.”
She tilts her head. “Very well. You may whisper.”
The guard leans in. Ledger stands eyeing them, arms folded across his chest. His eyes dart to me as the guard pulls away, as France glowers at me. “So how did you do it?”
“Do what?” I ask.
“How did you get past our test?”
“France, what are you talking about?”
“You have deceived us,” she says bitterly. “William Hartley has failed our literacy test. He is not a reader, after all.”
Guards rush the vault. One of them lunges at me, pulling the book from my hands while another restrains my arms behind my back. A guard approaches Ledger and knocks him to the ground while two others hold him prone on the floor.
“Tell me, are you working for Fell?” France shouts. “Is that why you’ve come here?”
“No, of course not!” I yell. “I can explain!”
“Your grandfather has been immersed. He possesses no ability to read. So how did you read our instructions? How did you get here?”
“Because I read them! I’m a reader!” I shout helplessly. “I read your instructions. Just like I read the words inside your simulcast.”
France’s face falls. She walks up to me. Her eyes narrow just inches from mine, flickering with confusion. “You?” she whispers. “You are the reader?”
“Yes.”
She pulls the volume from the guard’s hand, opens the cover and thumbs through to a page. She rotates the book, then shoves it under my eyes. Her finger lands on the paper, indicating a passage. “Prove it.”
The words jumble and float along the page. My breath quickens. For a moment I feel as if the world stops, as if my reading was just an illusion. A dream.
“Well? Can you read or can’t you?”
“She can!” Ledger shouts. “Noelle, don’t be afraid. Remember, the words have always been with you.”
I squeeze my eyes and blink back the fog. I dive inside the letters and start swimming.
Study is like the heaven’s glorious sun,
That will not be deep-search’d with saucy looks;
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others’ books.
These earthly godfathers of heaven’s lights
That give a name to every fixed star,
Have no more profit of their shining nights
Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
Too much to know, is to know nought but fame;
And every godfather can give a name.
When I climb out of the page, France’s face has changed. Her mouth hangs open, but her voice has left her.
“I never said my grandfather could read.”
“I just assumed . . .” Her voice evaporates. “I’m sorry. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
*
We’re escorted to the top floor, where our quarters are. France walks me to my room, at the end of the long corridor. It is small and dimly lit, but there is a bed, a small bathroom, and a shower, so I am grateful. France has even let me keep the volume overnight.
“I don’t know why, but I feel I can trust you, Noelle Hartley,” she says, leaving me at the door.
I give her a half smile. “Thanks.” I wish I could return the sentiment, but the truth is I don’t feel trusted or trusting.
“Well,” France says, “have a restful evening. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“My grandfather? When can I see him?”
“He is resting after the operation. We’ll take you to see him first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
As she closes the door behind her, my legs collapse. I fall onto the bed, letting exhaustion overcome me. As my head hits the pillow, I feel my hair stick to the back of my neck. Lake water. I haul myself into the shower, arrange a few toiletries, drop my clothes, and step in.
Beneath the hot water, I start to feel better. My neck relaxes. I let my head hang forward, succumbing to the heat. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open.
I start to nod off, then get a flash of John’s eyes closing, just before he died. I hear Miriam’s scream. There’s a splash of red across the tub, a slow ooze of crimson fluid. My ears ring with the ratchratch-razhat of the chemi-taser. I jolt back against the tile, hitting my head. Now I am awake. I rub my skull, finding the sore spot. Perfect. Just what I need when I should be thinking clearly.
The water swirls at my feet into the drain, carrying the dirt and grime and regret with it. There’s so much I wish I could simply wash away, so much I’d like to watch spiral down out of my life forever. But I can’t. I can’t unsee the things I’ve seen. It’s all there, behind my eyes now. My chest heaves, and in the blur of the moment, I’m only vaguely aware of sobbing uncontrollably. The stream clouds my vision like a nightmare. It’s all I can do to focus on the present moment. Finding the other seven volumes won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring John back. But it just might stop the ones that took them from me.
I fumble for the soap and begin to lather. It’s been days since I’ve felt really clean. My skin prickles even in the heat as Ledger pops into my mind. What happened to us in the lake was terrifying and yet sort of strangely wonderful. I close my eyes, feeling the touch of his skin beneath the water, silky yet firm. The water caresses my back, my hair, my face, and for the briefest moment, I let myself imagine that it’s him. Stop it. Get a grip. I push the thought of him away, eager to forget about whatever it was I felt out there in the water. Miriam’s words ring eerily in my head even now, her voice so confident, so filled with forewarning. He isn’t one of us.
I finish my shower and slip into the change of clothes—dark navy trousers and a white button-down—then climb wearily into bed. As soon as I hit the sheets, my mind starts spinning. I close my eyes and try to find sleep, but all I find instead is Volume II. I reach for the books, placing them on either side of me. My hands lightly skim their covers. Hidden away for so many years, and yet here they are with me, asking to be looked at, hoping to be read. I feel the overwhelming urge to do the thing I know I can do. To let the words surround me like a cocoon. Except the urge is stifled. I don’t want to read them alone.
With the books in my arms, I jog down to Ledger’s room. I pause in front of the door, mustering my courage, then knock. Ledger opens it, his hair damp like morning grass. He wears his matching Pedantian outfit, his shirt halfway unbuttoned. I glimpse his skin beneath the fabric.
A smile spreads across his mouth. “Hi.”
I hold up the volumes and quickly scan the hallway in both directions. “You going to let me in?”
Ledger steps aside. His eyes follow me. “I was hoping you got something more comfortable,” he says, pulling at his shirt. “Mine’s so itchy.” He closes the door, pauses a moment as if composing himself, then turns to me. “What are you doing here?”
I keep the books hugged into my chest. “I think we should be together,” I say.
“What?”
I thrust the books toward him. “To read them
. The volumes. I was afraid to do it alone.”
“Oh.” He takes a deep breath, eyeing me. “Are you sure about this?”
“Not really. Last time it was sort of uncomfortable . . .” I search for an explanation. “Like I was letting go . . .”
Ledger sits on the bed. “Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to feel,” he says, eyeing me curiously. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”
I look at the spot next to him but settle on the floor instead. “Something wrong with the bed?” he asks me.
“No, nothing. The floor is just as comfortable.”
“Okay, then.” Ledger lowers himself next to me. “Oh yeah, the floor is much better,” he says stretching out. “In fact, I’m baffled as to why human beings ever invented furniture in the first place.”
I suppress a smile. He watches me, his expression growing serious. “Sorry, I was just trying to . . .”
“Trying to joke?” I finish. “Ledger, I don’t understand you. You flinch from me one minute like you can’t stand me and yet you want me near you the next. What am I supposed to think?” Ledger looks away, his eyes uncertain.
“And what happened in the lake? I mean, you must have felt it too . . .”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. But you jumped in the water so suddenly, I had to go after you. And then there we were caught in the current . . . I couldn’t stop it. I knew it would happen as soon as we . . .”
“As soon as we what?” I ask.
“As soon as we touched.” He sits forward, forgetting himself for a moment. “Did you see anything?” His voice is low and raspy, the way John would sound sometimes in the winter, when he was getting a cold. “When you blacked out, did you see anything?”
I try to think back. I was with him in that other place. “I saw the words like stars,” I tell him. “But more than that. I heard something.”
“What did you hear?”
“Voices.”
“Talking?”
“No. It was like . . . singing.” Ledger winces.
“What is it? What does it mean?”
He sits back, scanning me, looking for words. “We cannot connect, cannot touch. Not without it happening.”
I shake my head trying to gain clarity. “What do you mean? Without what happening?”
“The reading. The pieces of the past,” he says, lowering his voice. “That is what you saw. That is what you heard.”
“What?”
“The story I’m here to give you.” Ledger sighs in frustration and runs his hands through his wet hair. He seems to relax into his body more each hour.
“Ledger,” I say hesitant. “What story?”
He sits forward. His expression wills me to know him, wills me to understand. “You are the reader,” he says, at last. “Maybe one of the last readers alive. And I can give you what’s been lost, what’s been taken from your world. I can show you what came before. That’s why I am here. To help you, by showing you what Fell never could.”
“So what I’m seeing is from the earlier time?”
Ledger nods, but I can tell there is something else. Something he’s not telling me. “It’s part of you, isn’t it?”
“You can’t think of it that way,” he tries, but I know I’ve struck a nerve.
“It’s not just any past, is it?” I ask him. “It’s yours. The books . . .”
“I’ve been on fire a long time,” he says. “Waiting for my soul to be set free. Now I’m here, and there is a chance I could live again. If I touch you, the transfer will begin. If you touch me, same thing. I have to control it,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “So you see what you’re supposed to.”
“Why bother controlling it? Why not just tell me, or show me whatever it is I’m supposed to see?”
“It’s not that simple. It comes through in pieces.”
“So that’s what’s been happening to me? The blackouts? The visions and voices?”
“Yes,” Ledger says. “That’s what’s inside of me. There will be more, and they will only get more intense. That was the beginning.”
“Do they have an end?”
Ledger nods. “Yep.”
“And what comes after the end?”
He shrugs. “Hard to say.”
“Well, I’m not afraid of them,” I say. I’m afraid of you. Of what you are, of where you came from.
“That’s good,” Ledger says blandly. “But the truth is . . . I am afraid, Noelle.”
“Of the visions?”
“No.” Ledger looks at me, his eyes burning. “It’s very disconcerting to be read by you.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his light hair. “The sensation of it, just like all the others . . . it’s all pretty new.”
“What do you mean all the others?” Ledger and I are several feet apart, but we may as well be just inches from each other. It’s as if we’re connected by some invisible force. The tension pulling us into each other is undeniable. Half a minute passes before it finally occurs to me. “Wait, so are you saying you’ve never felt . . . anything before coming here?”
“Sensory experience, like emotion, usually involves having a body,” he says. “Why do you think I find this whole thing so difficult?”
“But John, he must have . . .”
“I don’t get his memories. Only this,” Ledger runs his hands over himself. “It’s a little confining, if you want to know the truth.”
“Having a body?”
“No, not that. I mean, having no frame of reference for pain. For excitement. For nervousness . . . for—” Ledger stops himself. He looks at me with dark, serious eyes. “For another person.”
“But in the lake, you saved me. You held me like it was nothing.” I can feel myself growing hot in the middle.
“Yes,” Ledger says. “But it wasn’t nothing.” He looks down. “I’m not used to it. Hundreds of different sensations all at once. The sun on my skin, the feeling of the water. The way my stomach knotted when I ran after you into the lake. The feeling of you underwater, knowing you needed me . . .”
“But you’ve never . . . you’ve never been close to someone before?” Suddenly, I’m light-headed, euphoric with the energy between us. I try not to show it. “Like a kiss, or something?”
Ledger shakes his head. His eyes flash angrily. “You think it’s what I wanted? Don’t you think I spent the ages watching, waiting . . . hoping to be what you are? To have what you have?”
Suddenly, I get it. He wants to be like us. He just doesn’t know how. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know you could have . . .”
“What? You didn’t know we could have what?”
“I didn’t know you could have desires or dreams, like we do.”
“A desire and a dream are not the same thing.”
“Sure they are. The point is, what I’m trying to say is, if there’s something you want, you have to go after it.”
Ledger looks at me quizzically. “Is that so?”
“Of course.” I shrug. “Why do you think I left the Vale? The thing I longed for wasn’t there and never will be. I had to get out.” I shut my eyes, blotting out the memory of John and how he helped me escape. When I open them, I try not to notice Ledger has that dark stare again, the one that makes my middle white-hot like an exploding star. For a second, I feel like he might touch me. I brace myself for the electricity that will surely pass between us. I know now if Ledger touches me, I’d better be prepared. But he doesn’t, and I don’t know whether I’m disappointed or relieved. What’s happening between us? What does he want me to feel?
“We need to set some ground rules,” I blurt.
Ledger sits back, a look of smug surprise on his face. “Okay. Like what?”
“Well, for starters, whenever we . . . um . . . touch, it will happen right?”
“Right.”
“So maybe we decide where and when.”
“It has to be you, Noelle,” Ledger says, looking regretful. “You’re the one who
has to receive the story. You must decide.”
“That’s not fair! You’re making me the one?”
“You’re the reader. What I have to show you won’t always be pleasant. There is darkness there, Noelle. You have to prepare yourself.”
“So, you know what I’m going to see?”
“Most of it, yes. But once it leaves me, it belongs to you. You have to hold on to it and know it as well as I do. Better even.”
“I wish I knew why I am the only one who can do this,” I say absently.
“Because you are capable. You are strong.”
I look down at myself still clutching the pillow I came here with. “I don’t feel strong,” I say quietly. “I feel like a mess.”
Ledger sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I think you might be the first person to nearly drown in just five feet of water.”
“Hey! That wasn’t my fault!” I throw my pillow at him and lunge toward him, knocking him to the floor.
“Oww!” he yells as I fall onto him, my weight pushing him back, the pillow between our bodies.
He stares at me intensely, his hands digging into the floorboards, his knuckles white. “Too close, Noelle,” he says sternly. “That was too close for comfort.” Ledger swallows, his eyes worried.
Uneasiness washes over me. That’s the problem. I am comfortable. I’m too comfortable with Ledger. I feel myself letting go, losing control, just like when I read. “This was a mistake,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t be here.” I grab the books and get up to leave.
“Noelle—wait!”
I head for the door and run to my room without turning back. When I get inside, I slam the door shut and sit on the floor, my back against it. Forget it, I tell myself. Think of the consequences. Feeling something for Ledger would be like feeling something for a ghost. Yet the truth is, I do feel something for this boy with his all too familiar face, and the body of the boy I cared so much for. None of it makes sense to me, so I decide to keep my distance from Ledger, while every tendon in my body feels as if it’s reaching for him.
I must have fallen asleep. When I wake, it’s to the sound of someone knocking softly. I pull myself up and open the door to find Ledger standing there, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry about before,” he says, a trace of longing on his lips. “It was my fault. I reacted harshly.”
Blood, Ink & Fire Page 18