I roll to a standing position, waiting for the next monster to appear—one of Ms. Swift’s training routines. I know Turner hasn’t messed with hers. I’m ready to rip out another hologram’s heart. It seems that’s what I do best.
•
The next morning, I awake to Sam shaking my bed.
“Sera, wake up.”
“Ugh. Leave me alone. Why won’t you let me sleep?” I tug the covers over my head and roll toward the wall. I hadn’t gotten into bed until six in the morning.
“It’s your Dad. Um, he’s here.”
“Here?” I sit up clutching the covers, and stare at her through sleepy eyes.
She nods nervously.
When I stumble out of my bedroom, blanket wrapped around my shoulders, Ray rushes from the front door where he’s been pacing and embraces me. “Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!” He hugs me tightly to his chest; I can feel his heart beating wildly and the slight tremor in his hand as he awkwardly strokes my hair.
For a moment, I think I’m dreaming. This is obviously some parallel universe. Ray hugging me like this is stranger than Wandering. “Yes. I’m—I’m fine,” I stammer in shock and stiffen slightly in his arms, so unaccustomed to being there.
He holds me away from his face, gripping my arms. I wince as he presses the wound beneath my shirt. “I saw the news. What happened? They’re saying it was an explosion. Why didn’t you call me?” He rushes his words in frantic bursts.
I hadn’t prepared myself for this conversation. Never even dreamed it would happen. “Dad!” I pull myself from his grasp and walk away to plop on the couch, preparing to give him the speech we were instructed to tell our Normal parents about the Underground’s attack on the school. It never occurred to me that mine would even care. “It was nothing, just a student prank gone wrong. We’re perfectly safe.”
He assesses me. “You weren’t involved were you?” And…now we’re back to the Ray I know and love.
“No! Of course not!” I force out a huff of air in a grunt.
“Well, whatever it was, I’ve decided I’m taking you home. I don’t like you being here anymore. Obviously, it’s not safe.” He looks around, eyeing Bishop and Sam, who are standing in their bedroom doorways wearing their pajamas, their faces impassive and arms crossed.
“Dad, I’m fine. You’re totally overreacting.”
“No, I’m not. Get your things together. We’re leaving today.”
This can’t be happening. I’m too tired for this. I just stare at him, unable to budge. My annoyance and frustration skyrocket; I can feel my face tighten, unable to hide the emotions.
“Seraphina, I said now!” He points to the floor for emphasis.
“No!” I drop the blanket and jump to my feet, squaring up to face him with my fists clenched with determination.
“I’m not going to say it again. I’m leaving, and you’re coming with me.”
“There’s no way, Dad. I have friends here.”
“You’ll make new friends.”
“I have a family here!” I yell, going right for the jugular. “You couldn’t pay me to leave this life. They actually want to be around me—unlike you,” I snap, and then step back, shocked that I’ve actually said the words out loud. They hang in the air for several seconds, so honest and yet so ugly, as raw hurt assembles itself on Ray’s face.
“So I’ve lost you forever, then? Just like your mom.” A single tear rolls down his cheek, and he swipes it away under the guise of adjusting his glasses.
My brows furrow. He’s never shown any emotion like this before. Before I can react, he turns and storms out of the room. Speechless, I move to glance out the doorway and see him quickly stalking down the corridor. The truth is that I want to run after him, to explain everything, but I can’t. He wouldn’t understand, and this is my life now. The separation would have to be made at some point.
I glance at Bishop and Sam, who are for once dazed into silence. The realization hits me full force: I just traded my Dad for my team. Traded the little family I have for Wandering. I run to my room and slam the door, then toss myself on my bed, crying.
Two hearts ripped out in one day.
::26::
The Truth
The gala and Academy classes are canceled for a week and a half. The building must be put back together, the Relic Archives rebuilt, and some walls reconstructed. Students are nursed back to health. Overall, there’s a quiet sadness. Rumors of the Underground spread like wildfire. And finally, on Friday, we’re called to an assembly to learn the truth.
•
Over a loudspeaker, Gabe summons students to the main atrium. His voice is unusually solemn, but most of us have been since the attack.
Bishop, Sam, and I crowd against the banister, looking down at the first floor. Macey shoves in with Xavier. Quinn hobbles on crutches next to them. Atticus has just been released from the hospital. Agnes and Scarlett, with her arm in a cast, settle nearby.
Some students sit on the main stairs like a stadium. Collectively, there’s a low rumble of chatter. Whispers question what information the school administrators might reveal. I note that the noise would be louder if many of the conversations weren’t taking place telepathically between some Protectors and Seers.
I’m nervous, anticipating the worst, for I know that the information we’re about to hear can only be negative. I try to remain strong, but my anger has caused me many sleepless nights.
To combat them, I’ve spent every allowable second in the training room. Now that Bishop knows of my abilities, I haven’t bothered to hide my training. Ms. Swift, thrilled with my eagerness to improve, works with me for hours on end.
Bishop drapes his arm around my back and rubs my shoulder. He squeezes me closer, brushing his lips to my hair. “You need sleep, love. You’ve been working too hard.”
“It’ll never be good enough.”
He tenses at my response, so I know this new me upsets him. I sigh and lean into him, holding him tight. My affection is the only way I can assure him that I still need him, even if I probably don’t need him as a Protector.
My eyes roam and notice Turner. He’s on the first floor with his arms crossed, staring at me. He refused to stay at the hospital beyond a few days. He winces when he rotates his torso in certain ways; his stitches pulling, I’d guess. I’ve yet to talk to him, even to check on him, since I’ve promised myself to stay away as Sam suggested.
I wonder if he knows about the conversation I had with Hologram Turner. And I wonder if the conversation would have gone the same way with the real Turner. From the look on his face, I think so.
Perpetua makes her way next to him and whispers in his ear. I tense, seeing them together. She’s been lying low since the attack, only appearing when she wants to remind me about the crystal. Everyone here knows about her team’s involvement with the Underground, which hasn’t made her very popular.
How long will she give me to look for the crystal before she tells Bishop about Turner and me? Tonight, I promise myself that no matter how difficult the conversation might be, I’ll stop procrastinating, be strong, and explain myself to Bishop. I have nothing to hide. I’ve fought Turner’s advances on many occasions. If anyone should feel guilty, it should be Turner.
Bishop squeezes me again, and I quickly avert my eyes.
Steel shades slide over the windows and click, locking into place. The lights dim. A hologram clicks on, appearing on the first floor below. It’s a 3-D emblem, a shield with a coiled snake, ten feet high, rotating in the air. Presumably, this is the shield of the Underground. The light the image creates illuminates everyone’s faces.
“Wanderers have never had a peaceful life. From the beginning of time, when we were placed on this earth, there has been much turmoil because with this amazing power of time travel comes infinite duty,” Mr. Evanston’s voice booms.
“The Underground Brotherhood of the Snake, or Underground, for short, was created for only one reason—to undermine th
e duties that we, as good Wandering Society citizens, have placed upon ourselves since our beginnings in Gibeon: knowledge, evolution, and co-existence.
“The Underground has done everything in its power to manipulate time and rotate its axis in favor of their ideals. It seems they’re against everything the Society stands for and will stop at nothing until our kind has been wiped from this earth. By attempting to do so, on many sad occasions they’ve unintentionally set off an extremely dangerous domino effect—creating wars, plagues, famines, and other heinous events.” The hologram image changes to quick images, representing each event.
“Many negotiation efforts have been made on behalf of the Society of Wanderers by Grand Master Phineas Levi to resolve this issue. Unfortunately, his endeavors have been met with resistance and with absolutely no peaceful resolution.” Mr. Evanston steps away.
Terease walks over and joins in the presentation. “At this moment, it’s not completely clear what has instigated these new, vicious Underground attacks. I personally, with the help of our assigned Society agents, have been seeking them out, looking for answers,” Terease says and gestures to a nearby group of Society soldiers.
“What I can assure you is that you are now safe.” She paces. “Many of you have probably noticed increased security around the Academy. Professor Raunnebaum has initiated a new security system. He’ll share information on that now.” She gestures to the professor.
“Good afternoon, students.” Professor Raunnebaum slides in front of the rotating hologram. “I’ve shipped in many new Animates to patrol the Academy and Olde Town areas. They’ll be on the lookout for any unauthorized persons attempting to wander into the area.”
A ghastly roar reverberates off the atrium walls. Two fire-breathing Animates fly over our heads, swoop across the room, and land with a loud clank next to Professor Raunnebaum. Their long, extended bodies undulate with machine-like precision, metal scraping upon metal, until they find a coiled position of rest.
“These Chinese dragons and many others are our new additions.” Professor Raunnebaum strokes the scalloped gills of one Animate. Smoke coils from its nostrils, drifting away into the air.
“Now,” Mr. Evanston says as he steps into view. “If anyone has any specific concerns, please see myself or any faculty member immediately.” He glances around pointing to the group. “Because we’ve been through so much this week, Gabe would like to address you.”
Gabe steps forward, more restrained than I have ever seen him, dressed somberly in black with his hands folded behind his back. “Hello, students. We realize how hard this week has been, so this evening, we would like for everyone to forget your worries and try to have a little fun. Yes, fun!” Gabe clasps his hands in front of his chest, igniting his normal bubbly personality. “Tonight, I’m very excited to announce that we’ll be holding our gala ball!” He throws out his arms with exuberance.
The students cheer, clapping and whistling at the news. I can’t help but smile. It would be nice to think about something other than revenge. I’m happy for a moment, and then remember that I’ve promised myself to talk to Bishop. I will—tonight. No matter what.
“I thought you might feel that way!” Gabe rips off his black attire, revealing his circus ringmaster costume. Red sparkles shimmer in a spotlight encircling him. The Underground snake emblem morphs into new hologram—a group of enthusiastic spider monkeys. One leaps to Gabe’s shoulder. The others run off, squeaking and bouncing into the crowd.
“Garment bags have been delivered to your rooms with your gala costumes. Please meet here, tonight at eight!” Gabe spins as two cannons of glitter explode. Sparkles flutter through the air. Cheers grow louder as the students release their anxiety, nearly giddy with excitement.
The window shades release with a loud, simultaneous click and slide open, revealing the sunlight.
::27::
Protectors
“Pardon me,” Macey says and squeezes between Bishop and me. “I need to have some girl time with my B.F.F.” She winks at him. Students rush to their apartments, pushing past.
“Of course.” He nods and smiles. “I’d never dream of coming between you two.” With a quick squeeze, he releases my arm, surrendering me to Macey.
“We’ll catch ya later!” she hollers over her shoulder and marches into her apartment. “I have the whole day planned—you, me, and Jesus Holy-Hotness, my hair stylist.”
“Mace, I’m supposed to be meeting Ms. Swift for defense tutoring.” I attempt to resist, half-heartedly pulling away from her. She tugs harder, dragging me into her bedroom and slams the door.
“Yeah, about that.” She turns and looks serious. “What’s with all this anger you’ve been releasing in girl-kick-butt mode? Scarlett said you practically ripped her arm off in defense class the other week. If you’re going to be Rambo Barbie, at least take it out on Perpetua.”
“Yeah, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away. I apologized to her right away.”
“Scarlett’s fine. That’s not why I mentioned it.” She shakes her head. “It’s just—” She hesitates, letting her eyes roam nervously.
“Tell me.”
She sighs and gives in. “I see what you’re doing to Bishop. You’re kinda hurting his feelings.” She plops on her bed, looking guilty for the accusation.
“He said that to you?” My heart races, and I cross my arms, wishing I could strangle this ridiculous urge to fight out of my system.
“He doesn’t have to. I know how’d I’d feel it you were my Wanderer. I think—no, I know, it would make me self-conscious. Like, I know it shouldn’t, but in my heart, in my genetics, I know it would.” She looks uncomfortable.
I’ve never seen Macey like this. “Don’t be afraid. You can tell me what you think. I want to know.” I place a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s just upsetting to even think about.” Macey shakes her head. “Like, providing protection is who I am. If Xavier could do it for himself, what good am I?” She scrunches her nose. “Maybe it’s a stupid Wandering thing?”
“You’re right.” I collapse on the bed next to her. Professor Raunnebaum warned me of this, and I moved forward with my training regardless, knowing it would affect Bishop. “I’ve been feeling insanely guilty about it, knowing it would throw off the balance of our team, but for some reason, I can’t stop.” All Underground and mom issues aside, I think I still might be doing this. Like, it’s the path I’m meant to be on.
“All right, well, I’ll get off my soapbox now. It’s your team. And considering the attack, it’s always good to have another fighter.” She gives me a hug.
“You can always tell me how you feel, Mace. Okay?”
She nods with a smile.
It’s time to discuss everything with Bishop, not just the Turner issue. I sigh.
“Now, let’s talk about something fun, like hair and makeup for the gala.” Macey squeals and runs to grab her makeup box.
•
I cancel my tutoring with Ms. Swift. And after a visit to Jesus, the miracle hairdresser, Macey and I have the most beautiful hairstyles you can imagine. My hair is pulled back in the front and layered in long dark ringlets down the center of my back. Because I feel like letting loose, I allow Jesus to add a small streak of sapphire blue to my hair. Somewhere between my night classes, I dreamed about having the color. Amazingly, it matches beautifully with the dress Gabe left for me.
The dress shimmers with the color of sapphire. Emerald-green details line the edges. There’s a fascinator hairpiece with long, curling peacock feathers and sparkling cobalt gems. The costume is a mixture of steampunk style and Victorian circus. The black fishnet stockings are sexy but a little too itchy. Macey promises I’ll get used to them as I yank and tug at them.
There’s a knock at Macey’s apartment front door. Xavier, dressed in a brown suit, hurries to answer it. Bishop stands with Sam on his arm. The second she sees me, she sweeps into the room in a panic.
“Do you see this dress?
” She sticks her long leg out of a slit in her skirt that ends at her hip, right above her panties. “It’s ridiculous! Too much! How am I supposed to go to this party looking like a floozy, Sera? Why would Gabe do this to me?” she hisses with a dramatic stomp.
“I kinda like it.” Quinn stands nearby, his weight leaning on his crutches.
Sam steps aside, holding her leg out. “It’s absurd, Quinn!”
“Not with stems like those,” he responds, wagging his eyebrows playfully.
Sam instantly blushes, becoming quiet. Her gaze drifts, looking for a comfortable place to land.
“It’s not too bad,” I venture, trying to ease her distress. “At least your ruffled briefs are cute.” I smile behind my glove.
Sam sighs and crosses her arms.
“You look lovely, Sam,” Bishop says, patting her shoulder in a brotherly fashion. And then he turns. “As do you, Miss Parrish.” He grabs my hand and kisses the base of my fingers.
“So do you.” His sapphire-blue ascot, tufted under his chin, strangely matches with my new streak of hair color, like Gabe knew I would do it. When I look into Bishop’s eyes, I’m feeling more confident in the conversation I’ll be having with him tonight. I have nothing to hide. I smile brightly, feeling happy for the love we share. I lean in and kiss him on the cheek.
Bishop takes my arm and, as a group, we head to the main atrium. A hologram has completely transformed the space. Now, it’s the grandest ballroom one could imagine with the most ornate details. Bright gold leaf carvings and paintings cover every available flat surface. Rows of columns and arcades run along the outer edges of the first and second floor. Red-and-white-striped curtains drape and billow on every wall, mimicking the tent of a circus. Holographic circus animals roam the floor, adorned with ornate gold cords, gemstones, and feathers.
But most amazing by far is the sight of miniature hot air balloons that hover at various heights. Their baskets are just large enough for two people. Some balloons rise higher than the ceiling, which now appears to open up to the midnight blue sky. Holographic stars twinkle. A shimmering comet streaks across the atmosphere.
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