“The Current flows through this world. It’s all around us, but we can’t see it. Some say it comes from a puncture in the universe. Others say it bubbles up from deep within the earth, connecting from someplace else. It’s unknown, and you can’t see it with your eyes.”
I rub my thumb across the surface of a glass piece and study the pattern taking shape of those already inlaid. I hand her an ivory piece.
“It’s an ebb and flow in the world surrounding the Awakened. A slight hum that underscores everything around us, and if we slow down to listen, we might be able to dance in its rhythm.” She sets the various pieces I hand her at the center of the table, following the swirl pattern I started.
“So often we’re rushing, in our own heads, or just not slowing down enough to realize that it’s all around us. We fight and wrestle and fail to see that our predecessors, with their simple way of life, were much more in tune than we are today. So we look to them to help us see what we can’t see for ourselves.”
I pick up a long, lavender shard and hold it up to my eye to look through it. “So we study the past?” If that’s the case, then it makes total sense why Mom made me study classical art.
Gladys takes the lavender sliver, even though I was about to put it back. “Some say our predecessors embedded messages in their art. Others say it’s a natural response to being open and sensitive to their calling, but yes. We do believe that there are ‘messages’ from previous artists that help guide us today.”
“Like Milton.” I give her a deep purple, almost black spear.
“I suppose. Seers tend to feel the Current more than the others, but we can all feel it in some way or another. It’s a force in the realm that feeds our Bent. It’s how Guardians are led to other Awakened, and it gives us insight that seems second nature, connecting us. Maddox cultivates art because he understands that tapping into our creative self opens our Bent in ways that simply training could never do. It reaches deep and allows our Bent to flow freely and speak to others, bringing them to awareness of who they are.”
She sets the lavender piece on the edge of the table. The sharp edge sticks out too far and could easily cut someone. While she sets a plum piece near the sea of blues, I reach over and guide the lavender shard back within the bounds of the circle.
“The Current holds us together. An invisible bond that, whether we like it or not, keeps us connected.” Gladys adjusts the tiles in the center. I set more shards on the table, filling the gaps, and then pick up a tray of shiny tiles. I hand her a few golden-yellow pieces. “We have our differences, that’s a given,” she says. “But when it comes to using our Bent for one another, we put all that aside.” She trims the edge with yellow tiles, pushing the lavender inside the circle. “We’re a completely different kind of family. As an Awakened, you’ll always have a home right here with all of us, no matter what.”
My throat swells. Hesperian is the closest to family I’ve ever felt. I want to do whatever it takes to keep them safe. No matter the cost.
Gladys completes the circle with the last of the yellow tiles. “That’ll do for now.” She stands and wipes her hands on her apron, even though the table is far from finished. “Did you talk to your mama?”
I shake my head. “She didn’t answer.”
“Write down the number. I’ll speak with her. We mamas have a way of connecting.” She pulls a pen from behind her ear and tears a piece of paper from a small notebook in her apron pocket. My stomach churns as I write the number. I’m not so sure I want Gladys calling. What if Mom tells her I’m a Seer? I change the last number and give Gladys the paper before we head back upstairs.
“I’m curious as to why she never told you.”
I shrug. “I don’t know.” That’s the truth.
She wanders back through the kitchen to wash her hands and motions for me to do the same. “Maybe she was waiting till your Bent manifested. I’ve heard of some Awakened in rural areas doing that, but it’s not advisable. Too easy for you kids to become Dissenters.”
There’s that word again. Dissenter. “What is that?” I dry my hands with a clean dish towel.
Gladys's congenial face turns sour. “The worst offense for an Awakened. Irrevocable.” I follow as she takes dough from the refrigerator before dusting the surface of the chopping block counter with flour. She tears it in half and hands me a clump before plopping down the baseball-sized dough. “Dissenters were once Awakened who have betrayed what they should be, allowed their power to be taken with the promise of something greater. They allow the Current within them to be siphoned and their essence replaced with elements of the second realm. They become immortal and, eventually, inhuman.”
Gladys leans in and rolls her piece from the middle to the outer edge, creating a smooth circle.
I pick up a wooden roller, intending to do the same. “That sounds awful. Why would anyone want that?”
Gladys flattens the dough to a perfect 1/8-inch thick and deftly lifts it in one smooth motion over the roller, setting it in a pan. “Fame. Power.” Gladys dusts the table with more flour before squeezing another clump of dough in a tight ball and then kneading it out. “A deep desire to gain something that couldn’t be acquired any other way. It’s hard to say what motivates people to give up the most precious part of who they were meant to be. The enemy targets newly Awakened, and new lines, because no one is there to explain what is happening. He is able to convert them easily, and they become part of his army. Pawns in the war.”
I peel a cluster of sticky goo off the rolling pin. Gladys made it look easy, but I am really bad at this. “I thought the only enemy were those bird creatures. Is someone orchestrating the destruction?”
Gladys kneads the dough harder. “It would be a stretch to call him a person.”
I smash the dough back into a ball and try again, but it sticks to my fingers. “Who is it?”
Gladys watches me struggle but doesn’t intervene. “Over the generations he’s had several names. At the moment, he’s known as Sage Marrok LaSalle. Do you recognize the name?”
“No . . . not really.” As I wipe goo from my fingers, Milton prods me, as though I should know better.
“Sage he stood / With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear / The weight of mightiest monarchies.”
“Wait—is Sage the Arch-fiend who was ‘hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky’ with red lightning?”
“Milton described him that way so he could teach the Awakened of things unseen. The poem is only a guide.” She stares at me a little too intently. I might have just given myself away.
“What is he after?” I ask, hoping to shift her focus off of me. I work the dough, but it hugs the roller and refuses to cooperate.
Gladys glances at my pastry disaster and picks up a handful of flour. “Our destruction.” She slams the dough down on the board.
“Why? Because we can see his realm?”
“We have what he desires.”
“Which is?”
I watch her transform my glob into another beautiful crust. “The Current. Because he’s not Awakened, he doesn’t get a direct feed the way we do, so he takes a little from each Awakened he’s able to convert, eventually turning them into his army of souls.” She pinches the dough around the edge of the pie pan and sighs. “We’ve been at war for hundreds of years. It’s been said he’s a wanderer. A king with no kingdom. Others say he’s seeking a way home, back into the first realm from where he came. But one thing is clear. He wants our complete destruction. In fact, no one has come face-to-face with him and hasn’t become a Dissenter.”
That’s alarming. “If he’s that powerful, wouldn’t he have taken over by now?”
“He is powerful when we’re isolated and ignorant of who we are. When we are together, our power grows.”
She watches me as I wash and dry my hands and then changes the subject. “Devon’s right about you being a Legacy. Seems to me you might even be Elite.”
“Elite sounds like royalty.” I
make light of her comment as I follow her to the refrigerator.
She takes out a few shiny green apples. “Not exactly.” She chuckles, handing me the unblemished fruit. “Take these, would you, dear?” I bring the fruit to the table as she gathers a bowl and various spices. Gladys picks up a paring knife and skins the apple with the skill of a hunter. “Elites come from an unbroken line of Legacies. Everyone in the line married Awakened. No Commons.” She chops up the apple and adds it to the bowl with a spoonful of sugar. “Like Maddox. His parents come from a long line of Guardians and Blades. All of them, every single one.” She hands me an apple to peel.
“So I guess he’s kind of a big deal?” I use her paring knife and cut tiny flakes of skin off the apple.
“When you come from an unbroken line, your Bent is often stronger than most.”
I massacre the apple but manage to get most of the skin off. “If that’s the case,” I say, chopping around the core. The knife slips. I’m lucky I move my finger in time. “Then shouldn’t he have a dual Bent of Guardian and Blade?”
Gladys sighs. She scoops up the hacked apple bits and adds them to the bowl. After pouring a syrupy mixture that’s been simmering on the stove, she trades my knife for a wooden spoon.
“Should be, but not in his case. He’s all Guardian, and I prefer it that way. Keeps him out of trouble . . . and alive.” As she skillfully peels another apple, I can’t help but feel like a failure.
I do my best to at least mix the apples until they’re coated evenly. “Are you and him . . . related?”
Gladys laughs. “Oh, no, darling. Not by blood. He doesn’t have a mama looking after him anymore.” In a matter of seconds, she’s poured the filling and sliced up long strips of dough. “I don’t care what these boys say or how tough they act, they need their mamas, even though not a single one will admit it. I’m not much into fighting, and with this old body, my days of protecting out in the field are over. Now I consider myself a Guardian of these young hearts. We’ve seen a lot of loss. A lot of pain. They need someone to pull them through, and above all, keep their hearts pliable to loving others.”
I stand in silence, listening to Gladys’s soliloquy as she weaves a lattice of dough over the cinnamon-sugar apples in the pie pan.
“I’ve given you more than an earful this morning. Sometimes my mouth gets running and I can’t stop.”
I know the feeling. At least what comes out of Gladys’s mouth is encouraging. What I blurt often hurts people more than anything else. “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s that, dear?”
“Has there ever been someone who had a dual Bent of Seer and Blade? I mean, how would that work?”
“Their Bent as a Seer would outweigh any other gift they had. It’s far too important.” That’s what I was afraid she’d say.
“Has Devon asked you to train as a Seer?” she asks curiously.
I force myself to remain calm. With a casual shrug, I say, “He only said I should test all Bents.”
Gladys tosses me a glance. “Have you met Edward? I think you should.”
My head spins trying to remember everyone I’ve met so far, but the name doesn’t sound familiar. “No.”
“He’s Devon’s grandfather. Everyone around here calls him Pop. He hasn’t received a vision in quite some time and spends most of his time nowadays transferring his previous images into metal printing plates.”
“Does he hang out here?”
Gladys gives a layered smile. “At times, but the kids around here aren’t very fond of him.”
“Why is that?”
She places the pies in the oven. “He seems to read their minds.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Gladys laughs out loud and dusts the excess flour from her hands. “We’re done here. Thank you for the help, darling.” She wraps her flour-coated arms around me and pulls me to her chest. “I’m so glad you’re with us.” She hugs me tight, her full arms swallowing me in a way Mom’s never did. I feel safe in her embrace.
By the time I reach around to hug her back, she’s already let go. “We’ll work on your pastry skills later.” She wipes the flour off my black shirt the best she can. “Go on now.”
Gladys picks up a warm muffin out of a pan and drops it on a plate before pushing the kitchen door open. “That boy won’t eat unless food is shoved in front of him. Not only that, he’s horrible in the kitchen.” Gladys places the dish in my hands. “Do me the favor, would you?” She nods at Maddox. He’s still in the booth, drawing.
“Sure, but . . . don’t I need to train with you or . . .”
“You’re all done.” Gladys wipes her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Wait, what? Done as in . . . I’m not a Guardian?”
“You’re a Guardian for sure. If you’ve got another Bent, Devon will find it, don’t you worry.”
My shoulders slump. I know I’m a Seer. If Awakened can only have two Bents at most, and Gladys is certain I’m a Guardian, then there’s no way I could be a Blade as well. That fact only solidifies my plans to keep my mouth shut about being a Seer until I can train with Blades. Unless I do, I won’t learn how to kill the beasts and avenge Jess’s death. I don’t know how long before Devon will have me meet with his Seer grandfather, who is bound to detect my true Bent. Or worse, I’ll have another vision.
I head toward Maddox’s booth. He doesn’t look up as I approach, and I don’t want to interrupt him, so I set the plate down on the corner of the table and sneak away.
“Hey,” he calls out after me. As I turn around, he sits up. “Thanks.”
“It’s from Gladys.” I wave at Gladys as she watches us from the counter.
“Oh.” Maddox looks as if he’s about to say something more when Harper’s voice comes down the hall.
“I need a few more herbs to finish the serum.” She turns the corner, walking into the room, and stops as soon as she sees me. Her eyes flicker at Maddox sitting in the booth, then back to me. “You look . . . cleaner.”
Despite Harper’s half compliment, Gladys’s words about connecting and family linger. “Thanks for your help yesterday. I’m a whole lot—”
“Hey, Maddox.” Harper blows right past me and heads straight for him with an exaggerated sway of her hips. She slides into his booth. “Whatcha working on?”
Maddox flips the paper over. “Nothing much.” He slides the blueberry muffin in front of him.
Tightness wells in my chest. What is her problem? Is she looking for a fight? ’Cause if she is, I’d be happy to—
“Cera, there you are.” Devon turns the corner. His smile fades when he sees Harper nestled against Maddox.
“Yup. Here I am.” I throw my hands in the air. “Still stuck in here instead of on the streets with Blades.” The anger in my voice carries through the café. Gladys is wiping the counter, but it must be super clean by now, and I know she heard me. Devon frowns at my outburst. When he walks off, I race after him. How could I be so dumb? “Devon, wait. I’m sorry. Can I work with the Blades now?”
“No.”
“No? I already met with Gladys. You said after meeting with her, I could.” When he stops midstep, I slam into his back, nearly face-planting into his faded red T-shirt.
He turns to face me. “You’ll have to wait until Kellan is available. Might be as early as tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You’re joking, right?”
Devon scowls. “Cera, we’ve got others here that need tending to also, you’re not the only one. Spend time getting to know people and stop being in such a rush to gain knowledge. This is a community. Not a training camp.”
“Maybe I’m in the wrong place.” Who knows how long before I have another vision. They’ll find out I’m a Seer and lock me up.
“You’re not in the wrong place. You’re just too focused on the wrong thing. You need a day to rest and heal. Why don’t you try working with Harper later today?”
The idea puts a bad taste in my mouth, but
to placate Devon so he won’t go back on his word, I acquiesce. “Sure,” I lie, because there’s no way I’m working with her.
Maddox approaches and he looks concerned. “Devon, can I talk to you?”
“Something wrong?”
Maddox pulls Devon toward the staircase to what he thinks is out of earshot. “You’re not going to have Cera train with the Blades—with Kellan—are you?”
Devon lifts an eyebrow. “Her training isn’t your problem.”
“It’s just that . . .” Maddox looks over at me. He turns back before I can read his expression.
“Kellan’s a strong Blade and a good trainer,” Devon says.
“Let me train with them.” Maddox is completely serious.
“As a Blade?” Devon laughs. “No way. Orders are clear. Any training you get comes from Gray alone.”
Devon marches off. So does Maddox—in the opposite direction. I’m not sure what’s up with Maddox, but it’s not my concern.
Devon’s words rattle me. Maybe he’s right about one thing. What makes me think my needs are more important than anyone else around here? That would make me no different than Harper. I shudder at the thought. Maybe being part of a group means not always stirring things up.
Being an only child who moved all the time, I had Mom’s full attention—albeit too much attention—and I could usually get what I wanted, when I wanted it. Maybe there are times when you have to take a back seat and wait your turn. I sigh, finally understanding why Mom preferred to be alone. Being part of a community isn’t easy. In fact, it looks as if it will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
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