I lock the bathroom door and turn the water on the hottest setting before stripping down and taking off the bandages. My fingers are swollen and the skin looks a little red but feels relatively normal without any scars or blisters. I take off the hairpin and step into the shower. I pull the curtain and let the hot water wash over me.
After cleaning up and throwing on jeans and a tan-and-white-striped sweater, I make my way down the hall. I twist my hair into a messy knot and tuck the silver pin behind my ear, then glance up at the stained glass art that overlooks the café. The glass is dark. Did I lose an entire day? I can’t tell if it’s way past dinner or early in the morning. The quiet café feels somber. Instruments have been put away. Only a small number of kids I don’t recognize hang out in the space below. A faint scent of tangy metal—or maybe it’s blood—lingers in the air and turns my stomach. I search the room. The floor and unoccupied tables are wiped clean. If there was blood somewhere, there’s no trace of it now.
I take a butterscotch scone off the counter and turn around, searching for a space as far away from everyone as possible. The booths are taken, and a few tables near Maddox’s alcove are occupied, so I pull out a chair near the counter and sit alone. As I break off a piece of the scone, the girls in the booth whisper and stare at me. Some with angry scowls and others with accusing glances. The morsel turns bitter in my mouth. I’m not that hungry anymore.
I could go find Devon and see if Rhys is any better, but even if I did, Devon won’t let me stay in the room. I wander through the kitchen to find Gladys to see if she’s talked to my mom, but the place is empty and the counters are wiped clean and dry. Maybe she’s in the cellar. I go out the back door and make my way down the stairs. The storeroom is empty, but the sound of grunting slaps and hard punches comes from the gym. As quietly as possible, I tiptoe down the hall to see who else is down here.
I stand at the doorway and peer around the threshold into the room. It’s Maddox. His knuckles are bright red, cut open and bleeding. Sweat drips from his face as he punches the snot out of the leather bag. The bag sways with each hit. Over and over he attacks, making solid contact. I don’t know him all that well, but contrary to his laid-back attitude, he seems to be unleashing a deep-seated fury on the unsuspecting bag.
After a while, he sinks to his knees, completely spent. He rests his head on the punching bag and sits there, still and silent. I suddenly feel like I’m trespassing. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. Maybe I’m interrupting a private moment he doesn’t want anyone to see. I start to move away when he pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket. He unfolds the page. It’s a sketch, but from this far, I can’t make it out, only that it looks to be the silhouette of a person. His hands tremble as he stares down at the drawing. After a long moment, he crumples the paper and gives the bag one final punch, but the hit lacks bite. Before he can see me, I move away. I don’t want to go back upstairs, not yet, so I duck into the storeroom to hide for a while.
Earlier, Maddox stormed off when Devon said Council knew about the attack. Then Gladys confirmed the rumors about Council turning Hesperian, Maddox’s dream and home, into a formal training camp. I know it’s not all my fault, but I can’t help but feel responsible for ruining everything Maddox cares about. Right now, I feel about as wanted in Hesperian as this room of broken chairs and forgotten, useless furniture—except for the table Gladys left unfinished.
The pieces we laid out are still in place, and the mortar has dried, but she hasn’t filled in the grooves between the pieces. I open the container of grout she’s left on the chair. I’ll stay down here a while and work on the table of broken glass. A memorial to Jess for the paper mosaic she never finished.
I pull out a chair and sit to finish the work. If Gladys talked to Mom, it won’t be long before she comes to get me. I use the trowel to slop a gray mound of grout in the center of the table, burying the pieces of soft pink glass. Gladys has left a cotton cloth next to a plastic container filled with clean water.
“Cera?” Maddox looks surprised as he slides the door wide open. His sweaty hair sticks to his face, but he doesn’t brush it back. “What are you doing in here?”
I pick up the dingy rag. I’m not sure if I should say something about seeing him in the workout room or not. But it’s me, so I do. “I was searching for a place to be alone for a while. I’m not exactly a hero upstairs. I saw you. You were . . . working out. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I thought I’d come in here and help Gladys finish a few things.” I look down and unfurl the poor rag that I’ve twisted into a tight cord.
Maddox steps into the room. “Don’t let them get to you. It’s not your fault.” Even though he’s the second person to say so, his words don’t erase my guilt.
I let the rag drown in the water before wringing it out. “Thanks, but the fact that you just mentioned it makes it feel like maybe it is.” I glance at him before wiping the grout in the crevices of the table.
“You’re a Guardian. You were following your instinct. Rhys wasn’t trained.”
“And because of that, because he’s hurt, Gladys told me Hesperian can’t be a safe house anymore. Council will make it a training camp and change everything you’ve built here.” I am a little too intense in smearing the chalky grout all over the table, clouding the vibrant glass.
Maddox tucks his hands in his jean pockets as he makes his way over. His knuckles are wrapped with thick tape. “I guess I was wrong to think we could have a place to encourage and create and not have to deal with the war the way Council says we should.”
“You weren’t wrong. I was.” When our eyes meet, the Current races through me, again stealing my breath. I look down at the muddy table. “I messed things up. If I hadn’t attacked the Legion, Rhys wouldn’t have been hurt and Hesperian wouldn’t be turning into a training camp, or whatever.” I sigh in frustration. “I’m so sorry. I can’t help but feel like all I’ve done is create problems since I’ve arrived.”
Maddox pulls up a chair and sits across from me. “You belong here.” He glances at the furniture stacked along the walls. “Well . . . not in here.” He flashes the same diffusing smile he used on Claire. Somehow that smile manages to wipe away the shame smeared across my heart. “You belong with the rest of us. Council’s wanted to close this place down ever since it opened. It was only a matter of time before they found a reason.”
I focus on swirling the murky grout through the crevices. When I don’t respond, he continues. “No one imagined you finding a Healer on a routine outing. The Legion fought hard because of that. The only thing the Legion would have fought harder for is a Seer. If Juniper had that Bent, chances are you’d all be dead. Somehow they sense and follow the strength of the Current. They’d do just about anything to get to a Seer.”
I catch my breath. If what he says is true, then Gladys and Maddox are both wrong. The attack was my fault. I’m the reason the creatures are ramping up and getting closer. If they can sense my Current, it’s no wonder Mom wanted me to stay inside and would move me when I had a vision. I’m a threat to everyone around me.
Maddox continues. “It’s clear you’re a Guardian. You’ve proven that. Maybe Devon’s right and your other Bent is Caretaker, but you haven’t been trained.”
Maddox’s voice is gentle, safe. Alone in this room of broken, discarded furniture, I want to tell him the truth. That it's my fault the Legions are circling closer. That my staying here will draw the creatures to this location and put everyone in danger, but I don’t want to be smothered and locked away either. I rinse the cloth in the water and wring it out again.
When I drop the cloth on the table, Maddox takes hold of my hand, stopping me. “Cera. Talk to me.”
The Current rages between us as I look at him. His soft eyes plead for the truth. Heat rises to my cheeks. I manage to pull my hand away and stare at the hurricane pattern in the table. Tell him. Just tell him the whole truth.
Even Milton agrees. He prods me with the verse: “Let us no more co
ntend, nor blame . . . but strive / In offices of love how we may lighten / Each other’s burden in our share of woe.”
Fine. I hear you, Milton. And yes, maybe confessing is the answer. I sit back and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I need to tell you something, so hear me out for a minute, okay?” I twist my fingers in my lap, hiding them under the table. I take in a deep breath and fix my eyes on one yellow tile dulled by the smearing grout.
“The day my dad left, he was drunk, as usual. My parents were screaming. Bottles broke on the kitchen floor. They thought I was asleep, but I was hiding behind the wingback chair in the living room. I heard every word. He called me a monster. He said I’d destroy everyone in my life. And it’s true . . .”
I swallow hard and run the tip of my finger along the edges of the honey tile, wiping it clean. “Mom has moved me every year since then. I didn’t make a lot of friends, but the few I did have . . .” I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “They all died.” I risk a quick glance up at Maddox. He listens, soaking in every word. “Until now, I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere. Now that I’m here, learning all about this second realm and everything, and it seems like you’re the only one wanting to be my friend, I’m terrified the same thing will happen to you.”
Maddox leans back and presses his lips together. The spark in his eyes dims as he looks down. He’s disappointed. “Maddox . . . I’m . . .”
“You’re part of us, and if you give it time, you’ll have more friends than me.” He sits up in his seat. “I don’t plan on dying soon, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He tries to smile, but it falls flat. “I get that all that stuff happened when you and your mom were alone. It makes sense that she was worried about you being found. I’m not sure why your friends were attacked when you weren’t Awakened yet . . . but that’s in the past. We’re all in this together now.”
I glance at him as he searches me. The tepid air in the dusky room thickens. I spit out my confession. “Maddox, I’m a Seer.” The words choke in my throat, but once they come out, a deep weight inside me buoys to the surface, breaking free. Maddox absorbs my words as his eyes scan back and forth across mine. I can’t tell if he believes me, or what.
I squirm. I take the rag and wipe away the mud that covers the blue glass pieces. “I’ve known I was a Seer ever since Devon told me about the different Bents. I didn’t tell anyone because . . . This is so selfish.” My face turns hot. “I didn’t want to get locked up. I want to learn how to fight beasts and even take down Sage, if I have to. I want to stop them from killing anyone ever again. I should have never gone out with Kellan. It was me those creatures were after. I didn’t know it then, but I know now. And now Rhys . . .” My fingers are covered in gritty sand, and I rub them together nervously. “I can’t be a part of this community and put everyone in danger. I’m aware that Council or the Alliance, or whatever, says I should be locked up, but I can’t live a protected life if people are dying on account of those beasts. If I can’t stop from having visions, then maybe I can change them so no one else gets hurt.”
I wipe my teary eyes with the back of my clean hand. “People were hurt because I lied and kept things secret. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be a monster anymore, but I don’t know how not to be . . .”
I feel raw, open and exposed. Thoughts churn behind Maddox’s eyes, but he doesn’t speak. I wish he’d say something. Anything. I rinse my hands along with the rag in the dirty water.
Maddox leans forward, and when he finally speaks, his voice drops low. “Council doesn’t need to know about your Bent.”
“What?” I drop the rag on the table. I half expected him to flip out or call for backup.
Maddox sits back, but his voice stays quiet, so much so that I have to lean in to hear him. “I know it sounds risky, but lately Council is only focused on sticking to rules and codes. They’re not concerned with finding new Awakened the way they should. Kids out there are being left without a clue as to what’s happening around them. Things have to change. Someone has to go find these Awakened and teach them what they are. If your second Bent can guide us to new Awakened, or better yet, show us ways to defeat the creatures, then we have to try. Maybe we can even find some way to take them down for good, but in either case, we can’t do it alone.”
His use of the word “we” sends my heart racing. If Maddox is right and we could change the outcome of my visions and use them as a way to save others instead of bringing harm, then maybe I won’t be this destructive monster anymore. And for once in my life, I don’t feel like I have to go solo. “You really want to end this too?”
“More than you know.” Maddox’s gaze lingers on mine a little too long.
“So . . . what do we do?” I hope he doesn’t take my soft tone the wrong way. “I mean about me . . . about the fact that I’m . . .”
“I don’t know how much control you have over that side of your Bent, but if you can, hang tight until I can work a few things out. We’ll need to get you harnessed.” He picks up on my skeptical frown because he quickly adds, “Not you. Your visions. It’s a way to let others see what you do.” Mom must have been harnessed to me. That’s how she was able to see my visions. “I have a few people I trust who will help us out,” Maddox continues. “Maybe we can’t overthrow a system that’s been in place for hundreds of years, but with your Bent, we can start something new.”
Despite the fact that I know “hanging tight” is impossible for me, I smile because his belief is contagious. “You sure you’re not also a Blade?” His set jaw and determined eyes make him read like one.
Maddox’s tone sours. “No. I’m not.”
My cheeks warm. “I meant that as—”
Something moves at the doorway. It’s Claire. I don’t know how much she heard, but her suspicious gaze darts back and forth between Maddox and me. “Maddox? Harper’s looking for you.” Claire’s emphasis on Harper’s name makes her subtext clear. I know how things might look right now, but Harper’s got nothing to worry about. I’m laser-locked on one thing, and one thing only—saving lives.
Maddox clears his throat and pushes away from the table. “Yeah. Be there in a few. I’m helping Cera get her artwork upstairs. It won’t dry down here.”
“Thank you,” I say to Maddox. I work hard to ignore Claire’s unbelieving eyes, even though her stare pierces through me. “Claire, how is Rhys?”
“Council transported him earlier today. Last I heard he was stable, thanks to Harper.”
I try to smile. “That’s good news.”
Claire responds by marching off, boots clomping down the hall and up the stairs. I take a deep breath.
Maddox lays a hand on my arm. “It’s not your fault.” I nod, wanting to believe him. “Now, let’s get your masterpiece out of this dungeon.”
Maddox could carry the table on his own, but he grips one end and waits for me to grab the other side.
I hook my fingers under the rough wood. “For the record, this is Gladys’s artwork.”
His expression tells me he doesn’t believe me. “Gladys designs with straight lines and pastels. She never creates anything this bold.”
I adjust my grip because the table is a little heavier than I expected. “You mean a jagged hurricane isn’t in her repertoire?”
“A hurricane?” Maddox examines the design. “I thought you created a flower in spring rain.”
“Seriously? That’s such a girly response.” I look at the pattern again. In a weird way, he’s right. “Okay, I take that back. I suppose from your angle, it does.” I laugh lightly. “I’ll take your interpretation, since a budding flower is a lot less destructive.”
We walk the table to the door, and Maddox stops and waits so I can go through first. “Nah, I like your idea of a hurricane better. A storm that powerful can change any landscape.” When he smiles, the gleam returns to his eyes. “You ready?”
When Maddox and I make it upstairs, most of the sconces are off, leaving only sca
ttered pockets of muted light. We stumble through the dark. Actually, I’m the one to stumble. Maddox is steady as we maneuver the table to a space near his alcove.
The café is deserted, save for a few night owls curled up in wingback chairs with the blue glow of computer screens illuminating their faces and a flirty couple hiding in the shadows of the booth near the front entrance. Their teasing laughter and hushed whispers collide with tense voices flowing from Harper’s room down the hall.
Maddox grabs two chairs and sets them at the table. “Meet me here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Even though I lower my voice, without a room full of bodies, the sound echoes in the vast space. “Let’s do this now. I still don’t know much about being . . . a Seer.” I mouth the last word. “I need someone to train me.”
“I’ve got someone who can help, but not here. I need until tomorrow to pull a group together.”
I plant my feet. “What’s the plan? Blind following doesn’t go well for me.” As in, doing so just got me in a load of trouble and Rhys almost killed.
He holds his hands out, a signal for me to keep calm. “I’ll have a plan in the morning.” He lowers his voice and steps closer. “If I can pull things together by tomorrow, we’ll leave the following morning.”
“Leave Hesperian?” The words come out way too loud.
Maddox tries to hide his downcast expression but fails. “Council’s taking over in a few days. If the plan’s going to work, we’ll have to find someplace new.”
I understand, but my heart still feels heavy at the thought of leaving. Gladys is here. The food is so good. Despite everything that’s happened, I’ve found a home and, as par for the course, I’m being forced to flee once again. And what about Mom? For all I know, she’ll be here in the morning to drag me away. “What do I tell Gladys? She was calling my mom.”
Mortal Sight Page 17