by Gloria Craw
My mother’s words to me that day ran through my mind. You are the Laurel clan chief. You may see that as insignificant, since you’re the only one left. But we still exist, Alison, and our future is tied to yours. Fight for what is right. Do it for your clan.
Suddenly furious, I slammed the refrigerator door shut and threw my water bottle across the cabin. “Why did you choose us to be ambassadors of the freaking greater good,” I screamed at invisible destiny. “What did we do to deserve the misery? It isn’t fair!”
It wasn’t until after I’d kicked the refrigerator that I realized how crazy I was acting. I had to wonder why the pilot hadn’t come out from behind the closed door of the cockpit to see what the commotion was about. Then I figured Spencer or Katherine had warned him to leave me in peace.
Feeling foolish, I retrieved my water bottle, which miraculously hadn’t burst on impact, and sat in my window seat again. After a few calming breaths, I thrummed the side of the water bottle with my fingers and did my best to think rationally.
Fair or not, I couldn’t undo my fake death. I could make leaving the McKyes count for something, though.
My mother’s words indicated a fight was coming. Having allies would help me when it did. I was going to meet the chiefs from the other fourteen clans soon. It would be in my best interest to make a good impression. My youth would be obvious, but I wanted them to see me as levelheaded and ready to learn. Showing up a red-eyed, grief-stricken mess wasn’t going to work.
I had to stay mentally sharp, too. I was a thoughtmaker, and that made me special in some ways. First, because there weren’t that many of us, and second, because we were the only ones who could work our joining on other dewing. I was special in a third way not many knew about. I could cloak a thought, meaning I could implant it into multiple dewing minds at the same time. The only other thoughtmaker who’d been able to cloak was my mother.
When Sebastian figured out what she could do, he’d captured her and tortured my father, trying to get her to cloak thoughts that would make the other clan chiefs do things his way. When she refused, Sebastian tortured both of them in an effort to get her to explain how cloaking worked. She’d refused to do that, too, so he killed them.
The takeaway lesson was that a thoughtmaker who could cloak would be valuable to a dewing with questionable ambitions. I didn’t know the other chiefs well enough to be sure of their desires. I had an uneasy feeling where some of them were concerned, though.
The Truss clan had split off from the others more than a hundred years ago when Sebastian took over as clan chief. His goal to manipulate humans and enslave them had appalled the other chiefs at first. But he’d made some inroads toward success when he nearly gained control of a U.S. election, and a couple of chiefs had become more open to his way of thinking. The Ormolu and Illuminant chiefs specifically.
I’d asked Spencer if he thought they would pick up where Sebastian left off. He’d assured me there was no danger of that, but my uneasy feeling persisted.
I would need to be on my guard. Grief, sadness, or longing for my old life would only cloud my judgment.
Since finding out I was a descendant of Atlantis, I’d imagined myself suspended somewhere in space between the dewing world and the human world. It was suddenly clear to me: I couldn’t exist that way anymore. It made me too vulnerable.
Pulling the photo gallery up on my phone, I tapped select all and then delete. The pictures disappeared, leaving a white screen.
Alison McKye, the human, was dead to me, too. From that point forward, I was a descendant of Atlantis.
Chapter Four
It was just after dawn when the jet touched down in Cornwall. Somewhere behind billowing gray clouds, the sun provided enough light for me to see that we’d landed in the middle of nowhere. Gently rolling land covered by short, green grasses and brush stretched out in every direction.
My dewing pilot, who hadn’t said a word to me during the hours we’d spent flying together, opened the side of the plane and then stood at the top of the stairs leading down to a runway. I muttered a thank-you as I passed him on the way out and got a polite nod in response.
Wind, smelling of sea salt, blew and whipped my hair across my face. I pushed it back, sensing two unfamiliar dewing approaching.
Most of us gave off an energy that other dewing could feel. It was called a signature and felt like a vibration against the skin. Each signature was unique. We could determine what clan other dewing were from, what their joinings were, how old they were, and their sex by the feel of it. Probably because I’d been raised by humans, I’d never developed a signature of my own.
The vibrations I sensed were coming from a man and woman hurrying toward the jet. They opened their umbrellas in unison as it started to rain.
Probably wondering whether I was the dewing girl they’d been sent to retrieve or a human girl bound for somewhere else, they approached me with expressions of surprise and doubt on their faces.
To let them know I was one of their kind, I turned my palm up and showed them the light-blue mark that formed a V in it. We all had similar, dime-size marks in our palms. They started out a light-blue color like mine but turned white and got thicker as we aged.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Alison Laurel.”
The woman breathed a long breath of relief and motioned for me to join her under the umbrella. She was on the short side and had medium-length, curly brown hair. Her eyes were smallish, but her smile was big and welcoming. “Forgive me,” she said, breathing hard from the speed of her walk. “Katherine explained that you wouldn’t have a signature. I guess I was expecting one anyway, because I’m quite surprised.”
“I’m sure I’ll take a lot of people by surprise over the next few days,” I said with a return smile.
The tall man next to her grinned. He was very thin and had dark hair with gray at his temples. “I’m Logan,” he said. “This is my likeness, Claire. Let’s get you in the car before you freeze solid.”
“Move in close now,” Claire said, putting an arm around my waist. “The rain is coming down by the bucket.”
They’d left their car running, and it was pleasantly warm when I got in the backseat. Even so, I looked down at myself and shivered. My T-shirt and jeans were soaked and an impressive set of goose bumps covered my arms.
Logan handed me a blanket. “It’s wool,” he explained. “Not the softest material, but the best natural insulator you’ll find.”
“Thanks,” I responded and wrapped it around myself.
In the passenger seat, Claire turned to look at me. “Believe it or not,” she said, “we have some of the nicest weather in England. When it does decide to storm, though, you’ve got to batten down the hatches.”
I didn’t doubt her. Rain seemed to be falling from the sky in vertical sheets.
“We’ll hurry home,” she continued. “A nice hot shower, a change of clothes, and a bowl of soup will fix you right up.”
“All three sound great,” I replied, settling back into my seat.
“The color is coming back in your cheeks,” she observed. “I can see the Laurel resemblance now. Of course, you look a little like Saul as well.”
Saul was my biological father and had been from the Falco clan, like them. I didn’t know much about him and was eager to learn anything she could tell me. “Did you know him well?” I asked.
“Very well…when he was younger,” she replied. “His parents were active in clan gatherings and brought him along. He was such a fun little boy…always happy and ready with a joke. He grew quite tall…like you.”
Theron told me once that I got my height from that side of the family. It was nice to hear confirmation I had something in common with my father.
“We saw less of him as he got older,” she continued. “His parents kept coming to the gatherings, but he stayed away.”
I thought I knew why. My father was one of the few dewing who were born without a joining. Theron didn’t have one, either.
He said he saw pity and superiority in the eyes of other dewing when they looked at him. Maybe my father stopped going to gatherings to avoid similar looks.
“We lost touch entirely when he likenessed with your mother and swore loyalty to the Laurel clan,” Claire added. “That was about the same time as…”
Sebastian Truss murdered all my relatives, leaving me to grow up an orphan, I finished in my mind. It wasn’t the best end to a romantic story.
Logan gave me a quick glance in the rearview mirror. I wondered if he knew how lonely I felt. Lillian’s eyes had the same glint when she read my emotions. My mis-wired, human-thinking mind was susceptible to other dewing’s joining, but I would have felt a tiny jolt as his energy connected to mine and pushed him out immediately if he’d tried. Maybe he didn’t need to use his joining to see my feelings. Readers tended to be intuitive.
His voice gave nothing away when he asked, “Are you excited for your naming ceremony?”
I couldn’t reply before Claire chimed in, “That’s a silly question. Of course she is.”
“It’s not a silly question,” he responded. “Maybe she doesn’t like boats. Maybe she hates them.”
“She’ll be on a yacht, not a rowboat,” Claire countered with sarcasm. “And she’s going to Atlantis. She has to be excited about that.”
“Technically, she’s going where Atlantis was,” he corrected. “We flattened it and dredged the bottom of the ocean where it stood. There’s not a mound or artifact left for her to see.”
“Still, I bet she’s excited,” Claire insisted.
Logan looked over at her and chuckled softly.
I got the impression it amused both of them to argue.
“Alison, you’ll have to settle this,” he said. “Are you…or are you not…excited about your naming ceremony?”
“I’m a little foggy on the details,” I confessed, “but I have to admit, I do feel a bit of excitement.”
Claire beamed triumphantly. “We’ve been caretakers of the Arx for three different naming ceremonies,” she said. “I’d love to see one, but of course, only the clan chiefs and witnesses get to board the boat.”
“You said boat,” Logan chimed in.
“Only clan chiefs and witnesses get to board the yacht,” she corrected. “I understand my nephew, Theron, is going as one of your witnesses.”
I nodded. “I asked him and Lillian Vasitass,” I replied.
A new clan chief had to have two witnesses for the naming ceremony. Katherine had given me a general idea of what to expect. The chiefs and my witnesses would meet late one night. We’d board a boat…which was apparently a yacht…and I’d recite an ancient pledge about my clan’s allegiance. We’d sail until sunrise, and on the water, above where Atlantis had been, I’d do some ritual thing. That’s when I’d need Lillian and Theron by my side. For all I knew, we’d sing karaoke or dance the cha-cha, but after that I’d be the Laurel clan chief for real.
Usually, a new chief chose witnesses from his or her own clan. Given the circumstances, I’d asked Theron and my former boss, Lillian, to fill the positions. I would have asked Ian, but since he was to inherit the Thane chiefdom, he was ineligible.
Logan turned enough for me to see approval in his dark eyes. “Theron’s a good guy,” he remarked. “Most of the time.”
I chuckled. It wasn’t a secret that my cousin dabbled in criminal activity.
Out of nowhere, I felt a yawn coming and covered it just in time. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t sleep much on the flight.”
“You’ve come a great distance,” Claire replied. “It’s only ten minutes or so to the Arx. We’ll let you rest ’til we get there.”
Grateful, I leaned my head against the window and allowed my mind to wander over what I knew about Cornwall. The fairy tale Jack the Giant Killer was set there, some people thought it was the birthplace of King Arthur, and it had been home base for a lot of pirates back in the day. More relevantly, the Cornish people were famous for a food called Cornish pasty, they raised a lot of cows, and rats the size of cats inhabited the area.
I closed my eyes, hoping I wouldn’t run into any of those rats, and dozed until Logan hit the brakes, sending me forward into my seat belt.
“Darn it, Logan,” Claire grouched. “You always go too fast and never see the exit until you’re almost past it.”
“Not true,” he replied good-naturedly. “I see it about half the time.”
He turned the car onto a narrow road that climbed steadily and then leveled off on a plateau. Through the rain, I could see a sprawling structure built on the edge of a cliff overhanging the ocean.
“That’s the Arx,” Claire said with a note of pride in her voice.
I’d done some research and learned that “Arx” meant castle in Latin. I’d been expecting a more Disney version. The term castle loosely applied, but it wasn’t the fairy-tale type. The building was four stories high and rectangular, like a giant brick. It was constructed of ugly gray stones held together with even uglier gray mortar. There were no romantic turrets and not a single pretty crenellation.
“What do you think?” Claire asked.
“Uh…it’s very big,” I managed.
Logan chuckled. “Not impressed?”
“It’s just not what I expected,” I replied diplomatically.
The road took us along the edge of the cliff. I could see waves crash violently on the rocks below. “The tide is in,” Logan said, glancing at the ocean. “You can’t see much of the beach right now, but when it’s out, you can walk a fair way.”
“Be careful going down, though,” Claire added. “The cliff is steep.”
A wave broke below us, sending spray straight into the air. She wasn’t kidding.
Logan turned the car and pulled around to the back side of the Arx. Stopping, he said, “Hop out here, you two. I’ll take the car to the garage and then feed the horses in the riding stable.”
Claire hurried and got out, but I stayed long enough to say, “Thanks for the ride and everything.”
He winked at me. “No problem. Give ’em hell, Laurel.”
Unsure what he meant, I hustled to catch up to Claire. She’d opened a door and was holding it for me.
I took a few steps inside the Arx and felt my breath catch in my throat. I was in an enormous foyer. The walls rose straight up, four stories high, to the roof, which was made of glass…or something like glass. I could see the rain pounding down on it, but the room was whisper quiet.
Almost as startling, everything around me, the marble floors, the papered walls, the furniture in the corners, the pedestal tables, the vases, and even the flower arrangements were all stark white. My eyes watered. “It’s very bright,” I commented.
Claire nodded agreement. “The designer insisted white would give a sense of serenity to the Arx. It just gives me a headache.”
She led me across the marble floor to a wide circular staircase. “Is the rest of it like this?” I asked.
“The common areas are,” she replied, starting up the stairs.
“Homey,” I muttered.
She gave me a smile and explained, “There are five levels in the house. We came in on the main level, where all the common areas are. The clan suites are on the second, third, and fourth levels. We’re headed to the Laurel suite, which is on the fourth.”
Confused, I asked, “Suites?”
“Didn’t Katherine tell you you’d have your own suite?”
She might have if I’d let her. When I announced I would assume the mantle of clan chief, I’d made a point of not letting the Thanes bog me down with details about the Arx and the naming ceremony. I’d wanted the time I had left in Vegas to be as human as possible.
“It didn’t come up,” I responded lamely.
“Well, each suite is a set of five attached rooms,” she explained. “You’ll have a living room, three bedrooms, and a bathroom. None of the suites have kitchens, so if you want something to eat, you’ll find it in the dini
ng room on the main level. I keep a buffet going from six in the morning until eight in the evening. You can always take something to your suite for later if you think you’ll need a snack.”
Trying to map the place out in my mind, I asked, “What else is on the main level?”
“The kitchen, a sitting room, and an assembly hall. Logan and I have an apartment there, too. The Pradnium is on the lower level.”
As we passed the second-floor landing, I searched my mind for any reference Katherine might have made about a “Pradnium” and came up with nothing. “I’m afraid I don’t know what that is,” I admitted.
“It’s where the chiefs have their meetings,” Claire responded. “There’s the roundtable room, a library that holds our most valued books, and a sort of museum where relics from Atlantis are kept. You’re welcome to visit anytime, but you’ll have to leave a sample of blood. The security system checks it to verify you’re dewing before the door will open.”
The idea was gruesome enough to put me off visiting the Pradnium for a while.
“That means humans come here too, right?” I asked.
“A few,” she replied. “I employ two women to help with the cooking and serving when the chiefs gather. They’re only here a few hours at a time and stay in the kitchen and dining room.”
I was getting winded by the time we reached the third-floor landing and continued up. “You and Logan take care of all of this?” I asked, motioning to the enormous space around us.
“It’s not that difficult,” she assured me. “The clan chiefs deal with their own suites, and the rest only gets used a few times a year.”
As I understood it, none of the dewing lacked for money. They were all highly intelligent, motivated, and lived long enough to build a considerable bank balance. I wondered if Claire resented the menial work.
“Do you mind?” I asked. “Looking after this place, I mean.”
“No,” she said as though surprised by the question. “It’s an honor to do it. The responsibility rotates through the clans. Every twenty years someone from a different clan takes over. Very few dewing can say they’ve called the Arx their home.”