Seeing Light (The Seraphina Parrish Trilogy)

by Warren, Michelle

  Trying to connect the dots, I look back up to inspect him. The flesh hangs from his arm like a wet and ripped towel that’s dripping wet. What lies beneath doesn’t look like anything human; it’s not muscle or bones. It looks remarkably Animate—metal and obviously highly magnetic.

  “Should have known you were trash,” I yell to him.

  “You little witch,” he screams, flailing about wildly.

  A piece of me wants to end him. I eye the crane, thinking I can rush up and drop him, crushing him to death. But behind me, Society guards yell for Professor Raunnebaum’s help, who has just reentered the room.

  “Turn the hologram machine off!” they scream.

  I look down at them and realize I’m still twenty feet off the ground. If they turn off the hologram, removing the hill of garbage, I’m going to have a nasty fall. So I scramble back down, sliding most of the way on my backside.

  Bishop and Sam rush to my side, crushing me into a group hug, and I feel every bruise forming on my body. When I moan, they quickly pull away.

  “God, Sera, you were incredible. Absolutely insane but incredible.”

  “If you weren’t worried about what he was going to do to you before, you should now.” Sam takes a towel and drags it across my cheeks, the touch burning on impact. I’m bleeding and didn’t even realize it.

  “What happened to lying low?” Miss Swift asks tersely as she joins us.

  I cock an eyebrow at her as Sam continues to dab at my face. “He deserved worse.”

  “Maybe so, but this isn’t your destiny. Your energy is meant for more than him, something greater. You really should learn how to control your anger,” she shoots back.

  With just her frosty words, I instantly feel guilty for letting my emotions take over. I’m not perfect on so many levels, and I’m unsure why the Masters would pick me as a Chosen, or even a Watcher for that matter. I don’t deserve to be either. I sigh, angry with myself when I remember Bishop’s family.

  “If he didn’t know what you could do before, he certainly does now,” Sam says meaningfully.

  I look around, surveying the room. The Society guards scamper to release the Grand Master from the crane.

  Macey appears from the class group. “Sera, if I were you I would take off. Grand Master Levi is pissed, and rightfully so. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately,” she says, her eyes open wide with concern. “Is there anything you wanna tell me?” She looks me over.

  “I’m sorry, Mace, I can’t.” If she knew, maybe she’d understand, but I can’t really fault her if I don’t let her in on what I’ve learned. Sometimes it’s safer to be clueless. For once, I’m glad that not everyone I know is involved with all the craziness that surrounds me.

  At my words, she narrows her eyes, spins, and stalks away. Her team, Quinn and Xavier, fall into step behind her, rejoining the rest of the class to watch the Grand Master’s ruckus. Others, not in our class, have joined the group. They must have heard him all the way down the hall in Olde Town.

  “I’m leaving,” I announce.

  The others don’t try to stop me. It’s probably best that I keep a low profile for the rest of the day. For as long as I can, anyway. I stride across the room, which is still a junkyard, heading for the door of the gym. It’s the only thing that remains of the real gym. But I don’t make it that far because four guards stop me.

  “You’ll have to come with us, Miss Parrish. And your team too.”

  ::28::

  The Confrontation

  The guards barricade us in the meditation room, the room where Sam and all the other Seers gather to meditate while their teams Wander.

  Oversized deep-cushioned chairs, sofas, and daybeds sit around the perimeter in front of golden-colored walls. Sheer curtains hang here and there, creating private nooks, while large multicolored pillows dot the wood floor. Normally several candles sparkle like stars, helping to create the most relaxing ambience for Seers, but now the overhead lights buzz brightly in the empty room, and the harsh light seems out of place.

  I drop into a soft chair and drape my dirty, sweaty limbs over the arms, letting out a sigh. I should be worried about facing the Grand Master, but for some reason I’m not. Everything, even the bad stuff, happens for a reason, and each new event leads you down the road you are meant to travel. I never believed that more than I do now.

  Sam and Bishop don’t look as confident. When I see their worried faces, I feel guilty that I’ve pulled them into this. Sam stands rigid next to me, winding her hair through her fingers, the way she does when she’s nervous. Bishop, on the other hand, paces the room, raking his fingers through his hair. Every so often he glances in my direction to give me the evil eye. Watching them both I feel guilty for being who I am, for being a possible Chosen, and for pulling them into this mess—my mess.

  I stand up to apologize, but before I can open my mouth several more guards burst into the room, clearly angry, followed closely by Grand Master Levi. He’s dirty and bloody from our confrontation, much like me, but he’s not laughing. Not anymore.

  Pushing myself from the chair, I stand up tall, lift my chin, and place my hands on my hips. I will not shrink away from him, especially now, but I can’t help staring at his damaged arm, the one I impaled with an iron rod. It’s hard not to when the skin’s hanging there, dark and rubbery, dripping with oil.

  “You think you’re very clever, Miss Parrish, but if you knew what I had in store for you today, you would not have pressed me to fight.” He reaches for the dangling skin with his good hand, tugs, and rips it from his frame like a rubber glove. The inorganic skin rips free with a nauseating wet snap, revealing the arm’s inner workings. He throws the sickening piece of meat on the floor and it slides across the room, landing at my feet.

  I don’t look down because I know his movements are carefully calculated to elicit a response. Giving him what he wants, even just a glance at a mound of used rubber skin, gives him control. He will not control me.

  Grand Master Levi’s arm is a machine from shoulder to fingertips: metal rods where bones should be, cranks where joints should be, and a metal frame, shaped and sculpted like muscle.

  He lifts his mechanical arm, testing its motion, swinging it from side to side and flexing all his digits. The arm halts, sticking to one spot in midair, and he grunts with disgust and glares at me. “You damn well ruined the thing.”

  Dr. Shockey, my tormenter from just days ago, walks into the room. He moves with purpose, drops his briefcase on a chair, opens it, and removes a screwdriver. From his hat, he lowers a magnifying glass over his eye and immediately turns to inspect the Grand Master’s faulty arm. Stabbing the tool into the gears and joints, he goes to work, repairing the damage.

  “In fact, I think you would have been long gone by now if you were smart.” Grand Master Levi glances over, searching for a hint of fear, a retort, but I won’t give it to him. Shoving all emotion aside, I dig deep and keep my face placid and unmoved.

  “Nothing to say?” He lifts an eyebrow.

  “What should I say?” He can’t hurt me more than he has already. With all the betrayals I’ve suffered at the hands of the Society—the death of my mom, of Turner, the exile of Bishop’s family to Nocturna, the brainwashing and bribing of my friends, and let’s not forget, the sacrificial killing of innocent twin babies during the Oaths—what else can he do?

  “Oh, sweet Sera. I think you’ll have plenty to say in the next day with what I have planned for you.” He pauses with a cynical smile, the same one he wore when he thought he could beat me in a fight.

  “Rex!” he calls out. “Bring me the evidence.”

  Very quickly, Rex rolls in a flat-screen TV on a wheeled cart. The guard hands Grand Master Levi a remote as someone dims the lights.

  “I think you’ll all enjoy this.” The Grand Master lifts the remote, pointing it at the screen, and the TV turns on. From a dark screen, an image materializes.

  “It appears you’ve been a very naug
hty young lady,” he proclaims with pleasure.

  The images on the video are unmistakable. Bright security lights, like those you’d see on a football field, illuminate the scene. Three figures run from the edge of the pit of Nocturna and back to the line of shrubs and trees, disappearing. A figure reappears, running directly for the pit. Several Society guards, only little white dots on the screen, take chase. From this bird’s-eye view, it looks as though the guard dog will attack the person before they leap. But I know better, because that person running is me. This video surveillance is from the night I jumped into the pit of Nocturna to find Terease. I should have known they’d have security cameras.

  Bishop, Sam, and I scoot closer together, team instinct urging us to stick together for protection.

  “Any of this look familiar?” He waves his good arm.

  “No,” Bishop says. “What is it that we’re looking at?”

  “Don’t play games with me, child. I know for a fact that these intruders are the three of you.” The Grand Master points to the scene.

  “They look like dots to me,” I say with a straight face.

  “Well, let’s fast-forward this, shall we? Maybe there’s something on here that will be more interesting.”

  As the video fast-forwards, the doctor finishes his work on Grand Master Levi’s arm and steps away. The Grand Master paces, tests his repaired limb, moving it from side to side, and up and down. He stops in front of the television, points the remote and presses a button, which halts the screen. We’re looking at the same image of the pit of Nocturna, but this time it’s daytime and the perspective is closer, making the image larger. A person appears on the field—a boy. Bishop.

  I stiffen because there’s no denying his identity.

  “You see this young man here,” the Grand Master says. “Well, he looks quite a bit like our Bishop. Don’t you agree?”

  We have nothing to say to this. Bishop grabs my hand and squeezes. This video was taken the day that Bishop snuck into the pit to find me.

  “Anything to say for yourselves—hmm?” The Grand Master pauses, clearly for effect. “No? It’s okay, there’s more to see. Let’s move on.” But instead, in a spastic rage, he slams the remote to the ground. It smashes into so many pieces of plastic, and the batteries roll across the floor.

  “No,” he shouts. “Why waste any more time on this! You know what you’ve done. Trespassing, illegally entering Nocturna, breaking into Gabe’s apartment, stealing a transporter, and stealing this—”

  He removes my mom’s journal from the hand of one of the Society guards that have just entered the room.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve snooping around my room,” I bite out.

  “Is that what you’re worried about? That I snooped in your room? Sera, Sera,” he tuts in a show of fake concern. “That’s the least of your worries.”

  The Grand Master paces back and forth, shaking his head with dismay. “Let’s not mess with the piddling infractions. There’s something much more important that we need to discuss.” He turns in a circle, journal pressed to his chest. When he faces me again, his expression is serious but his eyes dance with delight as he raises an eyebrow and simply says, “The results of your blood test.”

  ::29::

  A Pilgrimage

  My hearts shrinks at the mention of my blood test.

  At his cue, Dr. Shockey hands over a piece of paper.

  Grand Master Levi holds it to his eyes, gleefully pretending to read the results. “Congratulations! It’s positive!” He pinches the page playfully between his fingertips.

  My lips tighten as I suppress a retort.

  Watching closely for my reaction, he smiles and his eyes brighten with a manic light. “Wasn’t what you expected?” He balls the paper and tosses it on the floor.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about; I don’t even know what you’ve tested me for,” I lie.

  “Sera.” He sits on the arm of a sofa, one leg dangling, and sighs dramatically. “I think it’s time we come clean with each other. I know you’re a Watcher, a potential Chosen, and I know you know what that is. Okay?”

  I take a moment to consider if I can even fight this, if I can play dumb any longer. With so many guards surrounding me, there’s no way to escape. Maybe if I play along, I’ll have a better chance of protecting Sam and Bishop. I don’t answer quickly enough and he begins again.

  “Do you think yourself so special?” His words turn to acid, and he springs forward, near my face. “Do you think you arrived at this point of potential Chosen above all others without my help?” His words come so forcefully they spray spit. Instinctively, I close my eyes to protect them.

  “Look at me,” he roars.

  I open them and set my jaw.

  “I made you!” He grabs my chin with his robotic hand and clenches my cheeks between the cool metal of his fingertips. “I made you and own you.” He squeezes tightly, contorting my face.

  Bishop shoves the Grand Master away. “Stay away from her!” he yells, taking a defensive position. His muscles surge with a primal instinct to protect.

  Every guard in the room lunges forward and within moments, Bishop is restrained, kicking and yelling. We’re outnumbered.

  “Get rid of him,” Grand Master Levi says with an annoyed flick of the hand. Several more guards wrangle Bishop as he fights frantically for freedom. Sam and I launch to his aid, punching and kicking guards away, but with so many we’re easily torn away from him. The guards shove me into a chair, hold me down, and secure my arms and legs with plastic zip-tie restraints. They do the same with Sam so we’re facing each other. When they’re done, I’m still jerking and squirming with infuriation.

  “Where are you taking him?” I yell as they frog-march Bishop out of the room, with Dr. Shockey following behind.

  “It depends, really.” He circles me.

  “On?”

  He stands behind my chair and leans down, almost resting his head on my shoulder. His breath disturbs my hair, warming my ear, and I cringe. “It depends on you, of course.”

  I lean away, drawing my shoulders to my ears in disgust because I’d rather have snakes slithering over my body than have that odious man anywhere near me.

  Beside me, he sits back down on the arm of the sofa. I take note that he doesn’t sit level with me; no, that would be beneath him.

  “I think we need a history lesson so you can appreciate this amazing gift that I’ve bestowed upon you. How does that sound?”

  I turn my head away, looking across the room. From the corner of my eye, I see him move as he continues to speak.

  “I’ve heard that Samantha plays a lovely rendition of Bach’s Cello Suite no. 1. Or at least, she used to,” he says, and then with a crack, I hear her scream. I whip my head toward them and she’s crying. He releases her hands from behind her back and I see two of her delicate pink fingers bend awkwardly, broken, and clenched inside Grand Master’s large mechanical hand.

  “Stop! Stop! I’m listening. Leave her alone!”

  “Very good. That’s all I wanted, of course.” He strokes Sam’s blonde hair with his palm. Her head tips to one side and she sobs softly, the sound causing my heart to sink.

  “You see, I’ve been Grand Master for a very long time. Isn’t that correct, Rex?” He looks over his shoulder.

  “Since 1894 to be exact, sir.” Rex folds his large arms across his chest.

  Though Sam confirmed this, I still don’t believe it. “Impossible.” I shake my head.

  “No, no, I’m afraid it’s very possible.” He waves his finger.

  “Ah, that was a grand year, brings back so many memories. I bet you were quite surprised to meet me that day at the exposition with Elijah.”

  “How? How have you lived so long?”

  “Now that’s better, interaction! Well, that’s quite a fun story actually, and I’m positive you’ll both find it very interesting. I’ll just give you the highlights, not to bore you.”

 
He clasps his hands behind his back and begins to pace, taking on a professorial air as if he’s giving a class a lecture. “Within every generation, I allow a fully developed Chosen to be created from a Watcher. Yes, created. The Society has known for a long time how to look for the signs. Early signs…not these things I had you tested for, Sera, blood tests and so forth. The earliest sign of a potential Watcher begins with the bearing of twins in a Wandering family.”

  I stiffen.

  “We’ll use Bishop and Turner as an example here. How’s that?”

  He wants me to nod but it takes all my might to just stare through him and not avert my attention. If I do, he’ll probably break another of Sam’s fingers.

  “I’ll take that as a yes!” He smiles. “Now, if I had killed one of them at birth, sacrificing him, I would have effectively smothered any chance that there would be a matured Chosen in their future team. And when Terease harvested your team, I knew from then on that either you or young Samantha was my Chosen. I only needed to wait and look for the additional signs to pick you out. Right on time, you showed signs of manifesting the skills of a Protector, and now I suspect you can see a relic’s life path just as well as Samantha here.” He places a hand on her shoulder and she tries to shrink away, but he clamps her shoulder tightly, holding her in place until she whimpers.

  “The Society had been practicing this slaughter for thousands of years, but when I came into power, every so often, when I needed it, I allowed for one Chosen to be made. This time around it was you.”

  “You’re lying,” I spit out. The thought that this repulsive man is responsible for who I’m becoming sickens me. What I thought was a wonderful gift from the Masters to set our kind free of Wandering is nothing more than manipulation by the Society, sending me down a path where he wants to control me in a new, even more sinister way. The walls of my world seem to compress more tightly around my soul with each new revelation and I want so badly to scream. I grind my teeth and clench my jaw, holding back my cries. Only a deep tremble of hate alleviates this ceaseless pain.