Seeing Light (The Seraphina Parrish Trilogy)

by Warren, Michelle

  ::35::

  The Grand Lodge

  Bishop drags a finger along the mark, translating the ancient words running the length of my spine. “‘Only purity of soul will bring about the return of paradise.’”

  The room quiets. I tense, clutching my damp shirt to my chest.

  “That’s it?” Sam asks.

  “But what does that mean?” I shimmy into my shirt and face them.

  “Hmm, perhaps it’s speaking of Gibeon before we were made Wanderers?”

  “I wish we could ask Mr. Tash.”

  “If we had more time, we could research it,” Sam adds.

  “You know, I’m not sure it matters.” I cross my arms over my stomach, holding back the shivers. “I’m set on my course. I know what I need to do now, and we have our relic. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be back with your family, and we’ll all be free.” I touch Bishop’s arm. “I hope after I’m anointed everything will become clear.”

  “You’re right. We can’t do anything more than we already have. Maybe we should just turn in for the night,” Bishop suggests.

  There’s nothing more to say that hasn’t already been said. And clearly there’s nothing more we can do until after the Oaths ceremony. I cross the room and dig into my backpack for dry clothes. Behind a pile of tall boxes I change, slipping into thick wool socks, a flannel shirt and yoga pants, just enough to keep the chill away tonight. I wring my hair, allowing the water to drip onto the cement floor in the corner, and pull it back into a braid. When I’m done, I crawl into the chair, burrowing myself back in the blanket. Bishop and Sam crawl into bed, and Hologram Turner spirals, rebounding back into the scorpion Animate.

  Finally, when everyone else is asleep, I’m alone with my thoughts. I hope that tomorrow I have the courage to be who I’m meant to be. The thought is so strangely calming that it scares me. I’m thankful when pure exhaustion finds me and releases me from consciousness.

  •

  Very early in the morning we prepare to leave. We’re all looking rather tired, but we’ve been tested and abused these last few days, so it’s understandable. Sam and I dress in Society uniforms, covering ourselves with cloaks borrowed from Mona’s home. The scorpion Animate sits inside my pocket, and the crown hangs in a drawstring cloth bag from my belt. Bishop dresses from another time period, a World War II uniform we found in one of the old boxes in the garage.

  “Is everyone ready?” Bishop pulls an officer’s cap over his head, and the bill blocks his eyes somewhat. The outfit makes him look older, more regal, and I think in Gibeon, where time travelers converge from many time periods, he’ll easily blend in.

  With all the furniture moved to the edge of the room, there’s a large open space in the middle. We stand equidistant, each with a Wandering compass in our hands. These magical tools will allow us to travel as a group to Gibeon.

  The leather strap of the Wandering compass hooks around my wrist like a bracelet. On one end, a chain links to a glass sphere, a compass sits suspended in the middle. Etched into the face are the names of the twelve cities of time. At the north marker sits Gibeon.

  Thinking about it, I’m sad that I’ve never seen the other cities, but only by advancing through the levels of the Society are you granted entrance. With the capital city of Gibeon as amazing as it is, I can only imagine the grandeur of the others.

  I stand tall with one hand cupped in front of me, the sphere resting in my palm.

  “Ready?” Sam asks.

  We nod. With synchronized precision, we flick our wrists and the spheres roll out of our hands, dropping toward the floor—the chains release like a yo-yo. Slowly, gently, we rock forward and backward and our sphere sways with the movement. With another sharper flick of the wrist, the sphere hanging from the chain rotates three hundred and sixty degrees and continues circling, its pace quickening when each wide circle traces the air, causing a resonant buzzing noise.

  The hum communicates with my body, asking it to move from this spot to another. Xavier’s garage and all its contents blur, disconnecting with true time, sending my team and me to Gibeon.

  Initially a cloudy vision, the city of Gibeon solidifies into a new reality. The skyline stretches for miles in every direction. We’ve entered via one of the elevated landing pads, where Wanderers from many time periods arrive and exit.

  Our landing pad descends from the luminous sky, and when the structure touches bottom, a staircase rotates, locking into one side. We step down into the masses of Wanderers walking around.

  The city is a crazy quilt of mismatched architecture from every time period. Every culture is represented, and just for today it’s accessorized with brightly-colored banners, hovering oversized balloons, festive streamers, and twinkling lights. Spectators already settle on the main road, Tanis Street, finding prime spots along the parade route to cheer on the new members when they walk past on their way to the Grand Lodge to be anointed.

  The day of the Oaths is a special one for all Wanderers, which is why all attend in their true time, every single one. Even the Underground members lurk in the shadows, watching from afar. Something in our DNA binds us to this city on this special day, and no one knows why.

  “We have to sneak into the square,” I say.

  Bishop nods. “I’ll make my way to the Grand Lodge and wait for you there. I’ll slip inside in case you need me.”

  I reach to hug him, something in me needing the connection, needing to let him know that I still care. What we are about to do is dangerous, and as I hold him tight, it’s not lost on me that this could be the last time I see him. He pauses, rigid for a moment, but squeezes me back. He leans away to look at me and kisses my forehead, just like he used to. “Be safe. Okay, love?”

  “Always. You too.”

  Sam grabs my arm and tugs. “We have to go, other students are arriving.” We run, winding our way through the stream of Wanderers, dressed in the attire of their time period.

  “There’s Gabe.”

  We follow him but lag far behind. The hoods of our cloaks hang low, dipping over our faces. No one will identify us if we’re careful. We turn the corner and walk into a large plaza lined with buildings with beautiful facades. Students from our class gather in the center, and Gabe makes his way to them.

  “Look, students from other schools,” Sam says.

  “Sometimes I forget that there are others outside our Academy.”

  Students from at least twelve other Wandering schools mill around the square. Each school has their own special color uniform, but all have the same dark cloak.

  A series of loud bongs reverberate off the walls, apparently coming from the roof of a nearby building. A bronze bell, positioned at the top and center, jerks back and forth.

  Ding dong, ding dong. At the sound, the students scurry to their proper positions.

  There should be some sort of chaos in the moment of so many moving bodies, but it’s as though everyone’s choreographed, knowing precisely where to go and where to stand. Swept up in the herd, Sam and I stealthily merge into the back of our school’s group.

  Rows and rows of students, perhaps a thousand altogether, align to perfection. Too perfectly. Every single body stands tall and poised, feet together, and looking suspiciously very much like zombies.

  I turn to Sam and she raises an eyebrow. This must strike her as strange too.

  When the bell stops tolling, everyone in the formation takes one precise step forward and then the next. I try very hard to mimic their movements, so that I won’t stand out in this robotic crowd. Stepping with a stride too long or too short could instantly give us away. And with this thought, I realize something. They’ve all been programmed for this moment as part of the brainwashing. Every student listened to their contrapulator last night, which took away their dreams and replaced them with the instructions of exactly how to walk in the parade, and probably explained the events of the Oaths. Obviously they didn’t heed my warning from my grand speech in Olde Town, or maybe, sad
ly, I was just to late to affect them or to help them help themselves. I lift my chin and think of the prophecy. I can’t let them down again. I will not.

  We march out of the plaza and turn the corner onto the main street. Thousands upon thousands of visitors cheer. People hang from trees, rooftops, and windows, just to see us. There’s not one Wanderer in this town that’s not watching excitedly.

  The scorpion Animate turns in my pocket, and I know he’s dying to have a look because he’s been in there a long time already, but we’re still at least a mile from the Grand Lodge.

  Sphinx-like Animates with the sinewy body of a lion, the head of a woman, and enormous wings fly around the opalescent sky. When we reach the mermaid bridge, named for the mermaid Animates whose fish tails wind the columns where the bridge meets the water, the Animates break out into song, play water instruments, pump their tridents in the air, and splash water with their mechanical fins.

  Finally we reach the end of the avenue, marching into the square that faces the Grand Lodge. The building is a ziggurat, a stair-stepped pyramid that shelves steeply into the sky. Animates of every form, animal, and deity wrap the levels like oversized dolls on display.

  The entrance of the lodge looms before us, and its impossibly tall double doors slowly open with great ceremony as we approach and walk through.

  ::36::

  The Anointment

  I’ve never stepped foot in the Grand Lodge, nor have I ever even seen photos of the inside because the interior is sacred and shrouded in mystery. Of course the anointed have, but seeing the zombie-like empty stares of my friends marching next to me, I have to wonder if anyone really remembers this day after it’s over. I suspect they don’t. Somehow the Society must make them forget that too.

  Two men rush to shut the doors behind us, severing us from the sounds of the cheering crowds and also from the sunlight. Inside, there’s only darkness, so I grab for Sam’s hand as we march forward in the same pattern we have for the last several miles. I wonder how Bishop snuck inside. My gut says he hasn’t.

  A series of locks click, trapping us inside, and Sam grips my hand tighter. I want to say to her that it will be okay, but the truth is that I really can’t promise that anymore. I honestly don’t know if I ever really could.

  There’s a murmur coming from the students around us. They’re chanting in a language I’ve never heard. And there’s another sound too; aside from the rhythm of our boots tapping over the hard floor, the sound of running water can be heard.

  We round a corner to see a sparkle of light in the distance. A sheet of water appears to be falling from the ceiling in a thin veil. Students walk through the liquid curtain, but they don’t react to the wetness or deviate in any way as they move through, so when it’s my turn I do exactly the same.

  Water rushes over my hood, pours over my shoulders, and rolls down my body, dripping onto the floor. I curb my instinct to tilt my head away to protect my eyes, opting to move in sync with the group.

  But what’s on the other side of the waterfall is the most amazing. The room is a mirror reflection of the exterior, only reversed. Step formations reach to the ceiling, which is open to the sky at the apex. Gold Animates line narrow shelves here too, but everything’s gold, and with the large roaring fire centered on a raised platform, every surface reflects the warm and buttery tones.

  Each school’s group breaks apart into neat square formations. I follow ours until we’re positioned at the walls, facing the center of the enormous rectangular-shaped room. The fire is contained within a pit that opens at the center of a long platform that runs the length of the building. A reflection pool circles the platform like a moat, and at the edge of the moat, stairs surround it, leading into the liquid. Students at the front of the groups stand in a row at the water’s edge.

  Now that we’re in position, the chanting becomes more intense, echoing off the hollow interior, and finally crescendos into a high pitch right before the strange tongues suddenly halt to complete silence.

  Keeping my head as still as possible, I scan the area to see if I can spot Bishop, but I can’t because several tall pillars block my view. Society guards clutching ceremonial poleaxes stand at attention behind our area. I don’t dare speak. No one else moves a muscle because they’ve been programmed for silence and compliance.

  In front of us, a commanding figure ceremoniously strides across the platform. With the high-reaching headdress that sits upon his shoulders, he appears very tall. The shape of the mask resembles the Egyptian god Anubis, half human, half jackal, except there is a single horn from his head. But as I take in the sight of the figure, I realize this is a replication of the Time Reaper, the one that almost killed me in the church courtyard in Gibeon. Has it really only been a few days since that happened?

  When the imitation Reaper reaches the center of the stage, standing in front of the fire pit, he raises his arms to the heavens and speaks. I can’t make out the words; they’re in another language, the same one that the students chanted. The sounds are hard consonants, long vowels with tongues clucking and hitting the roof of the mouth in strange repetitions.

  His words cause a reaction in our group, and everyone around us quickly drops to the floor, palms flat, bodies curled, resting on their knees. The motion happens so fast that Sam and I are left standing, sticking out from the crowd.

  Before we can react, the Reaper’s already seen us. He speaks again, this time directly to us but in English. “I’m glad you made it, Seraphina. But where is your fine gentleman?” The Grand Master’s voice echoes from within the mask.

  I’m not sure if we should take off and run or stay. I don’t even know if I’ve been technically anointed because I feel no different from this morning.

  “Bring him.” The Grand Master waves.

  Two guards appear at the water’s edge, Bishop held tightly between them. He thrashes, desperately trying to free himself.

  Grand Master Levi removes his mask, lifting it above his head, and hands it to Rex. Then he descends the stairs and wades through the water to meet them. Instantly, I rush through the bodies curled on the floor.

  “Stop!” I scream.

  “No, Sera! It’s a trap,” Bishop yells.

  Before I reach the water’s edge, the Grand Master plunges Bishop’s head beneath the water, holding him there for longer than any human can withstand. He’s going to kill him!

  “Stop!” I launch myself into the water, but when I do, I realize that it’s not water; it’s oil…clear, golden, and thick like olive oil.

  “But I’m only anointing our friend here.” The Grand Master lifts Bishop’s head, and he takes several large gasps of air, choking. “And now that you’ve stepped into the anointment pool, you’ll have to as well. Those who leave without submitting die.” The Grand Master smiles.

  He pushes Bishop in my direction. The weight of him crashes into Sam and me. Sam slings Bishop’s arms over her shoulder and struggles to move him safely to the pool’s edge.

  “I’ll still need that item we discussed. And you’ll need to be anointed to acquire it for me,” the Grand Master says.

  “I’ll take that trip, but not for you.”

  The Grand Master throws his head back, laughing. “I highly doubt that. Besides, I’ve taken out some insurance.” He waves to the edge of the room and two more people appear in the care of Society soldiers.

  My jaw drops as I see my dad, Ray, standing at the pool’s edge, blindfolded and trembling. As a human, his presence here among the Wanderers in my world is insane. And then Macey, still robotic and brainwashed, walks forward without complaint, doing everything they ask of her. I know that if she were herself, she’d kick their butts.

  “How did you bring him here! He’s a Normal!” I cry out.

  “I have my ways, child. Do you think you know everything there is to know of this life? You know nothing.” Grand Master Levi ascends the stairs to the fire pit to meet them.

  I straighten at the statement becaus
e it’s so true. “I only know that this shouldn’t be happening. That you abuse our gifts and that shouldn’t be allowed. I also know that all these innocent Wanderers are dragged into this without any choice, or freedom, or knowledge of what they do!” I scream at him. In the back of my mind, I think of Bishop’s family, stuck and rapidly aging in Nocturna. Everything has gone so wrong so fast, and all I have to do is finish the prophecy to change things, to save everyone and make things better.

  “Like I said, you know nothing,” he says, drawing out the last word.

  Grand Master Levi takes Macey’s hand and guides her to the fire pit. “Now, what were you saying about not helping me out?” He looks down at me.

  “You won’t do anything in front of everyone. You wouldn’t want them to think any less of you.”

  “They’re practically catatonic.” He laughs. “Haven’t you been paying attention?” He waves a hand in front of Macey’s face. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t move a single muscle.

  “She’s going to make her own self-sacrifice today because she tried to warn the other students that they’d be sent to Nocturna if they didn’t take the Oaths. There always has to be at least one.”

  My heart sinks at this. Bishop and I sent her on this mission, knowing she would reach everyone, and now she’s in this mess because of me.

  The Grand Master moves to Ray. “And he’ll pay if you don’t give me what I want. I don’t think you want either of them hurt, but that’s just a hunch.”

  “Sera, is that you?” Ray reaches out blindly, unable to see because of the blindfold, and my heart aches to see him here. Though we’ve chatted on the phone a little, we still haven’t made up since our big blowout with each other a few weeks ago, right after the attacks on the Academy when he tried to take me home. I was so stupid back then. I should have listened, but what good would it have done? They’d only exile me to Nocturna for leaving.