Steel Lily (The Periodic Series)

by Megan Curd

  “Would you call us something different?”

  He was practically leaning over the desk, his eyes alight with passion. “All of the students here are capable of controlling elements beyond anything you’ve seen before. You witnessed Kloey control water as though it were her toy. Evan manipulates fire in the same manner. Asher, Evan’s twin brother, controls the air. You have no idea how remarkable your gifts are. I’ve spent a great deal of time learning about elementalists and convincing some to return here with me.”

  “By convince, do you mean sending Jaxon on a great metal spider and all but kidnapping them?”

  “My dear, you are a valuable asset. I couldn’t let you turn me down.”

  “Right. So that makes kidnapping perfectly acceptable.” I rolled my eyes, but quickly stopped after one glance at Riggs. “So you’ve called the others elementalists, but not me or my mother. How are we different?”

  “As I’ve pointed out, I consider Evan, Asher and Kloey to be true elementalists. They have control over one specific element. Jaxon, Sari, and a few others are here because of their prowess over less extraordinary mediums that still remain beneficial. Jaxon, as you probably already know, is an alchemist. I taught him everything I know, and he has surpassed me in ability. Sari—”

  “I know what Sari does.” I recoiled at the realization I’d interrupted him.

  His mouth remained half-open, waiting for me. “I see you’re well-versed in this place, then. Care to go on a walk with me?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not particularly,” he said bluntly as he stood from his chair. “I was merely performing a nicety by inviting you.”

  He extended the crook of his elbow in a chivalrous manner and bowed his head as he beckoned me. I felt the free will being sucked from my body, from my world. This life that Riggs had fashioned here was not what I’d imagined. We were his pawns—a collection of anomalies he’d accumulated from his ventures—and we waited for his every move. I hated it.

  Hated him.

  He led me to the bookcases behind his desk, where he pulled the monkey bookend in the middle like a lever. The bookcase swung inward to reveal a surgically clean hallway. Bright lights poured into the now well-lit office, and he led me into the corridor.

  Along the walls were windows with small sills that jutted outward. I gazed at the spiral notebooks lying open along them as we passed. A few notebooks had drawings, but most of the pages consisted of merely scribbles. A cart near the middle of the corridor overflowed with boxes of blue latex gloves in differing sizes. A pile of masks and scrubs were folded on its lower level.

  A fluorescent tube ran the length of the ceiling, humming like a fly too close to my ear. The overpowering stench of ammonia threatened to push me backward.

  As I moved to retreat back into the office, Riggs pulled his arm from mine and pushed the small of my back to guide me forward. “Now now, Miss Pike, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Every neuron in my body screamed otherwise. I didn’t know what was housed in this corridor, but I guessed it wasn’t nice. He guided me closer to the windows. As we passed one, I let out a breath of relief to find the room on the other side empty.

  He looked down at me, his expression impassive. “Miss Pike, do you really think I’m a mad scientist of some sort?”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep from responding and focused on the white tiles beneath my feet. Even the grout between them was impeccably white. Riggs halted our progress when we reached the cart of masks, gloves, and scrubs. He glanced at me, then turned toward the array of medical garb.

  “I’d venture to guess you’re a size medium?” He skimmed through the clothing before extending a mass of blue linen. “Put these on.”

  Panic consumed me. My brain kept screaming run! But I was rooted to my spot. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.” Cryptic as always. “The women’s restroom is right there.” He gestured up ahead to the left. “I assume you need no assistance in this endeavor?”

  “No, I’m capable, thanks.”

  Right foot, left foot. It was a conscious effort to make it to the bathroom. I half-expected it to be a torture room, so when I walked in and was greeted by a typical set of stalls and sinks, I leaned against the door and exhaled loudly. Only then did I realize how badly my hands were shaking. It was a wonder I’d managed to carry the scrubs.

  The thin blue fabric slid along my body like water. It must have been silk. It did nothing to quell the chill from the air conditioning, though. Goosebumps plagued my arms, and I shivered.

  There were no mirrors. Part of me was glad, but I also wondered why. Did Riggs not want anyone to see themselves? How badly were his patients treated? Were they maimed? Disfigured? My mind raced with horrific possibilities.

  As I gathered my uniform, I wondered what could have gone wrong in Riggs’s life to make him so evil and his son so…I don’t know. Jaxon wasn’t like his father, but he definitely wasn’t giving any hints as to who he really was. If I got back to my room tonight, I’d start reading his journal.

  I returned to the hallway to discover Riggs dressed in the same blue scrubs. It lessened my fears, but only slightly. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

  He inclined his head and motioned to the end of the hall where a windowless silver door stood. Nearing it, I saw that three deadbolts locked the door from this side, and a small camera blinking red was installed in the upper right corner of the wall.

  “We’re going to see your parents, Miss Pike. Now please, be quiet. I really shouldn’t be proffering this opportunity to you and may very well end up regretting it.”

  RIGGS WAS TAKING me to see my parents.

  They were here.

  My parents—the people I’d begged the Polatzi to find for so long, the people I’d tried to hear just a whisper of their whereabouts from anyone—were here. In the academy.

  Why?

  Even more, how did they get here? Who brought them? Every step I took down the hall echoed in my ears like a death march. My heart constricted in both excitement and absolute terror. What if they hated me? What if they were completely apathetic about seeing me?

  That would be worse. Emotions, however strong on either end of spectrum, meant hope for redemption. If I found out they didn’t care, I couldn’t come back from that. I fought to keep down the bile burning in my lower throat. The last thing I wanted to do was vomit in front of Riggs. I stopped dead in my tracks.

  “I can’t do this.”

  He looked at me quizzically. For a moment, I thought I saw sympathy play across his usually taciturn face.

  “You carry a photo of them in your satchel, as well as a melted piece of steel that was once your mother’s teapot. It baffles me that you would cling so tightly to their memories if you aren’t interested in seeing them.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want to see them. It’s just…” I trailed off, unable to verbalize my fears to someone who was waiting to uncover my weaknesses.

  His smile seemed to prove me right, but he extended a calloused hand.

  An invitation.

  To what, I wasn’t sure. I’d been alone for so long that for some reason this offer of comfort, no matter whom it came from, seemed welcome.

  His hand was warm in the cool hallway as he led me in silence. Each window we passed, the thrumming in my chest grew louder until I was positive he must be able to hear it. He squeezed my hand encouragingly when we arrived at the door. The rectangular window glass was thick, and below it was a cat flap. He pressed a small red button glowing rhythmically beside the door, as though it possessed a heartbeat of its own. I heard a buzz, and then the glass in front of the flap slid away.

  He knelt down and called into the flap. “Atticus Riggs plus one, here to confer with Mr. & Mrs. Pike.”

  A shadow covered the opposite side, and then a set of fire-red eyes peered back. I jumped in fright.

  The figure on the other side grunted and
disappeared, but then Riggs unlocked the door. Inside was a waiting room, complete with TVs, old magazines, and an unmanned receptionist’s desk. He pulled me behind him with a sudden urgency. “Quickly,” he said in a hushed tone, “and don’t look behind you.”

  Of course that’s what I did.

  Red eyes stared back, mesmerizing and horrifying me at the same time. At one point, this creature must have been a human. It had human features, but its skin was mottled, burned, and weeping from burns that should have killed it. There was nothing to base gender on—no hair or facial features to distinguish whether this person before me was male or female.

  The person attempted a smile, but it only made things worse. One side of its face lifted, but the other remained burned into a grimace, giving the appearance of a severe stroke victim. Through my immediate revulsion, I saw what this person must have been—someone like me. My heart broke.

  The remaining muscles were lean and lanky. The seared flesh on the chest was visible, but the person wore knee-length, baggy cargo shorts, giving me the strong impression that he was a man. He was tall, and his eyes were wary, as though no one had been near him in a long time. For some reason, I extended my hand to touch his face.

  He snarled and lunged.

  “Stop!” Riggs yelled as he yanked me behind him, putting himself between the creature and me. Riggs’s hands were extended toward the man, who hit him hard. The man’s nose cracked audibly when he connected with Riggs, and he fell back, howling in rage. Instead of continuing to fight, the man returned to the small plastic stool in the corner, his nose now crooked. His eyes never left mine, and the hunger in them was palpable.

  Riggs turned to me angrily. His words erupted with a ferocity that was strangely paternal. “Did I not tell you to move quickly? To not look behind you?”

  “I wanted to see—”

  “I know you wanted to see, and now you have. You’ve seen what happens to someone who experienced the war that put us in these domes.”

  Air hitched in my throat. “You’re telling me that…that person…saw the war?”

  “Yes,” he said with tired eyes. “Yes, he did. He’s one of the survivors. He was exposed to nuclear radiation and a lack of oxygen during the attack on New York.”

  “Does he have human emotions any more? He acted like an attack dog.”

  “You provoked him. He has a heart and brain. He feels. He just doesn’t know how to properly express those feelings. Wouldn’t you agree that those things make us human?”

  “Animals have those qualifications as well,” I said thoughtfully, but I was immediately horrified at my response.

  Riggs looked murderous. “My son,” he said coolly, “is not an animal. He is a casualty of a mindless war he didn’t ask to be a part of.” My eyes must have been as wide as saucers. He inhaled deeply through flared nostrils and closed his eyes. When he exhaled, he opened them.

  “Your parents are in the first room in the right-hand wing. Jaxon will retrieve you in an hour. Be ready. This is your good-faith payment toward working with me. I expect to see you tomorrow at breakfast, ready to learn. Tell Sari to delete the video feed from your parents’ room. It’ll be on camera two hundred sixty-six. The password is on this—” he slipped a folded slip of paper into my hand. “Destroy it before you leave.”

  He turned on his heel and stalked back to the entrance. When he passed the badly burned man at the entrance, he paused to pat him on the shoulder. Burnt skin flaked off and fluttered to the ground beside them, but the man merely closed his eyes and gave a half-smile.

  “Fa” was all the burned man could articulate.

  Riggs’s stood there a moment before he flung open the door and disappeared back into the brightly lit hallway, leaving me to sit in astonished silence.

  ***

  The room was easy enough to find. The whorls and swirls in the wood told the story of how long the tree had lived before being cut down and turned into this common item. Maybe everyone and everything in this place had a story of sadness and death that somehow connected to them.

  My fingers traced a pattern on the wood as I sat against the door, my shoulder pressing against the cool lumber. A tear escaped and wound its way down my cheek.

  Fear. I was consumed by it.

  According to Riggs, my parents were on the other side of this door. What if they looked like the man who greeted us? The image of Riggs’s son had been seared into my mind, not unlike the burnt flesh that clung in oddly shaped patterns to his body.

  Footsteps sounded behind the door, and I heard a man’s muffled voice. “Regina, can you go put an order in for milk? We’re almost out.”

  It was my dad’s voice.

  “Of course. Do we need cheese? We’ve been out for a while. I’ll ask for that as well.”

  The footsteps grew louder, and I scrabbled to my feet. A new type of panic—nervousness—set in, and my hands shook uncontrollably. I put them behind my back to hide the oncoming panic attack.

  The door opened as I stepped back and tripped over my feet. A gasp came from the woman at the door.

  I rubbed the back of my head and tried to appear nonchalant, as though looking into my mother’s matching heterochromatic eyes—one brown, one green—was something I did every day. “Uh, hi.”

  Smooth. Like sandpaper. Jaxon was right.

  Mom’s mouth hung open, and she steadied herself by placing one of her delicate hands on the doorframe. She was thin, her features still angular. Her red hair flowed over her shoulders in a wild mess of curls like mine.

  My mom.

  Her voice was weak. “You…how did you…”

  The muscles in my jaw clenched as I took in her tattered clothes. A golden tattoo that seemed to glow wove itself intricately down her bare left shoulder to her elbow. I didn’t remember seeing that when I was little. When did she get it? Why? It didn’t seem like something the mom I remembered would do. I hadn’t been expecting this. Death and destruction? Sure. Zombies, even? Why not. This? A tattooed mom? Not in a million years.

  I swallowed hard as I tried to think of something to say. Somehow, talking about the weather seemed absurd.

  She seemed to be taking me in as much as I was examining her. Without taking her eyes from me, she turned her head ever so slightly to call over her shoulder. Her voice shook. “Cole, we have company.”

  Dad’s voice rang in my ears as he called from inside the room. “More tests? They just tested you yesterday.”

  Her eyes began to overflow with tears. “No. Something…something better. Someone is here.”

  She slid down the doorframe, her hand outstretched to me. I crossed the invisible barrier between us and touched her, and we both collapsed into a heap of tears.

  “Avery, my Avery,” she said through sobs. “You’re alive! Oh, I’ve prayed every night that you were alive and well.” She brushed stray hairs from my face and held her hand on my cheek. It reminded me of our times before bed when she would tell me how much she loved me. Her eyes were fierce. “How did you get here? Why did you come?”

  I pulled away and wrapped my arms around myself, as though it would keep me from shattering into a million pieces. I rocked back and forth on the cold tile and watched as she leaned forward to touch me once more.

  “Avery, my baby. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

  Dad’s gasp pulled my gaze upward. His expression sent me back to the day I looked over my shoulder and waved goodbye before heading to the market with Alice. He had simply stood there, a sad smile on his face. Now here he was, still wearing that smile, yet somehow it was different. Aged. The creases at the corners of his eyes were more pronounced, more evident.

  No difference. He was my father. They weren’t dead. They were here. With me.

  Alive.

  I’d never felt so wholly fulfilled yet afraid in my entire life. I’d take this place in all its hellish glory if it meant I could be with my parents. As I sat on the cold floor and Mom stroked my hair, I curl
ed up against her shoulder and let her hold me.

  “Mommy,” I whispered like a child. I chastised myself for letting that word slip.

  “Shh, honey, it’s all right. Everything is all right. You’re so beautiful. Every day I’ve dreamed of what you might look like, what kind of person you’d grown into.”

  I blushed at the declaration, unable to respond while she continued to hug me as though if she let me go, I’d be gone like an apparition. I felt so at home, so at peace.

  Dad had been standing in the doorway in silence. I couldn’t help but ask the question that had haunted me since they disappeared.

  “Where have you been all these years?”

  He clenched his jaw and looked away, lips pursed and hands balled into fists. I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but I seemed to have received my fear of expressing emotions from him. His nostrils flared as he fought to maintain his composure, and only after a few moments of steady breathing did he look at me again.

  “We gave ourselves up to keep you from finding yourself in a place like this. It seems that was in vain.”

  Mom pushed herself off the ground, helped me up, and ushered me into their room with her hand on the small of my back. “Come in, come in.”

  Their residence was meager, much smaller than Alice, Sari’s, and mine for sure. It was more of a studio; their living room was a single overused couch with patches of all kinds of fabrics and designs on the once brown suede. Behind it, chairs were pushed up to a pile of boxes, which is the only reason I realized it was their kitchen table. A single burner sat plugged into a generator in the corner, and off to the side was a doorway. I peered into the room and saw that a single sheet was the only privacy they had for the so-called bathroom.

  My stomach lurched at how vastly different they were living compared to Riggs’s students. Were they prisoners? It certainly seemed like it. I shook my head as I took it all in and returned to Mom. “How did you get here?”

  Mom smiled sadly. “We’re prisoners of war.”

  “But they said the war was over—”

  “It’s not,” Dad said sharply. His eyes were far away as he gazed out of their single, small window across the room. “It’s never been over, and there will never be a winner, not as long as people like the ones here exist.”