Seeing Light (The Seraphina Parrish Trilogy) (13 page)

::23::
A Return

Face-to-face with Grand Master Levi, I expect him to start yelling but instead, he smiles at my reaction. “Sorry, miss,” he says and tips his hat, continuing past.

“Replacement pieces came for the unfrag machine. Boys bringing them over now, sir,” he says casually to Elijah, seemingly having no idea who I am. Bishop appears at my side and grabs my hand. Like me, I’m sure he’s perplexed.

“Excellent, Levi. I’ll be right with you as soon as I finish here.” Elijah gestures to us. Levi nods to Bishop and me, then disappears again. We look at each other in shock.

“Who was that?” I ask even though I know the answer, because I’m looking for an explanation that might make sense.

“My very smart assistant, Phineas Levi. Has political aspirations in the Society. Perhaps you’ve read about him in your Wandering History books?”

“Actually, sort of.” I cringe.

“Ah-ha! I knew it. Always thought the ol’ chap would do well, but don’t tell me another thing.” Elijah raises his palms. “Don’t want to know what lies ahead. Gets very tricky when you do.”

“But—” I begin to speak and Bishop shakes his head. I understand; it’s not our fight, and in changing the past, who knows what we may find when we return to the future. It’s better to leave things as they are, just as we’re supposed to.

“Bishop, we should leave,” I say weakly, waving my hand toward the exit.

“May I suggest taking the stairs to the roof? There’s a nice stretch for running up there.” Elijah smiles brightly, seemingly delighted to be able to help.

“Lead the way,” Bishop says.

Elijah guides us to an open spiral staircase that leads all the way to the roof. Up top, the sun shines and the breeze rustles my hair. From here, the entire exposition stretches out in every direction below us. It’s far-reaching and grand in every sense. When someone uses the phrase, “They don’t build them like that anymore,” I believe this is what they’re referring to. I can think of nowhere in the world or in our time as beautiful as this place. It has the beauty, mystery, and grandeur of the Trevi fountain, the finest streets of Paris, and the Taj Mahal all compressed into a few hundred acres.

If I weren’t trying to fulfill the prophecy, I might come back here and enjoy this place further. Bishop and I grasp hands as he holds our flyer relic, and we run across the roof to open the time travel wormhole that will send us back to the future.

We Wander back to the Academy, returning to our true time. Just like the time-traveling rules dictate, our classmates arrive at the same time, a fraction of a second after we originally left from the Academy. Though it’s still early in the morning, we still have an entire day left. The time we spend in the past doesn’t affect our true time’s reality. Even so, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I just spent six hours walking through exhibits. My body remembers, even if the clock doesn’t read correctly.

Happily, Gabe never even realized Bishop and I ran off on our own. Perhaps he was too busy parading his pink umbrella, or more likely, he was consumed with being the center of attention for the day.

A short time later, Sam meets us at the apartment where Bishop and I sit in the living room discussing Unika’s crown.

“I did some quick research in the library on the Grand Master before coming back.” Sam drops on the sofa. “Seems he’s been in power since 1894, just a year after you met him at the exposition.”

“Are you saying that he was in his true time in the late 1800s? How’s that possible? He’d be over a hundred years old now, and he still looks like he’s thirty.” I turn toward her.

“Well, that’s what the history books suggest.” She raises her hands as if to suggest that she claims no responsibility for the accuracy of the information. “I’m not sure how he’s been doing it, but because he doesn’t age, the higher-ups in the Society believe he’s been chosen by the Masters to lead us. In a way, they think he’s holy, like a pope or a saint.”

“That would explain why he didn’t recognize either of us. We had not technically met yet,” Bishop adds.

“One more puzzle to solve.” Sam folds her arms and sinks back into the cushions with a huff.

“Let’s just focus on what we do know,” I say. “We know that if I’m to be the Chosen, I will complete the transition to Seer, manifesting all three gifts after I take the Oaths and become anointed on Saturday. By that time, I need to have Unika’s crown so that I can travel back in time and prevent the meeting of the king and queen.”

“And now that we’ve seen your future self at the exposition, we know that you do retrieve the crown. But when?”

“Hmmm.” I settle back into a pillow. “Today’s Thursday. We only have a day and a half before the Oaths. So I believe whenever it’s going to happen will present itself to me in an obvious way.”

“Maybe we can research where the crown is at the exposition to start,” Sam suggests.

“Assuming that’s where I found it. At least it’s a starting point. We’ll do that tonight.”

“And have you found any clues about what will happen to our kind after you thwart the meeting of the king and queen?” Bishop asks.

“Not in the journal, there’s so much smudged text, it’s nearly impossible to read, but there could be a way to find out.” I look to the floor. “I can use the journal as a relic to travel back in time to ask my mom. She must have the answers.”

“Did you want to check the life path of the journal before traveling back?” Sam asks. “Maybe we can gain some info there without forcing you to face your mother again so soon.”

If she were asking this question just a few weeks ago, I would have jumped at the chance to see my mom. But now, knowing what her future holds, can I really see her and not tell her she’s going to die? Especially when there’s no way to save her. Death in the Wandering city of Gibeon is final. There’s no coming back from that.

Bishop pats my shoulder. “I realize it won’t be easy for you.”

“No, it won’t.” I sigh, and Sam slides into the seat next to me.

“Is it wrong that I don’t want to see her again? At least, not right away.” I look down at my hands, twisting nervously in my lap.

“You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t have reservations, but you’ll do what you always do,” she says forcefully.

“And what’s that?” I lift my gaze.

“You’ll get the job done.”

“No pressure.” I laugh but as I think about it, I realize that I can do this. “Will you see the life path with me?”

::24::
The Journal

I run into my room to retrieve my mom’s journal, but when I reach my hand beneath the mattress I find nothing. Frantically and with all my strength, I lift the box spring and heave. The mattress slides away, revealing my worst nightmare. Mom’s journal is gone; someone’s taken it.

I run back through the apartment. “Do you have it? It’s gone.”

“No.” Sam stands and looks at Bishop.

“I didn’t even know where it was.” He raises his palms in defense.

“Well, who did?” She steps forward with concern.

Instead of answering, I pull the scorpion Animate from my
purse and place it on the ground. “Turner!”

Within seconds, a beam of light shoots from the Animate’s face, landing on the opposite side of the room. Hologram Turner appears in a cloud of electrical dust particles.

“You rang, my lady.” He’s smiling, but he wouldn’t be if he knew what I was about to accuse him of.

“Did you move the journal?” Last night Turner paced my room for hours, spouting off all the reasons that I should not fulfill the prophecy. The discussion turned into a heated screaming match where no one won.

Turner crosses his arms and stands straighter. “No-o-o,” he says, narrowing his eyes and drawing the word out at the accusation.

“Then who did? You were the only one who knew where I hid it.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, love, but you’ve seen me almost every time I’ve become a hologram. When would I have done it? And it would be quite hard to carry a book away on the back of my Animate.” He waves to the scorpion on the floor.

“He’s telling the truth,” Sam says. “I can sense it.”

I can too, but I don’t mention it. I haven’t revealed to her that I’m connected to our Protectors too. At least to one of them. It might scare her to know how far my Seeing skills have developed. It seems the closer I come to the Oaths ceremony, the stronger I become in all aspects of the team.

My body seems to sink in on itself in defeat as I rail inside with frustration.

“You’re forgetting, we can easily see the life path of your mattress to discover who took it.” Hologram Turner moves nearby and places a calming hand on my shoulder, showing more affection than necessary. The energy from him activates my skin like static electricity. It’s even worse than having the real thing around.

Before I can say, “You’re right” and apologize to everyone, Bishop groans out of nowhere. “We’re not doing enough. You’re not doing enough!” He points to me, his face turning scarlet. His gaze lingers on Hologram Turner’s hand, where it’s touching my shoulder. “Sera, I know I gifted the Animate to you, but I didn’t realize he would steal all your focus. And now, because of it, the journal’s been stolen!”

“I’m not doing enough? I’m not focused?” My jaw drops. Where is his attitude coming from? “I haven’t stopped working on this since I returned from Nocturna!” I move into his personal space in challenge. “I haven’t been to school in over a week. I’ve barely even eaten! This prophecy is all I’ve been thinking about. It consumes my every thought!” By the time I’m done, I’m screaming in his face.

“Except the times when you’re flirting with a hologram,” he bites out. His words have a serious edge, the blade of them cutting through my soul, splitting me further.

We’ve had fights before, yes, but not like this one. This is different. I sense that Bishop’s finally hit his limit and instead of running into his room to hide and listen to music while sucking up his feelings, he’s finally cracked and exploded. Realizing this calms me and I take a deep breath before adopting a gentler tone. “Please, let’s not go there. This isn’t you.” I wrap my hands around my stomach. “There’s only so much we can do in a twenty-four hour day.”

“It’s not enough, Sera.” He stiffens. “While you’re doing God knows what with him,” he says with a sneer, jerking his head toward Hologram Turner.

“Hey, now—” Hologram Turner steps forward to defend me but Bishop keeps going.

“They’re withering away; they’re on a deadline. If we don’t move fast enough, they’ll die!” Bishop stalks around the room, waving his arms in the air for emphasis. At least this part of his argument I understand. Even I can’t move fast enough to save his family.

“Who’s going to die?” Turner asks quietly.

I cringe at those words from the person it seems I can no longer protect. I hadn’t explained this part to Hologram Turner. I had every intention but it’s only been a day since he learned about his own death. It just didn’t seem right to bring him in on the most pressing part of this venture. Not yet.

I look to Bishop, whose face is now pale with the realization of what he’s done. We’d agreed that we wouldn’t tell Turner yet, but in his anger, he’s changed everything. We’ll have to hurt Turner again with more awful news.

“Who, brother?” Turner steps forward with crossed arms. His biceps bulge and his lips tighten.

Bishop approaches Hologram Turner carefully, finally somewhat calmer. He places a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder and looks him directly in the eye. “We had every intention of telling you, but wanted to give you time to digest your new”—he looks Hologram Turner over, seeming to search for the correct word—“form.”

“Go on.” Turner relaxes slightly, adjusting his stance.

“It’s the Society. They’ve taken Mum, Dad, and Charlotte.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he can’t abide the taste of the words that must come next. “And exiled them to Nocturna.”

Turner stands rigid at the news, never dropping his gaze from Bishop. His brow furrows before he collapses into his brother’s arms, crying. With each tear, the hologram sputters a zap, like water and electricity mixing. My heart breaks seeing the two this way. Vulnerable. But the cries soon escalate into rough slaps and angry pushes. “You should have told me. You should have told me!” Turner wails.

Sam and I run to them and wrap our arms around them, hugging them tightly. It’s all we can do to contain the emotion. We press into a huddle, arms clutching each other as we grieve together, collectively feeling the pressure, the pain, and the loss.

“We can’t let this tear us apart,” Sam says, her face red with emotion as we pull apart. “We have to work together. It’s the only way.”

“Agreed.” Bishop sniffs deeply and runs a hand over his face.

“Let’s go see who took the journal.” With determination, I return to my room. The others follow quietly. When we’re gathered around my bed, I sink to my knees, settling them on the box spring and lean into the mattress that still lies teetered off the opposite side.

“Do you want my help?” Sam offers.

“No thanks, I think I need to do this myself.” I close my eyes.

With my fingers splayed and palms facing down, I focus on the mattress, preparing to see the life path. My entire body relaxes, every muscle, every breath until the spark of warmth settles between my eyes. It’s easier to pull the image from the cloudiness in my mind, now that I’ve practiced a few times.

The information I’m seeking appears quickly in reverse chronological order, starting with where we are now, my outburst, and before that, lifting the mattress to find the journal missing. A thousand other useless images scroll behind my eyes in vivid detail until I arrive at the one that matters—the intruders who took the journal.

When I see their faces in my mind, my mouth sours with hate and I shake my head to cease my meditation. Slowly my eyes clear of the vision, until my true reality returns. Sick to my stomach, I turn to face my team to tell them the grim news.

“Who was it?” Bishop asks.