Across the Universe (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

              Oman’s funeral is much worse than Dena’s.

              Perhaps it’s because I know what he looked like before he fell ill. Even if we encountered each other for only a split second, it was enough to make me realize this isn’t how his life should be treated: disposable, like garbage cast into the void.

              I cry into Nim’s shoulder the whole time. Elli stands next to me, squeezing my hand tight as I sob. For once the two of them look at each other without disapproval; instead they’re just concerned, though I don’t know for what. For me? For the ominous air that has befallen the room after two deaths inside such a short span of time? Maybe it’s a combination of both that brings them together and makes them realize now isn’t the time to fuel their dislike.

              I watch Oman as the Aiders carry him to the door. I see Dante cast him into the void. I remember Oman’s face—tight and terrified—as he blinks out of existence. His expression haunts me every time I shut my eyes, as if his image is a waking nightmare I can’t shake.

              Afterwards, I tell Nim I want to be alone and head into the Watch Room. She doesn’t follow me inside the chamber, but I can feel her hovering right outside the door, waiting for a moment in which I might need her. The act is both annoying and endearing at the same time.

              I drop my orb into a clear basin, admiring the flash of galaxies and stars that project onto the walls. Then, in the blink of an eye, I am gray smoke, funneling into the crystal ball and flying through the universe held within. I dodge planets and meteors as I careen through the black expanse of space, seeking the little blue planet that can give me a distraction from all that has gone wrong in the past few days.

              Rocketing through the atmosphere, my molecules shudder and reform as I alight the beach. I am surprised when droplets of water plunk down against my head and shoulders. The lake in front of me is swept up in a jittering dance as the rain spatters across the surface.

              I look to my left at an empty stretch of wet sand, and then to my right. Noah sits on the only dry patch of silt, a black umbrella hoisted above his head as he stares out at the rolling current. The sound of the rain coursing down from overhead masks my footsteps and he doesn’t look up until I set my hand on his shoulder.

              “I’m sorry,” I say before he can get a word in edgewise. Raindrops flick from my lips as I speak. “I was rude last time we talked.”

              Noah stands, turns to me. He inches forward, sheltering me under the curve of the umbrella. It creates a dome of muted sounds around us, as if we’re in our own little world together.

Noah is so close I can feel his breath against my skin. He tilts his head down, bending ever nearer, and I stay him with a flat palm held gently on his chest. Even through his thick sweater, the warmness of his skin radiates up my fingers.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

His lips are inches from mine as he responds. “I was afraid you’d never come back, and I promised myself I’d do this if you ever did. I
have
to do this, Amara. Before I lose my nerve. Before I never see you again.”

Noah tilts in again, and this time I let my elbow relent as he leans closer. His mouth closes over mine and my head goes fuzzy. My hand drops away from his chest, my fingers reaching up to entangle in his hair. Suddenly the urge to be even nearer overwhelms me, and I press my body against his with a hunger I didn’t know I had.

Forgetting the umbrella, he lets the handle drop from his hand so that it is cast away in the sand. Rain pours down and intermingles with our kiss. He wraps one arm around the small of my back and pulls me in tight, so tight that I can feel his heart pound on top of mine.

When he finally pulls away, he runs a thumb and forefinger gently across the line of my jaw, his gaze locked onto mine. He must see the conflict held in the silver there, because he whispers, “Was that too much?”

“Never,” I whisper back, and lean in again.

We don’t come up for air until we’re drenched to the bone and the rain has ceased to fall.

“Just a little farther,” Noah says.

He’s leading me up a winding path carved into the side of a hill. My sandals sink into the mud as I walk, splattering onto my knees and staining my skin a ruddy red color. When Noah sees me struggling he takes my arm and helps guide me forward, up and up until we reach a rocky peak that overlooks the lake below.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” I ask while staring down into the swirling water below. The waves beat against the cliff face, breaking through the haze of mist hanging low over the surface after the rainfall.

Noah places a finger under my chin and tilts my head back until I look up at the sky. Above us, an array of colors is painted across the clear blue atmosphere. I’ve seen rainbows in drawings held within the books of the Archives Room, but they don’t compare to reality. My breath steals from my lungs and I am left speechless, gazing up at the beauty overhead.

“I’m sure it doesn’t compare to the things you see flying through universes, but it’s pretty cool,” Noah says.

I turn to him, my eyes sparkling. “It’s lovely.”

              My legs are tired from the walk, so I slide down into the wet grass and sit with my legs overhanging the edge of the cliff. Noah follows suit, taking off his glasses and rubbing the lenses against a dry spot on his shirt.

              “I needed this,” I say after a time. “It’s a nice break after what’s been going on at The House.”

              “Why? Is something wrong?” he asks, sliding the glasses back onto his face.

              “Two Watchers died. Their universes were destroyed. It shouldn’t be happening, not so close together, but the other members won’t listen to me when I warn them that something’s not right.”

              I tell him the whole story then, from start to finish, and he listens in bated breath, only asking questions when I mention a term he’s unfamiliar with. As I speak, the world falls away around me. It is only us and the rainbow and the wet grass under my hands. The words pour out of me, and after I’m done a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

              “I don’t like the idea of you being away from here—in a place between time and space—where I can’t help. I wish I could go back with you,” Noah says.

              “Are you sure your desire to come with me has nothing to do with swimming through galaxies and seeing stars?” I ask playfully.

              He grins. “I guess that’s part of it. But really—I’m drawn to you for some reason. I don’t know how to describe the feeling.” The smile slides away as he struggles to come up with a proper description. “It’s like you’re a part of me. From the moment I saw you, I knew we had some kind of connection. I’ve never gotten so attached to someone so fast.”

              I close my eyes, trying to feel what he feels. Truth be told, I’ve been so caught up in the string of events plaguing The House that I haven’t had a chance to consider the root of my emotions for Noah. But as soon as he says it, I feel the same thing too—like we’re bonded, like letting go of him would physically hurt.

              “Maybe this is just what it feels like to care,” I say.

              “No,” he says, frowning. “It’s more than that.”

              I shuffle away from the cliff face and stand, helping Noah to his feet as I speak. “Whatever you feel, I’m glad for it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you to care about me, too.”

              “Of course I care about you. I—”

              Noah drops off in the middle of his sentence as he stands and looks over my shoulder. The color drains from his skin. I spin around to see what’s frightened him and nearly scream.

              The Harbingers glide toward us, blocking the path down from the cliff. As they draw nearer the darkness inside of their hoods begins to glow with a dim red light. As soon as the illumination appears my body is grasped with an overwhelming fatigue, as if the life is being drained from my veins.

              I wail and stumble into Noah’s side. His face is a sickly shade of green, and I know he’s feeling the same thing I am. The Harbingers glide closer, surrounding us, as my legs become weak and shaky.

              “Noah,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from the Harbinger’s spell. He murmurs in recognition, though I can’t understand what he says. “Noah,” I repeat. “Have to get away.”

              I take a shuddering step forward, thinking we can run through them, but as soon as I do the fatigue grows stronger. It’s as if my molecules are being pulled apart, rearranged—like the hooded figures are doing to my insides what they do to the universes they destroy.

              Backing up to the edge of the cliff, I feel rocks crumble beneath my heels. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

              “Jump,” I say. “Jump, Noah.”

              We turn to face the lake, Noah takes my hand, and we leap off the cliff.

              Earth is suspended around me as I fall, a blaze of colors and sounds that are unfamiliar but comforting all at once. The moment seems to go on forever, panic seizing my chest as we rocket toward the lake, and then we plunge into the icy water below.

              Churning bubbles swarm up around us, turning the water white and frothy over our heads. I struggle to open my eyes and through the chaos I see Noah floating near the sandy bottom. His expression is sheer surprise, and I realize with horror that the lake is too cold for him. He’s not a member of The House, not like me; the temperature fazes him and bites into his muscles in a way I can’t possibly feel.

              I kick my legs and arms out, swimming down until I can wrap an arm around his shoulder. Using the force of my feet against the lake bottom I push us up until our heads break free into open air.

              Noah gasps, shivering, his glasses askew and his wet hair clinging to his forehead.

              “You’ve got to kick, Noah! Kick!” I yell, my voice frantic. Thankfully he heeds my advice, somehow forcing his muscles to move through the icy water that swirls around us. I shoot one more look at the rock face above—the Harbingers are nowhere to be seen—and then I pump my body toward the shore.

              We make it to the beach right as Noah’s legs give out, and I’m forced to half-drag him onto the shore. He lies in the sand, gasping for air and shuddering for some time before he’s able to lift himself up again and head in the direction of the road.

              I let him lean into me as we walk to his house. The heat of the indoors stills his shaking limbs. The silence there envelops me almost as completely as that projected by the void. His parents and Lizzie are nowhere in sight.

              “N—N—No one’s home right now,” he stutters through chattering teeth. “Lizzie has a choir concert, and Mom and Dad have gone to cheer her on.”

              He leads me through the dining room into the back hall, turning through the open door of his bedroom. I stand awkwardly at the threshold, peering inside.

              “What?” he asks, studying my face. “You look like you’ve been here before.”

              “No,” I say, blushing. “No, I—I just shouldn’t be here. Nim’s warned me about getting too close to the life forms I watch. We’ve already spent too much time together as it is.”

              Noah grabs my hand, pulling me across the boundary with a gentle persistence. He leads me to the bed, where I sit down, clasping my hands in my lap as he pulls off his wet sweater and exposes his bare chest.

              My heart leaps into my throat and my cheeks turn a deeper shade of scarlet. I avert my gaze and fiddle with a loose thread hanging from the comforter.

              Noah disappears into the hall again and when he comes back, he has on a fresh pair of jeans and two towels in his hands. He hands me one and I run it through my hair until it’s no longer dripping.

              “Those were the Harbingers you told me about,” he says, sitting down on the bed next to me.

              I nod. “They’ve never tried to attack me before. Maybe they know I told Nim about my suspicions. Whatever the case, I have to get back to The House and warn them.”

              He draws my hands into his and pulls me back to the bed as I stand. “I don’t want you to go. What if something happens? I should be there to protect you.”

              I lean my forehead against his and smile. “Need I remind you who saved who in the lake today? I’m a member of The House. We don’t need protecting from anyone.”

              My lips connect with his for one last, bittersweet kiss, and then I’m on my feet, turning to smoke, and I’m gone. Before I disappear, though, Noah yells one last plea into the air.

              “Come back soon!” he says, and his words ring in my ears through all the galaxies as I find my way home.

Chapter Twelve

              My clothes drip across the marble floor and my sandals track mud as I run into the hall and come to stand before Nim. She gasps when she sees my state.

              “You’re a mess!” she says.

              “That’s not important now,” I reply. “The House is under attack. Harbingers came for me on Earth today.”

              “What did you just say, Amara?” a cool male voice asks. I turn and see Dante striding down the hall toward us.

              “Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere,” Nim suggests, half under her breath.

              “No,” I say. “He should hear this too.”

              Dante arches an eyebrow. “This should be good. Does it explain why you’ve tracked dirt into The House?”

              I ignore the snide remark and continue on. “Three Harbingers appeared to me today. They attacked me. Whatever they did—it was like they sucked the life right out of me. I think they’re after us, all of us. They’re destroying universes one by one. They killed Dena and Oman and now they’re after me.”

              “Ridiculous accusations.”

              “It’s the truth!”

              “Is that so?” Dante snaps. “Then tell me why your universe is still up and running. If the Harbingers came for you, why aren’t you dead like the others?”

              I open my mouth, but no words come out. Nim sets an encouraging arm around my shoulder and I’m spurred to try again. “I don’t know. But whatever they’re up to, it can’t be good.”

              Dante looks at Nim, his face set in stone. “And what does your mentor think of all this?”

              “I think—” Nim begins. She swallows hard, her voice turning meek. “I think Amara is confused. She’s young, much younger than us. Please don’t hold it against her that she weaves such stories to pass the time.”

              “I can’t do that,” Dante replies. He struggles to keep a triumphant smile from creeping onto his lips. “She’s brought her case to me and as a Leader, I can’t rightfully ignore her insubordination. I must sentence her to trial.”

              Nim’s chest stills. Her hand trembles against my collarbone. “There’s no need for that.”

              “She’ll have two hours to collect proof behind her claims. Report to the Court Room on time and perhaps the Leaders will grant her leniency.”

              Dante spins on his heels and walks away, disappearing around a bend in the hall.

              “What does that mean?” I ask. “What’s the trial for?”

              “Oh, Amara,” Nim cries. “I asked you to be quiet. To keep out of trouble. But even I can’t help you now. In two hours’ time, your fate rests in Dante’s hands. He, along with the other Leaders of The House, decide whether or not you should be cast into the void.”

              My skin is raw from where Nim scrubbed the mud off. I’m wearing a fresh change of clothes, but my hair is still damp with lake water. My mentor leads me through halls and around corners until we reach the Court Room.

              The chamber is large and sloping, with an auditorium of seating on one side and an empty stage down below. The crowd of Leaders positioned there is silent. Dante lounges in the bottom row, a cold sneer turning up the corners of his mouth. I’m surprised to see Elli standing at the other end of the room. When I spot her I wave, but she shakes her head ever so slightly back and forth, and I drop my hand back to my side.

              Nim leads me to stand in front of the audience. My mouth is dry like cotton and my palms are sweaty. I can hear Nim’s frantic breath next to me.

              “Speak only when spoken to,” she tells me.

              “Yes, Nim,” I say.

              “And don’t say anything else that gives them a reason to cast you out.”

              “Yes, Nim.”

              She squeezes my shoulder. “Good luck.”

              I stop her with a hand wrapped around her wrist. “You believe me, right?” I ask her, my voice barely above a whisper.

              Her eyes dart from me to the Leaders and back again. She looks torn—stuck between an order she must abide by and the girl she has raised—but her frantic expression says it all.

It’s not a matter of whether she does or doesn’t trust me. It’s that she doesn’t
want
to believe.

She walks away, joining Elli at the other end of the room. Dante stands, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Amara, Watcher of The House, has spoken out against the order. She has accused Harbingers of attacking her in the universe she watches, on a planet called Earth. Have you brought us any evidence of these claims?”

I gulp back dread and answer in my best impression of someone more confident than myself. “No, but—”

“And why is it that you haven’t come up with any proof?” Dante interrupts.

“My proof is my word. There’s no physical evidence. The Harbingers came after me and I was forced to jump off a cliff to escape.”

Dante turns his back to me and addresses the Leaders. “You heard her for yourselves. Amara has no evidence of her claims. She’s made up a wild story that is meant to break down the order we’ve established in The House.”

“I believe the girl is allowed testimony from those she calls friends,” Elli chimes in. Her words cause the smile smeared across Dante’s face to falter.

“Very well,” he snaps, motioning for Elli to approach the audience.

She comes to stand beside me and imitates Dante’s throat-clearing with flourish. “Do you, Dante, Leader of The House, have any evidence?”

Dante blinks out at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Evidence of what?”

“Evidence that the events Amara described
didn’t
happen, of course.”

Dante clenches his hands into fists. “I’m a Leader of The House. I’m not required to—”

“So I’m assuming you don’t have any evidence, then,” Elli interjects. “In which case, I’d like to present the audience with a puzzle of logic. How can one be convicted guilty if the court can’t prove one either innocent or faulty, in either direction?”

A tall, willowy Leader sitting next to Dante leans forward in her chair. “She has a good point,” she says. Dante flexes his hand open and shut again, as if he wants to hit her.

“I’ve known Amara for a long time,” Elli continues. “Ever since she came into being, in fact. She may have a wild imagination—a penchant for causing trouble and a terrible case of clumsiness—but she’s no more of a liar than I am. And may I remind you that I’m one of the first members of The House to ever come into being. My word is as good as the years I’ve served.”

Emboldened by the faltering confidence the audience exhibits, Nim steps forward and joins Elli and me before Dante.

“If I might add to that statement,” Nim says. “Amara has done nothing to upset the order of things yet. She’s only told the audience here today and me of what she saw. As long as she doesn’t run her mouth any farther, I don’t see how she’s jeopardized the balance of The House.”

“We’ll put it to a vote,” Dante bellows. “Those in favor of casting Amara into the void, lift a hand.”

Dante and a few others scattered throughout the crowd raise their hands. He tallies up the votes before lowering his arm and continuing on. “Those in favor of pardoning Amara, lift a hand.”

An overwhelming majority lifts their hands, and Dante’s face goes sour. His lips purse and his eyes turn dark. “Very well then,” he concludes. “You’re pardoned.”

The audience clamors from their seats and begins to filter out the door. Dante passes by me as he leaves, bending in and snarling into my ear so that no one else can hear. “I advise you to stay out of my way for a long time, Amara, if you don’t want to end up in front of the court again.”

Then he exits, and I am left standing with Elli and Nim in an otherwise empty room.

“How did you know to come?” I ask Elli.

She smiles and knocks her shoulder against Nim’s. “Your mentor may have called on me to come to the rescue.”

“I didn’t say Amara needed rescuing,” Nim objects. “Just that your considerable years in The House could influence the Leaders’ decision. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go speak to Dante about one other matter before he gets too far away.”

Nim rushes out the door. Elli follows her with her eyes and as soon as she’s gone, she turns to me and speaks in a serious tone. “You’ve got to be more clever than this, Amara. Whatever’s going on with the Harbingers—whatever threat looms over The House—the Leaders won’t acknowledge it. Rules are in place so this kind of thing can go on ignored.”

“So I’m supposed to pretend it’s not happening?” I ask. “Go about my business until it’s too late and there’s not enough of us left to fight back?”

“I didn’t say that. You’ve just got to go about things with more finesse. I don’t know what’s happening myself, but it seems that The House has called on you to save us all, whether or not the Leaders want to believe it. Otherwise the Harbingers wouldn’t be targeting you. They’re scared, can’t you see that? You’re a threat.”

“How am I supposed to get to the bottom of things all by myself?”

Elli gives me a rib-cracking hug, lifting my feet from the ground before letting me loose. “You’re not by yourself. You’ve got me. And I’m sure if push comes to shove, Nim will be on your side too.”

“Thanks,” I say, my cheeks going warm.

“I’ve got to get back to the Archives Room. I’ll walk you out,” she concludes, and leads me to the door.

We part ways in the hall and I’m just about to head back to my bedchamber when I see two shadowed figures in an alcove. The light filters in just enough to reveal a few key features: Nim’s severe stare, Dante’s sour face. I inch nearer, leaning against the wall nearby and trying to look nonchalant as I listen in on their conversation.

“—have to make sure it’s safe,” Nim is saying.

“How can we possibly do that? No one knows where it is. It was hidden for a reason,” Dante replies.

“There has to be some record of it in the Archives Room. Some history of where it was placed to keep it safe.”

“It doesn’t matter. This threat that Amara talks about—it isn’t real.”

“What if it is?” Nim hisses. “What if the Harbingers are rebelling? If they’re trying to take control of The House, the one thing they’d need to do so is the Key.”

A memory flashes through my mind—two words scrawled in the margins of a book in the form of a question: “The Key?” Could what Nim refers to and the strange note be referencing the same item?

“The Key will never be found, and you’ll speak of this no further,” Dante commands. “Amara’s already gotten inside your head; we don’t need her paranoia spreading to others.”

Nim sighs, the same way she does with me when she tries to teach me but her efforts go nowhere. “Very well. But if the time comes and Amara is proven correct, perhaps it would be better if we know where the Key is hidden before the Harbingers do.”

Nim slips out of the alcove and I turn around just in time. I am lost in a sea of bustling bodies with the same color hair and skin and eyes. Nim doesn’t notice me as she walks away and splits off around a corner to my left.

I don’t stop walking, either. Instead I head into the bowels of The House, my pace nearly a jog until I come across the door with a blazing star etched into its surface.

The Archives Room holds the histories of all the universes that ever were and will be.

And somewhere in that mess, there has to be a book about the Key.