Forbidden (The Seeker Saga, #2) (24 page)

“But none of us knows how,” I pointed out.

“Right,” Liz said.  “We kept the crystals a secret.  We were the only ones who knew about them.  At least, that’s what we thought before that night.”

“So what happened that night?” John asked.

Eve answered.  “We brought Tracy down there to rescue Liz.  Chris was acting like a maniac.  There was a fight.  Tracy used her crystal, and Chris was hurt, but he managed to get away.  Our concern was getting Liz to safety.  And Tracy.”

“And you came to the clinic in the aftermath?” John said.  “That makes sense.  What is it you were saying about the runes?”

“Oh!” Liz exclaimed.  “Well, the runes were what led me to the crystals in the first place.  I thought they were ancient.  They looked like it.  But a few days ago, we sneaked into Chris’s dad’s office—”

“Broke in,” Eve corrected.

“Broke in,” Liz repeated, “with an ID card we found on Tracy’s attacker.  The ID card?  It belonged to Professor Rosenberg.”

“Jesus Christ!” John exclaimed.

“There’s more,” Liz continued.  “We went to his office, and found
this
.” She pulled out the plastic bag from under her seat, and carefully took out the large scroll of paper.  She brought it to where Rob and John were sitting and spread it on the table.

The rest of us all came around to look at it again.  We all knew the markings by now, but they were new to the two men.  Rob whistled through his teeth. 

“What is it?” John asked.

“These are the runes I found,” Liz said.

“What do they mean?” John asked.  He traced a finger along one particular curve.

“I thought I knew,” Liz said. “But this paper looks like it was the
original design
of the runes.  Not a copy.”

“That’s right,” I agreed.  “This was hidden in Professor Rosenberg’s office.  So before, we thought that the runes on the cave wall were ancient.  But now, we think that somebody put them there, specifically
carved them
there to make them
look
like they were ancient.  But… we don’t know why.”

“For you, or somebody else to find,” John said.

“But why?” I continued.  “And how would they even guarantee any of us found it?”

John looked up from the paper.  “What else do you know about the crystals?” he asked.

“Not much,” I admitted.  “We know that only women can use them.  We don’t know why.”

“And… you have them?” John asked.  “On you?  You showed me something earlier.”

“Right,” I nodded.  I pulled on the cord around my neck again, bringing the crystal up from beneath my shirt.

“Can I… touch it?” Rob asked.

“Go ahead.”  I untied the knot in the leather strip and gave him the crystal.  He took it as if it were a live bomb.  Extremely carefully, and with extreme caution, he held it in his hand.

“You can have mine,” Liz volunteered, handing hers to John.  He took it with the same fasciation as Rob. 

They both examined the crystals silently.  They brought them up to the light, close to their eyes.  They hefted them in their palms, and rotated them around to see them from all angles.  They put them onto the table, knocked them lightly against the wood, and spun them around. 

“This little rock does all that?” John finally said.  “That’s the cause of all this trouble?”

“That’s what we think,” I answered.

“Then why don’t we just destroy them?” Rob suggested innocently.

“
No!
” all of us cried out as one. 

Rob held up his hands.  “Woah, woah, don’t worry.  I didn’t mean anything by it.  I’m just thinking out loud.  With the crystals gone, so would be the threat.  No?”

“We don’t know that,” I said, snatching the crystal from Rob.  To think, he would suggest
destroying
it!  To even consider such a thing…! “They’re our only protection now.  And there’s so much about them that we still don’t know.  It’s really fascinating, if you think about it.  We can uncover so much.  If we have a chance to really study them, we can learn something new—something exciting.”

“So this is what caused the tires to explode, then?” Rob asked me directly.

“Yes,” I admitted.  “I did that.”

“I knew it!” he exclaimed.  “I knew something was up.  This is the danger, the secret, that you told me about before?”

I nodded.  “Now you know.”

“It truly is fascinating—what you say you can do with them,” John said.  “If you’re telling the truth—and I don’t see why you would make something like this up—the science behind it all, the physics, it’s purely unimaginable.  My med school professors would have laughed if I ever suggested such a thing!  Yet, I have to admit, on some intuitive level, it does make sense.”

“There are people who know even more about them,” Ashley said.  “That is why we came here.”

“Along with a copy of the runes,” Liz continued, “we found
this
.”  She took out the second sheet of paper and handed it to John.  His eyes scanned the page as he read.  He frowned, and then gave it to Rob.

“Arthur Eliot,” Rob said after a moment, tapping his finger on the name.  “That’s the professor you’re looking for.”

“Bingo,” I said.  “We found this sheet of paper hidden in Paul Rosenberg’s office as well.”

“It looks old,” Rob observed. 

“The funny thing,” Ashley offered, “is that we couldn’t find anything about that paper online.  It’s like it never existed.  But his name is right there in the corner.  And he teaches here.  We came here because we think he can give us answers.”

“And we’ll find out in a few hours,” I said.

Chapter Fourteen – Arthur Eliot

The next few hours flew by as John and Rob bombarded us with questions about the crystals.  Most of what we knew we’d already told them, but they had us repeat everything over and over again.  John seemed fascinated by our individual experiences with the crystals, which – somewhat disappointedly for him, I’d imagine – turned out to be pretty similar.  Rob was more focused on the power behind them.  He couldn’t get over the fact that they allowed us to sense things more clearly than he could, and, moreover, to actually
influence
those things in some way.  It was like something out of a fantasy novel for him. He treated it like magic.  Even for me, that type of description didn’t seem such an exaggeration.   

The most frustrating part for them was that they weren’t able to use the crystals like us.  And no matter what we said, I think they both harbored some skepticism about the verity of it all until I used my crystal to melt a kitchen knife like I’d done with the gun.  All doubt vanished after that.

We also decided that it would be less threatening if not all of us went to meet Arthur Eliot at once.  Making initial contact was just that. If he was willing to talk further we could all meet then.  Liz had to go, since she discovered the crystals in the first place, and Ashley insisted on coming as well, since she was the one who found out about the professor.  I had to go, too, since I was the only one who’d been directly targeted by… whoever… so far.  That left Eve and Madison to stay in the room with John and Rob.

About twenty minutes to five, I headed out with Liz and Ashley.  Our hotel was only a block from Harvard’s main campus.  We picked up a map from the hotel lobby and quickly pinpointed Emerson Hall, home of the philosophy department and the building that housed Arthur Eliot’s office.

It was chilly outside when we left our hotel.  The sun had already begun to set.  The university’s campus stood behind a gated wall, protected from the sprawling residential area around it.  Once we crossed the gated entrance into the yard, I felt like I’d been transported to another world.  Large buildings stood everywhere. Each looked like it had been there since Harvard’s founding three and a half centuries ago.  Winding cement pathways linked the structures, but they were cracked and uneven, which somehow added to the charm of the place.  Vast expanses of land surrounded each building, adding a sense of larger-than-life awe and wonder.  The ground was all brown, hard dirt, but in places you could see a vestige of grass from the summer months.  Trees with branches already bare stood tall overhead, dwarfing some of the buildings in both age and grandeur.  The massive Widener Library, recognizable even to me as one of Harvard’s greatest landmarks, loomed ominously to one side of the yard, all white stone blocks and pillars.  A hundred stone steps made up the grand flight of stairs to its enormous double doors, and a steady stream of students were walking up and down the well-worn pathway.      

The students were what caught my attention.  As they shuffled across the yard, I was struck by the contrast of the student body here compared to that at Oliver Academy.  All of them were older, of course, though some not by much.  But that wasn’t what intrigued me.  What stuck out most was that the camaraderie I felt at Oliver Academy – the way everyone seemed to know one another as they passed by, how there were people always smiling, talking, having fun, and walking in groups – was noticeably absent here.  As I looked around, most of the students I saw were walking alone, many with their heads down.  There was no solidarity here.  It felt more like we were amongst groups of individuals rather than in a collective, cohesive community. 

I mentioned it to Ashley, who nodded and dubbed it “creepy.”  I had to agree.  Where was the unity? Where was the excitement?  Every time I walked to class on Traven Island, even if it was on the darkest, rainiest day, the school felt warm and inviting.  Here, things were cold and distant.  Was this what a large university was really like?  Or was it something unique to Harvard?

I also took note of the tourists.  They stood out amongst the students with their cameras around their necks and their mouths hanging open.  There were guided tours moving through the yard. Everyone there seemed to be taking pictures of everything.  For the first time, I was thankful for the rule that only students were allowed on Traven Island.  Going to school here, with all these people taking pictures all the time, would probably feel something like being on display in a zoo.  Maybe that was a reason for the students’ haste.  As I looked around, I also saw a lot of tired, blank faces.  A lot of the students seemed depressed or at the very least apathetic.

 I shivered unconsciously.  I did not like it here.  Something was not quite right about this place.  There was… there was no
joy
anywhere.  If it was like this when my dad went to school, I could see why he left in such a hurry.  He was the most happy-go-lucky guy in the world. I could imagine how soul-crushing walking amongst students like this every day could be.

After consulting our map a few times and asking for directions – or rather,
trying
to, as the one time we did we were rudely shrugged off – we came upon Emerson Hall.  It was a big, square building made of red brick and not much else. 

“The second floor?” I asked, opening the door for the girls.

“Yeah,” Ashley confirmed.  “Room 249, I think.”

“That’s what John said too,” Liz added. 

“Right,” I replied.  “Do you see an elevator, or…?” I trailed off as Ashley started up a flight of stairs.  I shrugged, and went after her.

The stairs wound all the way around to the second floor.  We stepped around a corner, and came upon a wide hallway.  There was an opening in the middle that looked like a lobby.  Benches stood by the walls. A few were occupied by people with their heads buried in books.  There were doors on either side of the hall, but most of them were closed.  There was only one, at the far end, that elicited our attention.

There, a group of students formed an anxious crowd around the entrance.  I could see people trying to squeeze their way inside, but there was not enough room.  As we got closer, the babble of hushed voices filled the air.  All three of us were busy scanning the office numbers to find the one we were looking for, and all three of us made the realization at the same time: Arthur Eliot’s room was the one the students were crowding.

“He must be good looking to have so many visitors during office hours,” Ashley quipped beside me.  I shot her a hard look.  With all these students, how on earth were we going to get a chance to speak to him alone?

We stopped just short of the crowd, watching.  “What do we do?” I wondered.  “Do we just force our way through?”

“There’s no way we can ask him anything with so many people around,” Ashley observed.

“I didn’t come here for nothing,” Liz said determinedly.  “And I’m not just going to wait around for the crowd to disperse.  Come on.”  Stepping forward, she started to shoulder her way between people.  We had no choice but to follow.  Some shot us admonishing looks, while others protested out loud, but nothing was going to stop Liz.  She pushed through all the way into the small office, where a middle-aged man was leaning against his desk, engaged in conversation with five students with their backs to us.  The man – Arthur Eliot, presumably – had a bushy, gray beard that was neatly trimmed, and fine lines around his eyes that gave him an appearance of great intellect.  His hair was gelled back. Round, elegant spectacles graced his eyes.  He wore a dark beige suit, complete with a matching green tie. The collar of his shirt was undone and the tie hung loosely around his neck.  He looked up at the commotion we had caused by barging in.