Protecting Truth (16 page)

::25::
Two Hearts

For the second night in a row, I’m thrust out of a restless sleep. A sheen of chilly sweat encases my body. The hair at the nape of my neck is soaked and coiled around my shoulder and onto my back. The contrapulator, sensing my elevated heart rate, turns off, and I remove the attached headphones from my ears.

Sitting up, I squint at the antique clock—just past three in the morning. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying as I have many times before to rub the thoughts of the attack and every other problem I’ve created for myself out of my head. But they’re lodged there, tormenting me.

Before I can allow the memories to encroach further, I roll out of bed and change my clothes. Sam and Bishop are asleep in their rooms when I slip out the front door. There’s only one place that can alleviate the nightmares. The only place I feel stronger and in control—the defense training room.

•

I pace the room, lunging and swiping a sword through the air while the hologram machine counts down, starting from five. When the electrical current flutters, stimulating a solid mass into being, I’m hoping to fight something mean and nasty to get my mind off things. But I quickly realize that Turner’s changed all my training holograms—not just the new ones. I should have expected it. I huff in annoyance and collapse to the floor, frustrated.

Hologram Turner turns and smiles. He strolls forward and sits on the floor in front of me. In real life, he’s in the hospital, the gash in his abdomen too serious for him to be released yet.

“I thought you might drop in here again.” He smirks.

“Yes, but I didn’t know I’d be forced to face you
every
time. Where are my old training holograms?”

“Gone. I needed to make sure I had a chance to apologize.” He plays with his cuff, acting more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him. Maybe Hologram Turner is better than the real thing.

“So I’m supposed to accept an apology from a hologram?” I snort.

“It’s still me.” He looks up from under his dark lashes.

“I can’t wait to hear this, go ahead.” I gesture to him, playing along.

He pauses, considering his words. “How can you blame me—for wanting to be near you—for wanting to love you? Is that such a crime?” he asks seriously.

I look around, uncomfortable. He’s so much freer with his emotions, so eager to get them off his chest. Unlike Bishop, who took months to tell me he loved me, Turner says the words easily but with the same conviction. “That’s a strange apology.”

“Well, it’s the truth. I guess it’s not really an apology. How can I apologize for loving you?” he asks, holding my gaze with his.

I sigh heavily and drop my shoulders, finding myself feeling sorry for him. “I’m sorry. It just can’t be.” Sam’s right. I need to stay away from him.

“You realize,” he pauses, “it won’t change the way I feel. I can’t change it.”

“Find someone else,” I blurt.

“It would only mask the truth.”

“So then, what? What do you suggest?”

“I suggest nothing.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as he says softly, “I’m with you, or I’m nothing.”

Just as I reach out to comfort him, he says, more firmly, “You win.”

My fingers sizzle with the electricity of the fleeting hologram. His mass shimmers, sparkling in air, and Hologram Turner disappears.

All alone, I scream from sadness and frustration. I’m hurting someone and there’s nothing I can do about it. In fact, Turner’s letting me hurt him, and I don’t even understand why.

I clench my fists until my nails cut into my palms.

“Volta Swift!” I scream.

“Volta Swift,” the hologram machine repeats calmly. “Locating routines now.” The machine scrolls. “Hologram—number—fifty—requires no weapons—hologram starts in—thirty seconds. Safe words are—‘you win.’”

I roll to a standing position, waiting for the next monster to appear—one of Ms. Swift’s training routines. I know Turner hasn’t messed with hers. I’m ready to rip out another hologram’s heart. It seems that’s what I do best.

•

The next morning, I awake to Sam shaking my bed.

“Sera, wake up.”

“Ugh. Leave me alone. Why won’t you let me sleep?” I tug the covers over my head and roll toward the wall. I hadn’t gotten into bed until six in the morning.

“It’s your Dad. Um, he’s here.”

“Here?” I sit up clutching the covers, and stare at her through sleepy eyes.

She nods nervously.

When I stumble out of my bedroom, blanket wrapped around my shoulders, Ray rushes from the front door where he’s been pacing and embraces me. “Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!” He hugs me tightly to his chest; I can feel his heart beating wildly and the slight tremor in his hand as he awkwardly strokes my hair.

For a moment, I think I’m dreaming. This is obviously some parallel universe. Ray hugging me like this is stranger than Wandering. “Yes. I’m—I’m fine,” I stammer in shock and stiffen slightly in his arms, so unaccustomed to being there.

He holds me away from his face, gripping my arms. I wince as he presses the wound beneath my shirt. “I saw the news. What happened? They’re saying it was an explosion. Why didn’t you call me?” He rushes his words in frantic bursts.

I hadn’t prepared myself for this conversation. Never even dreamed it would happen. “Dad!” I pull myself from his grasp and walk away to plop on the couch, preparing to give him the speech we were instructed to tell our Normal parents about the Underground’s attack on the school. It never occurred to me that mine would even care. “It was nothing, just a student prank gone wrong. We’re perfectly safe.”

He assesses me. “You weren’t involved were you?” And…now we’re back to the Ray I know and love.

“No! Of course not!” I force out a huff of air in a grunt.

“Well, whatever it was, I’ve decided I’m taking you home. I don’t like you being here anymore. Obviously, it’s not safe.” He looks around, eyeing Bishop and Sam, who are standing in their bedroom doorways wearing their pajamas, their faces impassive and arms crossed.

“Dad, I’m fine. You’re totally overreacting.”

“No, I’m not. Get your things together. We’re leaving today.”

This can’t be happening. I’m too tired for this. I just stare at him, unable to budge. My annoyance and frustration skyrocket; I can feel my face tighten, unable to hide the emotions.

“Seraphina, I said now!” He points to the floor for emphasis.

“No!” I drop the blanket and jump to my feet, squaring up to face him with my fists clenched with determination.

“I’m not going to say it again. I’m leaving, and you’re coming with me.”

“There’s no way, Dad. I have friends here.”

“You’ll make new friends.”

“I have a family here!” I yell, going right for the jugular. “You couldn’t pay me to leave this life. They actually want to be around me—unlike you,” I snap, and then step back, shocked that I’ve actually said the words out loud. They hang in the air for several seconds, so honest and yet so ugly, as raw hurt assembles itself on Ray’s face.

“So I’ve lost you forever, then? Just like your mom.” A single tear rolls down his cheek, and he swipes it away under the guise of adjusting his glasses.

My brows furrow. He’s never shown any emotion like this before. Before I can react, he turns and storms out of the room. Speechless, I move to glance out the doorway and see him quickly stalking down the corridor. The truth is that I want to run after him, to explain everything, but I can’t. He wouldn’t understand, and this is my life now. The separation would have to be made at some point.

I glance at Bishop and Sam, who are for once dazed into silence. The realization hits me full force: I just traded my Dad for my team. Traded the little family I have for Wandering. I run to my room and slam the door, then toss myself on my bed, crying.

Two hearts ripped out in one day.

::26::
The Truth

The gala and Academy classes are canceled for a week and a half. The building must be put back together, the Relic Archives rebuilt, and some walls reconstructed. Students are nursed back to health. Overall, there’s a quiet sadness. Rumors of the Underground spread like wildfire. And finally, on Friday, we’re called to an assembly to learn the truth.

•

Over a loudspeaker, Gabe summons students to the main atrium. His voice is unusually solemn, but most of us have been since the attack.

Bishop, Sam, and I crowd against the banister, looking down at the first floor. Macey shoves in with Xavier. Quinn hobbles on crutches next to them. Atticus has just been released from the hospital. Agnes and Scarlett, with her arm in a cast, settle nearby.

Some students sit on the main stairs like a stadium. Collectively, there’s a low rumble of chatter. Whispers question what information the school administrators might reveal. I note that the noise would be louder if many of the conversations weren’t taking place telepathically between some Protectors and Seers.

I’m nervous, anticipating the worst, for I know that the information we’re about to hear can only be negative. I try to remain strong, but my anger has caused me many sleepless nights.

To combat them, I’ve spent every allowable second in the training room. Now that Bishop knows of my abilities, I haven’t bothered to hide my training. Ms. Swift, thrilled with my eagerness to improve, works with me for hours on end.

Bishop drapes his arm around my back and rubs my shoulder. He squeezes me closer, brushing his lips to my hair. “You need sleep, love. You’ve been working too hard.”

“It’ll never be good enough.”

He tenses at my response, so I know this
new me
upsets him. I sigh and lean into him, holding him tight. My affection is the only way I can assure him that I still need him, even if I probably don’t need him as a Protector.

My eyes roam and notice Turner. He’s on the first floor with his arms crossed, staring at me. He refused to stay at the hospital beyond a few days. He winces when he rotates his torso in certain ways; his stitches pulling, I’d guess. I’ve yet to talk to him, even to check on him, since I’ve promised myself to stay away as Sam suggested.

I wonder if he knows about the conversation I had with Hologram Turner. And I wonder if the conversation would have gone the same way with the real Turner. From the look on his face, I think so.

Perpetua makes her way next to him and whispers in his ear. I tense, seeing them together. She’s been lying low since the attack, only appearing when she wants to remind me about the crystal. Everyone here knows about her team’s involvement with the Underground, which hasn’t made her very popular.

How long will she give me to look for the crystal before she tells Bishop about Turner and me? Tonight, I promise myself that no matter how difficult the conversation might be, I’ll stop procrastinating, be strong, and explain myself to Bishop. I have nothing to hide. I’ve fought Turner’s advances on many occasions. If anyone should feel guilty, it should be Turner.

Bishop squeezes me again, and I quickly avert my eyes.

Steel shades slide over the windows and click, locking into place. The lights dim. A hologram clicks on, appearing on the first floor below. It’s a 3-D emblem, a shield with a coiled snake, ten feet high, rotating in the air. Presumably, this is the shield of the Underground. The light the image creates illuminates everyone’s faces.

“Wanderers have never had a peaceful life. From the beginning of time, when we were placed on this earth, there has been much turmoil because with this amazing power of time travel comes infinite duty,” Mr. Evanston’s voice booms.

“The Underground Brotherhood of the Snake, or Underground, for short, was created for only one reason—to undermine the duties that we, as good Wandering Society citizens, have placed upon ourselves since our beginnings in Gibeon: knowledge, evolution, and co-existence.

“The Underground has done everything in its power to manipulate time and rotate its axis in favor of their ideals. It seems they’re against everything the Society stands for and will stop at nothing until our kind has been wiped from this earth. By attempting to do so, on many sad occasions they’ve unintentionally set off an extremely dangerous domino effect—creating wars, plagues, famines, and other heinous events.” The hologram image changes to quick images, representing each event.

“Many negotiation efforts have been made on behalf of the Society of Wanderers by Grand Master Phineas Levi to resolve this issue. Unfortunately, his endeavors have been met with resistance and with absolutely no peaceful resolution.” Mr. Evanston steps away.

Terease walks over and joins in the presentation. “At this moment, it’s not completely clear what has instigated these new, vicious Underground attacks. I personally, with the help of our assigned Society agents, have been seeking them out, looking for answers,” Terease says and gestures to a nearby group of Society soldiers.

“What I can assure you is that you are now safe.” She paces. “Many of you have probably noticed increased security around the Academy. Professor Raunnebaum has initiated a new security system. He’ll share information on that now.” She gestures to the professor.

“Good afternoon, students.” Professor Raunnebaum slides in front of the rotating hologram. “I’ve shipped in many new Animates to patrol the Academy and Olde Town areas. They’ll be on the lookout for any unauthorized persons attempting to wander into the area.”

A ghastly roar reverberates off the atrium walls. Two fire-breathing Animates fly over our heads, swoop across the room, and land with a loud clank next to Professor Raunnebaum. Their long, extended bodies undulate with machine-like precision, metal scraping upon metal, until they find a coiled position of rest.

“These Chinese dragons and many others are our new additions.” Professor Raunnebaum strokes the scalloped gills of one Animate. Smoke coils from its nostrils, drifting away into the air.

“Now,” Mr. Evanston says as he steps into view. “If anyone has any specific concerns, please see myself or any faculty member immediately.” He glances around pointing to the group. “Because we’ve been through so much this week, Gabe would like to address you.”

Gabe steps forward, more restrained than I have ever seen him, dressed somberly in black with his hands folded behind his back. “Hello, students. We realize how hard this week has been, so this evening, we would like for everyone to forget your worries and try to have a little fun. Yes, fun!” Gabe clasps his hands in front of his chest, igniting his normal bubbly personality. “Tonight, I’m very excited to announce that we’ll be holding our gala ball!” He throws out his arms with exuberance.

The students cheer, clapping and whistling at the news. I can’t help but smile. It would be nice to think about something other than revenge. I’m happy for a moment, and then remember that I’ve promised myself to talk to Bishop. I will—tonight.
No matter what.

“I thought you might feel that way!” Gabe rips off his black attire, revealing his circus ringmaster costume. Red sparkles shimmer in a spotlight encircling him. The Underground snake emblem morphs into new hologram—a group of enthusiastic spider monkeys. One leaps to Gabe’s shoulder. The others run off, squeaking and bouncing into the crowd.

“Garment bags have been delivered to your rooms with your gala costumes. Please meet here, tonight at eight!” Gabe spins as two cannons of glitter explode. Sparkles flutter through the air. Cheers grow louder as the students release their anxiety, nearly giddy with excitement.

The window shades release with a loud, simultaneous click and slide open, revealing the sunlight.