The Awakening (22 page)

“It’s quiet. Unassuming. But it’s there; this undeniable thing. I saw it the first day we met in Thornsdale. And before then, every night in my dreams. I see it better than anyone.” Luka steps closer. Takes the spray bottle from my hand. “Don’t tell me I think you’re weak, when it’s your strength that scares me.”

“Why?”

“You heard Sticks. Only the strongest Fighters have Keepers.”

“So?”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. Like I don’t get it. “So there’s a reason you were created with one specific person to guard you. You’re a walking target. And now Cap wants to train you, even though whatever he’s training you for landed him in a wheelchair.”

So he knows. I’m not sure who told him. Maybe Cap himself. Or maybe Claire. It doesn’t matter how Luka found out. What matters is he knows the danger that’s involved in fighting. How long before he learns how Gabe’s twin sister died?

“I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.”

“
If
Sticks is right, and I’m destined to be some super powerful Fighter, then you don’t have to worry. I have you. You’ll protect me.” I want to comfort him. I want my words to erase some of his torment, but they only seem to haunt him more.

“You don’t see what I see.”

“Tell me what you see, then.”

A world of fear festers in the grass green of his irises.

“Please, just tell me.”

But he doesn’t, and I’m left with nothing but my own speculations.

*

That night my dreams are a hodge-podge of nonsensical things—my father walking to the gallows, angry protests outside fetal modification clinics, the prisoners of Shady Wood buried alive inside mass graves, and dead rabbits everywhere. I can’t find my family, and Link must not be able to find me.

By the time me and my aching muscles arrive for breakfast, Claire has already taken the seat next to Luka. And since I don’t want to sit by Claire, I end up at a table with Jillian and Rosie, listening as Claire giggles and slaps Luka’s knee playfully, like they are good buddies. What’s worse? Luka smiles at her. It’s the first real one I’ve seen since Sunday morning. And Claire is the one who gave it to him.

Our first class of the day with Non is more of the same, only instead of wars of the past, she’s moved onto events in the present. Her bushy hair waves about as she scribbles dates and names and seemingly obscure, unrelated events on the chalkboard, connecting them in the same web she used yesterday—a disjointed map of crisscrossing lines. I think we all leave more confused than when we came.

We’re given ten minutes to stretch our legs and use the restroom before our last morning class with Sticks. He asked us to come with the name of a Keeper we want to research, but I haven’t even started looking yet. So I forgo the bathroom and head to the library. Maybe I can grab something that will at least look as though I’ve put some effort into the assignment. Inhaling the comforting smell of books, I make fast work of perusing the shelves. Toward the top, I spot a clump of spines that look more like composition notebooks than book-books. Curious, I stretch up onto my tiptoes in an attempt to reach them.

Warm breath tickles the back of my neck. The minty smell is familiar. Luka reaches up and easily retrieves them, so close behind me goose bumps prickle my skin. “I guess things aren’t as easy to get in real life.”

He’s referencing the water bottle in the dojo, of course. I take his offering and give them a cursory assessment, feigning indifference to his all-too-close presence directly behind me.

“It was Gabe’s suggestion, you know.” The words feel like a peace offering.

“What was?”

“Watching you train. He wanted me to see what you’re capable of. I guess he figured that if I’m going to be in awe, it’s best if that happens when your life isn’t in danger.”

I turn around. “
Awe
?”

“I was a little afraid, to be honest. You’re like a …” His attention slowly moves from the tip of my feet to the crown of my head, making my skin flush with warmth. “A tiny, lethal ninja.”

“I can take Claire, that’s for sure.”

“Think you could take me?” He holds up his fists in a mock fighting stance. “Come on Karate Kid, put down the books and show me what you got.”

My left cheek pulls in with the makings of a smile. I set the notebooks on the tattered, yellow armchair. “I could take you. I’m a powerful Fighter, remember?”

Luka does an arm drag, so quick I don’t even see it coming. The motion is light and playful. It puts my back against his chest and his lips near my ear. I spin out of the hold, but this is real life, where I’m small and he’s strong and before I know it, he’s wrestled me to the ground and I’m pinned beneath him.

“You’re lucky we’re not dreaming,” I say, attempting to squirm free.

“You think you could take me in a dream?”

“You saw me fight Claire and Jose.”

“But I’m your Keeper, created to protect you, which means I must be stronger. Otherwise, who are we kidding? And besides, you haven’t seen
me
train.”

I stop my struggling. “Claire has.”

“Why
Miss Eckhart
, is that jealousy I detect in your voice?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You are.” He releases my wrists and gives my forehead a quick kiss. “It’s cute.”

Cute
? Cute is for little kids. Cute is for bunnies. Cute is not what I want to be to him. With the element of surprise on my side, I flip around and pin
him
beneath
me
.

He flashes me a dazzling smile, and whatever threat Claire posed this morning ebbs away. She might have gotten Luka’s first smile of the day, but I got the bigger one, and his lips have never looked more enticing. I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I am straddling him. I’m straddling Luka and he’s not exactly objecting. In fact, his hands move to my thighs, then slowly slide up to my hips.

Before I can process what’s happening, a frantic scream for help splits through the hub. I scramble to my feet. Luka and I exchange a look of alarm, then take off running toward the noise. We don’t stop until we’re standing in the doorway of the greenhouse. Anna is the one screaming, tears streaming down her face as Fray lays unconscious at her feet. Luka slides to his knees and presses his ear to Fray’s chest. “Tess, get Cap! Hurry!”

He folds his hands over Fray’s sternum and begins administering CPR. I stare in horror, because we’re too late. We have to be. Fray already looks dead.

*

Another image permanently seared into my memory—Luka resuscitating a lifeless, gray-skinned Fray on the greenhouse floor. For obvious reasons, Cap couldn’t call 9-1-1. But he did call Dr. Carlyle, who gave him specific instructions regarding Fray’s care until Dr. Carlyle himself arrived. Non helped Anna calm down so she could focus on casting a cloak, and Sticks shuffled me and the rest of my gaping classmates into the common room, where a somber mood has descended.

The rest of morning classes have been cancelled. Afternoon training, too. We all sit on the couches and chairs, scuffing our feet, looking down at the ground, unsure what to say. My attention alternates between the entryway, waiting for Luka to appear, and Gabe standing guard at the door to the hub, anxious for Dr. Carlyle’s knock to announce his arrival. What’s taking so long? Doesn’t he realize a man’s life is on the line?

Luka shows up first and we all come to the edge of the couch cushion.

“He’s alive.”

A loud exhalation fills the common room—a collective sigh of relief. I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath.

“Where did you learn CPR?” Claire asks.

“I was a lifeguard at the beach last summer.”

It sounds so normal. A thousand lifetimes ago.

“Good thing.” Jillian shudders, as though imagining what might have happened had Luka not known CPR. Surely one of the adults would have stepped in.

Luka nudges Rosie’s foot with his shoe. “You doing okay there, Rose Bud?”

She sits on the floor with her knees tucked to her chest, hugging her shins. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look every bit the little kid that she is. She looks up at Luka with those deep, obsidian eyes. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Hopefully Dr. Carlyle will be able to figure out what’s wrong.”

“What happens if he can’t?” Ashley asks.

“Ash,” Declan warns, his attention shifting to Rosie.

“It’s a legitimate question.” She looks around—wild-eyed. “Anna can’t keep the cloak up twenty-four seven. It was hard enough with two of them.”

Nobody has a response for this. We all just look at one another, as if waiting for someone else to offer a solution, or maybe at the very least, a bit of comfort. I find myself watching Luka, taking my cues from him. But his only movement is the muscle ticking in his jaw, as though he’s grinding something between his teeth.

A quick
knock-knock
, pause
, knock-knock
, pause,
knock-knock
fills the common room.

Gabe doesn’t wait for the person on the other side to knock again. He unlatches the bolts and the steel door groans open. The man we met at the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in downtown Detroit steps inside with a black medical bag and an air of distinct authority. Gabe doesn’t even have to point him in the right direction. Without a second glance at any of us—not even me or Luka, who you’d think would draw his attention—he heads down the hallway.

Luka peers after him, then turns to Gabe and asks if they can pick up where they left off on Sunday. There’s an urgency to his question, as though learning how to protect me will somehow cure Fray of whatever made him stop breathing.

“I have to stay here,” Gabe says, his baritone voice devoid of inflection. “But you and Claire can continue where we left off.”

Whether to irritate me, or to escape the heaviness in the room, she quickly and gladly stands from her seat to follow after Luka. As they disappear together, I push out a frustrated breath and grab the stack of composition notebooks I brought with me from the library. I tuck them beneath my arm and separate myself from the group like Ellen, only I’m not reading
Gone with the Wind
. What I’m reading doesn’t make any sense at all.

They are journal entries—recordings of dreams and real-life battles, lists of names, locations, even a few obscure hand-sketched maps of places I don’t recognize—with dates stretching all the way back to the 1300s. Which sort of refutes everything in them, seeing as composition notebooks didn’t exist during medieval times.

I flip to a page dated 1756 with
Fire Heart, Shawnee
transcribed above it. I know enough about American history to know that the Shawnees are a Native American tribe, and judging by the odd wording of the passage, which I think is a recording of a strange dream on the eve of battle, it was written by Fire Heart himself. I’m fairly certain, though, that if this were authentic, Fire Heart wouldn’t be writing in English. I’m squinting at the neat, black-inked penmanship, trying to make sense of it all, when Link and Jillian join me on my couch.

“What’s got your brow all furrowed?” Link asks, peeking over my shoulder.

“Some notebooks I found in the library.”

Jillian picks one of them up. “I’ve seen these on Non’s desk before.”

“Really?”

“I’m almost positive.”

Link untwists the cap off his water bottle. “We need to find another Cloak.”

He’s right. Even if Fray recovers completely, his collapse today made it abundantly clear that two Cloaks are not enough to keep us safely hidden. Without them hiding us, we are ducks sitting in the wide open. It’s only a matter of time before the other side finds us.

“Link and I are going to pore over the databases,” Jillian says. “See if we missed anything the first time around. We thought you’d want to join us.”

“Yeah, I do.” It’s better than sitting here trying to decipher meaning from journal entries that could very well be Non’s work of fiction. I collect the notebooks into a pile as Jillian starts walking toward the computer lab.

Link takes my hand and helps me up, then leans close to my ear. “Stop hiding from me, Xena. Training has to start tonight.”