Altruist (The Altruist Series Book 1) (18 page)

His words work their way into me and I feel warm. As I smile I realize that he is using his abilities to calm me, but this time, I don’t care, I welcome the shedding of guilt. All I can do now is hope that Eliath is right, and that everything I said, whether I meant it or not, will blow over.

Chapter 19

“I want to explain the charges to you today.” Eliath sits across from me at a large oak table. He places the box that I’ve kept close for months down in front of me and lays his hands flat on either side. He points to the silver and green ring on his right hand and then slides it off and offers it to me.

“This is mine,” he says. “A piece of precious metal that was blessed to me by our Creator. Charges act as amplifiers to our abilities. Without it, as an Opticai I’m able to feel other Tylins around me, whether they’re safe, whether they’re not. With the charge, that picture in my head of who they are and how they feel becomes clearer, so clear that in most situations, I’m able to pinpoint their location. It’s become quite handy in regard to you. The same with Shoshanna’s necklace.” He places her charge on the table next to his. “Without it, Asher may not be on his way to recovery. Abel is a bit different because he isn’t like Shoshanna or me. He’s not just a guardian of humanity, he is the guardian of the Altruist. He is your guardian and you are his charge.”

He is mine and I am his.

“He is able to take on your abilities but only when he is near you, so that he can protect you. Now, your charge is sealed within this box and it has been for some time.” He takes my hands in his and places them flat against the top of the box. Then he picks up Shoshanna’s necklace and places the triangular charm into the inset of the matching symbol that locks the box. “These charges are to be kept sacred. They are divine tools meant to aid us in our fight against the Nasai. This one is stronger than the rest because you’re able to handle more than the rest, but…” A low hum begins to emit from the box as its inner cogs begin to turn. “My presence, as well as Shoshanna’s charge, is required for it to be released—a failsafe in case you are captured along with it.”

The box warms beneath my fingers and I feel bursts of energy buzz within me, it burns and twists through my veins. Eliath lets go of my hands and I lift the lid, exposing the secret within. There, set neatly within a thin round indentation lays a metal bracelet, half an inch in width and a eighth of an inch thick. The shiny metal is adorned with thin interlocking lines and the triangular symbol marks its presence as the clasp. Eliath releases it from its chamber and presses his thumbs against the symbol. “This symbol is the Ark, a reminder of the covenant our Creator made with us, to bless us with these amazing abilities and strength so that we will in turn always protect those he cherishes.”

He takes my wrist in his hand and my heart beats rapidly as the charge encircles my skin and clicks into place. For the first time in my life, I am whole.

“Don’t be discouraged if you need to take it slow at first,” Eliath says, as pure power pours into my soul. “It can be overwhelming and may take some getting used to. Feel free to take it off when you need to. Don’t push yourself so hard that you burn out.”

I take turns extending my fingers to their outer reach and then recoiling them into a fist, allowing the charge to take control.

A knock taps against the door behind Eliath, undoubtedly Shoshanna fetching me. I stare at the door, intently focused on the knob’s mechanism and slowly reach my arm out towards it, palm up. My heart slows and all I can hear is its calm and constant beat. I pull my fingers upward away from my palm and the door begins to unlatch and creak to attention, stopping as my fingertips reach a halt facing the ceiling above. Shoshanna stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, staring at my gesture and though she doesn’t say a word, her smile indicates that her disappointment in my progress is gone.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with Shoshanna pushing me to my limits, both mind and body as she throws object after object in my direction testing my reflexes. After I successfully smash a vase against a concrete wall using only my mind, I lower my hand. “Where is Dante?” I ask sternly.

Shoshanna stops her throwing motion and brings the glass she’s holding down to her side. She briefly looks at the ground before shifting her gaze to me. Her face drops slightly before resetting and pausing again,
I may actually get a genuine answer here.
  “I’m not sure,” she says. I believe her, I do, and not because I want to, but because I know she can tell I’m nearing my breaking point and need answers.

“But he’s out there, right? Just going on like business as usual?”

Shoshanna looks at the heap of broken glass at the foot of the wall. “Yeah, he’s out there. What he’s doing, I have no way of knowing.”

I clench my jaw at the thought of him having no repercussion. “Nothing’s going to happen to him? For what he did to Asher?” I ask.

“It’s complicated, Catherine,” she replies, solemnly. “If we made future decisions based on revenge, we’d be just like the Brotherhood.”

I stare at the glass in her hand and will it to the ground so that it shatters at her feet. “That’s not good enough.” I spit the words out with resentment, and I’m glad to feel them leave my body—they’re filled with bitter hate.

She stares at me blankly, puzzled by my lack of emotional control. Her phone chimes and she pulls it from her pocket and glances at the screen. “Judah is heading into the city centre for a supply run and I thought you could use a change of scenery. He’s outside waiting for you if you’re up for it,” she says.

I release my clutched jaw, knowing my anger towards her is misdirected and nod, “Yeah, sure.” Judah wouldn’t be my first choice for an outing but I’m desperate to get off of the campus. I start to walk towards the door but Shoshanna’s hand on my shoulder halts my movement. “It’ll get easier, all of this.” Her words, though normally comforting, fall short and I sigh, leaving the room.

Chapter 20

Judah leans up against an old beat up green truck staring at his tablet, and from the back of the glass screen, I can see him arranging what seems to be a list. He looks up when he hears me walking down the front steps. “Ready?” he asks. He seems like the type of guy whose guard is nearly impossible to break through, the type that needs to be in control at all times, the type that creates anal-retentive lists every time he leaves The Manor. I’m not sure that I possess the patience required to deal with him today.

“Yep.” I smile and pause at the truck door, holding out my arm and waiting for the scanner to permit my entrance into the vehicle.

“The scanner is purely for aesthetics, it doesn’t work. You just press in the silver button underneath the knob and pull.” A slight laugh escapes him and I glare, not knowing whether or not I should take his instructions as condescending.

“I’ve never seen a car without a tracker. How do you get away with it?” I ask.

“Most of us don’t make a presence in the city. We don’t hold careers and our chips have just enough information on them to avoid questions. It’s best that our whereabouts stay off of public record, especially yours.” His reply, though thorough, doesn’t actually answer my question of how he gets away without having a tracker, but I decide it’s best to not prod further, mostly because I’m not entirely interested in an answer.

The truck glides over the asphalt with ease as we enter into the city; its guts must be much newer than the body. 

“So, we need to make a stop at the market for some food and some samarium if we can find any,” he says.

“Oh, on the black market?” I ask and he nods. My body tenses slightly and I wish I would have stayed back at the manor.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

I swallow hard and force my body to regain its natural disposition. “Yep!” I smile, a little too eager and I know, without a doubt that he picks up on my unease. “I get the food, but what do we need samarium for?” I ask.

“All of the electronics we use, we build, and in order for the motors to work we need samarium,” he says which appeases my curiosity but I still don’t totally understand.

The Class 1 ward is alive with pedestrians shuffling from one place to the next, older men sit on a bench conversing about whatever it is older men converse about, a few kids play some makeshift baseball game in the street and I realize that I’ve never been in the lower sectors in the evening, when people are going about their lives. The truck creeps into an alley and Judah turns off the engine. “We’ll park here and walk the rest of the way.”

I follow his lead and walk out onto the broken cobblestone streets. The ward is loud and after being in the countryside it takes a moment for my ears to adjust to the noise. Judah walks a sure footed route like he’s done this a hundred times until we come to a store front, blue paint peeling from its wooden walls. The front is littered with shards of glass from broken windowpanes and a swinging sign above reads “Apothecary,” though I doubt any sales have taken place inside in some time. Judah checks over his shoulders then opens the door. The boards creak beneath our feet and as I expected, the space within is completely deserted. 

“Hmm.” My mixture of confusion and intrigue becomes audible and escapes me.

“You okay?” he asks.

I look around, searching the empty store. “I don’t know. I guess I expected there to be more activity?”

“The main route is a click to the north, in a Class 2 ward actually. I found this route a few years ago, quieter, safer.” I follow him behind a dusty counter and he opens a bottom cabinet. Inside, a makeshift trapdoor hides and he pulls the latch and lifts the door from its resting place. “Sorry, it’s sort of filthy and not well made but I couldn’t walk in here with a tool bag and begin construction, you know?” His need for my approval is unexpected and I smile and nod. “It’s fine.”

He found this route years ago, years. Years of his life have been spent finding routes to a black market, have been spent stuck at The Manor, because of me. I don’t know how he can stand to be around me. I follow him down a ladder and into the water tunnels.

“It’s about half a click south from here.”
Click
, his jargon sheds some light on the militant nature of the Tylins. He is a soldier, and I’m not sure I want to be one. “We can get pretty much anything you need while we’re here, if, I don’t know, you need anything.” His cautious nature makes it increasingly difficult to feel comfortable. “I know I get sick of drinking water, maybe some coke or something?” His attempt at small talk is incredibly awkward and I wish we could fast forward to the part where we know each other and are friends.

“I don’t drink coke,” I say. He pauses for a moment and I stop behind him, then without saying anything he begins walking again. Chatter in the distance pierces the sound of streaming water and I try looking around Judah but his frame is too large in the small tunnel and I have to settle for listening intently. Finally, the tunnel opens up to a large concrete room, easily the size of four Academy campuses, filled with vendors selling every odd and end imaginable: food, alcohol, tools, weapons, musical instruments, medical supplies, everything.

“I spoke ahead of time with Gillian, the woman who runs that food mart over there. We can pick up the order on the way out. She’s a nice lady.” Judah’s eyes scan the marketplace. “There he is,” he says and nods to a boy standing behind a cart reading a comic book. “Okay, now don’t say anything. Even if he tries to talk to you, do not say a word.”

“Seriously? That kid can’t be older than 10,” I say.

“His name’s Fitz and he’s craftier than you think. Runs the stand for his dad, who’s a nice guy but not someone I’d like to have any more information on us than need be.”

Judah places his hands on the stand and the boy looks up from the comic. His shaggy strawberry blonde hair hasn’t been cut in too long and it covers his eyes, prompting him to continually push it away from his face. “How’d you manage to get your hands on that?” Judah motions to the comic. The boy looks up unimpressed.