Ambrosia Shore (23 page)

The unease continued with me throughout the day, especially when Heather brought up the subject of UCLA again at lunch. My plans for the future were so uncertain. I didn’t feel like I could make any plans, and the last thing I wanted to do was hold back Heather from making hers. I almost wanted to tell her to move on with things without me, to find a new roommate for college before it was too late. But a part of me was scared; I didn’t want to let go of the possibility. Maybe it could work out to go to college with Heather. Maybe there was still a chance that Rayne could come with me, and my mom would be just a short drive away.

I didn’t say anything to Heather about my doubts, hoping there was still time to figure something out.

After school, I went ahead and picked up a shift at the frozen yogurt shop with Nicole. My security had been lightened ever since my father went to Banya, so I figured I might as well try to earn some money. My prom dress had taken a nice little chunk from my bank account.

Nothing overly interesting happened at work. They actually sent me home a couple of hours early because business was slow. I didn’t mind. That meant I could get home in time to write Rayne in the diary before his guards turned out the lights for the night.

When I arrived home that evening, I noticed something sitting on the ground in front of our door. I moved up closer to my house and realized it was some kind of gift, a small stuffed animal shaped like a turtle, with a string tied around the neck where a balloon was attached.

I was just about to open the card with my name on it when Agent Duke stopped me with his hand. “Wait,” he said, “let me inspect it first.”

I tried to hold back a laugh. “Sure, go ahead,” I said. I had a feeling that if anyone wanted to hurt me, especially Voss, a fuzzy little toy would not be his weapon of choice.

Once Agent Duke was done with his examination, finding nothing suspicious, I opened the card and read the short note.

I realize this invite was a little SLOW, but there’s an important question I would like to know. I would pay any fee, or climb up a tree, if it meant that you’d go to prom with me…

From, Darrin

I laughed to myself. It was a cute card, and a very sweet gift. It may not have come from Rayne, but at least it was from a friend that I knew I would have a fun night with. Even though I wished things were different, I realized I had to make the most of these last moments of high school while I had the chance. I called up Darrin immediately and accepted his invitation.

I found it ironic that the first person I told about my date with Darrin was my boyfriend. And even more ironic that he was completely supportive of me going out with another guy. Rayne tried to joke about it through the diary, saying it was just a one-time free pass for the sake of senior prom, but I wondered if his jest was merely a cover for his frustration.

If Rayne missed me even half as much as I missed him, then he would have to be completely miserable. At least I had a busy schedule to keep me occupied. All Rayne had was an angry mob of protesters outside his door, demanding he rot in prison for the rest of his life, right along with his best-friend-turned-worst-enemy sitting in the cell next to him.

I immediately felt guilty for being so insensitive. I wrote back and said:

I’m sorry I keep going on about my plans when I know you’re stuck in some metal box. I must be the worst girlfriend ever. I feel like I’m rubbing salt in your wound.

Rayne quickly replied:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HEARING YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR PLANS IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME FROM LOSING MY MIND RIGHT NOW. PLEASE, RUB IT IN ALL YOU WANT. I NEED THE DISTRACTION.

I wrote back:

Okay, if that’s what you want, I’ll do my best. But if you get sick of hearing about my lame high school stuff, then you have to promise that you’ll tell me.

He wrote:

DEAL. I PROMISE.

We only had a few minutes left before the guards would return. After a couple days of writing back and forth, I was starting to get a better idea of their schedule. I hated having to say goodbye, but we didn’t have a choice. I wrote:

I still miss you. Every second.

I smiled sadly as he wrote:

ME TOO. EVEN WHEN I’M ASLEEP, I’LL MISS YOU IN MY DREAMS.

I read his last words again, letting them linger. Then, when I knew Rayne was gone for the night, I sighed and closed the diary. I lifted the photo of him that was sitting on the night stand and gazed down at his face. My finger traced the edge of his cheek, imagining the warmth below the glossy paper, the vivid green sea of his eyes, the touch of his lips.

I fell back hard against the bed on my back, overcome by longing and frustration. I wanted Rayne here already. What was taking my father so long? I wanted to believe that my father was doing all he could to help Rayne, but it had been more than two days since he left to go back, and Rayne still hadn’t heard a word from him, or from anyone for that matter. It was so frustrating, having no control over the situation. We didn’t know what was going to happen to Rayne; we didn’t know what would happen to me. Our futures felt like flecks of dust being tossed through the air on a wind-ridden day, at the mercy of the elements, at the whims of chance.

There was nothing I could do right this second to change things, so I rolled off the bed, replaced the photo onto my night stand, and moved across the room to hide my diary back in the closet for the night. As I secured it between a small pile of clothes, my eyes glanced over at one of the shoeboxes on the shelf. Two nights earlier, I had taken out all of the old notes from friends and birthday cards I had saved in the box and placed Jane Carpenter’s journal in the bottom, repositioning the papers on top of the book to conceal it.

Now, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Agent Duke was still standing dutifully outside my room, and then I closed myself inside the closet and lifted the shoebox lid. Jane’s journal was still there under the mound of notes, safe and sound. When I touched the faded brown binding, a strange sensation, like a faint vibration of energy, floated around the tips of my fingers, drawing me to it. I pulled my hand away abruptly and closed the lid, not even sure if I really felt something or if it was just in my head.

At first I thought the journal would be an interesting bit of history about my ancestors and Ambrosia—something that definitely intrigued me—but the way Jax talked about the book in the janitor closet the other day, about the crazy people in Ambrosia that would do anything to get their hands on it, made me nervous.

For now, I shoved the box back on the shelf, and moved on to a normal night of homework, texting, and watching TV.

***

Hours later, I woke in my bed. My thoughts were slow from lingering sleep. A milky glow circled around me, like a cocoon of hazy white light. I slipped away from the blanket to follow the light, drawn forward by the intriguing glow. My feet crept slowly across the room, hesitant, yet pulling, beckoning.

At the center of the room, my half-conscious mind understood the light. It was not the source of the call. The light came from within me, from my Watermark. My own body was emitting the glow.

The summoning which called me from sleep pulled stronger, brighter, and I let it take me again. There was serenity in letting it guide me, a rightness that couldn’t be denied, that I didn’t want to deny. It led me, took away the distress and the fear, until my hands reached the purpose of the call. My fingers lifted carefully, reached down inside, and centered around the answers.

The brown leather binding of Jane’s journal tingled across my skin. A flutter of air whooshed around my body, tossing the edges of my hair up around my face. The book moved, flew open, as the pages flipped over in a tidal wave of paper right before my eyes.

Ash’s feet stumbled across the concrete as the interrogation agent shoved him back into his cell. The agent held a malignant stare as he closed the door made of metal bars. Ash recovered his footing, wiped the remnant of blood from his face, and turned back to send a defiant smirk through the bars.

“This isn’t over,” the interrogator said. “I’ll be back.”

Ash returned a malicious grin. “Oh, I’m looking forward to it.” Then, Ash stared at the agent unflinchingly until the agent huffed away to the door.

Ash dropped his back to the mattress of the cot, almost missing the sting of the interrogator’s fist. The pain was a part of him now, a reminder of who he had become, and who he could never be. The Council wanted information about his father, but Ash couldn’t think of a reason to give it to them. Not that Ash even cared anymore. Nothing he did for his father was ever enough. But he still wouldn’t tell them anything. Why should the Council get what they wanted, while the rest of them suffered at their expense?

“Let me guess,” Rayne grumbled from the cell next to him. “You didn’t tell them
anything
.”

Ash squinted, tired and exasperated, twisting his head in Rayne’s direction. “Why don’t you leave me alone and get back to scribbling love-letters to your girlfriend?” When Rayne’s glare petrified with fear, Ash sat up and rolled his eyes. “What? You really thought I wouldn’t figure it out? I
am
stuck five feet away from you.”

Rayne tensed. “Did you tell them that I have it?”

“No, I didn’t tell them about your precious book,” Ash said coldly.

Rayne’s anger stirred. “Well, then you might be interested to know some of the recent things I’ve been reading in it…like how your father just tried to kill Sadie…again.”

Ash shrugged and rolled back onto his mattress. “You mean he failed? That doesn’t sound like my father at all.”

“Get up,” Rayne demanded. “Get up and face me like a man.”

“Why should I bother?”

“Because your father didn’t fail.”

Strangling hands of conscience squeezed up Ash’s throat, freezing him on his back. “What do you mean?”

He could hear the rage in Rayne’s whispering voice, volume fighting to break through. “Apparently,” Rayne said, “your father took Sadie for a little ride, dragging her from a cable attached to a helicopter. Then, he took a few pleasurable minutes to throw her around a rooftop, knock her around a bit, before he—” Rayne cringed, his voice straining. “…before he shot her in the
head
.”

Ash’s mouth went dry. He could barely force himself to ask, “She didn’t…make it, then?” He almost wanted to sit up, show that he cared, but he couldn’t make his muscles move.

“She’s fine,” Rayne muttered. “Lucky for you, she found a Water Briolette before she went back there; a large one.”

Breath filled Ash’s chest with concealed relief. He sat up abruptly and moved across the cell. “I think you mean lucky for
you
.”

“No,” Rayne shot back. “Lucky for you; because if she had died…”

Ash pounced forward, clutching the bars in front of Rayne’s face, clenching his teeth. “Say it, Rayne. Just. Say. It.”

Rayne’s eyes blazed a fiery green, his voice drew piercingly quiet. “You would have one more person’s
blood
on your hands.”

The jab cut deep. Ash slid down the iron bars to his knees. His mother’s face consumed his mind, her violet eyes streaming with tears amid a prison of flames. Self-hatred slashed through him, blistering to the surface, scorching through his blood. He welcomed it, reveled in it. The pain. The punishment he deserved. Rayne knew it was the one thing that would break him, the one weakness that could tear him to the ground.

Rayne’s hand appeared through the bar. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just needed to lash out.”

“No,” Ash said, jaw trembling. “You’re right.”

Rayne waved his hand again. “Come on, buddy, just get up.”

“No,” Ash cried again. “I deserve to huddle on the floor.” Ash’s fists clung to the bars. Everything he hated about himself burned through his insides like acid, until it bled through his skin. His voice finally choked out, “I never had a chance to say goodbye. My mother…I never told her I was sorry. I just yelled at her, watched her face melt into flames.”

Rayne sagged down to the ground and leaned his side against the bars beside him. “Your mother knew you loved her, Ash. We all get into arguments, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

Ash growled and hit his hand across the metal bars. “Don’t you get it? My mother’s death was my fault, Rayne.
Mine
. How am I supposed to live with that? I can’t live with that.”

“Then don’t,” Rayne said. “Let it go.”

“I can’t. I don’t care enough to try anymore.”

Rayne knocked his finger against the bar to get Ash’s attention. “If you didn’t care, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

Ash spoke through strained teeth. “Do you know how hard I tried to prove to everyone that I wasn’t a worthless waste of space? I tried for so long. I cared for so long. But caring just leads to heartache. It’s better to let things go numb.”

“Go numb?” Rayne replied. “That’s what your father did and look where it got him. He lost everything. But you don’t have to end up like him.”

“He’s probably better off,” Ash said with steely eyes.

Rayne sighed. “I hate this. I want to help you, but I don’t know how. You won’t listen to anything I say.”

“Stop trying to save me, Rayne. I am not worth saving.”

“You may have given up, but I haven’t.”

Ash couldn’t help the scoff. “You should save the effort. No matter how hard you try to fix me, I will never be like you. I will never be that wholesome, boy-next-door hero who sweeps in to save the day. I don’t save people, Rayne. I ruin them. I drag everyone I care about down into a black hole of misery, like a massive vacuum that sucks the life away until there’s nothing left.”

Instead of responding to the pessimism, Rayne said, “You know, I bet it wouldn’t be as hard as you think. You could make a lot of things right again. All you have to do is just take the first step.”

“Oh really?” Ash said dryly. “And what might that be?”

Rayne’s tone was calm, but he didn’t hesitate. “Tell them how to find your father, before he can hurt anyone else.”

Ash jumped from the concrete to his feet. “Forget it. I’m done talking.”

Rayne scrambled up from the ground, calling out to Ash’s back. “I know there’s a part of you that still believes it can get better. Even if you can’t see it, I know it’s there. I know you, Ash. You’re not like your father. As much as you think you want to be, I know that you’re not. You have something in you that he never had. You have hope…you have compassion.”

The last word stabbed through Ash’s memory, all the times his father had scolded him for possessing such a weakness.

Ash turned in a rage. “
Compassion
? Compassion is the very source of my—”

Before he could finish, the heavy door across the room swung open. They both went silent. Instead of the typical guard, an agent in a black suit entered the room, followed by the long-awaited arrival of Hamlin Fairbanks, the Ambassador himself.

One of the usual prison guards filed in behind the back of the line and crossed over to the lock on Rayne’s cell door. “The Ambassador has requested a private meeting,” he said to Rayne.

Ash watched with irritation as Rayne concealed the arrogant smile Ash knew he was secretly wearing. Ash laughed humorlessly to himself. Of course. Of course this moment would eventually come. It was just the way things would always be
. I get punched in the face by an interrogator
, Ash thought to himself,
while Rayne gets a nice, private meeting with Hamlin Fairbanks.