Gateway (The Gateway Trilogy, Book 1) (13 page)

I slunk into the shower, only disrobing once I'd shut the frosted door behind me. I came off as a complete prude to the other girls about to shower, but it was the only way.

The iciness of the water was shocking and I pressed myself against the tile to avoid the spray. It warmed quickly, and as I worked the shampoo through my hair my thoughts drifted to Taren. Why hadn't he kissed me? I hadn't realized how much I'd wanted him to until he'd almost done it. Now it was all I could think about.

It wasn't like I'd never been kissed before—done more, in fact—it was just that Taren seemed different. My first boyfriend, Corey, had been when I was fourteen. We would hang out for hours drinking espresso after espresso and talk about music and art. He played guitar, and once during an open mic night he sang right to me.

And then one night my mom came home in the middle of an episode. She accused Corey of trying to poison her when he offered to get her a soda. She railed at him for ten minutes until I shoved him out the door, his eyes as big as saucers. The next day at school there was a note in my locker saying things had gotten too serious with us and he thought we should break up. I tried to talk to him, to tell him that we didn't have to hang out at my place ever again, but he just shook his head and told me it wasn't about my mother, he just needed some space. Three weeks later he'd had enough space and was dating someone else.

And then there was Matt, blue-eyed and on the football team. Our relationship consisted of us making out at parties when he was drunk. That was back when I still went to parties. He was always so sweet when it was just the two of us, but at school he ignored me completely. Once I had asked if he was ever going to hang out with me when he was sober and he just looked at me, confounded, and said, “Why?”

I finished my shower and opened the door just enough to stick my arm out and fish around for my towel. I pulled it inside with me and dried off before tugging on my robe and exiting the stall.

Which is how I now found myself stretched out on my new bed counting ceiling tiles and contemplating Taren, demons, Daemons, and Gateways. And the Voice. What was I to make of the Voice? It had encouraged me to kill myself. But it had also told me to trust Taren. Why would a demon want me to trust the one person who could introduce me to a group of people fighting demons?  People who had built an Institute on the one place I could go and be free from the Voice. I wondered at that. Did I want to be free from it? I wasn't convinced it was demonic. If I heard it here, while on consecrated ground, wouldn't that prove it wasn't? That maybe it was my friend? I mentally reached out, willing the Voice to come to me.

Please, prove to me you're not evil.

But there was nothing.

I woke up grainy-eyed and disoriented. At some point during the night I had crawled under the covers. The robe was bunched up around my waist, evidence of my tossing and turning. And yet, as I rolled over to quiet the alarm clock, I was aware that I actually felt rested in a way I had forgotten was possible. The vague sense of foreboding that usually greeted me upon waking was absent as well. I was nervous, yes, for my first day of classes, for needing to keep track of who knew what about me, and a host of other reasons, but there was an odd sense of calm. I wondered if the consecrated ground was responsible.

My room was dark, the sun not yet having risen. So this is what five a.m. looked like. I had balked when I'd seen the daily schedule posted on the back of my door: morning meditation at 5:15, breakfast at six, class at seven.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then ran a brush through my hair. I studied myself in the mirror. How often had I done that, wondering who I was. Now I was wondering what I was.

I exited my room and padded down the hall, a handful of sleepy-eyed girls doing the same. I was glad I wasn't the only one who thought it much too early for conversation. A couple of them smiled, but continued walking in silence. Once downstairs, the group was a mix of boys and girls, some more awake than others. A handful of hushed conversations filled the air.

I wasn't sure where the meditation hall was, but everyone seemed to be going in the same direction, so I allowed myself to be swept along by the growing tide of people.
We exited the dormitory and walked a short distance to a large yurt. Once inside I saw Callie seated cross-legged next to Bridget and Crystle. The meditation cushions were placed in several rows forming a semi-circle. Sitting completely still at the head of the room was Master Dogan, his gaze unfocused and soft. I chose an empty seat not far from where Tom was sitting. So the Guardians in training meditated? Interesting. I supposed that meant Taren did, too. I stopped myself from looking for him. This hall was filled with students; he was probably fast asleep in his house in the hills.

Instead, I looked around at the decor, taking in the iconography from multiple religions. A statute of the Virgin Mary had been placed beside Kwan Yin; a Weeping Buddha shared altar space with an alabaster Jesus. In my struggle to make peace with my life, I had studied the religions of the world, never finding the answers I sought.

“All right everyone,” Master Dogan said a moment later. “Close your eyes and become aware of your breath.”

I did as he instructed. Even with my eyes closed I could sense the room grow still. The only sound was that of others inhaling and exhaling. My nose itched. I tried to ignore it but it only got worse. I lifted the lid of one eye. Master Dogan's eyes were closed along with the rest of the room. I quickly scratched my nose and went back to stillness. But my leg was falling asleep. The tingling became unbearable. I wiggled my toes. When that didn't help I flexed my ankle, just slightly, hoping no one would notice. It was no use, my leg was on fire; I had to move it. If I just crossed my legs the other way… I did it as discreetly as possible. The relief was overwhelming as blood flowed back into my left calf and foot. OK, now I could concentrate. My breath, just focus on my breath. Was I supposed to be slowing it down? What was the purpose of meditating anyway? Maybe it helped with the link that Taren said the Keepers formed. But why did Guardians need to do it? You can't fight when you're sitting still.

Why was I so bad at this? I opened my eyes, exasperated. Master Dogan was looking right at me. I lowered my eyes in shame. Some Daemon I was. Shouldn't that have made me better at this than the others instead of clueless?

With my head lowered and my hair falling in front of my eyes, it would have been impossible for him to see that my eyes were still open. I stared at a spot on the carpet where a tuft had been pulled loose, leaving a tiny hole. I became completely absorbed in it, noting its irregular shape, the colors of the loose threads.

A chime sounded and there was movement among the other students. I looked up and saw that the clock read 5:50. I'd zoned out for forty minutes. I was a horrible meditater and had cheated my way through my first session. I'd put that in the column of me not being a Daemon. I stood and stretched the stiffness out of my legs. I felt eyes upon me and noticed that Master Dogan was studying me intently.

I made my way to the dining hall, where once again Callie was already in line. She motioned me over.

“Morning, did you sleep well?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, surprisingly so. You?”

“Great. Better than I have in months. Oh, this is Madison, by the way. My third roommate.” Callie gestured to a girl with curly hair the color of caramel wearing stylish eyeglasses.

We said hello and I greeted Bridget and Crystle who were also in line.

“So, how did you do during meditation?” I asked Callie as we filled our plates. “I couldn't seem to stop fidgeting.”

“That's normal,” Madison answered instead. “It takes practice.”

That was comforting, I supposed. I just had the feeling that my progress was going to be measured using a different scale than the other Keepers in training.

We got to the beverage line and I was overjoyed to see coffee. I pulled the lever and watched as my cup filled with steaming black goodness. I stirred in two sugar packets and took a sip. Not the best cup I'd ever had, but certainly not the worst.

We took our seats and I warmed my hands on my coffee mug, content to inhale its aroma before I started on breakfast.

“So, what's going on with you and Taren?” Crystle asked with a smirk.

“Ooh, do tell,” Madison chimed in. “I heard you two went for a little stroll last night.”

I blushed. “Well, yeah, but he was just checking in on me, making sure I got settled.”

“He didn't check in on me,” Callie said with a frown.

“Sounds like someone has an admirer,” Crystle said. “So what did you two love birds talk about?”

“Nothing,” I said, a bit too quick, “just… stuff. You know, he told me to study hard, make friends. He said to tell you the same, Callie.” It was the least of the lies I was perpetrating and it seemed for the best.

“And did this nothing lead to kissing?” Crystle asked.

“No, no kissing,” I said. “But if we had… would that have been alright? He's not dating anyone? Like Kat?”

The three girls erupted in laughter and Callie and I exchanged a bewildered look.

“What's so funny?” I asked.

“Ember,” Bridget said, “Kat is gay.”

Heat colored my cheeks, both at my embarrassment for not having known and my relief that Taren wasn't dating the flame-haired goddess. So why hadn't he kissed me?

“Don't take it personally if he hasn't made a move,” Bridget said. “He's always been a bit of a loner, but lately you almost never see him with anyone, except maybe Kat and a few others from his Guard set.”

“Why is that?” I asked

“It started when his parents left,” Crystle answered. “His mom got called to help at another Gateway and his father went with her.”

“They're both Keepers?” I should have asked these girls about Taren last night. They were a wealth of information.

Crystle shook her head. “Just his mom. His dad is a Guardian. But it's not unusual for a Guardian married to a Keeper to request the same post.”

“So he just misses his parents?” It seemed an odd reason for Kat to be worried about him, or for him to need long walks in the woods.

Before they could answer, a girl no more than twelve approached our table. Her corn silk hair was pulled back in a French braid.

“Pardon me, are you Ember Lyons?”

“Yeah, I said, “can I help you?”

“Master Dogan wishes to speak with you,” the girl replied. “Instead of going to first period you are to follow me to his office.”

I looked around the table but was greeted with shrugs.

“Um, OK, sure.” I looked down at my untouched breakfast. “I can be ready now.” I grabbed my bagel and tore off a bite.

“Excellent, this way.”

The girl spoke with an authority beyond her years. I wondered what she was in training for.

“I'm Sarah, by the way,” she said as she led me through the dining hall and outside to one of the many paths that crisscrossed the property.

We exchanged pleasantries but I was too busy wondering what Master Dogan wanted to put much effort into it. Was he going to get on my case for not meditating? I tried to imagine him scolding me and it was completely incongruous with the man he seemed to be. Maybe he and Annys had realized how unprepared I was for all of the questions I'd be getting. I made a mental note to ask him what the appropriate response was to how I had remained sane for so long; though it was a definite improvement over the usual question of how I'd become so jaded so young.

***

Sarah led me back to the meditation yurt. It was empty and eerily silent as we made our way through the center of the room to a door in the back. Sarah gave a gentle knock.

“You may enter,” came Master Dogan's reply.

Upon opening the door I was greeted by the scent of sandalwood. Master Dogan's office seemed more of a Zen meditation space. Candles rested in ornate holders throughout the room, some of them lit even with the sun having risen. Cream-colored shades filtered the harshness of the sunlight, giving the place a feeling of warmth. A small fountain bubbled gently with water that flowed over black river rocks. In the center of the room was a large, low wooden table with eight sides. Cushions surrounded the table, and it seemed Master Dogan used it as a desk, for he sat at on cushion, a stack of papers in front of him, pen in hand. He smiled kindly at me.

“Good morning, Ember. I hope you slept well. Please, come in and sit down.” He gestured to a cushion across from him. “Thank you, Sarah, that will be all.”

Sarah made a slight bow and left the room, closing the door behind her.

I sat down cross-legged on the cushion he'd indicated.

“Would you care for some tea?” he asked, already pouring.

When I declined he sipped from the steaming cup. “Did you enjoy this morning's meditation?”

I knew it. Busted.

“I don't think I'm very good at it,” I said. “Sorry.”

“On the contrary, Ember, you did very well.”

Was he making fun of me? “But I couldn't even sit still until…”