The Gathering (6 page)

“It would appear so.”

“Do you think he got to anyone else?”

“I don’t know.” Cap sets his hands over the wheels of his chair and pushes himself forward. “But I have the immense pleasure of finding out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What I should have done after Claire tripped you.” He rolls down the hallway. “Interrogate every member of my team.”

*

Clive sits in a chair inside the small room, his wrists and ankles bound by rope. He doesn’t fight against his restraints. He doesn’t even lift his head to see who walks inside the makeshift jail cell. The sight of him obliterates the numbness I felt while staring at Gabe.

I picture Clive, the way he was the first time Link and I jumped into his medicated dream—standing at attention, alert and ready. A soldier prepared for battle. Turns out, he was preparing to battle for them. I led us on a mission to rescue the enemy. And because of that, Luka was tortured, I brought a betrayer into our midst, and Gabe is dead.

Contempt digs into my shoulders. “We risked everything for you, and you stabbed us in the back.”

I wait for a response. Something—
anything
. But he doesn’t react at all, and the longer the silence stretches, the deeper the contempt digs. I want to tear him apart. I want to make him bleed with regret over what he’s done. I want Gabe’s death to be his fault, not mine. “If not for us, you’d be locked up in Shady Wood. Or maybe you’d be dead like my grandmother.”

He lifts his chin. His expression isn’t indifferent, or resentful, or calculating. It’s filled with desperation, an emotion I mistook for eagerness. After all the enemy had stolen from him, I assumed he was ready to fight back. “You know what it’s like,” he says.

I narrow my eyes. “What
what’s
like?”

“Being separated from someone you love.”

The sparse details of his file wiggle into place. I studied it enough to have it memorized. Divorced with two kids and no visitation rights. “You mean your sons?”

“My children. My
wife
. She put a restraining order on me. All because of my
gifting
.” He spits the word like it’s something foul. “It’s not a gift. It’s a curse. It took everything from me.”

“And handing us over would get it all back?”

“We made a deal, and he made me a promise.”

“
Who
—the man with the scars? He doesn’t make promises. He spins lies. He’s incapable of telling the truth.” I shake my head, disgust blistering beneath my skin. “You’re not a soldier. You’re a coward. You’re a traitor.”

“You would do the same thing.”

The accusation burns. “I would never do what you did.”

Clive lifts his chin higher and looks me directly in the eye. “You can make me into a villain if it makes you feel better. Go right ahead. Think what you want to think. But at the end of the day, I know who I am.”

“And who’s that?”

“A husband and a father, willing to do whatever it takes to get my family back.”

“That’s the difference. I wouldn’t do whatever it takes.”

He raises his eyebrows, as if calling my bluff.

I hate how one simple gesture can infuse me with such doubt. I convinced Cap to let us stay here, in a compromised location, even though I didn’t believe a word Claire spoke in her dream. I had no problem putting everyone in jeopardy to rescue Luka. My conscience never tinged. There wasn’t even a prick.

Weapon of Choice

J
illian moves her bishop three diagonal spaces left.

I study the board haphazardly, my mind spinning in too many directions. Luka alive. Gabe and my grandmother dead. Clive’s betrayal. His accusation. Claire out there, knowing our names and location. Scarface torturing Luka to get to me.
Transurgence
.

Off in the corner, Declan and Jose play foosball. Bass and Rosie kick a Hacky Sack. Ashley and Danielle sit together on one of the couches, whispering behind their hands, and Ellen reads
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
in her favorite armchair.

By all accounts, it looks like a normal evening. Everyone hanging out after dinner, happy that classes and training are done for the day. Someone would have to look closer to notice the current of tension pulsating through the room. It manifests itself in the tense set of Declan and Jose’s shoulders, Rosie’s restlessness, the way Ellen keeps peeking over the pages of her book toward the spot by the door where Gabe usually stands.

On the television, a news anchor drones on about a new immigration law and its implications for the country. Jillian watches with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. I move a pawn forward. She pushes her knuckles against the floor and sits up on her knees. “Don’t you think it’s odd?”

“What?”

“This.” She motions to the TV. “One second Cormack’s talking about cleaning up the streets and the next she’s talking about taking more people in. She’s speaking out of both sides of her mouth, but nobody ever calls her on it. I mean, she’s the president. If there’s one thing our country’s any good at, it’s nitpicking our leader.”

I try to drum up some interest in the conversation, but my brain has reached capacity. I glance toward the hallway, eager for Luka to appear. He’s currently being interrogated by Cap, which makes about as much sense as Cap interrogating me. Luka would have an easier time turning himself into a piece of lint than he would have turning me over to the enemy. And yet Cap summoned him, Luka didn’t object, and so far, he’s been gone for forty-five minutes. It’s driving me nuts, all this waiting. We should be packing up and leaving, not hanging around. “Hey Jillian?”

“Oh, sorry.” She quickly moves—taking my knight with her castle.

“It’s not that.” I could care less about the game, evidenced by my sparse army. She’s taken seven of my pieces. I’ve taken two of hers and both are pawns. I scratch the inside of my wrist, then quickly pull my sleeve over my hand. If I don’t stop, I’m going to give myself scars. “What did Cap ask you in there?”

“If I’ve ever been in contact with anyone on the other side.”

“Have you?”

“No.” Her cheeks turn pink, like the idea horrifies her. “Never.”

“Did he say when we’re going to leave? Or where we’re going to go?” Now that Luka’s safe, I’m eager to make sure everyone else is safe, too.

“No. Just that Link’s working on it.”

Link
.

He’s been so busy helping Cap, I haven’t seen him since we rescued Luka. I glance again at the entryway. This time, it’s not empty. Luka strides inside the common room with a confidence that’s as much a part of him as his green eyes and messy hair. My muscles go weak. I still can’t believe he’s okay. Apart from being moderately dehydrated, there haven’t even been any of those ramifications Cap warned me about.

He nods at the board. “Who’s winning?”

“Who do you think?”

“You aren’t doing so bad,” Jillian says.

I look up at Luka. “She’s being nice.”

He smiles and gives my knee a gentle nudge with his shoe. “You’re up.”

“
I’m up
?” Why would Cap need to interrogate me?

Before I can voice anymore of my confusion, Luka pulls me up off the floor, threads his fingers with mine, and kisses my temple. “Just go with it,” he whispers.

And so I do.

Luka tells Jillian he’ll finish the chess game for me in a little bit and everyone stares as we walk out of the room, Danielle and Ashley most intensely. As soon as we reach the empty hallway, Luka pulls us to a stop. With the subtlest turn of his wrist, my entire body moves. Somehow, I’m leaning against the wall with his lips on mine and for one heady moment, my frantic thoughts disappear. All that exists—all that matters—is this.

He stops much too soon and presses his forehead against mine. “When I was in that chamber, only one thing kept me sane.”

“What was that?”

“Replaying our last kiss on the beach.”

Warmth swirls in my chest. I relived it, too. A hundred times. Once, in front of Link.

“I promised myself if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t stop kissing you like that.”

“Why’d you stop then?”

The corner of his mouth quirks into a delectable half-grin. “Because Cap is waiting. And purpling is against the rules.”

Purpling
. Cap-lingo for boys and girls getting too close. “I think Cap has more pressing matters to worry about than purpling.”

“And there’s the silver lining.” He places his hand against the wall, right above my left shoulder, leans in and kisses me again, slower. Like we have all the time in the world. His lips travel across my jaw and find my neck.

It feels so good, my toes curl. “Hey, um, Luka?”

“Hmm?”

“W-why is Cap interrogating you and me?”

He pulls away, his face turning serious. He glances over his shoulder, takes my hand, and gets us moving again. “Very few people are aware the other side is after
you
, specifically. There’s no reason to make it public knowledge.”

“So Cap didn’t actually question you?”

“Not about my allegiance, no.”

“What did he question you about, then?”

Luka’s eyes flicker. Become guarded. “If I learned anything.”

“You mean, while you were …”

“Away?”

Away
. It’s way too tame for what really happened. I tug at my shirtsleeves. “Did you?”

“I was too preoccupied to pay much attention. The only thing I could think about was making sure you were safe.”

I shake my head. Luka was being tortured and yet all he could think about was
my
safety? I can’t tell if that’s a Keeper thing or a Luka thing. “Do you trust everyone here?”

“I don’t
know
everyone here. Not well, anyway. I don’t think it hurts to be extra cautious. I’m glad Cap’s doing the interrogations.” Luka stops in front of the classroom door and presses a kiss against my temple. “I’m gonna go perform some triage on your chess game. See you when you’re done.”

Inside the classroom, amidst antiquated textbooks, Cap sits in his wheelchair at one of the tables. He’s looking old and worn. In need of a haircut and a shave and a really good night of sleep. I take a seat across from him. “How’re the interrogations going?”

“Largely uninformative.”

“And our game plan?”

“Still being solidified.”

“When are we leaving?”

Cap massages the bridge of his nose. “Tomorrow, most likely.”

“
Tomorrow
? Isn’t that a little risky?”

“You said Claire wasn’t an immediate threat.”

I try not to squirm, or think too hard about DeVant’s accusation.
You would do the same thing.
“What about Clive? He knows our location. He had a Greyhound ticket to Detroit.”

“According to you, the enemy was already aware of our location in Detroit. It’s a big city. Anna has her cloak up and Non is standing guard.” Cap sets his hand over a walkie-talkie on the table. “She’ll send an alert at the first sign of danger.”

“Non’s fallen asleep before.”

“I know what I’m doing, Tess. I need you to trust in my leadership.”

The words sting. Luka’s reservations weren’t the only ones I ignored. Cap had them, too. He didn’t want to rush into a rescue mission. He wanted more time to research and plan. But Clive was a Cloak. What more was there to research? I never stopped to consider the fact that he might be a backstabbing Cloak. I didn’t care to consider it. Not when I’d been so focused on freeing my grandmother. Shame creeps into my cheeks. “I really messed things up, didn’t I?”

He shrugs. “We learn and we move on. That’s what leaders do.”

“I’m not a leader.”

“Yes, you are.”

I shake my head.

His eyes hold steady on mine. Over the past few months, I’ve gotten to know him fairly well. He took me under his wing. Pushed me to be stronger than I thought possible. In return, I’m certain there’s nobody in the hub who gives him more pride, or more fits of exasperation, than me. Somehow, this man who I first knew as a file marked Josiah Aaronson has become as close to a father figure as I’m going to get apart from my own. And right now, that father figure looks like he’s about to impart some wisdom.

“I believe in you.” Cap doesn’t do flattery. Doling out compliments is not part of his DNA. If he says it, he means it. I just don’t understand how he can speak those words. He folds his hands on the table. “But I also know how the enemy works. Fear is his weapon of choice. He uses it to sow seeds of division, doubt, mistrust. We can’t let him get a foothold.”

“I thought that’s what these interrogations were for.”

“I don’t mean among us. I mean within us.” Cap leans forward. His silver eyes don’t just look, they penetrate. They dissect. They eviscerate. It’s like he’s examining the very depths of my soul, where the enemy’s weapon runs rampant. “Fear only has power when we let it make our choices.”

My fingers start scratching again.

“I believe in the prophecy. I believe you’re The One.”

I pull at my sleeves. He’s talking crazy. The One is supposed to save lives, not put them in danger. That’s all I can seem to do.

“But hear me on this. What I believe? It means very little unless you believe it, too.”