Whisper (5 page)
But, for whatever reason, Messalina was convinced, and she was more than determined to convince me as well. “Yes, it’s exactly like manifesting,” she said. “And in order for it to work, I need you to clear your mind of any lingering doubt. Remember Riley, you’re in my world now.”
To be honest, I felt a little silly standing there with my body swallowed whole by that baggy blue dress, and my eyes all squinched shut as I tried to envision a version of me that would never, ever be.
And yet, part of me figured,
what the heck?
It’s not like I had much to lose. I mean, hadn’t Bodhi told me that if I wanted to be a teen then I had to see myself as a teen? That I had to learn how to act as if I already had it? If it worked, well, then I’d finally realize my dream—and the thought of that alone made it well worth the risk of looking any dumber than I already did.
what the heck?
It’s not like I had much to lose. I mean, hadn’t Bodhi told me that if I wanted to be a teen then I had to see myself as a teen? That I had to learn how to act as if I already had it? If it worked, well, then I’d finally realize my dream—and the thought of that alone made it well worth the risk of looking any dumber than I already did.
I squeezed my lids tighter, tempted to really dive in, go all out, and imagine myself looking like a movie star, a supermodel, or maybe even a hybrid of both. But before the image could begin to take shape, I quickly erased it and started again. Figuring it would be far more interesting to see a version of me that truly lived up to my full (and far more probable) potential, as opposed to an image my own mom wouldn’t recognize.
“Can you see her?” Messalina’s voice was tinged with excitement. “Can you see the new you blossom like a flower in your mind?”
She brushed a cool finger across my brow as I continued to concentrate as hard as I could. Focusing on a version of me that wasn’t so entirely different from how I actually was—only better—taller. One where the baby fat that once padded my face had made way for a nice pair of cheekbones that somehow, miraculously, made my semi-stubby nose appear … well … not quite so semi-stubby.
Oh, and of course I gave myself hair that was thicker, and wavier, and a whole lot glossier too—the kind of hair you see in shampoo ads. And when it came time for imaginings below the neck, well, let’s just say that I was quick to transform my stick figure into one with just the right amount of swoops and curves that would serve the dress well.
With the image firmly fixed in my mind, I gave a quick
nod so Messalina would know it was done. And when she clapped her hands together and said, “Look!”—I did.
nod so Messalina would know it was done. And when she clapped her hands together and said, “Look!”—I did.
Gazing into the full-length mirror she’d propped up before me, I gasped in delight at a vision of me that looked a lot like my beautiful, older sister Ever, while also managing to stay true to me—albeit, a much better, prettier, more mature version of me.
I looked exactly like the image I’d conjured in my head.
“So, what do you think? Do you like what you see? I was right about the dress, wasn’t I?” Messalina’s voice was as anxious as the expression she wore on her face.
My fingers grazed first over the mirror, and then over myself—hardly able to grasp the enormous change that had just taken place. My face broke into a smile as I glanced her way, my eyes shiny, my cheeks beaming, my voice gone hoarse but still bearing the full extent of my gratitude when I said, “Oh yes, I like it very much. I look at least …” I turned back toward my image, scrutinized it closely. Starting to say
: I look thirteen—the age I’ve always wanted to be!
—but soon realizing I’d managed to pass thirteen right by.
: I look thirteen—the age I’ve always wanted to be!
—but soon realizing I’d managed to pass thirteen right by.
Maybe even fourteen as well.
And quite possibly fifteen too.
“How old are
you
?” I asked, looking her over again, hoping to gauge my own progress against hers, since she still appeared older than me.
you
?” I asked, looking her over again, hoping to gauge my own progress against hers, since she still appeared older than me.
But Messalina just shrugged. Her shoulders rising and falling in that graceful, delicate way that she had. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess no one ever thought to keep track.”
My eyes bugged in a way that wasn’t one bit pretty, but I couldn’t help it. I’d never heard of such a thing. It was so outrageous, so unthinkable, I immediately suspected her of lying.
“My parents died when I was quite young,” she continued, her voice steady, the words matter of fact, with no hint of the emotion she might’ve felt at that long-ago time. “I lived with a series of reluctant relatives until I landed here. The
ludus
belonged to my uncle, my aunt was unable to conceive and found herself so desperate for a child, she settled for me. And while I’ve spent many years in this place, I can’t say exactly how many. All I know is I was a child when I arrived, and when I died, I looked like this.” She ran a hand down her side.
ludus
belonged to my uncle, my aunt was unable to conceive and found herself so desperate for a child, she settled for me. And while I’ve spent many years in this place, I can’t say exactly how many. All I know is I was a child when I arrived, and when I died, I looked like this.” She ran a hand down her side.
“So you never had a birthday party?” I tried my best to quash my surprise, but still, it really was unthinkable, an outrage for sure. I couldn’t even imagine such a thing. Birthdays had always been extremely important to me.
She squinted, tilted her head to the side, acting as though my reaction was completely unfathomable, as though she couldn’t understand why I’d place such importance on
something that to her was just as easily forgotten, if not ignored.
something that to her was just as easily forgotten, if not ignored.
Her reaction prompting me to wave it away, end it right there. We were products of different times, different cultures—there was no point in getting sidetracked by things that couldn’t possibly help me with the job I came to do.
Returning to my own glorious transformation, the newly grown-up version of me, I moved closer to the mirror, ran a hand over my shiny, springy curls that cascaded all the way down to my waist, taking in the pale green shimmer that glowed all around me—remembering how it used to glow a little bit darker, a little bit deeper, until things didn’t go so well on my last unassigned Soul Catch and all of my progress faded away. Pretty much the opposite of Bodhi’s glow, which continued to shine brighter—the green edged out by blue until it became a beautiful, vibrant aqua—the same shade as the dress I was wearing.
My guide had left me in the dust. Effortlessly moving onto fifteen while I was stuck at twelve. And yet, if he could see how quickly I’d just progressed, I was sure he’d be as awestruck as I was. The only thing that marred the transformation was that stupid, barely there glimmer of mine.
“Is everything okay?” Messalina peered at me, her face clouded with concern. “Are you not happy with the new you?”
I glanced between our reflections, unable to see my dismal green glow as anything other than what it truly was—a constant reminder of what I’d done wrong. A painful memory of what I’d already learned. And it’s not like lugging it around was doing me the least bit of good.
Messalina didn’t glow. Neither did any of the other ghosts I’d seen around the
ludus.
And if the goal was for me to find a way to fit in as best as I could, well, then it was clear that my glow-on needed to
move on
.
ludus.
And if the goal was for me to find a way to fit in as best as I could, well, then it was clear that my glow-on needed to
move on
.
I lowered my lids, imagining the way I’d look without that annoying, greenish-tinged glow—and when I lifted them again, it was gone. Easy-peasy—simple as that. Leaving me with a perfected version of the newly improved, glorious me.
Messalina stared, her eyes bright and anxious, playing at the rings she wore on her hands, eager for me to react in some way, let her know how I felt about my sudden transformation, and I was quick to relieve her.
“This is everything I’ve dreamed of for so long!” I ran my hands over my dress as my face curved into a grin. “I feel like a butterfly that just burst free of its cocoon.” My eyes met hers, wondering if there was any way to express the full depth of my gratitude. “I truly have no idea how I’ll ever go about thanking you,” I said, meaning every last word.
Messalina smiled and reached toward me. Capturing my hand between hers, she led me away from the room. “No need
to worry about that right now,” she said. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later, to be sure. But for now, just a few final touches.” She stopped before a beautiful tray where she scooped up a pile of glimmering, golden rings, taking careful consideration of the offerings before selecting two she then handed to me. “They’re exact replicas of the ones I wear.” She smiled, holding her hand up and wiggling her fingers for me to see. “I hope you’ll consider this as a seal of our friendship.” She watched as I slipped the rings onto my fingers, her grin growing wider when the task was complete. “Actually, we are closer than friends now, we are more like sisters, wouldn’t you agree?”
to worry about that right now,” she said. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later, to be sure. But for now, just a few final touches.” She stopped before a beautiful tray where she scooped up a pile of glimmering, golden rings, taking careful consideration of the offerings before selecting two she then handed to me. “They’re exact replicas of the ones I wear.” She smiled, holding her hand up and wiggling her fingers for me to see. “I hope you’ll consider this as a seal of our friendship.” She watched as I slipped the rings onto my fingers, her grin growing wider when the task was complete. “Actually, we are closer than friends now, we are more like sisters, wouldn’t you agree?”
I frowned, all too ready to disagree. Being friends was one thing, pretending to be sisters was another thing entirely. I already had a sister—one who I loved, and admired, and greatly missed—one who could never, ever be replaced.
I was just about to tell Messalina as much, when she ran a light finger across the width of my forehead and the strangest sensation swept over me. A swarm of kindness, and acceptance that made all of my former loneliness disappear, until I couldn’t help but think:
What the heck? What could it hurt to pretend?
What the heck? What could it hurt to pretend?
And the next thing I knew, I was smiling and giggling, ready to follow wherever she led. Crooking my arm around hers as she said, “So now, sister, we must hurry—we have ourselves a very glamorous party to attend!”
I
know it sounds vain. I know it sounds completely self-centered and more than a little obnoxious—but I couldn’t help it—I just couldn’t stop staring at myself.
know it sounds vain. I know it sounds completely self-centered and more than a little obnoxious—but I couldn’t help it—I just couldn’t stop staring at myself.
Every reflective surface I passed became another opportunity for me to gawk, and gape, and marvel, and basically just outright ogle my shiny, new self.
It was the makeover to end all makeovers, and I just couldn’t get enough of it.
“You are quite beautiful, I assure you,” Messalina whispered, her voice far more amused than annoyed, her hand pressed firmly to the small of my back as she guided me down the length of a very large room. “This must be rather exciting for you, no?”
A servant strolled by balancing a long silver platter that my eyes eagerly chased. Dismissing the tall pile of fruit that sprawled along its top, I went straight for the edges, my gaze
drawn to the place where my image beamed back, broken and distorted for sure—but still far more pleasing to look at than ever before.
drawn to the place where my image beamed back, broken and distorted for sure—but still far more pleasing to look at than ever before.
“So, where are we?” I asked, as soon as the servant moved on. It was time to get over myself and focus on the business at hand. But with all the surrounding excitement and splendor, it was getting harder and harder to do.
There was so much flamboyance, so much opulence and wealth, so much sparkly glitz and glamour—my head practically spun on my neck in an effort to take it all in.
Every surface gleamed. Every table sagged under mountains of sweets and treats and towering heaps of delicacies that a parade of servants constantly replenished. The room dotted with petal-strewn fountains, the floors covered by intricate mosaic designs, and yet despite the glorious décor, it was the other partygoers who really stole my attention.
The females all dripping with the finest array of satins and silks, sporting bright, shiny jewels the size of small fists—and the males were no different, dressed in elaborate tunics with glittering braided bits that swooped around the necklines and hems, while thick golden chains swung from their necks.
It was the kind of life one could easily get used to—easily get lost in. After just a short time there, I could already see why some of those other Soul Catchers had chosen
to stay. It was the opposite of the world I first stumbled upon—as different from the
ludus
as you could possibly get.
to stay. It was the opposite of the world I first stumbled upon—as different from the
ludus
as you could possibly get.
“The games begin tomorrow.” Messalina’s gaze moved among the assorted guests before finding her way back to me. “And though the games themselves are considered to be the best part of the celebration, think of this as a sort of … kickoff party.” She smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “A party intended to commemorate the start of the games.”
The games, right. Gladiators. Theocoles. The real reason you’re here. Stay focused, Riley—sheesh!
“So the party is for the games?” I asked, knowing it was redundant, but determined to get back on track.
“Indeed.” She nodded. “These games are in honor of the emperor’s death. They are funeral games, as most games are. Meant to honor powerful men whose time has come, and the longer the games run, the more important the man—or so it is thought. And believe me, these particular games are meant to provide the biggest, splashiest spectacle yet. No expense has been spared, as you will soon see.” She gazed around the room again, as though searching for someone, her gaze far away when she said, “Hundreds of gladiators are scheduled to compete, and thousands of wild beasts have been brought from as far away as Africa just to take part.”
I struggled to imagine such an endeavor. Having to remind myself that I was caught in a time that existed long before cars, planes, trams, or trains, all of which made such a journey seem completely incomprehensible.
“They traveled on a series of boats and rafts and then were loaded onto horse-drawn caravans, just so they can die a spectacular death before bloodthirsty crowds that demand nothing less.” She sighed and shook her head, her glorious curls swinging back and forth. “Which is not so different from the way the gladiators will die, some of whom made the trip alongside them.”
“It sounds awful,” I said, my voice turned suddenly serious, my mood suddenly sobered, no longer drunk on my shiny new self.
“It is, to be sure.” She nodded. “Though, I must confess I was once no better than the rest of them.” She gestured toward the glittering crowd. “
Panem et circenses.
” She pronounced the words easily, with a beautiful lilt I never could’ve managed. “Which translates to
bread and circus.
The bread being that which they throw to the crowd during the course of the games in order to keep them fed throughout a long day, and the circus being the games themselves. ‘
Keep the lower classes appeased by bread and circus, and they will be yours
’—or so it was said. But make no mistake, the upper classes were just as enthralled. I once considered
the games and all of those horrible deaths as the highest form of amusement. But then, one day, one of those deaths touched me personally, and from that moment on, everything changed …”
Panem et circenses.
” She pronounced the words easily, with a beautiful lilt I never could’ve managed. “Which translates to
bread and circus.
The bread being that which they throw to the crowd during the course of the games in order to keep them fed throughout a long day, and the circus being the games themselves. ‘
Keep the lower classes appeased by bread and circus, and they will be yours
’—or so it was said. But make no mistake, the upper classes were just as enthralled. I once considered
the games and all of those horrible deaths as the highest form of amusement. But then, one day, one of those deaths touched me personally, and from that moment on, everything changed …”
I stayed silent, clinging fast to her words. Realizing she’d just revealed something deeply personal, and wondering if the hint was intentional. Everything about her seemed calculated—there was nothing careless about her.
Was she referring to Theocoles? I’d seen the way she’d gazed down at him from her perch on the balcony. Clearly she’d known him, but how? Had they been close? The idea of it seemed impossible. They were from two different worlds—two different worlds that sometimes overlapped, but still.
“Weren’t all of the gladiators slaves?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual, figuring she’d cut me off the second she sensed I was prying. She had an agenda—of that I was sure—one she controlled as tightly as she controlled her own world.
“Yes,” she said. “Though while it is true that the majority of them were slaves, make no mistake—they were among the strongest, bravest, most fierce of all. My uncle had an eye for these things. Other
ludus
owners watched him quite closely in the slave markets, trying their best to outbid him, but they rarely succeeded. My uncle had very deep pockets,
along with a sort of second sight—a gift for these things—if you could call that a gift.” She waved a dismissive hand, causing the sparkling ring on her finger to catch and reflect the torchlight. “Though, that’s not to say that they all began as slaves. I know it may seem strange to you, but there were also those who volunteered, those who signed a contract with my uncle—eagerly exchanging their time and talents for the possibility of winnings and glory. Being a gladiator held its own unique brand of honor—they were both respected and feared. You must realize, Riley, that the Colosseum easily housed up to fifty thousand people, and more often than not, it was filled to capacity. I guess you could say they were like the rock stars of their time—they ruled the arena like gods. Boys who hailed from soft lives and nobility mimicked their moves, while countless women swooned over them—their affections displayed in the small, blood-dipped swords they’d pin in their hair.”
ludus
owners watched him quite closely in the slave markets, trying their best to outbid him, but they rarely succeeded. My uncle had very deep pockets,
along with a sort of second sight—a gift for these things—if you could call that a gift.” She waved a dismissive hand, causing the sparkling ring on her finger to catch and reflect the torchlight. “Though, that’s not to say that they all began as slaves. I know it may seem strange to you, but there were also those who volunteered, those who signed a contract with my uncle—eagerly exchanging their time and talents for the possibility of winnings and glory. Being a gladiator held its own unique brand of honor—they were both respected and feared. You must realize, Riley, that the Colosseum easily housed up to fifty thousand people, and more often than not, it was filled to capacity. I guess you could say they were like the rock stars of their time—they ruled the arena like gods. Boys who hailed from soft lives and nobility mimicked their moves, while countless women swooned over them—their affections displayed in the small, blood-dipped swords they’d pin in their hair.”
She slewed her eyes to the side, her face taking on an expression I couldn’t quite read, and despite hearing everything she’d just said, there was one part in particular that I couldn’t quite grasp.
“So you’re serious—people actually
volunteered
to fight in the arena, and risk a grisly, violent death?” My eyes grew wide. I couldn’t imagine such a thing. From what little I
knew, the arena had been a savage and brutally terrifying place.
volunteered
to fight in the arena, and risk a grisly, violent death?” My eyes grew wide. I couldn’t imagine such a thing. From what little I
knew, the arena had been a savage and brutally terrifying place.
“There were many reasons for that,” Messalina snapped, her voice adopting an annoyed, impatient tone. “Some more complicated than others, I might add.” I was just about to gently prod her for more, when she waved her hand before her, smiled sweetly, and said, “So, tell me, what do you think of the party?”
I glanced around the room, not quite sure how to answer. Suddenly feeling shamed by my initial reaction of awe, the thrill of being part of it all, and no longer able to view my surroundings in quite the same way as before.
All of those bright, shiny people who seemed so glamorous just a few moments ago, now appeared savage and depraved, immoral and bloodthirsty in the very worst way. All of those servants bearing the heaping platters of food were not there by choice—they were just as enslaved as the gladiators. Slaves to the house instead of the arena, but still slaves all the same.
“Are all of these people ghosts?” I asked, directing the conversation to a more neutral subject, partly because I was reluctant to annoy her again, and partly because I really was curious. “Are all of these people choosing to haunt this place?”
I gave the room another once-over, wondering why so many slaves would choose to linger in such a wretched, thankless role. But then, it was just like she’d already told me—every ghost had a story. And while I hoped someday they’d find a way to move on, that wasn’t my job. I was there to learn about Theocoles, to focus on the lost soul that had been assigned to me, and no more.
“Some are ghosts, some are not.” Messalina shrugged. “My intention was to re-create the celebration exactly as I remember it, so that you can better understand the world that Theocoles lives in.”
“So, where is he?” I glanced around the room without really expecting to find him. After all, Theocoles was a slave, a gladiator; I seriously doubted he had any real part in this world—or at least not this side of it—the more glamorous side of it. “Is he here? Was he allowed to come to parties like this?”
Messalina nodded, her face cautious, guarded, her arm rising, finger pointing, as she said, “He is right over there.”
I followed the gesture to where a group of gladiators stood at attention, their arms and legs shackled, as a crowd of partygoers stopped to inspect them. Pushing and prodding as though the fierce warriors displayed before them existed for no other reason than to quench the crowd’s morbid amusement.
I started to rush toward him, but didn’t get very far before I was stopped by the firm grasp of Messalina’s long cool fingers encircling my wrist. “Not now.” She looked at me, her smile tight, forced, not the least bit genuine. “You will meet him soon enough, I give you my word. But for now, we have much more pressing matters to attend. We must find a new name with which to call you.”
I looked her over, my face dropping into a frown, not liking the sound of that, not liking it at all. I mean, how could that possibly be more important than my meeting Theocoles? And besides, wasn’t it enough that I’d changed my appearance? Now she had to mess with my name as well?
But before I could lodge a complaint, a slave bearing a large clay jug brushed up against me, bumping me in a way that set me so off balance, got me so spun around, I found myself facing the opposite side of the room where I saw something so incredibly startling, all I could do was freeze right there in place.
Only this time it wasn’t a shiny, reflective surface that distracted me.
This time it was a boy.
A boy who looked at me in a way that … well, in a way that I’d never been looked at before.
With curiosity.
And intensity.
Along with a healthy dose of unmistakable interest.
The same way boys used to look at my sister, Ever—the way they looked at Messalina—but never, not once, at me.
Or at least not the old version of me.
My face grew hot while my hands went all shaky, and I continued to stand there all frozen and stupid and utterly foolish.
I had no idea what to do. No idea how to react. I was as clueless to the customs of the time as I was to being stared at by boys.
I continued like that, a frozen, gaping mess until Messalina finally stepped in and saved me from my own awkward self, when she said, “It’s like I said earlier, you not only need to
look
the part—you also need to
play
the part. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” She reached toward my forehead, smiling as she ran a finger across the width of my brow, pushing a loose curl to the side—the feel of her touch stealing my anxiety and leaving calm in its place. “I’ve done the hard work for you—I’ve narrowed it down to two choices, either of which will do, either of which will suit you. So go ahead, you choose—which name do you prefer: Lauricia or Aurelia?” Her eyes flashed as brightly as the jewels that swung from her ears. “Hurry! We must decide quickly,” she whispered,
nodding toward the opposite side of the room, her voice brisk and impatient, when she added, “In case you haven’t yet noticed, you’ve managed to cause quite a bit of a stir with one guest in particular. And from what I can tell it’s just a matter of time before he’ll be standing before us, demanding to know who you are, and we’ll need something to tell him, now, won’t we?”
look
the part—you also need to
play
the part. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” She reached toward my forehead, smiling as she ran a finger across the width of my brow, pushing a loose curl to the side—the feel of her touch stealing my anxiety and leaving calm in its place. “I’ve done the hard work for you—I’ve narrowed it down to two choices, either of which will do, either of which will suit you. So go ahead, you choose—which name do you prefer: Lauricia or Aurelia?” Her eyes flashed as brightly as the jewels that swung from her ears. “Hurry! We must decide quickly,” she whispered,
nodding toward the opposite side of the room, her voice brisk and impatient, when she added, “In case you haven’t yet noticed, you’ve managed to cause quite a bit of a stir with one guest in particular. And from what I can tell it’s just a matter of time before he’ll be standing before us, demanding to know who you are, and we’ll need something to tell him, now, won’t we?”
I paused for a moment, acting as though I was giving serious consideration to each name, when the truth is I’d already chosen Aurelia. I’d claimed it the moment I heard it. If for no other reason than it reminded me of Aurora—the most beautiful, serene, accomplished member of the Council, who, as it just so happened, was also my favorite. And yet, it also contained a hint of my own name as well, which pretty much made it the perfect combination.
But before I had a chance to inform Messalina, the boy from across the room was already standing before us. His gaze darting between Messalina and me, as he said, “Messalina, always a pleasure.” He ducked his head low, taking her hand in his so that he could bring his lips to it. Then nodding toward me he added, “And who is this you’ve brought with you?” His gaze locked on mine.
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