Текст книги "Boundless"

Автор книги: Cynthia Hand

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

17

TWO MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT

In the vision, I’m waiting for someone. I’m standing next to a long metal bench—standing because I’m too nervous to sit down. I take a few steps in one direction. Stop. Walk back the other way. Look around. Check my watch.

Two minutes to midnight.

A cloud drifts in front of the moon, which is full, circled by a hazy grayish ring. I pull my jacket tighter to me even though I’m not cold. My head is full of fear, my chest tight with it, my heart beating fast. This is crazy, I think. Foolhardy, my mother would call it. Insane. But here I am, anyway.

Sanity is overrated.

Behind me something hisses, loud and mechanical, and I turn to look. There’s a train, a sleek, silver line of cars stretched along the tracks. It rolls slowly toward me.

Maybe I’m supposed to go somewhere.

The train passes, clacking in a heavy rhythm like my heart. The brakes squeal as it glides to a stop, and the passenger doors slide open. I take a step forward and then look down the empty platform. After a moment the doors close, the engine rumbles, and the train continues on, shaking the earth with its weight, screeching and clacking until the last car passes. It rolls away into the darkness without me.

I check my watch. One minute to midnight.

When I look up again, I see a bird swoop down from the roof of the train depot, dark as a shadow. It lands on a lamppost across the tracks, swivels its head toward me, caws. It’s a crow. My heart starts to beat even faster.

“Caw,” says the crow, testing me, taunting me, calling me to join him across the tracks.

I start walking to him, and I don’t look back.

Because I know this bird.

He’s going to be my guide.

I spiral back to myself at the church. I’m stopped in the center of the circle, my face uplifted, the monks singing, singing, singing, their voices gone dark.

“Looks like it worked,” Thomas says, smiling, as I hand him back his iPod with shaky hands.

“Are you okay?”

I nod. “I have to go now.”

Boy, do I ever have to go now.

I walk to the Oval and sit down under the tree where I always study. I think Samjeeza’s name, over and over again, summoning him the only way I know how, hoping that he hasn’t given up his creepy stalking now when I’m really counting on him. And I wait.

I feel his presence before I see him. He steps out of the trees at the edge of campus, his amber eyes bewildered but curious.

“You called me,” he says.

“Yes, I did.” Although I’m as surprised as he is that it worked.

“I didn’t expect to see you here again,” he says. “You’re in some trouble with Big Brother.”

So he already knows. Of course he does. I’m sure gossip really gets around in hell. “You could say that. Anyway. I’m ready to tell you a story,” I say. “But I want something in return.”

He smiles, surprised and pleased and even more curious now. He opens his arms, palms up, and steps back in the semblance of a formal bow.

This guy is cheese to the core.

“What can I do for you, little bird?” he says.

This is it. Don’t chicken out now, I tell myself. I meet his eyes.

“The Black Wings took my friend Angela. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes. Asael has her.”

“In hell?”

“Naturally.”

I swallow. “Have you seen her?”

He nods.

“Is she all right?”

There’s a cruel twist to his mouth. “No one is all right in that place.”

“Is she … alive?”

“Physically speaking, yes, her heart was beating the last I saw her.”

“And when was that?” I ask.

He finds the question funny. “Some time ago,” he answers with a laugh.

I bite my lip. This is the insane part: Telling him my impromptu plan. Putting it all out there. Letting the chips fall where they may. The wind picks up and sends the trees into a furtive whispering, like a warning. Don’t trust him, they say.

But I trust the vision, and the vision tells me that I trust him.

Samjeeza’s getting impatient. “I told you what I know about your friend. Now tell me the story.”

“Not yet. I need something else.” I take a deep breath.

Be brave, my darling, my mother told me once. You’re stronger than you think. I can be brave, I tell myself.

“I need you to take me to Angela,” I say then. “In hell.”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Whatever for?”

“So I can get her out.”

His eyes widen. “You’re serious.”

“Serious as a heart attack,” I say, which is appropriate, because I feel like I’m about to have one.

“Impossible,” he says, although his eyes take on an excited gleam.

“Why is it impossible?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Don’t you have the power to do it? You took me there before.”

I’m provoking him, and he knows it. Still, he smiles. “I could take you there easily enough. Getting you out would be infinitely more difficult. Chances are you’d lose yourself within a few moments and become as trapped as your friend.”

“I’m strong,” I tell him. “You’ve said so yourself.”

“Yes, and why is that?” he asks. “Why are you so strong, little Quartarius?”

I smile vaguely.

“You’d be waltzing in right under Asael’s nose and taking something that belongs to him,” he says, like the idea is not altogether an unpleasant one. He’s none too fond of Asael. Which works for me.

“Yes. Will you help me?”

“All that for a mere story? Do you take me for a fool?”

“Then I guess this is a pointless conversation.” I shrug and stand up, brush grass off my jeans. “Oh well, it was worth a shot.”

“Wait,” he says, all the humor gone from his voice now. “I haven’t said no, exactly.”

Hope and terror bloom simultaneously in my chest. “Then you’ll take me?”

He hesitates. “It’s very dangerous, for both of us, but especially for you. The likelihood that you will be caught—”

“Please,” I say. “I have to try.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand the nature of hell. It will swallow you up. Unless …” He starts to pace. He has an idea, something good—I can tell by the way he stands up straighter, by the diabolical bounce in his step. I wait for him to tell me.

“All right,” he says at last. “If you cannot be talked out of it, I will take you.”

“How soon can we go?” I ask.

“Tonight. That will give you enough time to reconsider.” He leans toward me. “This is a futile endeavor, little bird, no matter how strong you think you are.”

“When should I meet you? Where?” I ask.

“Where’s the nearest train station?”

“A few blocks from here. Palo Alto.”

“Meet me at the train station in Palo Alto, then,” he says. “Midnight.”

I’m light-headed. I already knew the time and place, from the vision, but hearing him say it, knowing for sure that’s what the vision is about, shocks me. That and that he’s ready to take me so soon. Like, tonight. Tonight I am going to hell.

“Having second thoughts already?” he asks with the hint of a smile.

“No. I’ll be there.”

“Wear black or gray, nothing conspicuous or flashy, and cover your hair,” he says. “Also, you must bring a friend, another of the Nephilim, or I can’t take you.”

He turns like he’s going to walk away.

“A friend? You can’t be serious,” I gasp.

“If you’re going to succeed on this little excursion, you’ll need someone to ground you. Someone to help you keep back the sorrows of the damned. Otherwise your gift of feeling what others feel will drown you. You won’t last two minutes.”

“All right,” I say hoarsely.

He turns into a bird. My eye’s not quick enough to see the transition, but one second he’s a man, the next a crow. He squawks at me.

Midnight, he says in my mind, his voice like a splash of cold water. And don’t forget, you owe me a story.

I won’t forget.

Christian’s more than a little surprised when I cross straight into our hotel room and tell him we need to take Web to Billy after all. I’ll fill him in later. “Trust me,” I say, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue when I go around gathering up Web’s supplies and take us to Billy’s house in the mountains, where she is obviously expecting us.

He thinks I’m freaking out over the whole motherhood thing. That I don’t want to be responsible for Web. He’s disappointed, because he thought we could handle it, but he understands.

Or at least he thinks he does.

It kills me to hand Web over to Billy, but I try to smile when I do it. He’ll be safer with Billy, I remind myself. But he’s uncertain in her arms, whimpering, and my heart squeezes painfully at the way he keeps looking at me.

“It’s okay, little dude. Auntie Billy’s going to take good care of you,” I say, and go over all his stuff one last time, what kind of formula he takes and which one makes him puke like The Exorcist, which blanket to swaddle him in at night, which pacifier is his favorite, the vital importance of his stuffed monkey.

“I got it, kid,” Billy says, patting my arm. She’s feeling emotional, too. Deep down she’s always wanted a child. She would have had one with Walter, if she could have. But she herself only has seven more years to live.

“I’ll call tonight and sing him a song,” I promise, and only barely get out of there without bursting into tears.

And that entire time, Christian stands beside me, waiting for me to tell him what’s up.

He’s crazy surprised when I cross us to the study room in the Roble basement and not back to Lincoln.

“All right, Clara,” he says, trying to hide his alarm. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

I tell him.

He has the following reaction:

“You did what?”

Yeah, he’s a little upset. Understandably.

“I agreed to meet Samjeeza at the Palo Alto train station, at midnight,” I say again.

“How could you do that?” He tugs his hands through his hair. “Do you have a death wish?”

“No,” I reply coolly. “I have a vision, and it’s telling me that I’m going to go meet him.”

“You’re talking about taking a train ride into hell.”

“I know.”

He starts shaking his head. “No. No way. No.”

“I’ll show you,” I say, refusing to take no for an answer. “Come on.”

Without another word I head off, up the stairs, out of Roble, walking fast across campus, and he doesn’t have much of a choice but to follow. He hasn’t learned to cross yet—for as amazing as he is with flying and glory swords, I am still light years ahead of him when it comes to calling and using glory. He can’t get back without me.

When he sees the church, he suddenly gets where I’m going, and he doesn’t want to come. I take his hand and start pulling him across the quad. We reach the doors of MemChu. I turn to him. “Just go inside with me. Walk the labyrinth. See if you don’t have a vision there, too. I’ll bet you ten bucks you see a train station.”

Uncertainty flashes in his eyes. He’s tempted.

“Last time I went in there, I came out thinking you were going to die,” he says hoarsely.

“But I didn’t. And you did what you were supposed to do. You saved me. You saved Web.”

“I killed a person,” he whispers.

“I know. But this is what we’re supposed to do now. Don’t you see? It’s our purpose. Maybe all of it, all along, has been about this. Rescuing Angela. Getting her out of hell.” I feel like somebody’s lit a fire under me. I can hardly stand still, I’m so full of anticipation.

Christian’s brow rumples. “All along?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

“What if Angela was always supposed to have Web? I mean, Asael sent Phen to find her, and maybe they were meant to fall for each other, and she was meant to get pregnant. With the seventh—God’s perfect number.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

“So I had my first vision, which told me that I had to move to Wyoming. So I did. And met you, and Angela. And then I had my second vision—and this one’s a stumper, because I never could understand why I kept seeing the cemetery, why God wanted me to know about that moment in advance, but now I think I was being shown two things that I would need to know. I was being shown that Samjeeza was there, so I knew he would be there that day when I went to give him my mother’s bracelet. I chose to be kind to him, which changed the way he felt about me. Which is why he’s been watching me, talking to me, and why I could go to him and ask for this.”

“What’s the second thing?” Christian asks.

“You. My cemetery vision showed me that you make me stronger. You and me together, we can get through anything. We can be each other’s anchor. We can be each other’s strength.”

“You sound exactly like Angela right now, you realize?” he says.

I laugh and keep on talking. “And the third vision showed me what happened to her. If I hadn’t had that vision, I would never have known that we had to go out to the Pink Garter that night. Angela would have just disappeared, and the twins would have burned down the theater, and Web probably would have died, or they’d have taken him, too. I was meant to be there, Christian. And now I’m meant to go get her.”

“Clara, I don’t know,” he says doubtfully.

“It’s not all about me,” I say. “It’s about Angela. This entire time, it’s been about her. Come on.” I start tugging him into the welcoming coolness of the church. “Walk the labyrinth one more time, with me.”

Ten minutes later we’re both sitting in the front pew of the church, catching our breath. There’s no one else in the church, but when we talk, I get a sense that all the mosaic angels are listening.

“I saw it again,” I say to Christian, quietly, triumphantly. “Two minutes to midnight. The train even has the Caltrain logo on it. One comes in, headed north, and then a few minutes later another, headed south. That’s the one we’re going to take.”

“I didn’t see it,” he says, his face whiter than normal.

Some of my excitement fades. “You didn’t see the train?”

He shakes his head. “I saw Asael,” he murmurs.

My breath freezes in my lungs. “You saw him.”

“I saw his face. He was talking to me. I don’t know what he was saying, but he was less than ten feet away from me.”

That’s not good news. I mull this over for a minute. “But I see the train so clearly. And I’m waiting for you. I keep looking at my watch. I’m waiting for you to show up.”

“What if I don’t show up?” he says. “You can’t go, then. Samjeeza won’t take you without me, right?”

“But Christian, we have to go. It might be Angela’s only chance.”

“Angela’s gone,” he says. “She might not be dead, but she’s gone where the dead go.”

I stand up. “When did you turn into such a coward?”

He gets up, too. There’s a vein standing out on his neck that I’ve never seen before. “It’s not cowardly to not want to do something crazy.”

“Yes, this is crazy,” I admit. “I know that. Even in the vision pretty much all I’m thinking is, This is crazy. This is crazy. But I still do it.”

“We don’t have to do this, just because you see it,” he counters. “You and I both know that the visions never turn out quite how we expect them to.”

“I can’t leave Angela in hell,” I say, gazing up at him. “I won’t.”

“We’ll figure out another way.”

“What other way?”

“Maybe the congregation—”

“The congregation already said that they can’t help us.”

“We could ask your dad.”

I shake my head. “You remember what he said, don’t you? He said I had to be ready to face—whatever—without him. Helping me is not part of the plan.”

He stares up at the angels angrily. “Then what is he good for? What was all of that, the training, the talks, all of it, what good did it do us?” He sighs. “I thought we were partners,” he says softly. “I thought we’d decide things together. And here you go making deals with fallen angels without even telling me.”

I kneel down beside him. “You’re right. I should have talked to you first. We are partners. I’m counting on it, actually. I need you.”

“Because Samjeeza said you needed to bring a friend.”

“Because I can’t do this without you. I need our strength, Christian.”

He looks cornered. This is his worst nightmare come to life, I realize. “And what do you think will happen if we make it, if we get Angela out of there? You think they’ll stand idly by? They’ll come after us with a vengeance after that.”

I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen after we got out. I was too busy imagining Angela’s grateful tears, the joyous hugs, the “woo-hoo, we’re out of hell” feeling.

But he’s right. They will come after us. We won’t be able to go back to a normal life then, either. It won’t change our fate, not that way. It can only make things worse.

Christian sees the realization on my face. “We’re here, Clara. We’re safe, at least for the moment.”

I bite my lip. “But Angela’s in hell.”

His eyes are sad, resigned. “You can’t save everybody, Clara. Some things are beyond our ability to change.”

Like Jeffrey. Or my mom dying. Or being with Tucker.

“No,” I whisper. “What about the vision?”

He gives a bitter little laugh. “When did you become so faithful all of a sudden?”

It hurts, him saying that, but I’ll take it. And what I realize in this moment is that it’s his fate, too. It’s his choice. I can’t make it for him.

“I understand if you don’t want to do it,” I say then. On impulse I reach up and hook my hand behind his neck, draw myself into his arms for a hug. I let his warmth infuse me, and mine pour back into him.

When I pull away, his eyes are shining.

“If I don’t go, you can’t either,” he says. “He won’t take you.”

Oh, Christian, I think. Always trying to keep me out of trouble.

“I’ll see you at midnight at the train station,” I say. “Or I won’t. But I really hope I will.”

I kiss his cheek, and then leave him alone with the stained-glass angels.

Later I review my mental before-you-go-to-hell checklist: Make sure Web is somewhere safe—check. Tell Christian your plan, hope he doesn’t freak out too much—sort of check. And now I have to try to find my brother. The idea that Lucy knows about him, and has sworn to take revenge on me, has me near panic every time I think about it.

As usual, I start at the pizza place. Since the night at the Garter I’ve been calling like crazy, trying to reach him, but he’s never been there.

“He quit,” the manager informs me now, clearly ticked off. “He didn’t give notice or anything. He just stopped showing up about a week ago.”

“Do you know where he lives?” I ask.

The manager shrugs. “He always biked to work, even in bad weather. If you see him, tell him we need our uniform back.”

“I’ll tell him,” I say, but there’s a sick feeling in my stomach that I’m not going to get that chance anytime soon.

I wander around my old neighborhood, trying to think of where to look for him next. It feels like déjà vu, looking for my brother, the way we did last summer in the first weeks when he was gone. My inclination is to start at my old house, work my way out from there. I call Billy.

“How’s Web?” I ask, unable to help myself.

“He’s good. He smiled at me. I’ll text you the picture.”

My heart squeezes. Angela’s missing it.

“Hey, you asked the people who moved into our old house if they’d seen Jeffrey around, didn’t you? Last June?” I ask.

“First place I checked,” she answers. “A real pretty girl lived there, too. Long, black hair. She said she knew Jeffrey, from back when they were in school together, but she hadn’t seen him.”

“Did she give you her name?” I ask, my heart starting to beat fast. A pretty girl. Long black hair. Who’d gone to school with Jeffrey.

“L something,” Billy says. “Let me think.”

“Lucy?” I manage to get out.

“That’s it,” Billy says. “Oh dear,” she says, as she realizes what I’m getting at.

The answer that’s been staring me in the face all this time now basically head-butts me. Lucy’s been involved with Jeffrey for a long time, and we didn’t know it. Who knows all the ways she could have been messing with his head?

“He’s been staying at our house. Mom never sold it,” I murmur to myself.

Mom knew that I was going to run away, he told me. She even kind of prepared me for it.

The windows are dark when I get there, no cars in the drive, no bicycle leaning against the garage. We used to keep a spare key under a flagstone on the back patio. I vault completely over the fence and into our old backyard. The swings on my old swing set sway gently as I pass.

Oh, clever, sneaky Mom.

It’s not that she didn’t care about Jeffrey’s vision or that she wasn’t interested in his the way she was so involved in mine. It’s that she already knew how it would play out. She knew what he would need. I can’t help but be annoyed by this. It’s like she was enabling him to run away.

The spare key is right where I thought it would be. My hands tremble as I unlock the door and slip into the house.

“Jeffrey?” I call.

Silence.

I send up a little prayer that I don’t run into Lucy instead. Because that would be awkward.

I poke around the kitchen. There’s a stack of dirty dishes in the sink. I open the fridge and find it mostly empty save for a gallon of chocolate milk that’s a week expired and what I think is a foil-wrapped slice of old pizza. It’s hard to tell what with the mold.

I call his name again, jog upstairs to his room. He’s not here, but his sheets are on the bed, rumpled at the bottom corner. The drawers of his old dresser, the one Mom said she was getting rid of before we moved to Wyoming—in fact, I complained because she bought Jeffrey a whole new set of bedroom furniture for the move, oh clever, sneaky Mom—are full of his clothes. It smells like him in here.

I search the drawers, looking for clues, but I get nothing.

He lives here, clearly. Or he did. It doesn’t seem like he’s been back here for a while. Add that to what the pizza place manager said about him not showing up to work for a week, and color me officially worried.

Lucy could have him, right now. Asael could have him. Or he could be—

I won’t let myself think the word dead, won’t allow myself to picture Jeffrey with a sorrow blade through his heart. I have to believe that he’s out there, somewhere.

I sit down on his bed and dig for a scrap of paper in my purse, a pen. On the back of a Nebraska grocery store receipt I write the following note:

Jeffrey,

I know you’re mad at me. But I really need to talk to you. Call me. Please remember that I’m always in your corner.

Clara

I hope he gets the message.

Outside again, I hide the key back under the flagstone and take a long, last look at the house where I grew up, and I wonder if I’ll ever lay eyes on it again after tonight, or if I’ll ever get to talk to my baby brother.

Very soon now, I’ll have to catch a train.