Текст книги "Return Once More"
Автор книги: Trisha Leigh
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
I took another deep breath, knowing this second confession would be harder, because it put me under the judgment microscope, not someone else. Analeigh might make fun of Oz for acting like he had a stick up his ass all the time, but she followed the rules, too. Best to dive right in, like jumping in one of the ice-cold pools on Persepolis.
“I’ve been using Jonah’s cuff to observe Caesarion.”
“Kaia,” Analeigh gasped, her face drained of color and her eyes giant round disks. “How many times …”
I waited for more, but she appeared to be at a loss for words. That said more than anything else, really, and since I’d shocked her into silence with that revelation, I chose to keep quiet on the rest of my transgressions, at least for the moment. “There’s more.”
“Oh, stars. I can’t take more.”
“When I got back from Egypt, Oz was waiting for me outside the air lock. He shoved me back inside and said he knew where I’d been and why I’d gone. Told me I had to stop or bad things would happen. It was scary. For Oz.”
That tidbit hung in the air between us, thick and dreadful. I held out my wrist and she took in the red welts ringing the skin below my tat. Her green gaze burned hot with anger behind her glasses. “He hurt you? What a hypocrite! He can’t say anything because you know he’s been traveling alone, too.”
“That’s what I thought, and I told him as much, but he said there are things I don’t understand. And like I said, it was pretty clear from my session with the Elders today that Truman knows he’s traveling. He claims it’s for next year’s certification.”
“All these years, everything about Oz has seemed so straightforward and boring. It’s weird even thinking about him putting us all in danger this way.”
“I know. And I don’t care what Truman says, there’s more to what’s going on than a simple application. You didn’t see his face. Oz is terrified—for me, for him, maybe for everyone, I don’t know. But when he saw Jonah’s cuff he said something in French.”
“What?”
“L’avenir est dans le passé,” I repeated in passable French. I was one of the few who struggled more with Romance languages than German-rooted dialects. It was annoying.
“The future lies in the past?”
“That’s what he said, and when I asked him what the hell he meant, he seemed crushed that I didn’t know. It sounds like some sort of Historian motto, except it isn’t. Right?”
She shook her head, blond waves falling around her shoulders. “No. And I can’t imagine it would be. If anything, the future sprouts from the society they’ve built in the System. Our evacuation from Earth Before is a natural break in the pattern, we move forward from there. The past informs our decisions, how we’re set up and governed, but I don’t see how it could be our future.”
“I know.” I paused, gauging her reaction and whether it had been smart to share, but I needed someone here who understood the Historians and what we stood for. I needed Analeigh, the brains of our friendship. Without her I was lost, not only as to what to do next, but how to get out of this quagmire created by my own rule-flaunting ways.
I was starting to think that my favorite mantra, that you’re only in trouble if you get caught, might not hold water when it came to rearranging the past.
We were silent for a long time, the gears in my mind working so hard I could almost hear them. Analeigh chewed her lip almost raw but said nothing.
“I think that phrase is some kind of secret saying, and when Oz saw I had a cuff he wondered if I was part of whatever it is, too.”
“Part of what, Kaia?”
“That’s what we have to find out.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Shouldn’t we say something to Sarah?” Analeigh asked while the two of us brushed our teeth before bed.
I watched her in the mirror, her wavy hair piled atop her head, pale legs sticking out from under her shorts, glasses spattered with toothpaste. We’d both changed into our standard-issue pajamas—striped linen shorts and long-sleeved tops. Hers were light blue, mine were pale purple. The familiarity of the routine had lulled me so that the question startled me.
“Sarah?” I asked, trying to focus.
She looked at me as though I’d gone as mad as Alice’s hatter. “You know, our roommate? The girl betrothed to the new crazy version of Oz who accosted you, tossed you into a decontamination chamber, and proceeded to threaten you?”
I snorted so hard at her goofy, movie-dialogue phrasing that toothpaste shot up my nose. It burned so badly my eyes watered. “What would we tell her? That her boyfriend is running around the past knocking over pretty women and possibly trying to kill us all in the process?”
A mischievous twinkle lit her eyes. “It’s better than telling her Elder Truman thinks you have a thing for Oz.”
“Shut up. We’re definitely not telling her that. Or speaking of it ever again.” I banged my toothbrush on the edge of the sink and rinsed out my mouth with disinfectant, then rubbed enamel strengthener and whitening goo across every tooth’s surface. When I raised my head to check the mirror one last time, my dark eyes met Analeigh’s light ones, and the comfortable mirth wriggled from the room.
Weight hung between us, too heavy for two girls who had never been prepared to question their Elders. Never imagined a mystery beyond a really tough reflection, or that our friends—Sarah and Oz—might be in real trouble.
This situation shook our foundations, our beliefs, our ability to trust pretty much blindly that the fate of humanity rested safe in the hands of our Elders. If Zeke, or Truman, or even Oz was involved in something secret that threatened the System, then Analeigh and I—and probably Jonah—could be the only ones who knew.
“What do we do?” Analeigh whispered. She sounded more like the little girl who had raced me around my mother’s greenhouse until we both collapsed, covered in real dirt, than the confident friend she’d grown into these past years.
“First we have to figure out what’s going on. Then we can figure out what to do.”
The suite’s front door banged open, followed by the sound of a bag hitting the floor and weight flopping onto a couch.
“Hey, guys,” Sarah said, her voice thin and tired.
“Has she been in Reflection all night?” I whispered.
Analeigh nodded, her eyes worried. “She’s behind. She’s so good at the rest of it, but she can’t see the connections very well sometimes.”
“Oz should be helping her, not the other way around.” Defensive anger rose again with the memory of how he spoke to me, and now how he was treating my friend, who he was supposed to love more than anyone. “We’re not telling Sarah anything. Not until we have proof.”
Analeigh bit her lip. “What if we don’t want to know, Kaia? What if we can’t do anything about it, or it’s worse than we thought? We can’t leave the Academy.”
We couldn’t “un-know” anything. We couldn’t go back. Like Caesarion reminded me earlier tonight, my job was to look forward, to put the people of Genesis first.
“It doesn’t matter whether we want to, Analeigh. It’s our obligation as Historians. They give us the privilege of travel and in return, we protect the future from the mistakes of the past. Maybe it means we protect the past from Oz, too. Or his father.” Guilt tore at my throat, trying to push the remainder of my confession out to Analeigh, that I had already broken that trust a million times in the past two weeks.
That as big the risk now that Oz knew about my cuff and where I was going, I knew I would do it again. I needed the comfort of Caesarion’s presence. I wanted to hear the story of Osiris and Isis, to try to believe the way my True did that we would meet again, in the blink of a god’s eye.
Sarah’s head appeared in between ours in the mirror, the whites of her tired eyes split by red veins, her smile thin. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing. Kaia has a new crush,” Analeigh blurted.
For shit’s sake. Analeigh’s panicked gaze met mine. That girl could not lie. If she had a secret, she babbled, and things like this tumbled out of her unbidden.
Sarah turned to me, hands on her hips. “Spill it, Kaia.”
“It’s … um. Well … I.” My mind stumbled, thick with the plotting, the secrets trying to drown me, the exhaustion from the piles of stress that had accumulated over the past couple of hours. Days. Finally I blurted the first name that came to mind that wasn’t Oz. “Evan.”
“Evan Pritchard?!” Sarah nearly shrieked.
I slapped a hand over her mouth a little harder than necessary, panic boiling in my veins. “Shhhh. These walls are like paper and you know it.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, rubbing her cheeks. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But Even Pritchard? You and every other girl on Sanchi.”
“Or every girl that’s ever seen him,” Analeigh added drily.
I shot her a look. She’d started this whole thing with her guilt-fueled blabbermouth. Analeigh shouldn’t be allowed to speak at all when she was keeping a secret.
Evan Pritchard was in his last year as an apprentice. He stood at least six foot five with a muscled chest as wide as Analeigh and I put together and a chiseled face topped by shaggy blond hair. Bright green eyes completed the pretty picture, which resembled a traditional California surfer boy.
If Evan had any idea I was alive at all, it had to be a vague one. And probably because of my brother. I’d admitted having a schoolgirl crush on two different boys today, and having everyone and their mother think I was prone to such things started to irk me. Both were lies, but they also felt like the tiniest of betrayals to the boy I did love, who waited more than three thousand years in the past to see me once more before he died.
“Are you going to ask him to the party?” Sarah teased around a mouthful of toothpaste.
“Who?” The thoughts in my head had pulled me into a different world.
“Your new crush, dummy.”
“Are you off your nut?” I countered. “Ask Evan Pritchard to his own certification party, the night before to boot? Yes, I think that sounds like a fine idea.”
My friends dissolved into giggles, probably at the thought of my even speaking to Evan, never mind asking him to spend the evening with me. I ignored them and went into my bedroom, grabbing my personal tablet comp from my desk on the way past and snuggling under the covers.
The mention of the party tomorrow reminded me that I hadn’t put together an outfit. The contents of the wardrobe closets were loaded into the central database, and even though we weren’t allowed to research for observations without being in the pods, dressing ourselves for events by flipping through virtual options was allowed.
Our dormitory closets and drawers were filled with little other than our black, skin-molded suits, undergarments, and the standard issue pj’s. We each had a few hand-me-downs, brought from home, but events that allowed for actual clothing got all the girls in a stir. I had more on my mind than picking out a dress for the certification party, but it had to be done. Fitting in, going unnoticed … those had become desirable goals since I found that cuff.
Sarah plopped on my bed, smashing my legs. I scowled at her but relented, shifting so there was room for her and Analeigh, who joined us a moment later. Our pajamas and glasses might match, except for the colors, but the three of us were opposites in so many ways. The two of them were pretty blondes with light eyes, though Sarah’s hair fell straight to her chin while Analeigh’s tumbled in waves almost to her waist. Both a contrast to my olive skin, chestnut hair, and matching eyes.
“What are you wearing tomorrow night?” Sarah asked, her eyes lit with interest.
“I was trying to figure it out.” I fanned through eras of clothing, my mind torn between Caesarion and the mystery with Oz, my heart aching for what Sarah might face with a lifetime of his new inclination to do what he pleased.
She took the personal comp from my hands, and then she and Analeigh bent over it, fighting over whose finger took control of finding me an outfit.
“That one,” Analeigh said, stabbing at something I couldn’t see.
“No, she’ll look like that old mouse.”
“What old mouse?”
“The one from Disney World’s girlfriend.”
“Minnie Mouse?”
“I’m with Sarah,” I interrupted, recalling the mouse in question. “No polka dots.”
“It would be a sexy Minnie Mouse.” Analeigh pouted. “Maybe Evan likes polka dots.”
If looks could kill, my best friend would have been dead and buried.
“I think it’s the right style, Analeigh. Just not red polka dots. The 1950s housewife totally fits Kaia’s personality.”
“Except for the ‘doing what she’s told’ part.”
“Not actually being a housewife, ew.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Just the pretty dresses that show off those legs that make us both totally jealous.”
I snuggled back into my pillows, tucking my cold toes under Analeigh’s thigh, and let my friends take over dressing me for tomorrow’s party. Their chatter and discussion faded into the background as my thoughts returned to the bathroom, to the lingering feeling of betrayal all of my fake crushes ignited in my heart.
Loving another couldn’t be a betrayal to Caesarion. He was dead and gone, turned to dust long ago, and unless his beliefs held true, we would never meet again after his death, or after mine. My life was now, and in the years to come; I couldn’t look on new relationships as somehow tarnishing the perfect connection between Trues. No one else thought that way. People in Genesis enjoyed love, great love, with people they chose. As much as I cared for Caesarion, as much as I loved being with him and hated the idea of losing it, I hated to think I’d never be happy again.
I had adored every moment of being with my True, but the push and pull of my feelings tied my insides into a huge knot of confusion. As though the Kaia that took the risk of traveling back to Egypt wasn’t the Kaia sitting here now, listening to her friends plan for a party. We were separated by something distinct. Knowledge, maybe. Or simply time.
Whatever it was, I had to find a way to let that earlier, naive version of myself go.
To let Caesarion go.
Chapter Twenty
Something was coming.
I felt it, like electricity in the air before a storm on Earth Before. The promise that the sky would soon darken and change, that rain would lash the earth, trees would bend in the wind, and anyone with good sense would take cover indoors. I had been accused of many things these past several days, but possessing good sense had not been brought up once, so of course, I chose to ignore it. My path wasn’t changing, not right away—I promised Caesarion I would return once more to ancient Egypt and I would. As soon as I got this ridiculous certification party out of the way.
There were three gathering rooms at the Academy. Table comps and uncomfortable desks in metal study carrels filled one, what passed for homey furniture around here and walls lined with holo-sets for watching old television shows and movies decorated another—although most Historians considered doing so for pure entertainment and not research wasteful and idle. We lived in observation and reflection mode pretty much all the time. Every piece of history, even if it were originally meant only to entertain, held details that helped us better understand our forebearers. Our duty was to soak it in and spit it out, each in our unique way, not laugh at it.
The third room, where we crowded for the certification party, served as a group gathering area. Study groups or book clubs used it for discussions, and the younger classes sometimes used it for practice reflections before they were given access to the Archive database.
Tonight, the chairs and round tables had been removed. A long, rectangular table with a bowl of lemonade at one end and sherbet punch at the other sat off to the right side. Plates of vegetables and fruits, along with desserts that looked good but tasted like cardboard, rounded out the display.
I’d been running late, mostly due to my nervous dawdling, so Sarah and Analeigh had gone ahead. Sarah had to meet Oz and his father for the requisite couple photographs, since they were both in actual clothes instead of uniforms, and Analeigh left when I’d insisted she stop hovering.
My hands shook as I smoothed the thick, dark purple material of my dress. It was sleeveless, the scoop neckline landing right below my collarbone, the hem brushing the skin about two inches above my knees. Sarah had tied a dark gray, silky scarf around the high waist that made the skirt flare, showing off my legs the way she’d promised, and the silver heels already killed my feet.
Sarah looked adorable in her early nineteenth-century-inspired empire-waist gown. The silky, cream-colored material flowed off all of her curves, the gorgeous blue ribbon under her boobs matched her eyes, and the floor-length skirt hid her calves, which she hated.
I had to admit Oz looked handsome in his standard black tuxedo, for a potentially dangerous nutball. His gray eyes, always his best feature, trained on his True as she laughed with Levi. He must have styled his hair with some kind of product that pushed his unruly thick chunks into a loose semblance of order, and the cut of the suit accentuated his broad chest and shoulders. The memory of his strong hands squeezing my arms, shoving me into the air lock, returned the churning guilt and anxiety to my stomach. I glanced down at the fading red mark on my wrist, frowning.
“Hey.” Analeigh sidled up and handed me a cup of sherbet punch.
I took it and smiled, tipping the cold drink against my lips. It helped cool the heat creeping up my neck from the paranoia that wouldn’t quite dissipate. “Thanks.”
My best friend went all out, donning the same pretty peach ruffles and layers of petticoats she’d worn on our excursion to the Sun King’s court. With her hair a mass of fat curls pinned off her neck, breasts shoved up toward her chin, and the dress’s color setting off the natural china-doll pink of her skin, Analeigh was easily the prettiest girl in the room.
“I’m sorry about the whole Evan thing. It just came out,” she whispered in my mind.
“It’s okay.”
We watched the room, comfortable in our roles as observers. Tonight belonged to the oldest apprentice class, who would join the ranks of full Historians in a few weeks. They took turns getting fitted for their new cloaks, all smiles and laughter. Evan Pritchard looked as gorgeous as ever, but his blond-haired perfection couldn’t hold a candle to the passion in Caesarion’s dusky blue eyes under the Egyptian moonlight.
The younger kids laughed at the edges of the dance floor as a disk comp flipped through decades of music, never playing songs from the same year twice. A few third– and fourth-year apprentices moved awkwardly on the floor—dancing wasn’t exactly common outside of weddings and the occasional party—but a few couples in the older classes gave it a good shot.
Sarah and Oz wandered over a few minutes later. She grinned, but he looked as though he had leeches attached to his ass, which may or may not have had anything to do with our confrontation yesterday. Hard to say.
“Hey, guys! Are you having fun?” A thin sheen of perspiration wet her forehead, and her pale, freckled skin glowed. They’d been bopping around the floor a few minutes ago.
“Yep. There’s sherbet punch and eye candy. What more do I need in life?” I joked, nodding in Evan’s direction. It sounded flat to my ears but Sarah didn’t seem to notice.
I chanced a glance at Oz and found him staring back, intensity smoldering in his smoky eyes. Analeigh stepped on my toe before Sarah caught me staring and got the wrong idea; Oz apparently hadn’t considered that because his gaze didn’t leave my face.
A ballad from the decade prior to the abandonment of Earth Before spewed from the speakers embedded in the walls and floor, and Sarah nudged her boyfriend. “Sherbet can’t be the highlight of your night. Go dance with Oz. My feet are sore from being stepped on.”
“Oh. No, really, that’s okay.”
Oz cut off my protest, his smile tight. “Evan loves dancing and he’s quite skilled. Maybe you should practice first.”
Heat flooded my face and I choked on my punch. Sarah had the good sense to look apologetic in response to my glare. Clearly she had blabbed to Oz about my supposed crush. Embarrassing, but the knowing set of his jaw told me he didn’t buy it. He’d heard me talk about Caesarion. Watched me cry over the unfairness of it all.
Now that was mortifying.
I didn’t have any desire to be alone with Oz, or to let him touch me again, but there wasn’t a way to say no without drawing attention. Protesting could make things look more suspicious. The Elders were here, too, and maybe the dance would reassure Truman and Zeke they were right about my focused searches being related to feelings for Oz.
I slid my fingers into his, trying not to frown too hard. His hand was warmer and gentler than it had been yesterday as he led me to the dancing area. At least he couldn’t threaten or manhandle me again in the middle of all these people.
In the center of five or six other couples, Oz stopped and turned, then settled a hand lightly on my waist, as though he expected me to swat it away. When I didn’t, he took my right hand loosely in his left, I set a palm against his solid chest, and we moved.
“I’m sorry for yesterday. I shouldn’t have lost my cool with you, Kaia,” he murmured.
His eyes held honest regret, with perhaps even a tinge of nausea over the whole thing, and holding grudges had never really been my thing. It took too much energy, not to mention I’d always been a big fan of the old adage about keeping enemies as close as friends. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
Oz lowered his voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got to stop seeing him. I don’t want to report your use of Jonah’s cuff—”
“Then don’t,” I hissed back.
He stepped on my already pinched toe, and I winced.
“Sorry.” Oz’s cheeks flushed red, but he quickly shook off his embarrassment at his truly horrendous dancing. “Like I said, I don’t want to turn you in but I will if it comes to that, in order to keep you safe. You have to trust me.”
Irritation spiked my blood, speeding my pulse until it throbbed in my forehead. I started to pull away before I caught Elder Truman’s eye over his son’s shoulder, and his cold, narrowed gaze kept me in place. I forced my eyes back to Oz’s and gritted my teeth, squeezing my fingers tighter around his. “People keep saying that. I don’t want to be safe, I want to know. Being kept in the dark pisses me off.”
His fingers gripped my waist with more force, and he swallowed hard. His gaze softened until it almost pleaded. For a brief moment, the quiet, nonconfrontational Oz reappeared, painting the changes in him over the past couple of weeks in a harsher light. “I know you as well as anyone, Kaia, and your curiosity isn’t a well-kept secret. As your friend, I’m asking you to leave this alone.”
When I didn’t answer, he ducked his face until I couldn’t avoid his gaze. “I know what you’re thinking. But you can’t save him.”
My heart stopped. The fingers on my free hand went to the necklace hanging against my chest, some kind of tick, or tell, though of what I couldn’t be sure. I swallowed two times, and then again, struggling to find a response that didn’t sound defensive or like a lie. Nothing emerged, and the song ended. Oz turned me loose as though he’d been burned.
“Thank you for the dance.” He left me standing there, unable to make my brain cooperate as far as words.
Determination simmered to a boil, because although his ability to read my desires unnerved me, it didn’t change the annoying fact that both he and Jonah assumed they knew what was best for me. “Whatever you’re mixed up in, Oz, I’m going to find out what it is. I double dog dare you to stop me,” I muttered under my breath.
*
Oz and Sarah steered clear of me for the rest of the night, mostly dancing on their own, sometimes hanging around with some of Oz’s older friends from his reflection-intensive study group. Analeigh had gone to the bathroom when I noticed the congregation of Elders had split up. Some of the overseers moved around the room, speaking to their apprentices, congratulating the older kids getting ready to join their ranks, and others had excused themselves. But four were huddled together and headed for the rear door, three of whom had questioned me yesterday. Quiet warnings that had blipped on my radar since talking with Jonah escalated into pealing bells.
Zeke’s hunched figure shuffled toward the exit. Maude stood at his elbow, supporting him lightly. Minnie and Truman followed the head Elder’s subtle nod, and a moment later, Oz slipped out behind them. Without thinking too hard about the consequences, I waited a minute and then followed.
The hallway loomed, empty and lit by energy-efficient lightbulbs. One flickered overhead, in need of a tightening or a change, and cast an eerie pall over the scene as I pulled off my heels. I didn’t know what I was doing, only that if something secretive was happening at the Academy, like Jonah said, I’d bet my one and only set of pretty teeth that Oz knew what it was. If he was sneaking off to some kind of private Elder meeting about the past being the future or whatever nonsense he’d spouted earlier, I wanted to hear it, too.
The hallway went two directions. One led toward the rest of the common areas, the dormitories, and the mess hall, the other toward the Archives, Research facilities, and the offices. That was the direction I chose.
Voices echoed back at me after only a minute—for once the stark metal and glass design of all the buildings on Sanchi offered something other than a constant chill. I stopped at the next branch in the hallway, unwilling to turn the corner until the voices moved farther away. They definitely headed in the direction of the Archives, which didn’t make much sense. All of the Elders had table comps in their personal offices, along with smaller versions of the holo-walls. They weren’t as elaborate as the ones in the Archives—more like a chart as opposed to a map, and there were no running scenes being observed, but they were functional.
As I took a step forward, intent on continuing to snoop until they arrived at a destination and settled in for whatever discussion they were about to have, a warm hand clamped down over my mouth.
