“You are incredibly sad. Did you tell him about your Guards and Angelica?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he still left?”

  “Nadir yearns for the days of our youth.”

  “Nadir is right. Forgive me, Clara . . .” Jordan lets my hair loose and looks deep into my eyes. “When you returned with Nadir, there was a light within the blackness of your eyes. I still dream of it.” He does not speak of the years that followed, and his suffering as he watched, helpless, while the light burned out. Regret is written all over him, from the downcast stare to his slumping shoulders and shallow breaths.

  “He meant for me to return to the Amazon with him. Now, he may never come back.” I return us to the now, unwilling to remember Africa’s many treasures and the travesties they endured when we left.

  Jordan’s arms tighten around me. “It is for the best. He has been your compeer far longer than any of our other compeers.” It hurts to hear him say that, but he is right. “Your eyes are absolutely stunning though. I will miss that.” Jordan goes quiet, and my eyelids grow heavy. Just as I am on the brink of sleep, he says, “Could do without the panther smell.”

  I smile faintly and sleep.

  ♦♦♦

  The next morning, we meet in the viewing room. Angelica is ready to join us, and there is much to discuss. Kyle speaks first.

  “What did Farrell say about the exams?”

  “Little. He advises us to keep all divisions in mind.”

  “And the scrolls?” Jordan asks. His question sparks a familiar buzz, Astro tinged. Everything beyond the break in the mountain is a blur of disconnected images. The buzzing intensifies until a memory slips back in place. This is how it works with Astros. Your memories come back when you reach the correct marker. Jordan has triggered a marker.

  “Farrell sent me to Mountain Top. The scrolls will be here soon.” Jordan and Kyle stare at me, astonished. “Do not try to push information out of me. You know how it works.” Disappointed, they sink down into their seats.

  “That is good,” Jordan says, taking control of the conversation again. “Clara exchanged with Nadir last night— Angelica must feed from us. Once we meet, she should be receptive to new blood.”

  “Since you and Kyle are guards, you can take turns.” I pause noticing Kyle’s red face and pursed lips forming an ill-fitting expression.

  “You cannot be the only one to feed her, Kyle. Especially at your age,” Jordan says gently. Kyle nods a few times, trying to shake his unease. Sharing blood is intimate, and Jordan is a male Guard. Even Liturgy cannot quell this Lymerian instinct.

  “Kyle, I wish you could understand . . .” Jordan shakes his head. “Here, I will show you.” Jordan pulls his own creese from his side and swipes his wrist before Kyle can argue. I have already given Jordan a vial, and a moment later Kyle is drinking. “Could you see enough?”

  Kyle softens and nods.

  Jordan cannot show Kyle images as I can show Nadir, but Jordan’s blood is his essence. When Lymerians drink another’s blood, they understand them better. It is easier to discern lies from truths. Rarely do we share our blood.

  “Moving on,” I say. “We will barricade the elevator tomorrow. Someone must get Kyle’s final stock of blood today.” They look at each other, weighing who has the worse plight. Kyle has not been to the surface in five years, unwilling to part from Angelica. Jordan has not returned since the night I fell apart, avoiding Karina. I nod to Jordan and he exhales. He will go to the surface for the blood and to end centuries of partnership.

  “Jordan, you will need to gather supplies for the barricade. This room gets locked as well. No doubt she could pry her way in if she wished, but let us hope she ignores the room. While we are thinking of rooms, is hers ready?”

  Kyle nods. They were working on that yesterday.

  “When all is done, we get her.”

  Chapter 15

  Angelica

  Clara says it’s been five years since I came here with Merrick. It never occurred to me to keep track of time in Krisenica. The three agonizing days I spent in this room as a human are still vivid in my memory. If someone told me then that this would be my home for five years, I would have gone mad before becoming one of them.

  Now that I am one of them, time doesn’t scare me. Part of me still misses Rebecca and Vic and Janice, but I can contain the sadness. I have come to realize that they will be fine. Vic and Rebecca have each other. Janice has herself—the only person she ever really needed. My company was an improvement on their lives, but not a necessity. Here, I must focus on myself and this future. At least that’s what I tell myself every day.

  They are coming, my inner voice whispers. The voice that used to beg me to remember my humanity has changed allegiances. It accepts who I am now, letting go of my human life. Hundreds of years from now, will my human years feel like a dream or will they be this clear forever?

  Three—it is three this time. There are never three.

  I shake off the warning and move to the door, ready for who is coming.

  “It is time,” Clara announces after she thrusts open the door for the final time. On either side of her stand two men, both well over six feet tall. They look like they could run through a wall. Most importantly, they are the human kind of Lymerian. Too familiar is this moment to the last time I left this cell. Matching Guards escorting me to a new life. Unease forms in the pit of my stomach. I try to ignore it.

  At first glance, they look very similar. Identical gray uniforms, standing with feet shoulder width apart, arms clasped behind backs, same haircut and same height. When I look closer, the pale, fair haired one has a softness to him, kind eyes, and round cheeks. The other is stern with dark hair and olive skin.

  “He is your Guard?” I ask Clara, gesturing to the dark one. Clara doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even move a muscle. “You don’t need a Guard,” I add, irritated by her silence and by something else I can’t quite put into words.

  Silently, I question everything. Is Liturgy a fancy word for kidnapping, corrupting, and assimilating? Anger creeps from my depths, begging to be let free. My inner voice prepares me for the worst. Everyone goes still. For several minutes, no one moves or speaks. Are they thinking about throwing me back in that cell? I won’t let them.

  “Angelica,” the pale Guard breaks the silence, and I turn to him, relieved. Our eyes lock and electricity glides across my skin. The connection is instant. Everything Clara has told me is true. My heart starts beating faster until I realize they can hear this proof of my panic. I fight to calm down, but it’s no good. Years of memories flood me. Hundreds of faces, thousands of eyes that held nothing for me. Yet in this Lymerian, there is everything: safety, love, honor, and friendship.

  “Calm down,” Clara says and everything inside me goes still.

  “Meet Kyle and Jordan.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say, ignoring the Guards. Clara has not done that since just after my year without blood.

  “Yes I did. There is nothing more dangerous than a Votary, which is why their Architect can influence their actions to a certain extent. Of course, it all depends on the will of the Architect.”

  “Lucky for me I got the most stubborn Architect that ever was.” I can’t help but sneer a little as I say it. Kyle chuckles, but I don’t look, fearful of how I might react.

  “Angelica, there is a reason you are kept away from everyone. This will not be easy, and Lymerians will not accept you until you prove yourself. That could take decades. Meanwhile, you have three friends in this world. Three that will do anything to protect you. We may not be what you expected, but I promise we are the best for you. We will go when you are ready—not when you say you are ready, but when we know that you are ready.”

  Kyle looks at Clara. “Why is she reacting like this?”

  “I’m right here, Kyle,” I say, still not looking at him. Clara rolls her eyes and glares at Kyle.

  “Who remembers the way Angelica reacted the first time she met me?” Clara pauses, letting the memory of that day settle over us. “This is a process, Kyle, remember?” All her arrogance and flare is gone, revealing a hidden softness, another layer to Clara.

  Even though I am sick of this cell, part of me wants to plant my feet and grip the door. It is safe, familiar, and all mine. Another part of me wants to run like hell from this cell to whatever fate is out there for me.

  “Is this who I am, Clara? Is this the kind of Lymerian I’m going to be?”

  “It is hard to know the nature of a Votary. You have had Slayer blood in your veins for years and soon you will accept a Guard’s blood.” Before my body can announce my anxiety at taking in new blood, I squash it. I don’t want them to know. “I did not know you before, so I cannot say how it will all turn out,” she finishes.

  “Yes,” Kyle says softly. “Votaries are equally matched with their Architects. You already remind me very much of Clara. Believe me, after spending years in the same room with her, I know her some.”

  My eyes shift to Jordan, silently asking his thoughts.

  “Kyle and I are ordinary Guards despite Clara’s testimony. At least we were ordinary—now we are more. Nothing is ever for certain, Angelica. When you live as many lifetimes as we have, you learn that.” He nods at me. “Time to go now. We are wasting time.” Jordan turns, followed by Clara, then me with Kyle last in line. As Kyle steps into his place, I feel the charge again, the connectedness to something meant to be.

  Everything down here looks the same, like one big cell. The walls are carved out of the same part of the mountain and given smooth edges. The air remains stagnant. I’d hoped we would gain elevation, but the way is flat. Jordan and Kyle are tense in comparison to Clara’s casual stride. Is this what all Guards are like? Jordan finally stops when we reach four doorways.

  “These are our rooms. Yours is next to Clara’s, across from Kyle’s.” Jordan gestures to one of the doorways.

  “No doors?” I ask.

  The three of them exchange looks.

  “Krisenica has few doors,” Clara offers eventually.

  I glance down the hallway. It’s far, but there is a way out. Blocked. Seeing another locked door invites my anger back.

  Clara misses nothing. “Time will pass quickly. When you are ready, we will go upstairs together.”

  Together is the only thing I hear. From now on, we are together. I feel the anger pull back. “What’s next then?” I ask, perhaps for the first time understanding that everything is different now. Clara cannot announce the beginning and end of a lesson by breezing in and out of my cell. We will be together all the time. My stomach sinks. Rows of girls flicker in my mind as I remember the orphanage, then the dorms—living arrangements I despised. There will be no privacy, not even the illusion of privacy I had in the cell.

  Before anyone can answer, I disappear into my door-less room. It is empty except for a bed, nightstand, and small light. A bed is an improvement I suppose. The others separate into their own rooms. Every step, shift, and sigh bounces off walls and grinds on my ears. From now on, this is how it will be. Upstairs, even worse until I can learn to live with all the noise.

  I lie down and focus on the future. Clara promised we would live together and so we are. Which means her second promise is also true. We will go upstairs together someday. Then what? I become part of a race of beings living in secret, forever confined inside Krisenica. There is still enough human inside of me to rebuke this future. I reach for the little light, and let sleep come.

  The next time my eyes open, Vic is sitting in the corner of my room. Though my dreams have decreased over time, this is the first one that isn’t in a memory. We are definitely beneath Krisenica.

  Without a memory to create the rules, Vic looks different. His features are sharper and more pronounced. My brain must be trying to make Vic look older, to age him with the years that have gone by. I’ve made his hair grow out straight and match the soft shade of his brown eyes. Even his clothes are different—he’s in black. Do I think he is mourning me?

  “Angelica,” Vic whispers. I start to sit up, not wanting to waste any time with dream Vic. But before I can get far, he is by my side with his arms on top of mine. Very slowly he leans into me, lips parted slightly as he kisses the top of my head. A sound outside the door pulls him away from me. “Do not tell them you saw me.”

  Vic is gone and Kyle is in the doorway.

  “How long have you been there?” I ask, sitting up.

  “I heard you moving around and . . .” He shrugs.

  “So you are my Guard, in charge of keeping me safe no matter what?”

  Kyle nods. “It’s more than just that, though. Clara and I work together as you transition into Lymerian society. We balance each other out by bringing two completely different interests to the table, though both of us are devoted to you.” I steal a glance and take in his flushed face.

  “I didn’t think Lymerians had much of an emotional range,” I say, just a hint of a teasing in my voice. “Well, at least not like humans.” I sound like me when I’m talking to Kyle. If I close my eyes, it could be me teasing Vic in my room with Rebecca playing nearby.

  “I’m not your ordinary Lymerian. I tell jokes too.” He smiles, making him less like a gray hooded Guard, and more like . . . Kyle.

  I decide to risk meeting his eyes again. They are inviting bright blue orbs that put me at ease. The electricity I felt before is now a dull drum, content to thud quietly between our beating hearts. Kyle either doesn’t notice or isn’t surprised by the sensation. He prattles on without missing a beat.

  “Honestly, I probably could have fit well into a Dormant life. Dormants tend to either have a genuine emotional range or are able to copy humans.” Kyle crosses the room and sits at the end of the bed. “Actually, I think the Litmars intended to place me as a Dormant, but Etherial spoke Guard for me.”

  “Who is Etherial?”

  “Part of the council, the Astro, in fact.” Clara never named anyone specifically on the council. I lean in, waiting for more.

  “Clara has spoken of government to you before, but we can look at it closer if you want.” I nod. “Litmars are the smallest division and do day-to-day governing. They work together with the High Council, also known as the council. The council is called on for really important matters, but may intercede at any level of government. There are eight on the council: Anubis, a Slayer; Etherial, an Astro; Valencia, a Dormant; Reina, a Litmar; and the Téssera, their Guards. The four Guards are each assigned to one of the non-Guard council members and together have one vote. Etherial only votes when there is a tie between the others or when a ruling of the council would alter the trajectory of our existence.” Kyle stops so I can take in everything.

  I nod to show that I’m following. “Why is the opinion of an Astro so important?”

  “It is not just one Astro,” Clara says from the doorway, and both Kyle and I involuntarily jerk. “Etherial is the oldest and connected to all of them. Etherial’s vote is that of all the Astros,” Kyle looks upset, but Clara wears the hint of a smile on her face. “Do not take it so hard, Kyle. You are Guard and I am Vegar. I can sneak up on anyone.”

  Kyle turns away from me to stare at the wall. I try to wrap my head around what Kyle’s placement means.

  “What you’re saying is that the Astros interfered with your placement. You had to be a Guard . . . my Guard and part of Liturgy. Which means the Astros saw this, all of this. How old are you?” My head is spinning from trying to understand. Merrick meeting me seemed so random. Clara was right. Astros are much more than psychics.

  “Angelica, no one understands the Astros, except perhaps other Astros. I have been trying to understand them for centuries and have not gotten far.” Clara glances to Kyle before changing subjects. “We thought you should feed.”

  Kyle reaches into one of his belt pockets and pulls out a small sword. I’ve seen Clara with one of those before. At first I don’t get it, but when I do my heart beat picks up. “Why not a vial?”

  “Well, I just thought . . . a vial is so formal. We used it in the beginning so it would be more human for you. We don’t carry them around or anything. Most of us feed so infrequently that it doesn’t really make sense to bother with a vial.” Kyle is rambling, possibly lying, so I save him from himself by asking a question.

  “How will I know when to stop?” What if I can’t stop? Sweet blood is energy and strength but always measured.

  “Just a few sips,” Clara says, with her classic confidence. At least one of us is sure I can stop. “Kyle holds a creese. It is quite sharp and can cut very deep if you are not careful. Kyle will make the cut and then you sip.”

  He does it swiftly, and I eagerly pull his wrist to my mouth, taking two sips. It’s different than Clara’s, not so bold. I have to fight the temptation to let my shoulders slack. He is naturally more relaxed than either Clara or me.

  “Where’s Jordan?”

  “Sleeping. We’ve been rotating sleeping shifts for years,” Kyle says.

  “Guards need a lot of sleep too,” Clara points out and Kyle gives her a look, but it’s friendly. He’s forgiven her for sneaking up on us earlier. They are more to each other than I first realized. So much like siblings. Vic, my inner voice reminds me and the urge to be alone swallows me.

  “Can I lie back down?” The last thing I want is to lie down, but it’s an excuse to be alone. Clara and Kyle nod and leave. I stare across the room, wishing for Vic. We were never like brother and sister, more like best friends.

  Reality strikes me in the chest. I will never see the real Vic again. Memories and dreams is all there is, forever. One day I won’t distinguish the dreams from the true reality.

  “Vic,” I whisper. Very tired suddenly, I slip down to lying but keep my eyes fixed. Tears leak down the edge of my nose. “I miss you.”

  Chapter 16

  Clara

 

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