She sighed, the sound almost agonizing to me.
“I couldn’t help it,” she said. “I couldn’t stop watching you get killed. Every dream just made me remember. Like those other lives are still buried somewhere in the back of my head: just old torn-out chapters to my life now. And I begged for the memories to stop: how many dreams do I need to endure? How many times do I have to die before I can live with you again?”
The words rang like a saddened bell, so permeated by lost hope that they were excruciating just to hear.
“I missed something and I didn’t even know why,” she said. “I missed you. It was like an echoing feeling that stuck around from the other life. And I fought it, and that worked for a while, but now…”
Her hand stopped rubbing the corner of her eyes to wave once with dissatisfaction at me, sitting so close to her, unaware that my presence had unearthed something she’d tried hard to bury.
“So you have to understand,” she said, grabbing my hand between both of hers, squeezing them like she’d fall if she didn’t hold on to me.
“I don’t hate you,” her voice broke, weakly forced. “I just can’t get close to you. Everyone I’ve known in every life I’ve had is dead. And I know you’re trying, but I can’t risk it. You’ve already died too many times to me, and I can’t go through that again. I can’t get close to anyone, and that’s especially you.”
Our eyes were locked with each other’s, the corners of hers red and leaking tears that ran down her cheeks in zigzagging lines. She was begging me, pleading that I not let happen what had already sealed her fate. In some other life, when she’d been such a close person to me—however impossible that seemed– she’d given herself to become my immortal Chosen so that we would never be separated. But in that forever, somehow it had become her downfall, and that was why she was there, thrust into a war that wasn’t hers, crushing my hands, regretting a decision she hadn’t even made as herself.
I swallowed hard. Her gaze didn’t break, studying my face like it was the first time she’d ever really seen me. Her hands shook; or maybe they were my hands that moved?
“I want to promise it,” she whispered. “It’s for both of us. If we’re going to be stuck here, we can’t let it happen again. We can only work together; we can’t be what we once were.”
I’d never consciously thought of it. The idea of having the slightest of attachment to Callista hadn’t even presented itself to me, so unfathomable that I’d glossed over it. Or had I? From far away, I could sense them nipping at me, as I stared at Callista and her anxiously waiting eyes, ready for me to commit to the promise. This should have been easier. I didn’t even know her—the promise she asked for was like me promising to never be a trillionaire. It wasn’t like I was ever getting close to her anyway, so what did it hurt to promise what would never be?
“Alright, I promise,” I finally conceded. It was much harder than I’d expected. Callista’s chin trembled. But she understood me, in the fewest and strongest words I could muster. So she gave my hands one final squeeze, our silver rings touching each other as she did.
“Thank you,” she said, letting out a breath. I couldn’t tell for sure if it was relief or not. Then she let go of me and settled back into the corner, and closed her eyes.
Why did I feel a pain inside my chest? It made me sick. I wanted to sleep again. I could have gone to bed, but I chose to stay with her, four or five inches away again.
15
The Vault
No one was around when the scents of cooking woke me up, my arms touched by noon sunlight that streamed through the tall windows. I stumbled down the stairs in the direction of the rattling pots and pans.
Thad was in front of the giant metal stovetop, warming slices of apples on one side and pancakes in the other. Beside him on the counter was the jar filled with the strange doughy mix.
“Like apricots?” he asked me in a rush. I nodded.
“Good,” he said. He pointed to the jar of mix. “These are pancakes. He didn’t forget that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
He flipped one of the pancakes over onto a plate and slid it across the island counter to Callista. She was perched on one of the stools, holding a glossy guitar that she’d found somewhere, attempting to tune it. She glanced at me and gave a cynical half-smile.
“Obviously,” she said with disgust, “whoever owns this house is a habitual instrument abuser. This thing is vastly out of tune.”
“Maybe it’s just for looks?” I suggested.
“Leave it to the uber wealthy to keep such a wonderful device just for looks,” Callista murmured. I was relieved that she appeared to have forgotten—or at least was trying to ignore—our late-night meeting.
Callista strummed the guitar, smiling when she was satisfied. She started with chords again and Thad picked up on it, singing a hoarse rendition of “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” from Poison. I knew that band well because my mom still had an old record of theirs, and sometimes on weekends she’d break it out. I had been born with no vocal talent whatsoever, but the feeling of the three of us together—just like I did back home with Mom and Alli —was far too inviting to resist.
After we’d eaten our fill, Thad dumped the remainder onto our newly-ordained trash plate.
“So in the words of our dear friend Callista,” he said, “what’s the plan, Michael?”
We all knew why this decision fell on me—I’d naturally been pushed forward as the leader ever since the truth had come out about whom I’d been. I drank my water down until the glass was empty and left me with no remaining excuse to keep from talking.
“We go to the bank,” I said. “That’s the next obvious step.”
I still had the paper in my pocket, so I pulled it out and spread it onto the island countertop. We all slid closer to look, my finger underscoring the address.
“I was thinking about this last night,” Thad said. “I know it’s a long shot, but if we get you to the Blade,” he tapped my shoulder, “and you actually have it, won’t the Guardians be afraid enough to back off from us?”
“Maybe,” I said, trying to be hopeful. “Then again, the last time I had it was the first time they killed me. So we might have some fighting to do after all.”
We all knew that we’d be no match for what the Guardians could throw at us. I wasn’t even sure how much more time Anon could buy for us. But it wasn’t like there was another way.
“How are we gonna get there?” Callista asked.
“Same way we get everywhere,” I replied.
“Think that’s a good idea?” she said. “Isn’t that downtown? Where will we land? It’d seem a bit suspicious in the middle of the day.”
“You’re right…” I admitted. That would certainly be a problem, as mundane as it seemed. I scratched the side of my face as I tried to think of a solution, surprised to feel stubble growing since I hadn’t shaved for half a week.
While Callista and I were debating our options, Thad had been searching for a garbage can to dump our trash plate into. I heard a sound of surprise from Thad when he opened a door.
“I’ve found a way to get there!” he called to us, standing right outside the kitchen. Callista and I jumped to our feet, scurrying to him. Since we’d gotten to the house I’d thought that door led to a closet, so I hadn’t opened it. But behind it was a garage.