Antebellum Awakening (35 page)

I turned away with a shudder.

The doors to the Throne Room groaned when I pushed against its bulky weight, exacerbating an already pounding headache that hadn’t gone away since I left Isadora’s. A line of crimson and gold carpet ran from the doors up to the stone stairs that led to the thrones. The two massive chairs sat next to each other, elevated on a platform above the rest of the room. The High Priestess’s throne sat ahead of the High Priest’s, indicating that she held more power. Papa would never exceed her in power as long as she was alive. Once she died and a new High Priestess took her place, his throne would move forward.

Papa lounged in the Dragon Throne, his eyes trained on a distant spot on the wall above me. A run of paintings depicting previous High Priests and Priestesses circled the entire room, their faces peering out like old specters. A blank, empty spot stood where Evelyn’s painting should have been. No painting would rest there as an ugly reminder of the dangers of dark magic and evil purposes.

“Papa?” I asked. The door whispered to a close behind me as I ventured a few steps into the mostly empty room. My bare feet made no sound as I walked. Papa drew in a deep breath and tore his eyes away from the spot at which he’d been staring on the wall.

“Come in,” he said, scooting over to make room for me. “Let’s talk.”

The Dragon Throne was wide enough to fit both of us side by side. Carved scales ran along the legs and claws supported the bottom. The back of it resembled the long neck of a forest dragon, with shiny black scales that looked like a bruised blue and black at the same time. An angular head roared at the top, teeth bared. The gruesome thing made me shudder. I slid onto the seat next to Papa and we sat in the silence for a few minutes. He smelled like peppermint and it comforted me.

“I’m not sure how I feel about doing this,” he said, gesturing to the throne and looking at me with one eyebrow lifted.

“It’s too late to back out now. They’ve already made your favorite desserts in the kitchen.”

He chuckled at my poor attempt at humor.

“Yes. Fina wouldn’t be happy.”

For the first time since I made the vow with the High Priestess, I wondered if lying to Papa had been for the best. If I failed to defeat Miss Mabel, would he be able to move on knowing that I’d given myself up for him?

“How did this happen, B?” he asked, finally looking at me. I wanted to reach out and smooth the wrinkles around his eyes away, but I didn’t have that power. This kind of constant pressure and stress would be his life from now on. Papa would serve the Network until death took him.

“You’ll be great, Papa,” I said in a breezy tone, as if this kind of thing happened all the time. “You’re the best man to lead this Network through the war and on to victory.”

He didn’t seem convinced. The uncertainty in his eyes made him seem too human, too breakable, and I wanted to look away and tell him to stop. I’d never seen Papa like this, and I didn’t want to ever again.

“The Council doesn’t want me in this position,” he said, although his tone was more musing than fearful. I thought back to Clive’s rally, to the witches in Chatham City protesting his Empowerment. Would the Central Network ever know peace again?

“Do you want this position?”

“Would anyone?” he shot back.

“No,” I murmured. “I guess not. Are you scared?”

He thought about it for a minute, his eyes tired.

“Yes,” he said. “I’d be a fool not to be.”

“Do you think everything is going to be okay with the Council?”

“Eventually, yes. They’ll accept it because they have to. Don’t worry about them, B. You let me take care of that.”

But I would worry about it. I’d worry about it every time the Council voted. If I lived long enough, I’d worry about it every time Papa made a decision.

“I think they just want someone to blame because they’re scared,” I said in an attempt to make myself feel better. “And they’ve chosen you because you’re so strong.”

His eyes lit up for just a second.

“That’s an incredibly adult thing to say,” he said in a quiet tone. “Are you sure you’re not turning thirty today?”

“Don’t put me there yet,” I said, forcing a wry smile to put him at ease. “I’m not officially seventeen until 11:54 tonight.”

The clock seemed to tick all the louder in the background, calling back to mind how little time I had left. I would miss Papa more than anything. Or would I? What happened after death? Mama and Grandmother believed we continued on. I hoped they were right.

“I’m sorry your birthday has to culminate on a ball,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “You should celebrate by playing in the mud. That sounds more like you.”

I tilted my head back and laughed.

“Only if I can rub your face in it.”

“I don’t want to drown out the excitement of turning seventeen with something as boring as politics. This is the first birthday you’re free,” he said, his expression sober. “You should enjoy it.”

I’m never free, Papa. Never.

“Boring?” I giggled. “Papa, you’re making history. Mama would have been so proud of you today.”

He smiled with a warm undertone that brought me comfort.

“You’re just like your mother, B. Marie wanted nothing but adventure wherever she could get it.”

While it wounded my heart to hear her name, it healed another ache I didn’t know I had.

So many little bruises. How will they all ever heal?

“She also loved going barefoot and the smell of rain,” I said, recalling the memories with perfect clarity. “She told me every night that her biggest adventure started the day she met you.”

Papa chuckled under his breath.

“Do you remember the time we found a cave and your mother wanted to go inside? It was early summer, I think, and we were walking through Letum Wood in the north of the Network, near Newberry.”

The memory flittered back through my mind.

“Yes!” I cried. “She went in and then came running back out, chased by a couple of small bear cubs.”

Papa let out a hoot of laughter.

“You weren’t laughing then!” I poked him in the arm. “You were terrified that the mother bear was going to attack. I had to transport back home.”

“Well, you were just a cub yourself. I had no choice. Your mother would have taken the bear home as a pet.”

“She always did take in stray animals.”

The mirth settled into a comfortable silence, leaving both of us to our memories. Life had always been an adventure with Papa.

“I’m starting to forget what she looked like, Papa,” I whispered, wishing with all my heart that I could recall the lines of her face. I should have appreciated the living memories when I’d had them. “It frightens me.”

I hadn’t admitted it out loud before, and saying it made me feel fragile, exposed. Perhaps all this darkness would spill out of my heart and I could put it back together without the dragon inside. He took my hand in his and threaded our fingers together.

“I guess I’m lucky,” he said. “I get to see your mother every day.” I raised an eyebrow in silent question. He brushed a stray lock of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ears. “Every time I look at you I see Marie.”

“I love you, Papa,” I said, squeezing his hand. “No matter what happens, just remember how much I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. He chucked me softly under the chin, giving me the smile that Mama had fallen in love with so many years before, then pulled me in close and tucked me into his side.

For just that moment I let my heart melt, absorbing everything I could. I forgot about Miss Mabel, about the possibility that I could die or send the Central Network into a spiral that it couldn’t recover from. Because I didn’t know if it would be the last time he’d ever hold me, I thought only of his strong arms and the smell of peppermint.

•••

Tiberius’s massive size gave me strength.

We stood together in the Throne Room, waiting for the Empowerment to begin. Papa had switched back into Protector mode and stood near the Dragon’s Throne with his hands folded in front of him, his face stoic.

Though Antebellum was deteriorating into war and panic, all of us could see that Papa didn’t fear. Any remnants of the worry he’d expressed to me had vanished. He looked calm and confident, just the way we needed him to be. The rest of the Protectors stood behind Zane in a line, their hands folded behind their backs. Merrick stood at the far end.

“Tiberius,” I leaned over to him. “Did the Protectors accept Merrick?”

He nodded once with an annoyed scowl.

“They voted this morning. He’s taking the open slot.”

I grinned down the row at Merrick, but he stared straight ahead and didn’t see. His jaw had a tighter clench, his eyes more focused than I’d seen before. I wondered if he was afraid.

The small group of thirteen projected an air of authority, but the wide range of their appearances was almost comical. Grizzled beards stood next to faces as smooth as a baby. Some of the Protectors were lean and strong, while others had paunchy bellies and bulky shoulders.

Ambassador Marten walked up to join Tiberius and me. He shot me a reassuring smile that helped quell the nervous fear in my belly, and nodded to Papa, who returned it with a wry grin.

“Derek Black,” the High Priestess said in her usual crisp manner the moment she walked into the room. “Because this is a private ceremony, and I’ve run out of patience for old traditions, I’m going to cut through most of the fluff.”

My lips twitched with a concealed chuckle as she passed.

In honor of the ceremony, she wore no crown, no jewelry, no embellishments at all. Instead of her ball gown she wore one of the yellow dresses that made her look ages older. Papa wore a pair of brown leather pants, sewn by Henrietta herself, and a black shirt with a black vest over it. Neither of the outfits were anything special. The lack of glamour was intentional: it represented that the heart of being High Priest or Priestess was character, not adornments.

The High Priestess turned to those attending, running her eyes over us. Her gaze lingered on me, seeming to burn a hole in my head. I looked away, unable to bear it. Even if she fulfilled her part of the vow tonight, it wouldn’t matter. The binding still kept a noose around my neck, one that only I could loosen.

Papa will be safe to save the Central Network from war if I die,
I reassured myself.
He’ll be able to move on, to stay busy, to remain afloat.

The thought of giving him another reason to mourn pained me. The nagging headache I’d had all day intensified when the High Priestess began.

“Derek, today you will receive a blessing of Empowerment reserved only for those who take the responsibility to care for the Central Network as High Priest upon their shoulders. It is not a position you may ever leave. In pledging to serve your Network, you give the rest of your life to it.”

“I understand,” he said. His voice rang through the room without hesitation. A few of the Protectors smiled; the rest frowned. The High Priestess held out her hand and a swirl of glowing sapphire dots rose from her palm, whirling around an ebony bracelet on her palm. It was the High Priest’s bracelet, inscribed with the language of the Ancients.

SAC ERO DOS SUM MUS

A nearly identical bracelet rested on the High Priestess’s arm, although hers was silver.

“You will wear this representation of your power every day of your life,” she said. “It can only be removed upon your death. As one of the strongest charms in all of Antebellum, it will provide an extra protection should you need it. The power that comes with it is great. Should anyone try to take it from your wrist while you live, it will kill them.”

Papa nodded.

“I understand.”

“Then let us empower you.”

The High Priestess closed her eyes and began a low chant, whispering the blessing under her breath. No one else could hear the exact words she spoke except Papa, and he’d have to memorize them on the spot, committing them to memory to repeat later if he brought in a new High Priestess.

A bright white glow illuminated the words on the bracelet. The sapphire dots gathered into three long, slender ropes that pulled the shimmering charm into the air. It swung toward Papa and fell onto his awaiting hand. He placed it on his left wrist, over the sign of the Protector’s Brotherhood. The High Priestess’s incantation broke.

Papa drew in a long, shaky breath. His face paled and the muscles of his jaw tightened. He stood with white-knuckle fists, then stumbled and fell to one knee, gasping. His nostrils flared and neck spasmed.

Tiberius grabbed my shoulder when I started forward to help him.

“He needs to do this alone,” Tiberius whispered. “Leave off.”

“Overwhelming, isn’t it?” the High Priestess asked Papa in a quiet tone. “This endowment is a heavier burden than anyone will ever know you bear. The power you feel will soon calm.”

My heart rested somewhere near my throat, fluttering like the wings of a humming bird in nervous anticipation.