Guardian of the Gate (19 page)

I can only nod.

We sit in the silence of the all-consuming mist. It has grown thicker yet since I was pulled from the water. Even the others in the boat are little more than shadows, just smudges in the fog. Then, all at once, the boat stops its effortless glide.

I sit up. “Why aren’t we moving?”

“Because we are here,” Dimitri says behind me.

I move to sit on one of the planks that act as a seat inside the boat, and try to make out any sort of shape in the distance. But it is no use. The fog is too all-encompassing.

“Why are we stopping, Mr. Markov?” Luisa’s voice is groggy from the middle of the boat.

“We’ve arrived at Altus,” he says.

She looks around as if he is mad. “You must be seeing things. There is nothing within a mile of here save this bloody fog!”

Either I am punchy from lack of sleep or I am actually feeling more like myself, because her bad language causes me to laugh out loud.

Dimitri rubs one palm over his face in a gesture that illustrates either his tiredness or his frustration with Luisa’s excitability. “Trust me, it’s here. If you will only wait a moment, you’ll see what I mean.”

Luisa crosses her arms over her bosom in a gesture of impatience, but Edmund follows Dimitri’s gaze out over the water. The activity does nothing to move Sonia. She is as listless as ever and seems to have no interest at all in whether or not we have arrived at Altus.

Noticing movement near the front of the boat, I look over to see one of the robed figures turn outward to face the water. I catch a glimpse of long, slender fingers reaching up, and then the hood of the robe is lowered to reveal a cascade of hair so blond it is nearly platinum. It shimmers down the back of the girl at the front of the boat, and I see now that it
is
a girl, or more accurately, a young woman.

I am spellbound as she lifts her arms, the flowing sleeves of her robe falling back to reveal creamy white skin. A strange hush descends over us. The water does not lap against the side of the boat, and it seems as if we collectively hold our breath, waiting for what is next.

When it happens, it is worth the wait.

The girl begins to mutter something in a language I have never heard before. It sounds almost like Latin, but I know that it is not. Her voice winds its way through the fog. It winds its way around us and then flows out and over the water. I hear the words traveling long after they leave her mouth, though not as an echo. It is something else. A remembrance. It flows outward until the mist begins to lift, not all at once, but still quickly enough for me to know it is not nature alone at play.

The water glistens in sunlight that was not there only moments before. The sky, once dull gray when visible at all, glimmers above our heads, and I am reminded of the autumn sky in New York, a deep blue richer than at any other time of year.

But all of this is not the thing that takes my breath.

No. That claim belongs to the lush island before us.

It shimmers in the water, a mirage of beauty and serenity. A small harbor lies not far from the boat, and from its banks the island rises in a gentle slope. Toward the top of the island and in the distance, I can make out a smattering of buildings, but they are too far away to decipher clearly.

Most beautiful of all, though, are the trees. Even from the water, I see that the island is dotted with apple trees, the crimson fruit a flurry of exclamation points amid the lavish green of the trees and grass that seems to cover the island.

“Oh… It’s lovely!” It seems too small a word to describe what is in front of me, but it is all I have in this moment.

Dimitri smiles down at me. “It is, isn’t it?” He looks back at it. “I never stop being awed by it.”

I look up at him. “Is it real?”

He chuckles. “It is not on any conventional map, if that’s what you mean. But it is here, hidden by the mists and present to those among the Sisterhood, the Grigori, and those who serve them.”

“Well, I should like to see it up close,” Luisa says.

Edmund nods. “Miss Milthorpe needs sleep and Miss Sorrensen needs… well, Miss Sorrensen needs assistance.” We all look at Sonia, now staring almost angrily at Altus. Edmund looks back to Dimitri. “The sooner the better.”

Dimitri tips his head at the robed woman who made Altus appear. She moves back to her position at the front of the boat and picks up her oars as the woman at the rear does the same.

I take my seat, watching the water as it moves beneath the boat. As it takes me closer and closer to the island that harbors answers to the questions I am still learning to ask.

I am surprised to find several figures waiting when we disembark from the boat. Like our traveling companions, they are robed in deepest purple and lined up on the dock. I know from their fine features that they are all women. They seem to be waiting for us with some ceremony.

Edmund steps off with Sonia first, followed by Luisa. I wait with Dimitri, disembarking before him. When he introduces me as Amalia Milthorpe, Lady Abigail’s great-niece, the women bow formally in my direction, but naked suspicion and perhaps even resentment is evident in their eyes.

Once the rest of our party is properly introduced, Dimitri goes to the women, greeting each of them personally in low murmurs. Finally he reaches the woman at the head of the line. She is older, perhaps even older than Aunt Virginia, but when she pulls back the hood of her robe to kiss Dimitri’s
cheeks, it is to reveal ebony hair without a touch of gray. It is twisted into such an elaborate knot that I think it must reach the floor when unbound. He says something to her quietly, and then looks my way. The woman nods and moves toward me, her gaze piercing mine. I feel suddenly violated.

Her voice is soft and smooth. It belies the fear she instills in me. “Amalia, welcome to Altus. We have long awaited your arrival. Brother Markov tells me you are quite tired and require protection and shelter. Please allow us the privilege of providing you with both.”

She does not wait for my answer, nor does she wait for me. She simply turns and begins walking up a stone pathway that seems to wind to the very top of the island. Dimitri reaches for my hand and takes my bag, leading me forward. The others fall into line, the robed women at the back of our strange group.

About halfway to the top of the hill, I begin to think I will not make it. My exhaustion, held at bay by the terrifying and frigid plummet through the ocean, resurfaces as we make our way on the peaceful island. It is a riot of color and sensation — the brilliant red of the apples on the trees that seem to grow wild everywhere I look, the many robed and half-hidden faces that are alternately mysterious and fearsome, the rich green of the grass along the side of the pathway, and the soft, sweet scent that reminds me of my mother. It is all there, but in an amalgam that is at once overwhelming and surreal.

Luisa’s voice, when I hear it, seems to come from within my own head. It is both louder and more muffled than usual.
“Goodness!” she says. “Are there not carriages or horses? Any mode of transport that does not involve us trudging up this neverending mountain would suffice.”

“The Sisters believe that walking is good for the soul,” Dimitri says, and even in my current state I think I hear the humor in his voice.

Luisa is not amused. “Nothing is as good for the soul as comfort, in my opinion.” She stops to wipe her brow with the back of her sleeve.

I try to keep walking. To put one foot in front of the other. I think if I can do only that, if I can only keep
moving
, I will reach the end of the path. But my body has something else in mind. It stops working altogether until I am standing perfectly still in the middle of the path.

“Lia? Are you all right?” Dimitri stands in front of me. I feel his arm on mine. See his concerned face.

I want to reassure him. To tell him that, of course, I am perfectly fine. That I shall just walk and walk and walk until such a time when I might finally lay down and rest with dignity. A time when I might rest without fear of the Souls taking charge of the medallion that is, even now, heavy on my wrist and my mind.

None of that is what I say. In fact, I don’t say anything at all, because the words that sound so reasonable in my head will not form on my lips. Worse, my legs are no longer willing to support my body. The ground rushes toward me with alarming speed until something lifts me above it.

And then there is nothing at all.

It is the pulsing on my chest that draws me out of the blackness.

I feel it there for what seems a long time before I have the energy to swim my way out of the lethargy that weighs down my limbs as well as my will. When I finally open my eyes, it is to a young woman with eyes as green as my own, her hair a brilliant white halo against the candlelight reaching to me from the recesses of the room. Her face is kind, her forehead creased with worry as she looks down at me.

“Shhh,” she says. “You must sleep.”

“What… What…” I will my hands to reach for the thing I feel on my chest. It takes me some time to make my arms obey, but when they do, I grasp at a smooth, hard oval attached to a string around my neck. The object is hot to my touch and throbs with an energy I can almost hear. “What
is
this?” I finally manage to ask.

She smiles gently. “It is only an adder stone, though a powerful one, to be sure. It is to protect you. From the Souls.” She takes my hands and tucks them under the thick blankets that cover my body. “Sleep now, Sister Amalia.”

“What about… what about Dimitri? And Luisa? And Sonia and Edmund?”

“They’re quite all right, I promise. Everything is well in hand. Altus is off-limits to the Souls, and the adder stone will protect you while you sleep. You’ve nothing to fear.”

She gets up from the bed, disappearing into the dim room,
lit only with candles, behind her. I want to stay awake. I want to formulate the many, many questions clamoring for attention, but it is no use, and I slip back into the nothingness before I can put up a fight.

“Are you awake now? Well and truly?”

This time it is a different girl who hovers over me. She is younger than the shadowy woman who told me about the adder stone and cared for me during the time I floated in and out of consciousness. This girl looks at me not with worry but with open curiosity.

I fumble beneath the sheets for my wrist, breathing a sigh of relief as my fingers touch the cool disc of the medallion, the whispery velvet of the ribbon. It is still there along with the familiar mixture of relief and resentment that accompanies its presence.

The voice of the other woman drifts to me in the haze of memory:
It is only an adder stone, though a powerful one, to be sure. It is to protect you. From the Souls.

My hand feels leaden as I lift it to my chest, fumbling for the stone around my neck. When my fingers close around it, I am baffled to find it smooth and with a heat that should burn my skin and somehow does not. I resolve to ask more about it later and drop my hand back to the coverlet.

“May I…” My throat is so dry I can hardly speak. “May I have some water, please?”

The girl giggles. “You could ask for the moon right now and
the Sisters will see to it that it arrives prettily wrapped on your doorstep.”

I don’t know what she means, but she reaches for the table at the side of the bed and pours water into a heavy ceramic mug, lifting it to my lips so that I can drink. The water is icy and pure in a way that is almost sweet.

“Thank you.” I let my head fall back onto the pillow. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days or so, off and on.”

I nod. I have vague memories of waking to the darkened room, the flickering candles casting shadows on the wall as graceful figures moved about in the half-light.

“Where is the other girl? The one who cared for me before?” I ask.

She purses her lips as she ponders my question. “Did she have very white hair and green eyes? Or was her hair dark, like yours?”

“I… I think it was light.”

“That would be Una. She has cared for you the most.”

“Why is that?”