Protecting Truth (17 page)

::27::
Protectors

“Pardon me,” Macey says and squeezes between Bishop and me. “I need to have some girl time with my B.F.F.” She winks at him. Students rush to their apartments, pushing past.

“Of course.” He nods and smiles. “I’d never dream of coming between you two.” With a quick squeeze, he releases my arm, surrendering me to Macey.

“We’ll catch ya later!” she hollers over her shoulder and marches into her apartment. “I have the whole day planned—you, me, and Jesus Holy-Hotness, my hair stylist.”

“Mace, I’m supposed to be meeting Ms. Swift for defense tutoring.” I attempt to resist, half-heartedly pulling away from her. She tugs harder, dragging me into her bedroom and slams the door.

“Yeah, about that.” She turns and looks serious. “What’s with all this anger you’ve been releasing in girl-kick-butt mode? Scarlett said you practically ripped her arm off in defense class the other week. If you’re going to be Rambo Barbie, at least take it out on Perpetua.”

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away. I apologized to her right away.”

“Scarlett’s fine. That’s not why I mentioned it.” She shakes her head. “It’s just—” She hesitates, letting her eyes roam nervously.

“Tell me.”

She sighs and gives in. “I see what you’re doing to Bishop. You’re kinda hurting his feelings.” She plops on her bed, looking guilty for the accusation.

“He said that to you?” My heart races, and I cross my arms, wishing I could strangle this ridiculous urge to fight out of my system.

“He doesn’t have to. I know how’d I’d feel it you were my Wanderer. I think—no, I know, it would make me self-conscious. Like, I know it shouldn’t, but in my heart, in my genetics, I know it would.” She looks uncomfortable.

I’ve never seen Macey like this. “Don’t be afraid. You can tell me what you think. I want to know.” I place a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s just upsetting to even think about.” Macey shakes her head. “Like, providing protection is who I am. If Xavier could do it for himself, what good am I?” She scrunches her nose. “Maybe it’s a stupid Wandering thing?”

“You’re right.” I collapse on the bed next to her. Professor Raunnebaum warned me of this, and I moved forward with my training regardless, knowing it would affect Bishop. “I’ve been feeling insanely guilty about it, knowing it would throw off the balance of our team, but for some reason, I can’t stop.” All Underground and mom issues aside, I think I still might be doing this. Like, it’s the path I’m meant to be on.

“All right, well, I’ll get off my soapbox now. It’s your team. And considering the attack, it’s always good to have another fighter.” She gives me a hug.

“You can always tell me how you feel, Mace. Okay?”

She nods with a smile.

It’s time to discuss everything with Bishop, not just the Turner issue. I sigh.

“Now, let’s talk about something fun, like hair and makeup for the gala.” Macey squeals and runs to grab her makeup box.

•

I cancel my tutoring with Ms. Swift. And after a visit to Jesus, the miracle hairdresser, Macey and I have the most beautiful hairstyles you can imagine. My hair is pulled back in the front and layered in long dark ringlets down the center of my back. Because I feel like letting loose, I allow Jesus to add a small streak of sapphire blue to my hair. Somewhere between my night classes, I dreamed about having the color. Amazingly, it matches beautifully with the dress Gabe left for me.

The dress shimmers with the color of sapphire. Emerald-green details line the edges. There’s a fascinator hairpiece with long, curling peacock feathers and sparkling cobalt gems. The costume is a mixture of steampunk style and Victorian circus. The black fishnet stockings are sexy but a little too itchy. Macey promises I’ll get used to them as I yank and tug at them.

There’s a knock at Macey’s apartment front door. Xavier, dressed in a brown suit, hurries to answer it. Bishop stands with Sam on his arm. The second she sees me, she sweeps into the room in a panic.

“Do you see this dress?” She sticks her long leg out of a slit in her skirt that ends at her hip, right above her panties. “It’s ridiculous! Too much! How am I supposed to go to this party looking like a floozy, Sera? Why would Gabe do this to me?” she hisses with a dramatic stomp.

“I kinda like it.” Quinn stands nearby, his weight leaning on his crutches.

Sam steps aside, holding her leg out. “It’s absurd, Quinn!”

“Not with stems like those,” he responds, wagging his eyebrows playfully.

Sam instantly blushes, becoming quiet. Her gaze drifts, looking for a comfortable place to land.

“It’s not too bad,” I venture, trying to ease her distress. “At least your ruffled briefs are cute.” I smile behind my glove.

Sam sighs and crosses her arms.

“You look lovely, Sam,” Bishop says, patting her shoulder in a brotherly fashion. And then he turns. “As do you, Miss Parrish.” He grabs my hand and kisses the base of my fingers.

“So do you.” His sapphire-blue ascot, tufted under his chin, strangely matches with my new streak of hair color, like Gabe knew I would do it. When I look into Bishop’s eyes, I’m feeling more confident in the conversation I’ll be having with him tonight.
I have nothing to hide
. I smile brightly, feeling happy for the love we share. I lean in and kiss him on the cheek.

Bishop takes my arm and, as a group, we head to the main atrium. A hologram has completely transformed the space. Now, it’s the grandest ballroom one could imagine with the most ornate details. Bright gold leaf carvings and paintings cover every available flat surface. Rows of columns and arcades run along the outer edges of the first and second floor. Red-and-white-striped curtains drape and billow on every wall, mimicking the tent of a circus. Holographic circus animals roam the floor, adorned with ornate gold cords, gemstones, and feathers.

But most amazing by far is the sight of miniature hot air balloons that hover at various heights. Their baskets are just large enough for two people. Some balloons rise higher than the ceiling, which now appears to open up to the midnight blue sky. Holographic stars twinkle. A shimmering comet streaks across the atmosphere.

“Wow!” Xavier says. “Turner really outdid himself.”

“Turner?” Macey questions.

“Yeah, he’s an amazing artist. He designed the whole ballroom for Gabe. Said he wanted to impress some girl,” he snorts.

I can’t help it, I stop breathing, knowing
that girl
is me. As hard as I try to kick Turner out of my head, he keeps fighting his way back in.

“Look, there he is.” Xavier points.

I follow his finger. Perpetua wraps herself around Turner’s body and kisses his neck. He doesn’t seem responsive, but still, he’s doing what I told him to do, finding someone else. Why does it have to be her? I grit my teeth.

“Guess it worked.” Macey laughs. “Never knew those two were an item. He’s got awful taste. Did you know, Sera?” She looks over, completely clueless about my non-feelings for him.

“No.” I shake my head. My body temperature rises.

By the time we make it to the lower level, the music has taken on a club vibe. Students migrate to the floor, swaying and spinning to some kind of modern techno mixed with a carnival waltz. Bishop immediately sweeps me onto the dance floor. The moves are easy to pick up and, in no time, we’ve learned the choreographed steps.

He spins me in between the clowns and stilt-walkers. But I can’t enjoy myself with Perpetua hanging on Turner in my peripheral vision. I grab Bishop’s hand and lead him to a hot air balloon.

A gypsy approaches. Wiry salt-and-pepper hair peeks out from under an eggplant-colored hooded cape. Many reflective necklaces dangle from her neck. Hypnotically, they clank and chime when she moves. Once upon a time, she was probably very beautiful. She stops and points with her knobby finger.

“Are you prepared to see your future, young one?”

“My future?”

“The balloon.” She looks up at its decorative exterior, draped with roped nets and tassels. “To ride in it, to see above the walls of the ballroom, will reveal your future like a crystal ball.”

“Sounds like fun,” I muse. These are only circus games, holograms thrown together by Gabe and Turner.

“You are a brave one,” she says, waddling aside to pull open the basket gate. Two students step out and Bishop and I step in. The gypsy closes the gate, then ambles around the basket and unties a gold cord tethered to it, releasing the balloon. It ascends, launching into the air. The basket’s edges are high, at chest level, so Bishop and I lean over to look over at the party below.

“I should be scared of the height, but for some reason I’m not. Maybe it’s because my mind knows it’s a hologram.”

“Maybe, but still, you shouldn’t be afraid. I’ve never understood your fear of heights. Perhaps you’re finally getting over it?”

“I wish!” I laugh at the thought, but for once, I’m thrilled to be leaving the nerves behind, even for a fake hot air balloon ride. “Look, we’re rising higher than the roofline.” I point.

“What do you think you’ll see?” Bishop questions. “It’s a peek into your future. Maybe
our
future?” He lifts one eyebrow and places his hand on mine.

Bishop reaches above us and activates the burner. The burner’s flame roars, creating hot air that rises into the balloon, and we float higher. “Let’s see how far we can go. Maybe to heaven?” He flashes his dimple.

“Maybe,” I tease.

The balloon ascends beyond the roofline of the Academy. I’m amazed by what’s revealed below. It’s not the bustling city of Chicago as I expected.

•

The skyline of a quiet desert surrounds us. Stars reach across the convex sky, their light softly touching the undulating, sand-covered land below. The moon reflects upon a shimmering river that cuts the earth in half. Structures, Egyptian in style, sit beyond. Fireflies dance at a golden obelisk’s base. If we floated toward it, I could reach out and touch the apex.

“How is this possible?” I turn to Bishop. “How can my future be the desert? And I’ve dreamed of this before, long ago—the night Aunt Mona told me I’m a Wanderer.” I gesture toward the sky, thinking back to the dream about fireflies in the desert.

“It’s beautiful, whatever it means.” His arms encircle my waist. “Any place in time is my favorite place to be with you. If this is your future, I want to be there with you.” He brushes his nose against my cheek. His warm breath radiates heat along my bare shoulder. And finally, his lips find mine. His kisses are sweet, controlled, and soft.

Gently, I push him away. “Bishop, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Totally not a big deal.” Ashamed, I look down, knowing it’s a complete lie. It’ll be a big deal to Bishop.

“Then let’s chat about it later,” he persuades, kissing me again.

::28::
The Gala

The balloon lands. We’ve flown above the party for at least half an hour, maybe more. I didn’t get a chance to talk with Bishop, but I haven’t broken my promise to myself. The evening isn’t over. Tonight, after the party, we
will
talk.

Lights flash above. Gabe appears at the top of a grand staircase, dressed in a costume, this one slightly more cabaret than the others. He wears red heels, black fishnets, and a tux with tails. A large black top hat with feathers, crinkled tulle, and a mound of flowers, stacks high on his head. Black kohl wraps his eyes like a raccoon, and his face is caked with white powder. As always, he’s stunning, no matter what form he takes. Still, this outfit, without sequins, is bland compared to his others. In his own way, he’s mourning the attack.

“Hello, my little carnies!” He steps down slowly, leaning on a red cane. “The festivities have begun. Let’s have some entertainment, shall we?” The lights snap off, save for one spotlight. The beam rotates to Gabe and then splits into several. Each new light lands on the hot air balloons above. At first, the balloons sizzle. Then, with a confetti explosion, the fabric peels back like the skin of an orange, revealing large silver hoops. Women—or men, in some cases I can’t tell—stand in them, dressed like Gabe, balancing on the ring.

Music fills the ballroom, dance and orchestra in a perfect blend. As each dramatic note hits, the acrobats standing in their silver hoops strike new poses. Finally, the music breaks into full chorus, and the group performs an aerial choreographed dance of acrobatics.

One performer does a handstand with legs stretched in splits long and wide. In another, two people twine themselves into an impossible position, one balancing on the other within their own spinning ring. Several acrobats flip and jump between other swinging circles like trapeze artists. There’s so much taking place, it’s hard to focus on just one.

At the culmination of the music, the troupe rolls over the side of their rings, flipping into the air and disappearing within several sparkling clouds of wander dust. The crowd cheers wildly, but Gabe’s not done yet. The show continues for at least another hour. Funny and scary clowns, mermaids swimming around ornate fish tanks, tattooed lizard men spitting fire, acrobats riding colorful horses, dancing tigers, there’s nothing this circus doesn’t have. Each act is more devastatingly shocking and beautiful than the last.

When it stops, I can barely catch my breath. Students clap and scream and whistle for more, but the show is apparently over. Eventually the DJ returns to spinning music, and students return to dancing. A large buffet has been set out in a nearby room.

“Would you like some food?” Bishop asks after another dance. “I’m starving.”

“Sounds good.”

Bishop makes his way through the crowd, disappearing from view. Now, I finally have a moment to do what I’ve wanted to do this whole night. I scan the crowd. When I find Turner alone I march to him, where he’s pouring punch for himself. Perpetua chats with a group of friends across the room.

I stand next to him, practically boiling out of my skin. With quick movements, I grab a cup, swipe the ladle from his grasp, and pour a drink for myself. I take a quick swig, casting my disapproving eyes from behind the rim, and then I slam the glass on the table. My opinion can’t be held in any longer.

“I can’t believe you brought her with you!”

“Are you suggesting you have a problem with my date?” He smiles, acting innocent.

“She’s a horrid, back-stabbing witch!”

He shoves an arm under mine and hisses, “Aren’t you the one who told me to move on, Seraphina? What was it you said exactly? ‘Find someone new,’ I think it was.” He drags me out a set of ornate doors and onto a veranda that overlooks a holographic city. Turner kicks the doors closed behind us. The party and music disappear, leaving us in silence.

“Uh!” I grunt and stomp away, but he latches onto my arm.

“No! We’re having this out now! You aren’t going anywhere!” He swings me back to face him. “Why don’t you ask yourself why you’re so jealous of her?”

“Jealous! I am not!” I scream. “You’re out of your delusional mind!” I pull away.

But he isn’t done with me. He pulls me back again. My body lands with my chest against his. Before I can react or even say another word, he crushes his lips into mine and kisses me. I struggle to get away, but he holds me there, letting his hungry fingers skim over my shoulders and down my back. His kisses are frantic, hot, and out of control. I lose my mind, because suddenly, I kiss him back.

All the tension that has built up between us explodes into fireworks. They sizzle through my veins, shooting throughout my body. The kiss, heated with passion, is the consequence of the raw and careless emotional disturbance that’s been building for months. His scorching lips work mine over. I reach into his dark hair and twine my fingers into its roots, pulling him closer, gasping for more.

Turner kisses the line of my collarbone and bare shoulders. In the frenzy, he lifts me from the floor and staggers backward. I land seated on a ledge and lock my legs around his hips. Then I grab his collar, jerk him closer, and vanish into absolute delirium. There’s passion—so much more intense passion than I’ve ever felt before.

“Sera!” The veranda doors fly open.

We pull away from each other. Turner’s wistful eyes lock with mine. I drag my wrist across my wet lips, breathing heavily. I want to jump back into his arms and devour him when he steps away.

Sam rushes forward. Her beautiful taffeta gown sweeps behind her. She slaps Turner in the face and grabs my arm, quickly dragging me away. I only look back over my shoulder, staring at his silvery eyes. I want to return and allow his kisses to consume me. A ghost of a smirk reaches his lips as though he can read my mind. Then he’s gone from my view.

Inside, Sam drags me through the people dancing, holographic animals, jugglers, and finally out a door on the opposite side of the grand ballroom. She shoves me into the ladies room, drags me to a circular sofa, and pushes me down on the seat.

“Sit!” she commands, but she doesn’t have to. Lost in this abyss of complete and utter shock, I would have let her guide me anywhere. My stunned mind buzzes as I stare off into space. A single finger lingers at my lips, brushing the exact spot where I just allowed Turner to kiss me in a way I never dreamed imaginable.

A set of fingers snaps in front of my eyes, awakening me. Sam paces back and forth, biting her nails.
She never bites her nails.

Awareness drenches me. “Don’t tell Bishop!” I plead. “Don’t let him see into your mind or show him what you saw!” The words tumble from my lips at a hurried, frantic pace. “Please!” I jump up and grab her arm, imploring with desperate eyes as my fingers dig into her skin.

Fear surges through me when she doesn’t answer. “I don’t know what happened. He just—kissed me, and I fought, but then I didn’t.” I stare off again, considering the awful consequences of my actions. Overwhelmed, I fall to the floor. My gown puddles around me. I lean into the billowing fabric and cry.

Sam bends down, bringing her eyes level with mine. Her mouth turns down at the corners. “Sera,” she says gently, her eyes brimming with tears. “Bishop’s already seen.”