The Choosing (14 page)

“Lord of sacrifice and redemption, I present to You according to Your holy will a worthless child in need of Your salvation. Save her from this cleansing if You see fit.”

He poured the clear liquid into the funnel and the girl choked as the substance ran down her throat and cleansed her insides. He shook the funnel to make sure every last drop touched her tongue, and then he removed the plastic tool, watching as the girl’s head drooped in gasping, tearful agony.

She screamed
 
—no words, just her voice
 
—her anguish echoing across the room.

He paid it no mind and left her to contemplate the path to redemption.

By the time Carrington was escorted from Isaac’s home toward the vehicle that had been dispatched to take her back to the Stacks, all feelings of unease had vanished. The rest of the evening had been filled with more awkward but pleasant conversation and enough sweet rolls to make Carrington worry that someone was going to have to carry her up to her room.

She settled into the backseat of the transport vehicle and waited while a guard shut the door behind her and signaled to the driver that he was clear to proceed. The car moved forward smoothly and Carrington rested her head against the soft seat and closed her eyes.

“So, how was dinner?” a voice asked. It was familiar and came from the front passenger seat.

Carrington opened her eyes and saw Helms twisting around to face her, his smile bright as ever.

“Helms,” another familiar voice said from the driver’s seat. This voice held a firm layer of warning and Carrington knew immediately that Remko was driving. Her recently relieved heart jumped back into a frenzy. She looked up and caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. They were hard to read in the dim car light, and he looked away quickly.

“What? Carrington and I go way back,” Helms said. He flashed his grin at her again and she wondered if Remko knew how the two of them had met. She figured bringing it up would only complicate the already-awkward atmosphere permeating the cramped quarters of the car.

Remko kept his head forward and didn’t look again into the mirror, though Carrington found herself wishing he would.

“Dinner was nice,” Carrington said.

Helms gave her an apologetic look. “Sounds like it could have gone better.”

She shook her head and smiled. “No, really, it was wonderful.”

“Interesting. I’ve always thought Authority Knight walked around like he had something shoved up his
 
—”

“Helms,” Remko cut him off.

Helms held up his hands in defense. “Sorry. Of course I mean no disrespect, miss.”

Carrington grinned in spite of herself and assured Helms, “None taken.”

Helms tipped his head toward Carrington while looking at Remko. “See, no harm done.” He turned to face forward and propped one boot up toward the glass shield covering the front of the vehicle. “It’s just a strange situation, getting a second chance to be chosen. Clearly you’re a special girl.” He gave Remko a sly glance as the last words popped out of his mouth and Carrington peeked to see how Remko would react. He didn’t.

“It
is
very unusual. I am extremely fortunate to be chosen,” Carrington said.

“Then again, we’re all already chosen, so guess I’m just as fortunate as you,” Helms said. He locked eyes with her in his mirror and she could tell he was probing. She thought he might say something else about the night he’d taken her to see Aaron, but he let the air go silent with those words.

The rest of the ride was quiet and Carrington felt alone with her thoughts. She couldn’t help peeking up every few minutes to see if Remko might be glancing back at her, and a few times she was sure he averted his eyes just as she looked up.

In the silence she found her mind working itself into trouble. Regardless of how she tried, she couldn’t get it to stop replaying the moment with Isaac in his devotion room. The way his eyes had snapped, the way his body had stiffened, things she didn’t recall noticing then but was remembering now. She told herself she was overreacting, that it was nothing, but it was difficult to talk herself back into sanity. It was even more difficult to keep herself from preoccupation with the man sitting feet from her.

When they arrived at the Lint Stacks, Remko opened her door and led her quietly back into the building. Helms stayed behind with the car and gave her a playful wink when she turned to nod good-bye.

Carrington managed a sheepish thank-you when Remko opened the door for her. His face twitched like he wanted to say something, but he evidently thought better of it
and gave her only a slight nod as he turned to leave. She watched him for a moment before she felt the stares of the other two guards in the lobby and became self-conscious.

She headed for the elevator and stepped inside. Reaching toward the button for her floor, Carrington paused. There was looming hostility in her loft from the girls she lived with, and even though she knew she should be exhausted, she was hardly ready for sleep. She was wired and found it hard to imagine she would get much sleep in the days to come either. After a moment’s pause, she pressed a different button and took the elevator to the fourth floor, which held the library.

She exhaled dramatically as she crossed the threshold of the secret sanctuary. The smell of books and dust filled her with a strange sense of peace and she felt the constriction in her muscles release.

“I wondered if I would see you here,” a voice said. Carrington turned and saw Larkin step out from an aisle of shelved books.

“Any night you don’t come here?” Carrington asked cheerfully. She had been hoping to see her friend.

“Remember? I don’t sleep much.”

Carrington walked across the room and followed Larkin as she wandered back to her hiding place. At the end of the row, the bookshelves backed up to a wall of windows and she saw a blanket, pillow, journal, a handful of books, and a small tin arranged against the glass.

“It’s my secret cove,” Larkin said and then turned to
stop Carrington from moving any farther. “There’s a password to gain entrance,” she said with a stony seriousness.

Carrington flashed a surprised look, opened her mouth to say something, and then realized she had no response.

Larkin’s countenance broke into a smirk and her eyes flickered with glee. “I’ve always wanted to say that,” she said. She stepped aside, clearing the path.

“So there’s not a secret password?”

“No, but if you keep showing up like this we should definitely come up with one. You know, to prevent outsiders from intruding.”

“Yeah, this place gets so much traffic we’ll really have to keep our guard up.”

The girls smiled at each other. Then Larkin’s eyes changed and her smile became forced. Larkin didn’t need to tell Carrington what had changed; the same thought had bounded into Carrington’s consciousness as well. Even if there were a need to create a password, it would be too short-lived to matter.

Carrington settled in next to Larkin and glanced over the treasures the other girl stored here. The journal looked worn; the books were clearly her favorites because she had more than one place marked throughout each. This place really was like an escape cove.

“I heard you had an interesting escort back,” Larkin said.

Carrington looked at her in shock.

“Like I said, I hear things. How did it go?”

“It didn’t go like anything; it was a simple escort.”

“With Remko,” Larkin’s voice taunted, and Carrington waved it off with her hand.

“He’s just another guard.”

“Please. I’ve seen the way you look at him and the way he looks at you.”

Carrington glanced at Larkin curiously. She wanted to ask her what she meant by
“the way he looks at you”
but thought better of it.

“If the law were different . . . ,” Larkin started.

“Well, it’s not, and I’m engaged, so this conversation is completely inappropriate.”

Larkin’s smile fell and she turned away from Carrington. “How was your dinner?”

The stirring deep in Carrington’s gut started up again and she felt frustrated by her lack of control. She was finally getting everything she wanted and yet she was letting this tiny voice make her second-guess her path. “Fine.”

“
Fine
is what people say when they are trying to be polite and something wasn’t what they expected.”

“I didn’t really have any expectations. I mean, I was just honored to be chosen.”

“Come on, Carrington. It’s just us now. No one else is around, so you can cut the act.”

Carrington shook her head. “It’s not an act. I am honored. Honored and lucky. I got a second chance.”

“Lucky? To be marrying that monster?”

“You don’t know anything about him.”

“I know enough.”

Carrington turned to see that Larkin was now the one avoiding eye contact. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Larkin shook her head. “People just talk, that’s all.”

“And what do they say?”

“His wife was young, you know. Young and healthy until suddenly she wasn’t, and then she was dead.”

“What are you implying?”

“People just think it’s a bit convenient that she got so sick after they found out she couldn’t have children.”

“And the only likely reason is that her sickness was somehow induced? By him?”

“People say
 
—”

“People talk too much. Especially jealous people.”

Larkin whipped her head around at that and her eyes glinted with anger. “I’m not jealous.”

“Larkin, I didn’t mean
 
—”

“Yes, you did.”

The room fell eerily still and Carrington found herself holding her breath.

“People assume that because I march a little different to the drumbeat that I don’t care about not getting chosen, as if this is what I hoped for
 
—stuck inside this prison, labeled worthless. My problem wasn’t that I didn’t want to be chosen; my problem was that I never wanted anything this Authority had to offer.”

“Larkin
 
—”

“To be herded around like cattle at auction, groomed to serve, and then sold to the highest bidder. Taught our whole
lives that this is God’s way. His purpose. I refuse to let a group of branders that have somehow positioned themselves into power determine my worth or influence my idea of who I am. They do not get to dictate my worth as a human!”

Tears gathered in Larkin’s eyes and Carrington wanted to reach out and comfort her, but she felt cemented where she was.

“I never wanted to be a part of that life. I felt trapped, endlessly haunted by what I knew had to be wrong but without any power to change it. It
is
wrong, Carrington; it has to be.” Larkin grabbed Carrington’s hand and pressed it to her own chest.

“Don’t you feel it? Inside you, clawing away, screaming that life couldn’t have been meant to be this way?”

Carrington felt Larkin’s heart pounding furiously. Her own pulse was racing to meet her friend’s, the hairs on her neck and arms rising, tears threatening to appear. The desperation in Larkin’s voice alone was enough to rattle Carrington’s bones.

“Aaron says we don’t understand our true identity, that we are already chosen. He speaks of the Father that calls us His own, not a false god that labels and torments. Could you imagine waking up every morning and not wondering if the world was going to check the appropriate boxes that label you ‘enough’? What if you could fall in love, and choose your own trade and your own clothes? What if you could just
be
and know that was acceptable? Perfect, even?”

Larkin’s face was tearstained, but her eyes were alive
with the possibility of such a future. Carrington could feel her own hope stirring, building
 
—a soft orchestra filled with lovely tones that could at any moment burst into a thunderous crescendo.

Then she felt reality stomp through the noise and remind her she was still sitting inside the lonely library, incarcerated in the Stacks where the women not chosen were sent. The music faded and she pulled her hand away from Larkin’s chest. The light in Larkin’s eyes faded a bit and Carrington dropped her own eyes to the floor. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head:
“You must not let yourself get lost in foolishness. Eyes on the prize, darling daughter.”

Carrington silenced her hope and shook her head. “But that isn’t the world we live in, and this world is exactly as it’s supposed to be.”

Larkin huffed in disappointment and turned to look out the window.

“Larkin, you have to check into reality. I’m worried for you.”

“Maybe I’m the one who sees clearly and you, my friend, are the one in need of a reality check.”

Carrington had seen the powerful hope in Larkin’s eyes as she talked about her fantasy world, and she knew there was no point in arguing with her. “I should go get some sleep.”

Larkin nodded without looking at her. “Yeah, me too.”

“I’m still going to be here for a few weeks, so I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast?” Carrington said.

Larkin tilted her eyes toward Carrington. “See you at breakfast.”

Carrington hated to leave her friend with such weight on her shoulders, but she wasn’t sure what else to say. She stood and left Larkin resting against the window. The hallway was quiet and the day’s events and her emotional turbulence finally caught up with her. As she waited for the elevator, a soft chill ran across the top of her shoulders.

You are not who you believe. Your identity is a lie.

Carrington looked both ways down the dim hallway and trembled. The elevator dinged open and she rushed inside. The door shut, and as it did, the tingly feeling left. She rubbed her temples and sighed while a tinge of fear rumbled in her gut, not because she had heard the voice but because it was getting harder to convince herself that the voice was wrong.

Remko stepped down from his CityWatch vehicle and started toward the small home. The house was similar to the others around it
 
—single story, square; smooth, white outer walls; a light-brown roof with a steep pitch peaking in the center; manicured lawn stretching only five or six feet in each direction, ending in a simple wood fence on both sides. Remko had spent most of his childhood days rolling in the grass with his older brother, Ramses, or begging his mother and father to plant a thick oak tree so the two could climb it. His mother often had to drag him inside when the sun was fading from the sky.

His father had been a farmhand at Elken’s Farm not ten miles down the road. It hadn’t taken him long to ascend to a management position, working alongside Mr. Elken and his ownership team. Elken had loved Remko’s father for his firm but gracious hand with the other employees. Everyone held him in the highest esteem, but none more than Remko.

When he’d first heard that a tradesman enraged over a deal gone sour had killed his father, Remko’s response was utter disbelief. He couldn’t imagine a living soul with enough hate to actually harm the man everyone loved. His
disbelief quickly shifted to anger and then sorrow. People said time would heal his wounds, but time only seemed to exacerbate his suffering.

His father hadn’t been dead a year when his mother followed. A withered body and worn soul had been her undoing. Neighbors whispered that she was weak for letting her own emotional pain manifest as a physical aliment and that she should have been thinking about her young boys. Remko and Ramses knew that she had tried, but losing the man she loved had left her broken.

Ramses was nineteen
 
—coming of age and ready to begin his trade work at Elken’s Farm. A short year later Ramses chose and married Lesley, and Remko lived with the two of them until he was able to join the CityWatch four years later.

Remko knocked on the front door and waited only a moment before a lovely blonde woman with soft brown eyes and a sweet smile greeted him. She enveloped him in her arms, and Remko placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Lesley,” Remko said.

“It’s good to see you, Remko. Please come in.”

The patter of little feet sounded on the wooden floor and Remko saw the two tiny humans scurrying toward him. “Uncle Remko, Uncle Remko,” their voices sounded in unison. One flaunted bouncing yellow curls like her mother; the other had a mop of short, dark-brown hair like his father. Both children had blue eyes that were just their own.

Remko knelt and the twins jumped into his arms. He laughed and they giggled, their small hands clutching at his clothes as he lifted them both.

“Oh, you two will be the death of him,” Lesley said.

“No, Mother, Uncle Remko is super strong,” the tiny girl corrected.

“Of course he is, Nina; he’s a CityWatch guard. One day I’m going to be just like you,” the boy said.

“Will not,” Nina teased. “Tell him, Momma; tell Kane he has to get married.”

“Gross! I’m never getting married. That’s for sissies.”

“Kane,” his mother warned.

“Did I hear you call your father a sissy?” another voice called.

“He did, Father; I heard him,” Nina said.

“Did not, liar! I just don’t want to get married is all,” Kane shot back.

“Hello, Brother,” Remko said to the man who had just entered the room.

“I wish I had a brother,” Kane said under his breath.

Nina’s mouth fell open and she punched Kane in the arm.

“Father, did you see that?” Kane whined.

Remko chuckled to himself and put the two children down. Kane lurched forward to push Nina, but Remko held the small boy back. He looked up at Remko, his eyes pleading to let him seek revenge on his sister. Remko softly shook his head. “You want to be a Ci . . . Ci . . . a guard? Well, we nev . . . never hurt women.”

“She isn’t a woman; she’s my sister.”

“Nina Eleanor, what have I told you about hitting your brother?” Lesley said, grabbing the girl by her shoulder.

“He wished I was a boy!” Nina said.

“No excuse. Apologize,” Lesley instructed.

Nina bit her lip stubbornly and gave her mother a fierce look. Lesley changed her own expression and Nina knew it was more than she could take on. Defeated, Nina turned to Kane and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Kane weighed her words and then smiled triumphantly. He seemed pleased with the halfhearted apology.

“Now you two run out back and let your father and Uncle Remko catch up,” Lesley said.

“Oh, can’t we stay? We’ll be really quiet,” Kane said.

“No,” his mother replied. “Take your sister and go.”

Kane huffed, walked to his sister, and took her small hand in his own. “I can’t wait to be an adult.”

“Well, then you’ll have to get married,” Nina said as the two walked away hand in hand.

“Like I said, I’m never getting married.”

Lesley dropped her forehead into her hand and shook her head. “It’s never-ending with those two.”

Remko had thoroughly enjoyed the display and didn’t try to hide it as he followed his brother into the front sitting room. They sat and Lesley came in a couple moments later with a tray of refreshments. She set them down on the coffee table and Ramses smiled.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said.

“Oh, hush
 
—of course I did. Remko doesn’t come very often anymore. I need to make sure he’s eating something home-cooked.”

Ramses stood and grabbed his wife, placed a kiss on her lips, and watched her as she left the room. Remko focused on the different snacks laid out before him and tried not to think of Carrington, which he found himself doing too much of the time. He grabbed a small sandwich and fingered it absently.

Remko imagined even if he’d had the chance to pick a bride, he wouldn’t have gotten as lucky as Ramses had with Lesley. Most married couples coexisted because it was their duty to God, the Authority, and their children. Divorce was forbidden. But Ramses and Lesley had actually fallen deeply in love over their early years of marriage. You could see it in the way they looked at each other with respect and grace, the way they let one another be individuals but also invested in their union. It was evident in the way Lesley cared for Ramses and in the way he protected her. It was enough to make any man jealous
 
—especially one who would never have the chance to experience such feelings for himself.

Though the jealousy usually didn’t feel quite so pronounced as it did currently.

Remko swallowed another sandwich and pushed Carrington’s face from his mind. Thinking about her at all was flirting with danger
 
—it was against the law, and even more so now that she was engaged. He didn’t like to admit
how hard it had been to see her leaving Authority Knight’s home last night and to know the two of them soon would share it.

He would have liked to have avoided the entire interaction, but when Remko was given an order, he obeyed. Thankfully, Helms had requested to ride along; otherwise Remko would’ve been stuck suffering in silence with her sitting only inches away. He should have known Helms would try to stir up trouble. Remko was incredibly thankful that Carrington had handled it with such grace. Not that she handled anything without it.

“You are very preoccupied, Brother. What’s on your mind?” Ramses asked.

“Just enj . . . enjoying the qui . . . qui . . . the silence,” Remko said.

“No. Something is bothering you; your stutter always gets worse when your mind is filled with troubles.”

Remko drank slowly from the mug Lesley had brought him. It had always been hard to hide things from Ramses. Remko knew he could be honest with his brother; he just wasn’t sure he was ready to be honest with himself.

“Is it something with work? I overheard one of the farmhands saying that the CityWatch had found the dead body of a Lint out by the river.”

Remko shook his head. “We did, but the tra . . . trail is cold.”

Ramses studied Remko’s face. “But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

“I am strug . . . strug . . . struggling with my duty,” Remko said.

“That’s unlike you. How so?”

“I’ve never questioned the law or God, but . . . I find myself wish . . . wishing it were different.”

“It is never wrong to wonder, Remko, and it is important to remember that these are mere men who determine what is and is not legal.”

Remko expected such talk from his brother. Although Remko held fast to the way of the law, Ramses had always been much more of a free spirit. Too often, his intellect got the better of him and he criticized the Authority and its policies. Though he was smart enough to be mindful of his words outside his home and around his children, with Remko he never held back.

“Careful, Brother.” Remko was still a Guard member, and Ramses was bordering on treasonous language.

“Sometimes I don’t understand the deep loyalty you hold for the men who took away your choice for a different life.”

Remko didn’t respond. He, like everyone else, had moments of frustration with the Authority, but he also was convinced their rules helped protect their society and keep it safe. After the Ruining, the world had fallen into chaos and the founders of the Authority had saved hundreds of lives with the system they put in place. Besides, he found it much easier to live having reconciled himself to the immutable nature of his situation.

“It was God’s pl . . . plan,” Remko said.

“I wish you would come with me and Lesley to hear Aaron speak,” Ramses said.

Remko stood and turned to face the window behind him. He knew guards who had arrested men for speaking about Aaron in the streets, knew of men locked away in prison for months after being caught returning from one of the clandestine meetings. Remko turned a deaf ear to his brother’s comments but struggled to remain silent when Ramses was reckless about expressing himself.

“I know that you have your duty, and I know how the Authority feels about this man, but if you would just come and listen, Brother . . .”

“You couldn’t und . . . understand the danger y . . . y . . . you put yourself in.”

“A risk well worth it.”

“Ramses, please. . . .”

“I’m sorry; I know I’m putting you in a difficult position, but Aaron has given Lesley and me hope in a time when we believed hope was lost to us.”

“If you were caught
 
—” Remko paused and turned back to his brother
 
—“I cou . . . could not help you.”

Ramses nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Remko looked into his older brother’s eyes and, without uttering a word, pleaded with him to be careful. His brother acknowledged his concern, but Remko couldn’t get the sense of dread to leave his chest.

“Now,” Ramses prompted, “you were telling me about a law you wished were different.”

As if Ramses had reached out and pushed a button, Remko’s mind jumped back to Carrington. He wanted to confide in his brother; he knew it would help lighten the burden he was carrying, but this was the kind of thing that would encourage his brother’s open rebellion, and that was something he couldn’t live with.

“It’s nothing; just wea . . . weariness,” Remko said.

Ramses sat deep in thought for a long moment, something clearly churning away behind his eyes. Remko ate the final sandwich and waited in the silence.

“Father would be so proud of you, I often think. More so of you than me
 
—your loyalty to the people in this city and the leaders who sit above it; your loyalty as a brother and an uncle. But I wonder if he would worry about your happiness as I do.”

Remko locked eyes with his brother.

“All I ever wanted for you was happiness. I knew this would be your life, knew the CityWatch would become your home and that there was nothing I could do to change that. We live in a society where choice is a farce, and regardless of what I wished you could have, I knew there was nothing I could do to change your future. You know, after Mother’s death I used to sit in your room while you slept and imagine taking you away from this place. I dreamed up a world from our past where individuals had personal responsibility and control over their destinies. Sometimes I would get lost there and only the rising sun would remind me that it was a dream.”

Remko saw the pain in his brother’s eyes, felt the longing in his words. Ramses had never mentioned any of this to him before. Remko would be eternally grateful to his brother for taking care of him after their parents’ deaths, but he’d never given much thought to the amount of parental responsibility Ramses had actually taken on and carried all these years.

“The light is gone from your eyes, Brother,” Ramses said. “Your happiness has been drained.”

Remko wanted to argue that happiness wasn’t essential for him to be an excellent warrior, but he knew that would only give Ramses’s argument weight. Ramses blamed the Authority and the CityWatch for Remko’s dismal outlook, and he wasn’t wrong.

A single thought floated through Remko’s brain before he could stop it. He believed Carrington could make him happy.

Remko scolded himself and worked to keep the emotion from registering on his face. His responsibility and purpose had nothing to do with his personal happiness. His duty was to his people, to the job he had been assigned. He took pride in receiving high praise and respect for his skills. The light Ramses wanted to see was a luxury that Remko could not afford and therefore it had never mattered before.

“I’m fine, Ramses.”

“I believe you believe that, but you could have so much more.”

Before Remko could answer, the two giggling little
monsters bounced into the room. The heavy mood lifted as both men greeted the children.

“Uncle Remko, Mother wanted to make sure you are staying for dinner,” Nina said.

“Oh, please, please stay,” Kane said.

“Yes, please, Uncle Remko,” Nina said.

Remko glanced at Ramses, who flashed him a look of surrender, and Remko knew Ramses would let the subject lie.

The two wide-smiling faces were a stronger form of manipulation than most tactical torture. Remko nodded and the two minions jumped up and down in excitement.