Seeing Light (The Seraphina Parrish Trilogy) (16 page)

“Sera!” Miss Swift grabs my arm. “What are you doing?”

I should be scared, but the sight of him below me, embarrassed, reaching for his bloody lip and covered in the clay dirt, makes me happy. It only takes seconds before the guards restrain my arms but I don’t fight them, there’s no point. He’s responsible for everything—corrupting the Society to the point where my world has fallen apart. I blame him for everything that’s happening.

Grand Master Levi reaches for his face, dragging the top of his hand across his skin. Blood drips over his chin and down his shirt. With his arm muscles flexing and pulsing with rage, I expect him to scream, ordering my arrest. Instead his anger boils inside, carefully controlled from the looks of it.

His guard, Rex, extends a hand to help him, but he refuses with a flattened palm and he rises on his own to meet my gaze. “You may be too young to realize this but in our world, what you’ve done is challenge me to fight.”

Before I can respond, or even think of a way to answer this, he leans closer and says, “I accept your challenge with pleasure.”

::27::
A Challenge

The class erupts with chatter and frantic yelps of concern. Miss Swift rushes between us. “Surely you can’t be serious, Grand Master. Sera’s just a child. You’re much too skilled for this young one,” she says in an attempt to placate him.

“It wasn’t I who did the provoking, Miss Swift. I’ll ask you to stand down or my guards will do it for you.”

Her face crinkles with concern as Rex moves in behind her.

“I’ve got this,” I say.

Grand Master Levi throws his head back with a cringe-worthy guffaw. “It’s settled then. We fight.” He waves the guards away, and they release their grip from my arms.

Bishop rushes to my side and huddles close, pulling me from the commotion. “Sera, have you gone absolutely mad?” he says through gritted teeth.

Miss Swift joins us. “What I said earlier still applies. Even more now than before.” She gives me a stern look, encouraging me to lose.

“Listen to her, Sera,” Bishop agrees.

“Sorry, I’m just not built that way.” I ball my hands into fists, trying to control the anger, and turn to walk away.

This time I take an extra moment to really survey the hologram space. There’s a high-reaching industrial crane with an arm that swings across the room, a junkyard magnet at the end to pick up metal. Several crushed cars sit scattered around, along with many jagged and pointed items easily repurposed as weapons.

“Rethinking your bravado, Miss Parrish?” the Grand Master yells across the space.

“Just thinking about what I’ll do to celebrate after I’m done with you.” I turn to face him.

“Then bring it, child,” he says wickedly and crouches into a defensive move. Confidently, he waves me forward with his fingertips.

All I see is an evil man, one who sent Bishop’s family and many other innocent people to Nocturna, and the one responsible for my life turning to crap.

My face heats with emotion and I crouch too, getting ready to attack. I take off running across the room, screaming a battle cry at the top of my lungs.

As the distance between us closes, he lunges forward in a sprint, mirroring my action. Our collision course crashes shoulder to shoulder, fingers digging deep into each other’s skin. He’s much larger in height and muscle, and when he tosses me over his side and I land with a crash into the debris, I instantly wonder if I misjudged the playing ground. Can I beat him?

He turns and leaps. When he’s about to land on me, I jump, lifting both legs and using the bottom of my feet to launch him in another direction, throwing him off to allow me time to regain my footing.

He jumps to his feet and pivots to face me, adjusts his stance, and whips a kick in my direction. His foot makes contact, pummeling my side. Snapping his foot back quickly, he does it again before I can even think to respond, and I tumble away.

With the next switch kick, I scurry away and set up a kickboxing stance. I manage to land a few punches to his face. When my fist connects with his jaw, it’s as solid as rock, which sends pain spidering over my knuckles.

I take off running, looking for anything to help me gain the upper hand. Up ahead there’s a ten-foot partial concrete wall. As I near, I take several running steps forward, launch up the side of the wall in a parkour move, and flip over the Grand Master. He doesn’t see it coming because when I land facing him, he’s turned away.

I strike him between his shoulder blades and he flies forward, slamming his jaw into the concrete wall. Blood spatters like red paint and he groans, immediately boosting off with his palms. The veins in his forehead pulse with rage. A mixture of dirt and sweat paints his bulging arms. But now that I’ve had a decent hit on him, I’m positive I can land more.

We fight intensely for many minutes, kicking and punching in what seems like endless repetition. I bend and pick up some trash and throw it in his face to distract him while throwing a heavy punch to his gut. His posture caves but with his lightning reflexes, he captures one of my wrists, somehow crushing it with his grip. In retaliation, I bash my knee into his arm.

He’s wearing down and now it’s my turn for some banter. “Looking a little tired, old man.” I spit the dirt from my mouth, remembering how old he truly is, and how impossibly wrong that info has to be. No one more than a hundred years old would look or fight this well.

“It’s about time you spoke up. I was starting to think you were all looks and no brain.”

My eyes widen at the remark.

“Creep.” I punch him again, but he kicks me first and I fly away, landing at the bottom of the mountain of trash. I flail about in the garbage, trying to stand, but not before I grab a steel rod, sharpened into a point at the end. Whipping around, I drive the spear into his bicep. It pierces the skin, penetrating the muscle, and exits from the opposite side.

For a moment I can’t believe what I’ve done; I’ve seriously injured him. It was my intention, yes, but now that I’ve followed through I’m in shock. He pauses too, stumbles backward, staring at the impalement. I think we’re finished, surely he can’t continue like this, but he grips the rod with his good hand and pulls it slowly from his arm. There’s no blood, only a puncture. My brow furrows in confusion.

He laughs, seemingly unharmed by what’s happened. “I should kill you for that.” He steps forward to continue our fight and throws the spear back at me. It nearly slices my leg as I scramble away, rolling under a bombed-out vehicle for cover. He jumps onto the hood and bounces, his weight pressing the car down and sending a rain of dirt, rust, and loose engine parts over my face.

“Come out, Sera. It’s no fun without you.”

He’s insane.

I slide out and make a run for the pile of garbage. When I reach it, I rapidly crab-walk up the hill, slipping and sliding. He leaps from the hood and races in pursuit, but when he follows, I realize that this is one thing I have on him—I’m smaller. His large frame disturbs more of the debris, causing an avalanche of garbage everywhere he climbs. I scurry to the top and race across the ridge of the mound, leaping from one precariously placed piece of trash to another. That’s when I head for the junkyard crane.

I climb the open metal ladder with beams that crisscross high into the sky like an erector set. At the end, I struggle to climb into the control car, trying not to look down or even think about how high I am. Sweat drips over my skin, making my hands slippery, and I almost lose my grip and fall to my death as I crawl into the driver’s seat. The students below scream with excitement or fright; I don’t know which.

Grand Master Levi continues to climb the mountain of garbage. Once he makes it to the ridgeline, he’ll be able to move faster, so I hurry.

I turn the key in the ignition and the crane rumbles to life. There are a few levers, just like that arcade game with the crane and the silver claw; I just have to pretend that the Grand Master is the prize.

Peeking out my cab window, I adjust the levers, lining up the junkyard magnet with his body. When I think I have the two aligned and just when I’m about to drop the ten-ton magnet the size of a smart car on his head, the Grand Master mysteriously lifts from the ground. He’s not flying exactly but shooting upward, drawn toward to the magnet until he’s stuck to the bottom of it.

The hateful man hangs there by his damaged arm, screaming profanities and pointing in my direction with his free hand.

From my perch, I look down and see students, Society guards, and Miss Swift gathered below and pointing up, though I don’t understand what’s happened.

Confused, I climb out of the cab and shimmy down the metal ladder. When I reach the bottom, I scramble across the mountain of garbage until I’m standing directly below the Grand Master. He’s attached to the magnet with several other bits of trash and garbage; black droplets leak from his magnetized limb and a few land on my forehead. I run my hand through the goo and pull it back to find black oil oozing over my fingertips.

Trying to connect the dots, I look back up to inspect him. The flesh hangs from his arm like a wet and ripped towel that’s dripping wet. What lies beneath doesn’t look like anything human; it’s not muscle or bones. It looks remarkably Animate—metal and obviously highly magnetic.

“Should have known you were trash,” I yell to him.

“You little witch,” he screams, flailing about wildly.

A piece of me wants to end him. I eye the crane, thinking I can rush up and drop him, crushing him to death. But behind me, Society guards yell for Professor Raunnebaum’s help, who has just reentered the room.

“Turn the hologram machine off!” they scream.

I look down at them and realize I’m still twenty feet off the ground. If they turn off the hologram, removing the hill of garbage, I’m going to have a nasty fall. So I scramble back down, sliding most of the way on my backside.

Bishop and Sam rush to my side, crushing me into a group hug, and I feel every bruise forming on my body. When I moan, they quickly pull away.

“God, Sera, you were incredible. Absolutely insane but incredible.”

“If you weren’t worried about what he was going to do to you before, you should now.” Sam takes a towel and drags it across my cheeks, the touch burning on impact. I’m bleeding and didn’t even realize it.

“What happened to lying low?” Miss Swift asks tersely as she joins us.

I cock an eyebrow at her as Sam continues to dab at my face. “He deserved worse.”

“Maybe so, but this isn’t your destiny. Your energy is meant for more than him, something greater. You really should learn how to control your anger,” she shoots back.

With just her frosty words, I instantly feel guilty for letting my emotions take over. I’m not perfect on so many levels, and I’m unsure why the Masters would pick me as a Chosen, or even a Watcher for that matter. I don’t deserve to be either. I sigh, angry with myself when I remember Bishop’s family.

“If he didn’t know what you could do before, he certainly does now,” Sam says meaningfully.

I look around, surveying the room. The Society guards scamper to release the Grand Master from the crane.

Macey appears from the class group. “Sera, if I were you I would take off. Grand Master Levi is pissed, and rightfully so. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately,” she says, her eyes open wide with concern. “Is there anything you wanna tell me?” She looks me over.

“I’m sorry, Mace, I can’t.” If she knew, maybe she’d understand, but I can’t really fault her if I don’t let her in on what I’ve learned. Sometimes it’s safer to be clueless. For once, I’m glad that not everyone I know is involved with all the craziness that surrounds me.

At my words, she narrows her eyes, spins, and stalks away. Her team, Quinn and Xavier, fall into step behind her, rejoining the rest of the class to watch the Grand Master’s ruckus. Others, not in our class, have joined the group. They must have heard him all the way down the hall in Olde Town.

“I’m leaving,” I announce.

The others don’t try to stop me. It’s probably best that I keep a low profile for the rest of the day. For as long as I can, anyway. I stride across the room, which is still a junkyard, heading for the door of the gym. It’s the only thing that remains of the real gym. But I don’t make it that far because four guards stop me.

“You’ll have to come with us, Miss Parrish. And your team too.”

::28::
The Confrontation

The guards barricade us in the meditation room, the room where Sam and all the other Seers gather to meditate while their teams Wander.

Oversized deep-cushioned chairs, sofas, and daybeds sit around the perimeter in front of golden-colored walls. Sheer curtains hang here and there, creating private nooks, while large multicolored pillows dot the wood floor. Normally several candles sparkle like stars, helping to create the most relaxing ambience for Seers, but now the overhead lights buzz brightly in the empty room, and the harsh light seems out of place.

I drop into a soft chair and drape my dirty, sweaty limbs over the arms, letting out a sigh. I should be worried about facing the Grand Master, but for some reason I’m not. Everything, even the bad stuff, happens for a reason, and each new event leads you down the road you are meant to travel. I never believed that more than I do now.

Sam and Bishop don’t look as confident. When I see their worried faces, I feel guilty that I’ve pulled them into this. Sam stands rigid next to me, winding her hair through her fingers, the way she does when she’s nervous. Bishop, on the other hand, paces the room, raking his fingers through his hair. Every so often he glances in my direction to give me the evil eye. Watching them both I feel guilty for being who I am, for being a possible Chosen, and for pulling them into this mess—my mess.

I stand up to apologize, but before I can open my mouth several more guards burst into the room, clearly angry, followed closely by Grand Master Levi. He’s dirty and bloody from our confrontation, much like me, but he’s not laughing. Not anymore.

Pushing myself from the chair, I stand up tall, lift my chin, and place my hands on my hips. I will not shrink away from him, especially now, but I can’t help staring at his damaged arm, the one I impaled with an iron rod. It’s hard not to when the skin’s hanging there, dark and rubbery, dripping with oil.

“You think you’re very clever, Miss Parrish, but if you knew what I had in store for you today, you would not have pressed me to fight.” He reaches for the dangling skin with his good hand, tugs, and rips it from his frame like a rubber glove. The inorganic skin rips free with a nauseating wet snap, revealing the arm’s inner workings. He throws the sickening piece of meat on the floor and it slides across the room, landing at my feet.

I don’t look down because I know his movements are carefully calculated to elicit a response. Giving him what he wants, even just a glance at a mound of used rubber skin, gives him control. He will not control me.

Grand Master Levi’s arm is a machine from shoulder to fingertips: metal rods where bones should be, cranks where joints should be, and a metal frame, shaped and sculpted like muscle.

He lifts his mechanical arm, testing its motion, swinging it from side to side and flexing all his digits. The arm halts, sticking to one spot in midair, and he grunts with disgust and glares at me. “You damn well ruined the thing.”

Dr. Shockey, my tormenter from just days ago, walks into the room. He moves with purpose, drops his briefcase on a chair, opens it, and removes a screwdriver. From his hat, he lowers a magnifying glass over his eye and immediately turns to inspect the Grand Master’s faulty arm. Stabbing the tool into the gears and joints, he goes to work, repairing the damage.

“In fact, I think you would have been long gone by now if you were smart.” Grand Master Levi glances over, searching for a hint of fear, a retort, but I won’t give it to him. Shoving all emotion aside, I dig deep and keep my face placid and unmoved.

“Nothing to say?” He lifts an eyebrow.

“What should I say?” He can’t hurt me more than he has already. With all the betrayals I’ve suffered at the hands of the Society—the death of my mom, of Turner, the exile of Bishop’s family to Nocturna, the brainwashing and bribing of my friends, and let’s not forget, the sacrificial killing of innocent twin babies during the Oaths—what else can he do?

“Oh, sweet Sera. I think you’ll have plenty to say in the next day with what I have planned for you.” He pauses with a cynical smile, the same one he wore when he thought he could beat me in a fight.

“Rex!” he calls out. “Bring me the evidence.”

Very quickly, Rex rolls in a flat-screen TV on a wheeled cart. The guard hands Grand Master Levi a remote as someone dims the lights.

“I think you’ll all enjoy this.” The Grand Master lifts the remote, pointing it at the screen, and the TV turns on. From a dark screen, an image materializes.

“It appears you’ve been a very naughty young lady,” he proclaims with pleasure.

The images on the video are unmistakable. Bright security lights, like those you’d see on a football field, illuminate the scene. Three figures run from the edge of the pit of Nocturna and back to the line of shrubs and trees, disappearing. A figure reappears, running directly for the pit. Several Society guards, only little white dots on the screen, take chase. From this bird’s-eye view, it looks as though the guard dog will attack the person before they leap. But I know better, because that person running is me. This video surveillance is from the night I jumped into the pit of Nocturna to find Terease. I should have known they’d have security cameras.

Bishop, Sam, and I scoot closer together, team instinct urging us to stick together for protection.

“Any of this look familiar?” He waves his good arm.

“No,” Bishop says. “What is it that we’re looking at?”

“Don’t play games with me, child. I know for a fact that these intruders are the three of you.” The Grand Master points to the scene.

“They look like dots to me,” I say with a straight face.

“Well, let’s fast-forward this, shall we? Maybe there’s something on here that will be more interesting.”

As the video fast-forwards, the doctor finishes his work on Grand Master Levi’s arm and steps away. The Grand Master paces, tests his repaired limb, moving it from side to side, and up and down. He stops in front of the television, points the remote and presses a button, which halts the screen. We’re looking at the same image of the pit of Nocturna, but this time it’s daytime and the perspective is closer, making the image larger. A person appears on the field—a boy. Bishop.

I stiffen because there’s no denying his identity.

“You see this young man here,” the Grand Master says. “Well, he looks quite a bit like our Bishop. Don’t you agree?”

We have nothing to say to this. Bishop grabs my hand and squeezes. This video was taken the day that Bishop snuck into the pit to find me.

“Anything to say for yourselves—hmm?” The Grand Master pauses, clearly for effect. “No? It’s okay, there’s more to see. Let’s move on.” But instead, in a spastic rage, he slams the remote to the ground. It smashes into so many pieces of plastic, and the batteries roll across the floor.

“No,” he shouts. “Why waste any more time on this! You know what you’ve done. Trespassing, illegally entering Nocturna, breaking into Gabe’s apartment, stealing a transporter, and stealing this—”

He removes my mom’s journal from the hand of one of the Society guards that have just entered the room.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve snooping around my room,” I bite out.

“Is that what you’re worried about? That I snooped in your room? Sera, Sera,” he tuts in a show of fake concern. “That’s the least of your worries.”

The Grand Master paces back and forth, shaking his head with dismay. “Let’s not mess with the piddling infractions. There’s something much more important that we need to discuss.” He turns in a circle, journal pressed to his chest. When he faces me again, his expression is serious but his eyes dance with delight as he raises an eyebrow and simply says, “The results of your blood test.”