Seeing Light (The Seraphina Parrish Trilogy) (4 page)

We rush back through the tunnel, away from the bunker, leading the Time Reapers away from the group. The corridor splits on several occasions but Terease never falters. Without her, I would never be able to navigate the tunnel.

“But Bishop’s family, I can’t leave them here!”

Terease stops and turns, getting in my face. “Sera, I promise you this, the only way to save them is to set Nocturna free and fulfill the prophecy of the Chosen.”

“But—”

“The only way, Sera. They’re already aging. The Reapers have taken their souls, setting their lives on fast-forward, and the sooner you return home, the sooner you can save them.”

I nod, trying to stay strong. It’s the only way I’ll get through this. We take off again, but this time I have a new determination. My path is clear now. I must fulfill the prophecy to save them, to save me, to save all of us.

“So, I’m gonna guess that there’s no Wandering home from here?” I ask, my breath heavy from running.

“Ha! We are not that lucky.” She rushes on.

Finally Terease stops in a new chamber, faces me, and pulls a necklace from inside her black leather jacket. It’s a key on a cord. She lifts it over her head and places it around my neck, tucking the length into my jacket.

“What’s this?” I look down.

“The key to the Member Archives. I believe that’s where your mom’s journal will be. And this too.” She removes a small white case from her pocket and holds it up. “Contacts. Begin wearing them as soon as you return to Gibeon.”

“Why?” I ask as she pushes the case in my hand.

“Because only a few can see the true color of our eyes—other Watchers and sometimes our team. Everyone else sees blue. But recently the Society has developed tests to see past our genetic defenses.”

Almost everyone I’ve ever known mistook my eye color for blue. I stopped correcting them a long time ago. I inspect the case for a moment, then tuck it into my jacket pocket.

She turns to the wall and grabs a large lever attached to a circular metal hatch. Gritting her teeth and using all her weight, she rotates the handle, opening the door with a screech. Hissing smoke rolls out and dirty water pours onto the ground, lapping over our feet and rushing against the far wall with a splash.

Terease laces her fingers together and holds them at thigh height. I step up on them, and she lifts me inside the pipe.

“This tunnel dumps out at Nocturna’s coast. There you’ll find a boat. Row out to Gibeon’s rock, dive into the water, and swim to the dark hole in the ocean floor. That’s where you entered.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I’m needed here to help protect the others. Find your mom’s journal and research the prophecy, Sera. It will take courage to become who you are meant to be, but you will. Your destiny awaits.”

Terease closes the hatch before I can say any more and the lever rotates, locking me on the other side.

::6::
An Escape

Crouched within the tunnel, darkness surrounds me. When I pivot away from the hatch, I see a distant pinpoint of blue light at least a hundred feet away.

The tunnel is too small to stand upright, so as I crouch to crawl forward shallow water sloshes around, soaking my clothes again. When I reach the end, I peek through a gridded metal gate. A beam of moonlight shines over the body of water that I swam through when I originally arrived. Carefully I scan as far as I can see, searching for the Reapers, listening for the destruction they bring. But there’s nothing, only the sound of rolling waves. The boat Terease mentioned bobs gently past the surf line, tied to the end of a long dock.

I’ll have to make a run for it. As quietly as I can, I push open the grate. I stiffen, waiting for the rusted thing to creak and moan, but surprisingly it swings open smoothly, and I shimmy out of the pipe and drop to the hill of skulls below. They are uneven and loose so I fall to my knees, but use this moment to scan the horizon. There’s an eerie silence that I don’t trust for one second, and I recall that the wind will carry the scent of my living soul, alerting the Reapers to my position.

Making a run for it, I stand and dart across the pass, slipping and sliding over the bones until I reach the pier. The aged wooden boards squeak each time my soaked boots slap against them, and I run for my life.

Like the flip of a light switch, the sound of the horse-beast’s gallop appears, echoing through the city. When I glance over my shoulder, it’s easy to spot the direction the Reapers travel from. Buildings shake and rattle, and weak structures collapse from the movement, crumbling to the ground. One after another they fall like dominoes. Just as I reach the boat, three Reapers appear on the edge of the city, perched atop their screaming horse-beasts. They gallop like a roll of thunder to the coastline and my heart rate accelerates. Nervously I yank loose the rope tied to a piling and leap into the old boat with an unsteady thump.

By the time I settle myself and grab the oars, the trio of Reapers rein in their beasts to a shuddering halt behind the wall of bones. Two whip their bows into their hands, load, and point their arrows at me. They release simultaneously and two flaming arrows arc across the midnight sky just as I push the boat away from the pier. Surprisingly they miss me, but the arrows sink their flaming points in the wooden hull. As I row away, the wood ignites and burns, scorching to black.

My heart racing, I row harder, pushing my biceps and my entire body to escape. At the same time, in a desperate attempt to quench the fire, I rock the boat with my weight, throwing the dinghy from side to side to douse the flames. Water rushes over the hull, and mercifully the blaze begins to sputter out.

Several more arrows fly past, cutting through the water with quick whooshes. The Reapers’ aim worsens as I gain a lead, growing the distance between us, but the waves become larger, rocking the boat, and I adjust my pulls, rowing in longer sweeps to push against the force of the current.

I glance over my shoulder to ensure I’m headed in the correct direction. Gibeon’s rock sits just a few hundred feet ahead. A smile broadens over my face—I’m beating them. I’m going to make it home.

When I look back to the shoreline to give them a victorious glare, the third Reaper slides off his horse-beast, expertly navigates the hill of skulls, and marches to the end of the pier. He stands, claws clenched at his sides and leans forward, blowing a powdery mist from his mouth. The thick silvery cloud whirls around and then, to my complete surprise, the Reaper jumps down onto the water’s surface and runs. He continues blowing a gust of wind from his lips while he’s running over the water, chasing me, but how?

Scared, I row harder and push farther to close in on my destination. I don’t know how he’s doing this but at his quickened, superhuman pace, he’s gaining.

My eyes widen in horror when I finally comprehend what’s happening. The ocean water clouds behind me and curling crystallized fingers wrap around the boat, slowing it down. The water stiffens and cracks, freezing into a solid block of ice. The boat halts, trapped atop a high, icy wave, and I scurry out of the vessel and slide down the side, struggling to stand and race atop the forming ice. If it reaches Gibeon’s rock, I’ll be trapped in Nocturna forever.

The rock is close; I’m almost there. At the last minute, I suck in an enormous breath of air and dive headfirst over the jagged edge of forming ice into the now-freezing water. Pressure surrounds me, pushing painfully against my eardrums, and I probably only have a few seconds to reach the bottom before it hardens too. I stroke my arms wide, kick and snap my legs, forcing myself deeper.

The entrance to Gibeon appears as a dark ellipse. I stretch one arm, reaching to save my life. My belly flops with nausea as the world flips back over, righting itself.

Finally my head pops through the water’s surface and I gasp the warmer air at the bottom of the pit of Nocturna where I originally entered. But with each breath I’m hyperventilating, feeling my lungs contract, and the water slowly cementing around me. In a state of panic, I reach up for an outcropping of rock to drag myself out, but with no energy left, I think I’m done, stuck halfway between both worlds.

Sobbing, overcome with despair and berating myself for my abject failure, I’m yanked by my sleeve and hauled out of the hole at the exact moment the water cracks and freezes into a solid block of ice.

::7::
Bishop

“Sera! Are you all right?” Bishop shakes me, his eyes wild with concern.

But I can’t answer. Overcome with hypothermia, my body shivers in waves of tremors, leaving me gasping for air. Air that my lungs don’t seem to be able to push in and out of my aching body. Bishop’s image fades to black as the lack of oxygen blurs my vision.

I’m in and out.

Freezing.

My clothes. He’s tugging at them.

I’m cold.

Warmth.

When I come to, I’m stripped down to my wet bra and underwear. Bishop’s body wraps around mine, his warmth transferring to me as we’re cocooned within a wool blanket. My immediate reaction is to push him off but I’m too exhausted, and after a little thought, I understand he’s only done this to save me, to raise my body temperature. My clothes, drenched with freezing water, only worsened my situation. They lie in a soaked pile on the rocky ground next to the frozen entrance to Nocturna.

“Thanks,” I croak, teeth chattering. He wraps his arms tighter around my back, fingers splaying across my cold, damp skin riddled with goose flesh and squeezes, hugging every warming angle of his body to mine.

“You’re welcome.” He lowers his cheek to my drenched hair with a look of relief.

We lie like this for some time. No words; we just hold each other. And despite all that’s happened, it feels good to be near him again, to feel safe, and to know that I share the burden of this strange life with someone else. He understands and loves me, even if he’s done many wrong things in the past to show it.

“There’s an abandoned lookout post just a few floors from here. We should relocate there, make camp for the night, and start a fire,” Bishop says. “Are you feeling well enough to move?”

Reluctantly, I take a quick inventory of my condition. My temperature has risen, the shudders have abated, and my breathing is not so ragged. I lift my limbs and wiggle my toes, then look up at him and nod. “Fire sounds good.”

A wave of sadness fills my chest when he peels his body heat away, and we stand. My blanket falls to the floor, and he scoops it up and meets my eyes. Our gazes lock together as he takes his time to drape the fabric over my shoulders and close it tightly around my body. I want his love, even though I shouldn’t. I want to press my lips to his, but I can’t. To break the tension, I glance away, attempting to save my aching heart.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Bishop sighs before he leans down to repack his backpack. He grabs my drenched clothing and shoes from the ground and turns to climb the zigzagging stairs that line the walls of the pit.

In a haze, I follow, hugging the wall to stay far away from the stair’s edge. Three flights up, there’s a room carved into the side of the pit. I step inside, following a very quiet Bishop. He lights a lantern that sits on a three-legged table and the room comes into view under a warm glow. There’s a fireplace against the far wall, two simple chairs sit at the desk, and a old dusty bed. When I look back to him after assessing the bed’s small size, he’s staring at me and I quickly glance away. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says.

“No, it’s fine. We can share.”

We could Wander back to the Academy from here with our Wandering compasses, but I’m not ready to go home. Staying here in Gibeon, hidden for a little while longer before facing my problems, seems more enticing. Safe.

“Looks like no one’s been here for a while.” Bishop waves a cobweb away. “I don’t think the Nocturna guards come this far down into the pit. I snuck past their lowest post about midway down.”

“Why did you come for me? It wasn’t safe.” A cold draft invades our sanctuary and I pull the blanket tighter, fighting a shiver.

“I think you know the answer to that.” He stares at me intently, silently professing his love with his beautiful eyes like he has done many times before. “And you’ve been gone three days. I was starting to worry that I may never see you again, and I can only tell our teachers that you’re ill for so long.”

“Three days!” I gasp. “Only felt like a few hours.”

“Maybe time speeds up for everyone on some level in Nocturna, not just the soulless.”

My thoughts whirl and I frown at the thought of what I must tell him now; what he needs to know. Starting slowly, I ease my way into the worst news. “The Society sent Perpetua and her team there.” I pause. “Jess didn’t make it.”

Bishop freezes and glances up from where he’s crouched on the floor, gathering sticks from a wood box to start a fire. “What?”

“Perpetua said that if you don’t take your Oaths to the Society, if you choose not to be a Wanderer, the Society sends you to Nocturna. They lied. You don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s—that’s insanity!” The sticks drop from his hand and clatter to the floor. He sinks to his knees and his face darkens with disgust.

Against my better judgment, I step forward to comfort him. I know he’s held on to the hope that the Society isn’t as bad as I’ve been making them out to be. But they are; they’re murderers, plain and simple. Kneeling down, I drop part of the blanket to extend my hand and grasp his shoulder.

“What’s happening? I used to think being part of the Society was the most amazing honor. And finding Sam and then you…” His words weaken. “Then Mum tells me how they blackmailed her, that they would have killed either Turner or me just for being twins as some crazy sacrifice during the Oaths if she hadn’t made a bargain with them to watch over you and pretend to be your aunt, and now this?” His voice trails off to a murmur.

“What we are,” I explain, “it’s unnatural in the Normal world. You can’t have this ability without consequences, without those who will use it for evil.” I prepare myself for the next thing I must tell him, and close my eyes, summoning courage. “Bishop, there’s something else. Something that’s not easy to say. It’s Mona, Charlotte, and your father. They’re, um—”

“Tell me, Sera. What?” He turns to me, eyes piercing.

“They’re in Nocturna too. The Society sent them there just a few hours before I arrived.”

“What!”

He pulls away and jumps to his feet, snatches up a mason jar from the mantel, and throws it across the room. It explodes with a crash, sending shattered pieces skidding across the floor, and I flinch.

“Bishop, I can save them. There’s a way I can make everything right. I can save us all from this life.” Every reason why I shouldn’t get too close to Bishop is shoved to the far reaches of my mind as I rush to his side and grab his shoulders, just as he sinks to the floor on his knees, crying.

My own grief churning inside me, I console him the best I can, kneeling next to him on the damp stone floor and rubbing his back. “I’ll fix this, I promise,” I whisper.

“How?” He looks up with puffy, reddened eyes, and my heart breaks further. If I were alone, taking this information in for myself, I’d be crying too, but I need to be strong for him.

For once, I tell him everything, starting with my arrival in Nocturna as I plunged into the salty water and fought my way upward and to shore. I tell him about the city and its inhabitants. He cringes at my descriptions of the people and their eyes, knowing full well what lies ahead for his family. When I reach the part about the Reaper chasing me on horseback, he stiffens, unable to contain his sense to protect me. The information from Terease interests him most. Of course he has a lot of questions about the prophecy, being a Watcher, and the Chosen, but I only have enough information to make my next move—finding my mom’s journal. That will lead us to more information.

Bishop relaxes somewhat; I feel the tension leaving his body and pray that he finds comfort in my words. When he turns his face to mine, his eyes are no longer anguished and angry, but tender and hopeful. A warmth steals over me as he assures me with just his eyes that he loves me and believes in me. I can practically see the cogs and wheels turning inside his head as he lifts a hand and touches my cheek with his fingertip, his eyes widening and his lips parting with what looks like awe. Watching him process all that I’ve told him, I realize that he believes that I can free Nocturna, save his family, and fulfill the prophecy. Though, at this moment, neither of us knows what that entails.

This is how much he trusts me, and that responsibility settles on my shoulders. Even though I act confident, I’m not completely sure of myself, even with all that I’ve done these last few months. Do I really have it in me? Can I second-guess myself? Insecurity breeds uncertainty and uncertainty is not an option. Failure is not an option. Instead of folding into my emotions the way I always did in the past, I put my arms around him, tug him close, and tell him what he needs to hear. “I promise, I’ll bring them home.”

“I know you will. I believe in you.” His body relaxes further and he smiles for the first time in an hour. When he looks at me that way, I almost believe in myself too, and I smile back.

As he stands, I tug the warmth of the blanket back around my arms. He moves back into Protector mode and gathers the wood that’s been scattered through the room, though I’m sure he’s probably still thinking of his family. Kneeling before the fireplace, he makes a teepee of wood. After a few flicks from a lighter, the dried stack ignites, and Bishop leans down to blow on it and spread the flames. Soon the fireplace rages full and bright, crackling and radiating heat.

I shuffle closer and hold my palms to the blaze, soaking up the small pleasure, but one last chill from the hyperthermia causes me to shiver.

With just that small gesture, Bishop’s at my side in a split second. “You need rest.” Before I can respond, he lifts me, cradling me into his arms wrapped securely in the blanket, then walks across the room and gently places me on the bed. My body relaxes, and he sits on the edge, leaning over me for a moment. He tenderly wipes a strand of damp hair from my face, then glides a knuckle along the curve of my cheek. “Sleep for a little while, and then we’ll go home. We have a lot of work to do.”

I nod. Though it feels like just a few hours since I’ve left him for Nocturna, the longer I’m here in Gibeon, the longer it feels as though I’ve been awake. My eyelids droop, heavy, so heavy.

The bed creaks when his weight lifts from the mattress, and he walks away. My sleepy gaze follows him around the room. He drags both chairs near the fire, then bends over and grabs my wet clothes from the floor. He carefully wrings out the fabric and drapes the damp clothing over the back of the chair to dry, then he places my wet boots on the hearth. My hearts swells, watching him take care of me like this. I wonder how things would be if we weren’t Wanderers and hard-wired to love each other. If we were human, with no extra interference, would we feel the same? Would we still love each other?

Fighting off my own exhaustion, I watch through half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself to the floor, positioning himself on his back near the fire. He stacks his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling. The firelight flickers, casting a golden glow over his beautiful face, and as his eyelids sink shut, several tears escape.

Instantly, I feel I must be there for him, but cringe at what I’m about to do. “Bishop. Don’t. Come lie next to me.” I look down at him and reach out my arm, inviting him.

He regards me for a moment, then looks away.

“Please,” I plead, maybe a little too much, but it’s stupid for him to be uncomfortable because he’s come a long way to find me, to save me, and now he’s obviously so sad. We both are.

Bishop closes his eyes and sighs, but gives in and joins me in bed. I turn on my side, leaving a spot for him to spoon me. It’s the only way we’ll both fit comfortably on the narrow bed. He wraps his arm around my stomach and settles close. Heat radiates from him: his legs, his arms, his chest. His breathing, which is at my neck, rushes over me like a hot shower, causing the energy between us to prick my skin.

I inhale deeply and close my eyes, trying to bury my feelings, camouflaging the confusion I feel inside. I shiver again, and he squeezes tighter. If only I could turn over to face him, to kiss him, just to release this tension inside of me. God, I don’t want to want his love, but I do.

“Seraphina.” He whispers my name like he did once before, letting the syllables draw out languorously. The vibrations of each syllable send ripples through my body, and I squeeze my muscles tighter to fight the spell he’s casting over me.

“Mmm,” I respond. Pretending to be asleep is my only defense against him—against my traitorous self.

“Never mind.” He sighs. The release of air brushes over my neck. My eyes begin to prick and burn, releasing a single teardrop through my lashes, a silent protest at the incredible unfairness of what I’m going through. Love shouldn’t be so hard. Our lives shouldn’t be so complicated.

Bishop rolls me to face him, pressing his chest against mine. Our faces are so close to each other, but my eyes still look away from his. It would be so easy for me to give in to my feelings, just to live in the moment for a little bit of time, be happy, and forget everything else.

I glance up from under my lashes. His breathing becomes heavy and dries the moisture from my lips, so I lick them. His gaze falls there and he leans closer, so close our lips are an inch apart, our breaths commingling. I don’t object because the truth is that I want them there. In fact, I want them closer, pressed against mine, then nibbling their way from my mouth, along my jawline…

At the uncontrolled thought, my breath hitches in my throat, and I stop breathing. He gives in first, pressing his lips gently against mine just as I’d wanted. Like the push of a button, my reaction is immediate. My tense muscles relax and I moan, letting my eyelids flutter down to close with relief. His warm lips feel better than I remember; he tastes better than I remember. My mind wipes clean, freeing itself from worry and grief and pain, and there’s only the two of us—safe, warm, our bodies pressed against each other.