Guardian of the Gate Read online

  The words themselves sound like a compliment, but something in her tone tells me they are not. I want to be witty, to see the question behind the question, but my brain is still recovering from the extraordinary lack of sleep. I decide to take her statement at face value.

  “The prophecy has taught me well that some things must be done however much we wish to avoid them.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Do you? Wish to avoid them?”

  I look at my hands, folded together in my lap. “I think anyone would wish to avoid some of the things I have experienced this past year.”

  Ursula tips her head, contemplating something before she speaks again. “And what of your sister, Alice? What does she wish to avoid?”

  My head jerks up at the unexpected mention of my sister, as if Alice’s name might conjure her presence. I wonder why Ursula would be interested in my sister when it is a well-known fact that Alice is in violation of the Grigori and their laws.

  I try to keep my voice level. “My sister rejects her role as Guardian. In your great knowledge and wisdom, I imagine this is something of which you are aware.” I bow my head, hoping it passes for respect when in fact I am only trying to hide my growing disdain.

  I do not look up to meet her eyes, but I feel her gaze harden. When she finally answers, I know it is because she must, because staying silent any longer will make her look weak. The concession brings me a bizarre sense of victory. “What I am aware of is that the future of Altus, of the very world, is at stake. Surely you understand that your role is one of privilege, do you not? Especially given the nature of your rightful role in the prophecy.”

  I hear the danger in Ursula’s low, leisurely voice. It is far too easy to think it is that of a cat when it is in fact that of a lion. But I am too new to the ways and people at play in the prophecy to alienate a possible friend or foe. For I see now that it is a game, best played three or four moves ahead.

  I look up and meet Ursula’s eyes while the other eyes at the table are all trained on me. “Privilege speaks to something that implies fortune.” I pause. “What have I to gain compared to all I have lost to the prophecy? A sister, a brother, a mother, a father…” I think of James and our lost future, and the melancholy hits me, even as I privately acknowledge my feelings for Dimitri. “Forgive me, but in my experience, the prophecy has been more a burden than a privilege, though that doesn’t mean I will not honor it.”

  It may well be my imagination, but it seems the rest of the hall has grown quieter, as if everyone is listening with half an ear to the conversation at our table.

  Ursula taps her fingers against the thick wooden tabletop as she considers her move. She tips her head. “Perhaps you should leave it to others better suited, more willing, to accept its burden.”

  I consider her words, but they do not make sense under the circumstances. “It is not as if I have a choice in the matter, is it? No choice worth contemplating. I would never allow Samael to use me as his Gate.”

  “Of course not,” she murmurs. “But you are forgetting the other option available to you.”

  I shake my head. “What other option?”

  “Do nothing. Allow the responsibility to pass to another Sister.”

  I look around the table, noting how the others seem to shift nervously in their seats and avert their eyes as if seeing something distasteful. All except for Dimitri and Luisa. Luisa looks as confused as I feel. She meets my eyes and I see the questions there. Questions I cannot answer. Dimitri, on the other hand, shoots daggers at Ursula.

  I look back at her. “It could take generations for another Angel to be appointed by the prophecy.”

  She nods slowly, waving her hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Or it could take no time at all. No one knows what the prophecy dictates.”

  For a moment, I believe I am going mad. Is a Sister of the prophecy, an Elder no less, suggesting I do nothing? Is she asking me to pass my duty to another even when it might mean waiting centuries for the prophecy to end? Centuries in which Samael’s Souls would gather in our world?

  Dimitri suddenly speaks, his voice icy with rage. “I beg your pardon, Sister Ursula, but it seems quite clear what the prophecy dictates, does it not? It dictates Lia as more than the Gate — as the Angel, the one Gate with the authority to summon or refuse Samael. As such, Lia may exercise free will to choose either course. In all your wisdom, would you not agree that we owe her a debt of gratitude for choosing the side of right?”

  Checkmate, I think. At least for now.

  I squeeze Dimitri’s hand under the table, for while I do not want to cause him more trouble, I cannot help but be grateful for his intervention.

  Around the table, a silence ensues that can only be called awkward. We are saved from attempting to rescue what little remains of our pleasant dinner when Astrid appears, making a small bow at Ursula’s elbow.

  “Mother? May I sit at your table? I should like to get to know our guests.” Her voice is sweet and timid, minus the condescension that was present when she spoke to me in my room.

  Mother? Mother? Ursula is Astrid’s mother.

  Ursula smiles, but not at Astrid. Her eyes remain fixed on me even as she answers her daughter. “Of course you may, my love. Take your seat next to Brother Markov.”

  Astrid’s cheeks flush scarlet, and she bows toward her mother briefly before making her way to the other side of Dimitri. Once seated, she looks up at him, her adoration evident.

  “Altus was not the same while you were away,” she says demurely.

  I think I note impatience in his eyes, but he covers it well. “And I am never the same without Altus.” He turns to me and smiles. “How was your dinner?” Leaning in close enough so I can smell the wine on his breath, he whispers, “Aside from the company, of course.”

  I grin. “Lovely.”

  We pass the remainder of dinner without incident. Astrid sulks on the other side of Dimitri while Luisa remains thoroughly immersed in Rhys. Before long, a strange sort of music starts up at the front of the hall. Rhys stands and holds a hand out to Luisa. Together, they depart the table to dance, as do many others at our table and those nearby.

  Dimitri reaches into a bowl on the table, plucking a luscious red strawberry from its interior and holding it to my mouth. This time I bite the glistening fruit cleanly from the stem without a thought. He smiles, and something secret and warm passes between us.

  He dispenses with the stem on his plate, and his expression grows suddenly serious. “I’m sorry, Lia.”

  I swallow the rest of the strawberry before answering. “For what?”

  “For Ursula. For all of it.”

  I shake my head. “You needn’t be. It’s not your fault.”

  He looks around the room at the couples swirling across the floor to a slow, sad song in a kaleidoscope of violet and black silk. “These are my people. My family. And you… well, you are something even more, Lia, as I’m sure you must know by now.” He lifts one of my hands and kisses my palm. “I want them to be kind to you.”

  I take one of his hands and repeat the gesture.

  For a moment, it is as if I am looking into his eyes for the first time. I am lost, and nothing else matters. Then the music abruptly shifts to something merry, and Dimitri stands, pulling me to my feet.

  “Do me the honor.” It is not a question, and before I know it, we are in the middle of the room among the other couples. I think I catch a glimpse of Luisa, but she disappears into the crowd before I can be sure.

  “But… I don’t know how to dance to music like this!” I say, looking around at the swiftly moving dancers.

  He places one of my hands on his shoulder and the other on his waist, doing the same to me. “Not to worry. It’s quite simple, I promise. Besides, you cannot call yourself a Sister if you won’t dance!”

  And then we are off and moving through the crowd in time to the music. At first, Dimitri more or less drags me around the room. The footwork is every bit as complicated as t
he dances we learned at Wycliffe, and the music makes it hard to get my bearings. It does not flow the way Strauss and Chopin do. It trills and bounces and lilts.

  We bump into more than a few people as I try to familiarize myself with the steps, and Dimitri leads me through the room calling out “Pardon me” and “Very sorry.” After a while, though, I begin to feel more confident. Dimitri still leads, but I manage to keep up without stepping on his feet.

  I am just starting to have fun when the music shifts. A happy roar erupts from the floor and in a moment, Dimitri is gone. I scan the bodies crowding around me, but before I can find him, another gentleman is on my arm.

  “Oh! Hello!” I say.

  He wears the same clothes as Dimitri without the same flair. But he is pleasant enough, and he returns my smile. “Hello there, Sister.”

  Just as I am thinking it will not be so bad to pass the time with this nice gentleman until Dimitri returns, the man disappears into the crowd and is quickly replaced by another. This one is fair, with hair as golden as Sonia’s. We do not have time to do more than exchange a smile before he moves smoothly away and is replaced by another.

  The pace of the music, and the dancing crowd along with it, grows increasingly frenzied, and I have little choice but to keep up as best I can through a parade of partners. There seems to be some method to their madness, some order in which everyone changes partners, but I am at a loss to explain it.

  I try a couple of times to extricate myself from the dance altogether, but separating myself from my partners and the crowd proves impossible. After a while, I give myself over to it, allowing myself to be spun to and fro until I am dizzy with music and laughter.

  I am laughing with giddy abandonment as my new partner, a portly, older gentleman, spins me across the floor, passing me to yet another gentleman.

  “Well, I must say, you’re looking a right side better than the last time I saw you.” The voice is unmistakable, though I nearly did not recognize Edmund for the fresh shave and difference in attire.

  I grin up at him as we make our way across the dance floor. “I might say the same of you!” And it is true, for he looks well-rested and wears the same costume as the Brothers, somehow giving the trousers and tunic an elegance befitting a man of his age.

  He nods. “The journey to Altus is never an easy one, and this one was worse than most. Especially for you. Are you feeling well?”

  “Much better, thank you.” I am beginning to feel breathless from all the dancing while Edmund is as relaxed as if he has only been dancing a moment. “And look at you! You’re quite the expert. I would venture a guess this is not the first time you’ve danced on the island!”

  His eyes are merry as he favors me with a wink. “I’ll never tell.”

  It is the happiest I have seen Edmund since Henry’s death, and a rush of joy and well-being washes over me. I am about to ask him where he has been since we arrived on the island and to what business he has been attending, when he leans in to speak.

  “It wouldn’t do for me to monopolize the prettiest Sister on Altus. I’ll see you soon enough.”

  And then he is spinning me to yet another partner. I am about to protest that we have only just seen each other again after many days when I realize I have been passed back to Dimitri.

  “I’m sorry!” he shouts over the crowd. “I tried to find my way back, but…” He shrugs, whirling me toward the edge of the crowd until we circle right off the area reserved for dancing.

  Dimitri keeps us both moving, not pausing for even a moment until I am pressed against the cold stone wall in the shadow of the glowing candles. We stand there for a moment trying to catch our breath. Even Dimitri’s cheeks are flushed, and I’ve no doubt mine are as well.

  “Did you have fun?” he asks when his breathing finally slows.

  I nod, catching my breath. “It was difficult to keep up at first, but I think I did rather well, all things considered.”

  He smiles. “It’s in your blood.”

  I bow my head, feeling strangely shy that, in many ways, Dimitri knows more about me than I know about myself.

  He tips my chin so that I am forced to meet his eyes. “I didn’t want to share you tonight.” Touching his lips softly to mine, I feel the urgency build in his kiss until he pulls away with what I feel is effort. “You taste of strawberries.”

  I am staring at his mouth, wondering how much privacy we can count on in this dark corner of the room, when Astrid comes up behind Dimitri. He does not see her and bends down for another kiss.

  “Ahem.” I clear my throat, glancing from Dimitri to the space over his shoulder until he turns to see her.

  “Astrid,” he says. “What can we do for you?”

  Her face hardens as she looks from Dimitri to me and back again. I know I am not imagining the anger in her eyes. She seems to be measuring her words, wondering at the merit of releasing her resentment. In the end, she simply narrows her gaze and directs her words to Dimitri as if I am not present at all.

  “Una has sent word that Lady Abigail is awake and asking for Sister Amalia.”

  Dimitri nods. “Very well. Thank you.”

  Astrid remains in place as if her feet are nailed to the floor.

  “I will see Lia to Lady Abigail. You may go.”

  A lick of white-hot fury rises in her eyes, and I know she is angry to be so dismissed. Dimitri is her Elder, though, and it seems clear that a certain level of respect is in order. In the end, she does nothing but turn heel and leave, disappearing into the still-swirling crowd.

  Dimitri turns back to me. “I know how worried you are about Lady Abigail. Let us go now, and I’ll take you to her.”

  I don’t know why I hesitate, for seeing Aunt Abigail is the culmination of our long journey and a lifetime of questions and confusion. It is the key to my own future. To the end of the prophecy.

  Perhaps that is why it takes me a moment to nod. To begin moving.

  It has been pleasant to lose myself in food and music. Even my confrontation with Ursula was a welcome distraction compared to what awaits. Still, it was inevitable that it would come to this, and so I follow Dimitri from the dining hall, knowing it is the beginning of the end.

  And if I am very, very fortunate, perhaps the herald of a new beginning as well.

  24

  “I feel I must apologize for Astrid.” Dimitri speaks as we make our way to Aunt Abigail’s room. “I’ve known her since she was born, but where I have always seen her as a younger sister, it seems she views our relationship quite differently.”

  We are walking the long, outdoor hallway I remember from this morning. It seems to wind all the way around the Sanctuary, and I have no idea where we are in relation to anything else.

  I look up at him with a teasing smile. “It’s all right. I can hardly blame her.” I don’t know if it is the wine or the dancing or the stars glittering in the black sky, but the silk of my robes lifts and falls against my bare legs and I feel suddenly very alive.

  Grinning, Dimitri reaches for my hand. “I do believe the air on Altus is having an effect on you.”

  “Perhaps.” A smile touches my lips as we continue walking, our hands clasped.

  I do not know how long we have to speak freely, and my thoughts return to more serious matters. There are things I must understand. “Dimitri?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why is Ursula so… quick-witted?”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “You are far kinder than I would be in your place.”

  He leads me around a corner, stopping as we come to the entrance of the building. The hallway continues, but it is indoors from here, and I understand that Dimitri desires the small amount of privacy that being outside offers.

  “Ursula is the Elder who reigns directly beneath Lady Abigail. Should Lady Abigail pass away, as I am sorry to say may happen soon, Ursula stands to take her place.”

  “I don’t understand what this has to do with me. I wouldn’t challenge her
right to the position; I’m not even a resident of Altus.”

  He sighs, and I have the sense that we are having this conversation almost against his will. “Yes, but Lia, there are two other Sisters who hold claim to the position above Ursula.” He looks out into the black night before bringing his gaze back to mine. “Your sister, Alice. And you.”

  For a moment, I cannot make sense of his words. “What do you mean? That’s impossible.”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. All the Sisters are products of unions between the original Watchers and earthly women. But you and Alice are direct descendants of Maari and Katla, the originators of the prophecy. It’s why you were chosen as Guardian and Gate. It’s the way it has always been.”

  “And?”

  “And the Lady of Altus must be as closely related to Maari and Katla as possible. Aunt Abigail was a direct descendant, and other than Virginia, you and Alice are her only living relatives. Her only blood. But Alice is not eligible to take the role because of her current defiance of the Grigori’s rules. Ursula is descended from the same line, though not as directly.”

  I shift from one foot to the other, trying to understand what he is saying. “All right, but what of Virginia? She is older than I. Surely she lays greater claim to the position.”

  He shrugs. “She doesn’t want it. She renounced her claim when she moved away and was likely not powerful enough to rule effectively anyway.”

  I remember Aunt Virginia once telling me that the gifts of the Sisterhood were bestowed before birth. That some of us are inherently more powerful than others. She did not seem to mind admitting that she was considerably weaker than even her own sister, my mother.

  “Well, I don’t want it either.” I hesitate before continuing. “Though… I don’t know enough about Ursula to know if she should have it instead.”

  Altus and the Sisters, Ursula, Alice, Aunt Abigail dying just down the hall. It is all too much. I lift my fingers to my temples as if doing so will drive it away.

  Dimitri takes my hand. “Come. Let’s go to Lady Abigail. The rest will wait.”