The Reckoning Read online

  “No one,” Olivia snipped, a little too quickly, and Tristan raised her eyebrows but let it drop.

  Just as Tristan’s feet started to hurt, her whole body tired, the trees opened to a massive clearing, around the perimeter of which many narrow, black silk tents had been erected. At the far end of the clearing a decent fire was going, and people absolutely swarmed the area.

  “Ah, Celes, there you are!” Dune called, and Tristan took a deep breath, readying herself.

  “Dad.” Celes nodded, but his gaze instantly went to Tristan. “Trinity.”

  The way he said her name reminded Tristan of the way Beckett said her common name, but with hardly a fraction of the impact.

  “Hi Celes,” Tristan said, and her family, the traitors, continued on, leaving her alone with him.

  “It’s nice to see you again. You look great.”

  Tristan studied Celes’s face, trying to see him objectively. He was handsome, there was no denying that; in fact, Tristan could see the girls she went to school with falling all over themselves if they ever met Celes. He was nineteen, soon to be twenty, having graduated from his New Orleans high school two years earlier, but he looked much older, most likely due to how tall and well-muscled he was. His black hair was long, touching his shoulders, which were exposed beneath his sleeveless black button down, and his eyes were a pale, greenish hazel -- almost yellowish, even, like a cat's eyes. Tristan also knew he was smart, at least as smart as her, if not smarter, which was part of why he’d been chosen for her. Even though he was nineteen, he was the definition of the expression still waters run deep, and Tristan felt confident that if she joined the community and started a life with him, it would be a life of stability and quiet thoughtfulness. On paper, he was ideal. Applied, Tristan didn’t just want a life of stability. What about adventure? What about taking risks and being spontaneous and finding out what sparked passion and then pursuing that thing? Celes would be a wonderful husband to someone like Tristan -- who, comparatively, was in a constant state of being unsettled and who longed for nothing more than to be a normal, common girl -- but how could she say that out loud? And who would she say it to first, if she ever found the courage?

  “It’s nice to see you too,” Tristan replied, before her silence became awkward. “Where's Sanguin?”

  “She's around here somewhere. Shall we walk?” Celes asked, gesturing behind him, and Tristan nodded.

  She could feel his eyes on her as they walked, but she knew he wouldn’t be silent for long. It was one of the things Tristan genuinely liked about Celes -- he left nothing to mystery.

  “You’re sealed.”

  Tristan nodded. She glanced up at him.

  “Trying to read me, Celes?”

  “No, I wouldn’t do that. It’s just obvious.”

  Tristan was sure it was. Sealing was not forbidden, but it was not exactly a welcoming thing to do, and Tristan was running a small risk of admonishment by sealing in the community. From experience, she also knew that sealing gave off a slight iciness that could be felt by anyone standing within close proximity, though it didn’t seem to bother Celes.

  “Do you know why the gathering was moved to here this month?” Tristan asked. “I thought we were going to drive right off into the Gulf.”

  Celes smiled.

  “Seemed like it. No, I don’t know. I’ve only heard rumors, but you can never trust a rumor.”

  Tristan nodded.

  “Stop.” Celes held out his hand and Tristan walked into his arm, not expecting the road block. She looked up at him, noticing he’d tensed all over.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Unseal. Now.”

  “Ce--”

  “Unseal, Trinity.”

  Swallowing nervously, Tristan unsealed, feeling incredibly vulnerable. She prayed quickly and fervently that all thoughts of Beckett Benson stayed away tonight, as that was the very, very last thing she needed anyone picking up on.

  Moments later, Tristan heard a group of footfalls approaching from behind. Celes gently pulled her out of the way by the elbow and, as Tristan watched, one of the community’s Elders, Pele Dumont, passed by with a small entourage. Just as she’d gotten past Tristan and Celes, Pele looked over at Tristan, her violet eyes meeting hers. A small sensation of shock ran up Tristan’s spine, and she shook it off, not breaking eye contact with the Elder. Celes had saved Tristan from a public scene, but of course Pele knew that Tristan had been sealed only moments before. She arched an eyebrow at Tristan and continued onward, towards the fire. Tristan and Celes exchanged a look.

  “Thanks,” Tristan said, and Celes nodded.

  “C’s, line up.” A voice resonated across the clearing, and Celes turned to Tristan.

  “I’ll find you after my infusion.”

  And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd presumably to meet up with his family, who would join an infusion line at one of the tents. Tristan continued walking, looking for her own family. A few people greeted her as she went, but most looked at her with near disdain. It was well known that Tristan, daughter of Umbris Wallace, did not use her abilities, which, again, was not forbidden, but was definitely frowned upon.

  Eventually, Tristan found the rest of the Wallaces standing with another family, a family whose bloodline in the community stretched back to its foundation, The Telarie de Maragons. They were old money and they looked it -- no matter how put-together Tristan ever was, she felt like an absolute schlub beside the daughters, Mora, Monse, and Mortua. Their parents, Terminus and Noxis Telarie de Maragon, were intimidating on a level Tristan had never experienced prior to meeting them, and she did not understand why Umbris and Sol had to strike up a conversation with them of all the people at the gathering.

  Monse gave Tristan a look as sharp as her cheekbones, her white-blonde curls brushing her face as she turned her head, and Tristan remembered too late that she’d unsealed. Tristan gave her a nervous smile and a nod.

  “Monse. Mortua, Mora, nice to see you again.”

  Monse just raised an eyebrow, and the other sisters greeted her coolly. Tristan looked at Olivia, who took her hand and laced her fingers through Tristan’s, squeezing. Tristan didn’t need to use any special ability to know Olivia was as on edge as she.

  “Where’s Ember?” Tristan asked quietly, sealing once again, and Olivia shrugged.

  “I haven’t seen him since we got here. He was heading for Aeris Abernathy last I saw.”

  Tristan nodded. Ember and Aeris had struck up a friendship within the last year, but Tristan suspected Ember, at least, wanted to be more than her friend. Aeris was a petite, plucky redhead and the total opposite of what Tristan would have ever expected Ember to be into, but she guessed attraction was funny that way.

  “Hi Oceana.” A voice behind the girls spoke, and they turned to see Hydran O’Quinn standing a foot or so away, a somewhat shy smile on his face. Hydran was Olivia’s age, but with a round, pleasant face that made him look younger. His hair was brown and shaved close, his eyes also brown. He’d had a crush on Olivia since they were kids.

  “Oh, hi Hydran,” Oceana replied, smiling.

  “Hi Trinity,” Hydran greeted, and Tristan greeted him in return.

  Tristan watched Olivia interact with Hydran, knowing, even if he didn’t, that Olivia’s heart wasn’t into their exchange. For the first time, it occurred to Tristan that she and Olivia may be more alike than she’d realized, and she wondered who it was in Olivia’s life that was distracting her, if anyone, or if it was just that she'd also realized community life would not be for her. While the community expectation was always placed heavily on the oldest child, the younger children did not escape altogether.

  To simplify, the expectations of joining the community operated sort of like a monarchy -- each family had an heir and a spare, or several spares, as the case may be, and so the expectations were highest and firmest for the eldest, and still in place but not as rigid for the subsequent children. While Umbris and Sol guided the
ir children’s lives with the intent of them eventually joining the community, Olivia and Evander would not have mates chosen for them the way Tristan had. They would also be granted the opportunity to graduate and either go on to college or on to establish careers, settling into those roles before setting out to find a mate, if that’s what they wanted, and they would be free to move about the country while they did. Tristan would be heavily persuaded to stay in Louisiana, leaving only if Celes’s career took them out of state. The whole thing was antiquated, and Tristan longed for a day where the old rules were abolished and new, progressive rules took their place. She felt beyond fortunate that Sol and Umbris would not force her to do anything she didn’t want to do, as she knew there were some families -- the Telarie de Maragons, for example -- who did not give any of their children a choice in the matter.

  Letter by letter, everyone was called to line up for their infusions. Tristan, who usually sat them out because she didn’t need them, fidgeted nervously behind Evander.

  “Would you chill out?” Evander finally said, turning around. “You’re getting your mud all over me.”

  “What?”

  “Your aura. It’s muddy. Chill out.”

  Tristan took a deep breath, trying to get ahold of her anxiety. She looked around the clearing, catching Celes’s eye. He looked much better than he had when she’d first seen him -- more vibrant, healthier, sharp. She felt a flash of attraction, which completely caught her off-guard, and which she immediately shut down. She could not start this, not now, not when graduation would be here in the blink of an eye and she broke the hearts of everyone around her.

  “Oceana.” Evander leaned around Tristan to look at his twin. “Can you do something about Trinity? She’s making me anxious because she won’t calm down.”

  Tristan shot Evander a dirty look. Olivia looked her over, nodding slowly.

  “Do you mind?”

  Tristan shook her head. Anything to make her stomach stop hurting. Olivia placed her palm square in the middle of Tristan’s back, and Tristan felt a delightful warmth flowing into her. Her heart rate slowed, her mind calmed, and she was able to take several good deep breaths. She twisted around, marveling at Olivia.

  “I didn’t know you could do this.”

  “I just realized I could. Like, just, as in within the last couple of weeks.”

  “You’re a healer like Mom,” Tristan said in awe, and Olivia beamed at the compliment.

  “Thank you,” Evander said without turning around, and Tristan sighed contentedly.

  Olivia had removed her hand, but the effects lasted. Tristan watched calmly as Evander disappeared into the tent ahead of her, and, when it was her turn, she didn’t hesitate to enter herself. The inside of the small tent was as sparse as could be; it contained one cognac colored easy chair, one wooden chair, upon which sat Glacis Colquitt -- who was a daughter of one of the Elders, Azure -- one IV pole and related equipment, and a jet black, metallic cooler, which Tristan knew contained the infusion bags.

  “Trinity,” Glacis greeted, looking surprised to see her. “I’m surprised to see you.”

  “I’m surprised to be in here,” Tristan replied, sitting down in the squashy chair.

  “Do you remember how this goes?” Glacis asked, as she pulled a vinyl pouch out of the cooler. Inside was a clear, shimmering liquid.

  “No, but I have been in the hospital before, in New Orleans, and I’ve been given IV fluids. It’s basically the same thing, right?”

  “Right.” Glacis smiled, hanging the bag and preparing the needle she’d place in Tristan’s arm.

  Tristan sat back, staring at the tent flap. She’d always done much better with needles if she didn’t watch them pierce her skin, and she knew this would be no exception. There was an exception, however, in the form of the total lack of sensation when Glacis placed the IV. Tristan wished there was a way for that to happen in the common community.

  “Close your eyes,” Glacis instructed, and Tristan obeyed. “Try to clear your mind if you can. It will go much quicker if you’re totally open.”

  Tristan doubted that would ever happen, here or anywhere else. Her mind did not believe in sitting idle, and no amount of influence, supernatural or not, could change that.

  “Trinity. Try to clear your mind.” Glacis spoke softly but firmly, so Tristan gave it an actual effort.

  She failed, of course, but the infusion went quickly enough, and when Glacis had removed the needle -- also a sensation-free experience -- Tristan jumped to her feet. She felt better than she had in at least a week, if not more, and she smiled at Glacis, who smiled in turn.

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope to see you again next month, Trinity.”

  Tristan left the tent, finding Celes waiting for her. He smiled, and Tristan smiled back at him, noticing that his eyes lingered on her choker.

  “Shall we walk while we wait for the rest to finish?” Celes asked, and Tristan nodded.

  They headed away from the clearing, which was something they did each month -- they liked to explore the area where they’d gathered, Celes always bringing two small flashlights so they could see where they were going.

  “So I guess you’ve started using your abilities again, since you got the infusion this month?” Celes asked, and Tristan bit her lip.

  “Not exactly.”

  Celes nodded.

  “It’s because you’ve been sealing.”

  “Olivia said it’s because I’ve been unsettled.”

  Celes shook his head.

  “Did you crash?”

  “Yes, on Halloween.”

  “It’s because you’ve been sealing. Being unsettled will drain you, but long-term sealing will crash you.”

  Tristan was surprised; even Sol had alluded to her crashing because she’d been unsettled.

  “A lot of people mix them up,” Celes said, though Tristan had said nothing aloud.

  “So is it going to happen every month now?”

  Celes shook his head again.

  “It builds. If you keep sealed, you'll crash again in a few months. The infusion will hold it off a bit, and not sealing so much will, too. If you keep doing what you're doing, you're probably looking at crashing again around February or March.”

  Tristan took that in before changing the subject.

  “How is your ability coming along?” Tristan asked, and Celes stopped walking.

  He looked at Tristan, his eyes twinkling, and then looked at the landscape ahead of them.

  “Turn off your light.”

  Tristan did as he instructed, waiting. Gradually, the night around them grew lighter and lighter, so everything came into focus as though it were the middle of the day. Celes lifted his chin, and the landscape in front of him and Tristan began to twist soundlessly. Around it went, until they were staring at the night sky directly in front of them, the forest suspended above them.

  “Celes,” Tristan breathed, looking at him. “You did it.”

  Celes lowered his chin and everything returned to normal. He looked satisfied, but was shaking his head again.

  “I didn’t. I’ve perfected a mirage, not an actual manipulation.”

  “Well you could have fooled me!” Tristan exclaimed. “That was amazing!”

  “Thanks.” Celes looked touched.

  Tristan switched her flashlight back on.

  “Should we keep going?”

  Celes hesitated, but then nodded, and they resumed walking. As they walked, they chatted about school and the last gathering, and before long the sounds of the current gathering had faded.

  “I think we sh--” Tristan started, but a branch cracked nearby and she froze, grabbing Celes’s forearm. She felt him tense up, and they fell silent, listening, the air around them electrified. There was definitely someone there, or someones, so now it was a matter of who made the first move.

  “What business have you here?” A deep voice finally growled, and Tristan looked up at Celes.

  �
�We're here for the gathering.” Celes said in a clear voice.

  The woods around them suddenly lit up, and Tristan gasped. They were surrounded on all sides by at least fifty black cloaked figures, each one holding a torch. This was the fringe group -- the guards -- who hunted unsuspecting commoners.

  “Your names.”

  Tristan couldn't figure out who was speaking, couldn't get any air into her lungs to answer them.

  “Celes Crenshaw, son of Dune and Thera, brother of Sanguin.”

  “And you?”

  Tristan was gripped with fear, unable to speak.

  “She's Trin--”

  “She needs to answer for herself.”

  Celes took her hand, squeezing it until she looked at him. He nodded at her, and Tristan heard him in her head. I won't let anything happen to you.

  “T-Trinity Wallace,” Tristan began.

  “Louder.”

  “Trinity Wallace, daughter of Umbris and Sol, sister of O-Oceana and Ember.” Gods help her, she'd almost given Olivia's common name.

  “Prove yourselves and you may return to the gathering.”

  “What?!” Tristan and Celes cried in unison.

  “Prove yourselves and you may return to the gathering.”

  Tristan was in full-blown panic mode by now. It had been seven years, at least, since she'd used her ability, and she knew it wouldn't come back easily enough to work with her in this scenario.

  “I don't think that will be necessary,” Celes said, turning around slowly. “Commoners would have no reason to know our true names or those of our families, and you can easily verify who we are just by reading us.”

  “Prove yourselves and you may return to the gathering.” The voice said it more slowly this time, as though Tristan and Celes were stupid.

  Oceana, Tristan squeezed her eyes shut, hoping this would be one of those times she'd pop into Olivia's head unexpectedly. Celes and I are in trouble. We're somewhere around three miles west of the gathering. Bring Mom or Dad, and hurry.

  “Show them,” Tristan told Celes, seeing no way out of this.