The Reckoning Read online

  “But you--”

  “I'll think of something,” Tristan said, but her only plan was to hope Olivia had heard her and stay alive until help came.

  Celes lifted his hands and separated them, which also, with a deafening crack and bone-rattling vibration, separated the landscape. A chasm opened up, and around them the cloaked crusaders cried out in fear. Celes quickly brought his hands back together and the landscape returned to normal in an instant, causing a murmur to ripple through the group.

  “Sufficient. Now the girl.”

  “I can't.”

  “Trinity,” Celes said sharply.

  Tristan looked at him sadly, shrugging. What else could she do? She had to hope being honest would pay off.

  The group began to murmur again, and they closed in on Tristan and Celes.

  “You can't?”

  “I haven't used my ability since I was ten, seven years ago. I can kind of read people, on a basic level, and I can transfer energy, but that's about the extent of what I can do these days.”

  One of the guards stepped forward, Tristan assumed the one who'd been talking all along. She was surprised to see he looked to be about Umbris’s age, tall and thin with light hair and a serious face, his appearance not at all matching the cadence of his voice. He looked at Celes with sharp, dark eyes.

  “Have you brought a common girl to the gathering, trying to pass her off as one of ours?”

  “No!” Tristan said immediately, unsealing. It wouldn't matter -- she couldn't do anything unsealed that she could do sealed -- but it at least made her feel like she was making an effort.

  “Silence.” The man looked at Tristan in a way that quieted her. He turned back to Celes. “Have you?”

  “No,” Celes practically growled. “She told you who she is.”

  “Yet she claims to have no ability. You can go. She cannot.”

  Tristan looked at Celes, trying not to panic. He planted his feet, taking Tristan's hand once again.

  “I'm not going anywhere without Trinity.”

  “Cute.”

  Before Tristan could even blink, Celes had been ripped away from her, out of sight, and her arms were pulled roughly behind her back.

  “Celes!”

  “Trinity!” Celes yelled from somewhere in the distance.

  “You will tell us how that boy was able to sneak you into this gathering,” The leader said, circling around to stand in front of her.

  “He didn't sneak me anywhere. He and I have told you who I am.”

  “Who you claim to be. A seventeen year old girl who cannot do anything but the most basic, lazy tasks that require next to no effort or practice.”

  “That's right.” Tristan was getting mad now, and she jerked her body, but the person holding her just squeezed her arms tighter.

  “If you are who you say, why do you have no ability to show? Why don't you practice your craft? Answer me!”

  Tristan closed her eyes as the leader gripped her shoulders, shaking her. Because I'm not joining the community! Tristan thought, but how could she say that out loud? She wasn't ready, and it wasn't his damn business!

  Suddenly, Tristan could have sworn she heard Beckett say her name. She went still, tilting her head.

  “What's she doing?” Someone nearby whispered.

  Tristan drew in energy from the guards and cast around her mind’s eye, the energy forming into the familiar black funnel which then produced an image of Beckett, lying on what she assumed was his bed, shirtless and staring into space. Tristan watched him, enraptured, for several long beats before very suddenly remembering where she was and what was happening. Her face flaming as brightly as the torches the guards held, Tristan sealed.

  “Let her go.”

  Tristan opened her eyes as the hands on her released their hold. The leader was looking at her with the oddest expression on his face, perhaps unsure what to make of what they'd both just seen.

  “She sealed. A commoner cannot do that.”

  “Entros Janek, this is Umbris Wallace.” Umbris’s voice suddenly boomed across the field, making everyone jump. “Release my daughter immediately.”

  Tristan, though she'd very lamely managed to rescue herself, nevertheless sagged with relief as she turned to see Umbris, Olivia, and Celes booking it towards her. In no time they'd reached her, and Umbris dealt with the guards while Celes cupped her face and ran his hands down her arms, checking to see if she was OK. Olivia flitted around nervously behind him, and Tristan reached for her hand after she'd hugged Celes, assuring them both she was fine. She sealed again, paranoid Olivia or Celes would see what had transpired, would see what Entros had seen.

  “I heard you,” Olivia said immediately. “But I couldn't find Mom or Dad right away, and by the time I found Dad and we rushed out here, Celes was on his way to get us. He told us what happened.”

  Tristan listened to Olivia and Celes’s nervous chatter, but she also listened for Umbris’s interaction with the lead guard, Entros, wondering if Entros would tell Umbris what he'd seen. It wouldn't mean anything to the guard, not really, even though Beckett was clearly a commoner, and it would only be embarrassing for Tristan for Umbris to know, probably... but that was a lot of uncertainty. Tristan held her breath in the hope Entros would not find it worth mentioning, but then, with a sickening start, she exhaled raggedly -- it had just occurred to her that Entros more than likely would have heard her thoughts about deflecting, right before she'd connected with Beckett. Her stomach rolled with nausea; if he had, which of course he had, there was no way he'd keep that to himself.

  Entros stepped around Umbris to address Tristan, and Celes moved in front of her, blocking her.

  “Celes, it's OK,” Tristan said, and he moved, but he kept his eyes locked on the guard.

  “I am sorry for the misunderstanding,” Entros said genuinely. The odd expression he'd worn earlier passed over his face, settling instead in his eyes. “It was suspicious that you couldn't prove yourself, but I was clearly in the wrong.”

  Tristan nodded, and Umbris exchanged a nod of his own with Entros, who, Tristan noted with equal parts relief and surprise, hadn't sold her out after all. Tristan looked quizzically at Entros, full of questions that would only press her luck to ask, but Umbris put his hand on her back, guiding her away from the guards.

  “Dad--”

  “Trinity, Celes. In the future, do me a favor and don't wander so far?” Umbris asked, not needing Tristan's apology.

  The familiar black tents came into view as Tristan and Celes, and even Olivia though she never left the clearing, nodded their agreement.

  “Entros was doing his job, whether or not we agree with it,” Umbris told Tristan, who understood as much. “But he won't bother you again.”

  “Thanks Dad.”

  Umbris patted Tristan's shoulder and walked off, Olivia going with him after squeezing Tristan's hand one last time. Tristan looked up at Celes.

  “And to think, the night has barely started.”

  Celes laughed, and they re-entered the clearing, which had been transformed into a black sea of large, soft sitting pillows. The gathering was just about to begin.

  “Trinity.” Celes stopped her. “I'm sorry. I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you, and I failed.”

  “Nothing did happen to me. Plus, the guards are some of the most powerful in the community, so there was really nothing either of us could do regardless.”

  “How did you end up proving yourself?”

  “Oh...” Tristan hesitated. “I sealed. That was enough, since they know commoners can't do that.”

  “Quick thinking,” Celes nodded, and Tristan laughed nervously. If only he knew.

  They continued on, finding their families together, and took their spots on the pillows, waiting for the gathering to officially begin.

  The gathering followed the same agenda each month -- infusions were first, followed by the welcoming, during which one of the Elders would give a small speech thanking e
veryone for coming as though attendance wasn't mandatory, worship, news, a closing speech, and departure. The welcoming usually began around midnight, and the departure usually occurred around five or six A.M. Tristan could not remember a time there had ever been a deviation from that schedule.

  This month's gathering was no different from the others, until worship had finished. During worshipping, the community jointly communed with nature, raising their arms and lifting their faces to the stars, unfolding from the soul in order to attain enlightenment, which was something that took years of practice to perfect. While Tristan did not use her abilities and had long ago given up on the idea that she'd ever achieve full enlightenment, she did enjoy giving her soul a workout and getting her chakras in some semblance of order. She always felt cleansed afterwards, settled after long periods of feeling unsettled.

  Tristan was basking in that very feeling when the Elder who had delivered the welcoming speech, Vitalis Wylde, once again called for everyone's attention.

  “At this time, I'd like to have Pele take over the remainder of this month's gathering,” Vitalis said, and a murmur rolled through the crowd. Pele only spoke when major change was afoot, and it rarely signaled good news.

  Pele rose from her place in the line of cloaked Elders seated behind Vitalis, exchanging a solemn nod with him as they traded places.

  “I know you've been wondering why our location for the gathering changed this month, and so abruptly. I apologize for the lack of communication, which was intentional, but I'm sure frustrating nonetheless. I know there have been rumors, which we expected, and I am here to lay those to rest.

  Many years ago, one of our Elders fell quite ill, and his prognosis was not good. He had to withdraw from the Elder committee, from the community even, to focus on a recovery that was not guaranteed.”

  Beside Tristan, Sol had gone completely still. Tristan looked at her curiously.

  “It is with great pleasure that I share with you tonight, however, that our fellow Elder has recovered enough to rejoin our community. He's been recuperating in a haven not far from here, and was still too weakened to travel North to our usual place. When he asked if we could accommodate him, we were thrilled to do just that. On our honor, the committee and I deeply apologize once again for the secrecy, and for the false stories of wandering commoners finding our usual spot that you may have heard. Now, if you please, join me in welcoming back a pillar of our community and revered Elder, Orion Beltremieux.”

  More murmuring, a smattering of claps. Tristan looked at Sol, who was now gripping Umbris’s hand, and then at her siblings, who also seemed to be piecing things together. Beltremieux was Sol’s maiden name, and growing up Tristan and her siblings had heard next to nothing about their grandparents -- just that their grandmother had died when Sol was a child, and she was estranged from her father. In a strange case of juxtaposition, Tristan and her siblings had also grown up hearing about the Elder Orion, who was of the old school and had, for a brief time, led a reign of terror that had caused multiple deaths within the community, which was highly unusual. When he'd disappeared, before Tristan was born, the rumor was that he'd been ousted, and that had remained the rumor through the years. Until now.

  A sudden wind swept over the crowd, and from the whispering trees behind the line of Elders emerged yet another cloaked figure. He moved slowly, heavily reliant on a sleek, coal black cane, but there was no mistaking he was extremely powerful -- not just anyone's abilities could influence the actual elements the community worshipped.

  Orion stopped beside Pele and looked out over the crowd. When he spoke, his voice was both deep and papery, almost ancient in a way, and Tristan felt a chill of dread run down her spine.

  “Thank you for the warm welcome. I understand much has changed in my absence, and I look forward to becoming reacquainted with the community in the coming months.”

  Orion nodded and walked back the way he'd come, and Tristan wasn't sure she'd ever witnessed anything more bizarre at one of these things.

  “Let's go. We're going, now.” Sol nudged Tristan, who nodded, and the five of them stood, which had the Crenshaws standing as well.

  “I guess we're going,” Tristan said to Celes, watching Sol hastily say goodbye and walk away, not waiting for anyone.

  “I'll see you next month,” Celes nodded, then caught Tristan's hand before she left. “Trinity, stay safe.”

  Tristan frowned. “What?”

  Before Celes could elaborate, Umbris ushered Tristan away, and they hurried to catch up with Sol and the twins.

  “Mom?” Olivia asked, but Sol shook her head.

  “Not here.”

  It wasn't until they had reached the car and were on their way back to Route 23 that any of them spoke again.

  “Mom. Orion… Is he our grandfather?” Evander was the one to go there, and Olivia and Tristan exchanged glances with him, hardly daring to breathe.

  “He is my father, but he is certainly no grandfather of yours, and it's going to stay that way for as long as I can help it.”

  Silence again fell over the Wallaces. Tristan had many questions, but she knew Sol was shaken, so now was not the time. Forcing herself to put it out of her mind for the time being, Tristan closed her eyes just as the sun broke over the horizon. They had a whole month before they even needed to think about Orion and what his return would mean for the future.

  Chapter 8

  Tristan rarely felt this way, but after her Halloween crash, her run-in with Theo, her disorienting twenty-four plus hours of sleep, all that had gone down at the gathering, and the somber tension in her house on Sunday, she was glad to return to school on Monday morning.

  The halls were buzzing with discussions of various parties that weekend, most notably one that had been held at Tyler Daniels’s house, which, from what Tristan gathered, had gotten a little out of control. Indeed, Tyler was oddly subdued, and the only time Tristan saw him smile at all was when he was talking to Olivia at lunch.

  As Tristan watched, Tyler got up from the lunch table and walked off, and Olivia looked after him, the longing on her face plain. Tristan looked away, feeling as though she'd intruded on a private moment that Olivia would be mortified to know she'd seen. Still, it had enforced Tristan's suspicion that Olivia's recent secretive behavior was likely a result of her involvement, whatever it was, with Tyler.

  On her perusal of the cafeteria, Tristan caught Beckett's eye and, in clarity so sharp it was as though she'd actually been there, she recalled the vision she'd had of him on Saturday night. Beckett smiled at her, and Tristan gave him a very brief one of her own before she looked back down at the book she'd been reading; she could feel her face warming, and hoped fervently he wasn't still looking at her.

  What had happened on Saturday night was somewhat of a mystery to her. She hadn't been the one to initiate telepathic contact with Beckett -- she'd just closed her eyes because she'd had no idea how she'd get out of the grips of Entros and his squad. Tristan figured it was possible that she'd stress signaled, having been so scared and under pressure, but she wasn't totally sure that was the case. Hearing Beckett say her name so clearly had caught her completely off-guard, and made her think of the night of Matteo Cosgrove’s party, when Beckett's eyes had found hers in her mind and she'd nearly been blown backwards by meeting up against his energy. Nausea washed over Tristan again as she remembered how she'd recklessly, stupidly let Entros in on her most closely held secret, wondering how she'd survive the anxiety of knowing that at any moment the Elders could come calling for her if Entros changed his mind and tipped them off.

  The bell rang, startling her, and Tristan gathered her things. On the way out of the cafeteria, Beckett sidled up beside her.

  “Can you meet after school today, since you couldn't last week?”

  “Oh,” Tristan said, surprised. “I actually can't; I have an interview for a barista position at Rise and Grind.”

  Rise and Grind was a trendy little café in what passed for
downtown Lavelle. It had opened two years prior, and for the first year really struggled to get off the ground. Business had picked up dramatically in the second year, however, and now the shop was a Lavellean hot spot.

  “Oh, well good luck,” Beckett said, looking surprised himself. “How about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow works.” Tristan confirmed with a nod, and the pair fell into an awkward silence.

  “How was your weekend?” Beckett asked finally.

  “It was fine,” Tristan replied. Then, “How was yours?”

  “Same as always. What did you do?”

  “Went out of town. I have to get to class; I’ll see you around, OK?” Tristan walked off quickly, cursing herself for the ungraceful exit, but she had to hold firm on her rule -- if she wasn’t careful, one conversation would lead to two, and then more, and then she and Beckett would be friends and she’d be opened up to a whole new world of crap from his other friends.

  Still, guilt nagged at her as she sped to her locker. Beckett had stepped in between her and Theo on Halloween night, which had been a kind thing to do, and Tristan regretted missing the opportunity to thank him again for running interference. She sighed, pulling her afternoon books from her locker and heading to her next class. Why did not making friends have to be so complicated?

  ***

  Tristan was walking to her car after school, chatting with Olivia, when Beckett called her name. They both turned to see Beckett jogging towards them, holding a small black notebook that Tristan immediately recognized as her school agenda.

  “You left this in English class,” Beckett said, stopping in front of them and holding the book out to Tristan.

  “Thank you,” Tristan said gratefully, taking the book. “I must have been distracted; I had no idea.”

  “It was under your seat. I had to go back into class to ask Ms. West a question and I saw it.”

  “Thanks again; this is pretty much my bible.”

  Beckett nodded, his eyes lingering on Tristan for a moment before giving her and Olivia a faint smile.

  “Well, I’ll let you two go. Football practice calls.”