another, I summoned the courage to look at the screen. A message popped on instantly, no indication from whom or from where. The time-date stamp read January 1 at seven o’clock sharp. It simply said:
Good morning, Haven. Happy New Year. We are reunited, and I hope you will find comfort in that. But I regret to have to tell you that, once again, your soul is in grave danger. Be strong, winged one. Trust your instincts and you will conquer again. Remember what you’ve already learned. Draw upon the lessons you’ve been taught, the tests you’ve mastered.
“Ready, Hav?” Sabine called. I hit the button at the bottom of the phone to clear the screen. Instead of the usual array of icons I was used to seeing on a smartphone, there was nothing but a blank screen. I tapped it again and an image appeared . . . of me. It was that portrait that had burned up at the Lexington, in the office of Aurelia Brown. In it, I was recast as the subject of a painting I loved, La Jeune Martyre, lying in the shallow water of a darkened ditch, a halo above my head and a shadowy figure in the distance looking on. I stopped breathing for a moment. I flung the phone in my backpack, anxious to get it out of my hands.
It wasn’t until we were on the streetcar, rattling along tree-lined St. Charles Avenue again, that Lance and I had a moment alone, so he could whisper, “Anything?”
I nodded. “Vague, but yeah.”
He nodded back. “Good.” He looked relieved that the phones were working, that no matter what might be in store for us, at least we would have some sort of guidance. Something somewhere would look out for us in even the slightest way.
Connor waved us all off, and we filed out into the pretty perfection of the leafy Uptown streets. The sun lit up the morning sky now, the air already moist and surprisingly warm. Walking just a few blocks, I could feel sweat glistening on my forehead, though it may not have been entirely from the temperature. That text message was the surest of signals that we had to be on guard now.
Lance and I walked silently, the rest of our group chatting around us. I imagined his mind was racing as much as mine was. Dante managed to break away from Max and sidled up to me. He watched his feet as he walked. If he was quiet, there always had to be a reason.
“Hey, Hav,” he finally said. He kicked at a rock, knocking it along the sidewalk. “Are you, like, I don’t know, kind of freaked out? By everything here, already?”
“Um, yeah.” I laughed, knocking into him with my shoulder. “I think that’s a pretty normal reaction.” I thought for a moment. “So, are you getting the messages now too?”
“Yeah, omigod, what’s the deal with these? Didn’t you guys used to get these all the time? Why don’t they tell us things straight up? Where are they coming from?”
“I wish I knew. Believe me, it would make all of this a whole lot easier. But you’ll get the hang of how to follow them and they will start telling us useful things.” I wasn’t sure which one of us I was trying to reassure.
“I guess I’m just a little, I don’t know, scarred from before.”
“And rightfully so. But we’re tougher now, you know?” I offered. We followed the group up a walkway toward what looked like a mansion set back from the road on a patch of supremely green grass.
“Yeah.” Dante didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. This time around we have the advantage of knowing that everything is suspect. We’re looking through different eyes, more educated eyes. That’s got to help us. Right?”
He just nodded. Connor held the door open and we strolled inside, gathering in a dark wood foyer with a sweeping staircase. The rooms on either side of us were filled with racks and racks of cataloged books, but the grand estate certainly wasn’t like any public library I’d ever seen. It was empty save for two gray-haired women shelving books from a cart. I
Good morning, Haven. Happy New Year. We are reunited, and I hope you will find comfort in that. But I regret to have to tell you that, once again, your soul is in grave danger. Be strong, winged one. Trust your instincts and you will conquer again. Remember what you’ve already learned. Draw upon the lessons you’ve been taught, the tests you’ve mastered.
“Ready, Hav?” Sabine called. I hit the button at the bottom of the phone to clear the screen. Instead of the usual array of icons I was used to seeing on a smartphone, there was nothing but a blank screen. I tapped it again and an image appeared . . . of me. It was that portrait that had burned up at the Lexington, in the office of Aurelia Brown. In it, I was recast as the subject of a painting I loved, La Jeune Martyre, lying in the shallow water of a darkened ditch, a halo above my head and a shadowy figure in the distance looking on. I stopped breathing for a moment. I flung the phone in my backpack, anxious to get it out of my hands.
It wasn’t until we were on the streetcar, rattling along tree-lined St. Charles Avenue again, that Lance and I had a moment alone, so he could whisper, “Anything?”
I nodded. “Vague, but yeah.”
He nodded back. “Good.” He looked relieved that the phones were working, that no matter what might be in store for us, at least we would have some sort of guidance. Something somewhere would look out for us in even the slightest way.
Connor waved us all off, and we filed out into the pretty perfection of the leafy Uptown streets. The sun lit up the morning sky now, the air already moist and surprisingly warm. Walking just a few blocks, I could feel sweat glistening on my forehead, though it may not have been entirely from the temperature. That text message was the surest of signals that we had to be on guard now.
Lance and I walked silently, the rest of our group chatting around us. I imagined his mind was racing as much as mine was. Dante managed to break away from Max and sidled up to me. He watched his feet as he walked. If he was quiet, there always had to be a reason.
“Hey, Hav,” he finally said. He kicked at a rock, knocking it along the sidewalk. “Are you, like, I don’t know, kind of freaked out? By everything here, already?”
“Um, yeah.” I laughed, knocking into him with my shoulder. “I think that’s a pretty normal reaction.” I thought for a moment. “So, are you getting the messages now too?”
“Yeah, omigod, what’s the deal with these? Didn’t you guys used to get these all the time? Why don’t they tell us things straight up? Where are they coming from?”
“I wish I knew. Believe me, it would make all of this a whole lot easier. But you’ll get the hang of how to follow them and they will start telling us useful things.” I wasn’t sure which one of us I was trying to reassure.
“I guess I’m just a little, I don’t know, scarred from before.”
“And rightfully so. But we’re tougher now, you know?” I offered. We followed the group up a walkway toward what looked like a mansion set back from the road on a patch of supremely green grass.
“Yeah.” Dante didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. This time around we have the advantage of knowing that everything is suspect. We’re looking through different eyes, more educated eyes. That’s got to help us. Right?”
He just nodded. Connor held the door open and we strolled inside, gathering in a dark wood foyer with a sweeping staircase. The rooms on either side of us were filled with racks and racks of cataloged books, but the grand estate certainly wasn’t like any public library I’d ever seen. It was empty save for two gray-haired women shelving books from a cart. I
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