Chimera (The Weaver Series Book 1) Page 3

  First of all, that was the most Gerome had ever spoken to me. Secondly, when he looked at me sometimes, angry frustration floated just under the surface only to disappear as quickly as it had appeared, leaving me to wonder at the reason for it.

  “Gerome?” I stood and wiggled my shoulder to shake off his grip.

  He stepped back and dropped his hand to his side. “Yes, Cassandra?”

  “Who named me Cassandra?” I studied his face, but it was hard to see his expression with the rising sun creating a bright halo around his head. The memory holes begged for filling, overflowing my body with a craving for knowledge of the past.

  “Your mother did. She studied history and Greek mythology—favorite topics of hers.” Gerome paused and turned his head slightly.

  I found it hard to look directly at him, and it made my eyes water. Perhaps he thought I was crying because something was making him uncomfortable.

  “What was my mother’s name?” I knew this, of course, but it felt good and real for someone else to say it out loud—someone who knew her.

  “Her name was Rebecca. Your father’s name was Declan. He wasn’t of our people.”

  That was about all I was going to get, but it was the most I had received. I felt greedy for more. The way he said that last bit about my father made me wonder. “Will you tell me more about everything? I’m losing my mind, Gerome. Like this could all be a dream and at any moment, I could blink and be back in that cell.” This time, the water in my eyes might be from tears—not that I would admit to it.

  He paused. “Tonight, I will answer any and every question you could think of.”

  I tried for humor then settled for a bleak twitch of my lips. “We’ll be talking for a long time then, Uncle.”

  He almost smiled then cleared his throat. “Are you well enough to walk with me?”

  My back straightened. I felt affronted. “Yes.” My spirit felt old and battered inside a youthful shell like a fresh paint job over a rusted frame. I was determined to put on a brave face toward whatever it was Gerome wanted.

  A ‘yes’ was enough for Gerome, and he turned away with the expectation I would follow alongside to listen.

  “You need training and school. Did they teach you anything at that…place?”

  My uncle always hesitated to mention my old digs. He called it ‘that place’ or some equivalent with barely concealed distaste. “Not much. I kept to myself.” My cheeks tightened at the understatement.

  “Can you read and write?”

  He held himself so rigidly I wondered if the cold made his joints hurt. That seemed a strange question. “I can.” Couldn’t everyone?

  “Who taught you?”

  I had burning questions about this place, how I got here, my parents, and almost everything. Gerome had questions about my confinement I hadn’t answered in turn, mostly because I didn’t feel like talking about my time as a prisoner. But I could tell he wanted answers. “No one, I just know. Doesn’t everyone?”

  My uncle pursed his lips and then brushed his hand against my arm so we would stop walking to face one another. “Cassandra, most people have to be taught. They attend schools to learn about reading, writing, and many other things. Maybe we should test you to find out just how much you know?”

  He looked down then up as if to judge my reaction to his suggestion, but was afraid to look. It seemed to be second nature for him to try and manage me.

  My face must have shown my suspicion. “Test me how?”

  Gerome looked me in the eye. “I’ll never allow anyone here to harm you if I can help it, Cassandra. Ever. Do you understand that?”

  The force of his emotion was something I couldn’t miss. I wondered if it was because he felt guilty for not rescuing me sooner. Or if it had to do with Mother. I did believe him, though, so I answered, “Yes Uncle.”

  “The kind of test you’d take would be on paper with multiple questions and answers covering various subjects as a way to measure how much you already know. From there the school would know what to teach you.”

  I had a feeling Gerome had arranged this test before he found me at the park. Regardless, I was ready to get out of the wind. We started toward a building I’d seen all of the younger people going in and out of at various times of the day. Most of the boxy structures were dull blue, but this one was one of the largest at the compound and painted a cheerful blood red. Blood made me think of Laser Eyes, and my stomach started to turn again.

  The sound our feet made on the wooden porch was hollow. I still wasn’t used to wearing shoes. They made my feet feel heavy. I took them off as soon as I got into my room every day. What I had to wear to withstand the weather was a far cry from my old wardrobe. The cold was everywhere, courtesy of the ever present wind. Another thing to get used to.

  While I’d been woolgathering, my uncle ushered me through double doors into a large entryway. Another set of doors opened into a long hallway off to the left and right. Directly in front of us loomed a large wooden counter area with office space behind it. Leaning palms down on the shining expanse of varnished wood stood a woman smiling in welcome with skin so black it looked blue. Short hair curled tightly to her head. She was either standing on something behind that counter or she dwarfed every person I'd seen in height—by at least a full foot.

  My uncle nodded at her to acknowledge her smile of welcome. “Cassandra, this is Melody. She’s in charge of our school and will give you the test we spoke of.”

  We stood close enough to the counter I had to look up to make eye contact with her. When I did, Melody smiled, which turned her whole face into a dark shining star.

  Gerome caught my attention with a throaty chuff. “When you finish, go back to the house. Do you remember the way from here?”

  At my curt nod, he walked away which just seemed to be his way, with his back straight, arms by his side and his long legs striding with purpose.

  Melody made a small sound, and I turned back to the beautiful towering woman.

  “Follow me and we can get started,” she instructed, the tone of her voice smooth and sure with authority without being overbearing. “I have another student I’m testing as well. Will it bother you to share a room?”

  I shook my head as we started down the hall to the left. I couldn’t help but notice I was only as tall as her ribcage and her arms looked as big as my legs. Idly I wondered if her ancestors had been Amazons. We arrived at a room filled with sunlight from huge bay windows at the rear. Several large desks faced away from the incoming beams of light as if to avoid distraction.

  In the back left corner sat a gangly youth in that awkward stage of development between a boy and a man. He looked up briefly as Melody, and I came into the room, then quickly down at his desk. All I got time to register was slanted eyes, a pale face, shaggy dark hair, and rumpled clothes.

  Melody spoke, and her voice carried to the whole room. “Why don’t you pick a desk, Cassandra so we can begin?”

  I made my way with slow steps to the right rear corner. The window left me feeling raw and vulnerable. That strange boy behind me would feel worse.

  “I’m going to give both of you a general knowledge test book. Based on how you score, we’ll know what level to start you at in our school.” As Melody spoke, she distributed a booklet with three sharpened pencils and then returned to the front to sit behind a giant, wooden monster of a desk that she still loomed over when she sat, looking for all the world like a queen sitting on a throne.

  “This will take some time to complete so don’t be afraid to ask to take a break for the facilities or to stretch your legs. You may begin.” With that, she slumped back in her chair and crossed her arms to wait us out.

  I could hear the boy’s paper rustle and the scrape of his pencil as he picked it up. Focusing, I realized Melody hadn’t lied to us, this was going to take forever. The thing had to be an inch thick. Honestly, though, what else did I have to do today besides puke on a park bench in front of a bunch of hostile-looki
ng kids my age and die of embarrassment?

  The acid taste of bile lingered in my mouth. I opened the booklet and centered my mind. Each question seemed to have an obvious answer. I began to wonder why I’d worried in the first place. Methodically, I went through each one, page after endless page of pointless, easy things. The answers were just there in my head. I felt confident. If I knew what all the other people knew didn’t it mean I could belong here? I came to the last page much sooner than I thought I would and pushed aside the worn down pencils.

  When I glanced at the front of the room, Melody stared at me with an intense look and a frown on her face. Her eyebrows knitted together until they seemed to form one solid wrinkled line.

  “I’m done, ma’am.” I gathered the pencils together and grabbed the test. I hadn’t even taken off my coat because I never felt like I could get warm. The boy tried not to look as I walked toward Melody, but I could feel his gaze focused on my back.

  When I reached the front, Melody gave me a long stare. Her sitting position put her on my level. “Yes, I see. Do you know how long that took? It took half an hour for you to complete a six to eight-hour test. I certainly hope you’re taking this seriously. You may leave. I’ll contact Gerome regarding your results.”

  My insides echoed the hollow creaking of the wooden floorboards when I made it into the hall. Somehow I had screwed this up. I emerged out of the double doors of the school feeling numb and oblivious to the world around me. On the way to the quarters I shared with Gerome and Maggie, the same group of kids that had seen me be sick at the park interrupted my self-castigation. They pulled away from me like a school of fish as they passed.

  One of the girls, with sleek blonde hair, said, “Don’t go near her. My mother says she’s dangerous.” She gave a sniff and a glance my way before she continued, “Rabid dogs should be put out of their misery.”

  From the shortest boy of the bunch came, “They won’t let her live long. Gerome can’t hold back the Council forever.”

  They passed me and entered the same double doors I’d just exited moments before. The murmur of their voices in the school house continued for just a bit as they went on about their day like they hadn’t just mentioned my impending execution.

  The blood had rushed to my face warming my cheeks, and I thought darkly to myself I had my first question for Gerome. I don’t believe I've ever walked so fast in my life. I was breathing hard and sweating by the time I reached my ‘home’. The front door opened into a decent sized living room with comfortable lived-on furniture and a small dividing wall with coat hooks to the left to separate it from the kitchen/dining area. All of the bedrooms and a bathroom were toward the back of the house.

  The smell of lemon furniture polish lingered in the air from Maggie’s spotty dusting last night after dinner. That woman never seemed content unless she was moving. Right now the smell threatened to choke me. When I took off my coat, I heard nothing but the sound of the wind making the structure creak and groan in protest. I froze mid-motion; I refused to wait politely at my uncle’s convenience to get the answers I needed. I slid my coat back on and braced myself for the assault of the wind as I headed out again.

  Finding Maggie would be quicker than finding Gerome, so I decided to head for the infirmary. It wasn’t far really, a couple of houses over to the left and straight up the main road. One of the larger edifices in the whole place, made of a combination of stone and timber, it was painted the same dull blue as most of the other buildings. The metal roof was blinding white with an even sided cross of the same shade hanging over the door.

  The thought floated across my mind that white was both the absence of color and the essence of light. Tidbits bounced around my head like that all the time, especially when I was trying to distract myself. Whether it was scientific fact or somebody’s opinion I’d once heard, mattered little since I happened to agree.

  Once inside the lobby area, which smelled pleasantly of lavender with a light undercurrent of peppermint instead of antiseptic, I let the door chime stop jingling before I addressed the girl waiting expectantly in the front reception area. “Could you please tell Maggie that Cassandra is here?” My voice was tighter than I wanted it to be.

  The girl nodded and held up a finger as if to say ‘stay here’ then disappeared through the swinging doors behind her, presumably to get Maggie. As I stood waiting, I let my gaze wander the room to pass the time. Like most buildings here, the interior was made completely of wood. I began to wonder if this whole area was deforested to build this small community.

  A short time later Maggie came bustling through the swinging doors rubbing her hands as if she was applying lotion or sanitizer to them, causing a ripple effect across her pendulous breasts. Some part of Maggie was always in motion whether she willed it or not. For all of that, she had a glow of warmth that could draw anyone near, even me—reluctantly. It was easy to see why Gerome loved her. Maggie’s eyes sparkled with wit and quick assessment.

  “Can I talk to you, Maggie?” The words came out easier this time.

  “Yes, we’re pretty slow right now. Come on with me to my office, you look a little wound up, dear.” As she spoke, she lifted the counter flap dividing the lobby from the treatment area on its hinge and gestured at me to pass.

  I hadn’t been to the back of the infirmary since my brief stay and medical examination after my arrival roughly three weeks ago.

  The hallway we went down was wide, and supply-filled shelves lined either side all the way until it opened into a cavernous room with roughly ten narrow beds on each side. Frames with privacy curtains were at the foot of each. Small tables sat at the head. The majority of them were empty, all except one.

  A pallid girl lay on one of the beds closest to Maggie’s office. The girl reminded me of someone I couldn’t place. I felt drawn to her, so drawn I started to veer toward her bed without thought. Maggie turned to make some comment or assessment of my mood and noticed my interest.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked distractedly.

  Maggie took a deep breath and a moment to visually check the catatonic patient before answering, “She’s mind-trapped. It’s what Gerome expected you to be like if you weren’t dead. It’s why you need training as soon as possible. It’s why I’d like to punch every Council member in the face.”

  I looked at Maggie in shock. My eyes widened at her strong show of emotion. Ever since I’d arrived, Gerome and Maggie both made sure to be calm around me as if one strong word would shatter my psyche.

  “Maggie, I need to know why the Council would want me dead, who they are, and why you state I need training and school as if they’re two separate things.” I gave staunchly steady eye contact with every word.

  The color receded from her cheeks and her usual placid merry expression froze into a mask for something hidden. “Come with me to my office, dear, and I’ll see what I can do about some answers. I know Gerome wanted to talk tonight, but he’s waited longer than I like. You should know what’s what here.”

  We turned away from the girl’s silent form. Furniture crammed Maggie’s office. A small desk she could barely fit behind sat in front of filing cabinets at the back wall. Dried herbs hung like decorations here and there from the ceiling beams giving the too-tiny space a clean, if a little overpowering scent. A much-abused leather sofa sat against one side with blankets and pillows strewn over it. I don’t doubt Maggie had caught many a nap on it.

  Settling myself on the sofa and hugging a pillow to my stomach I asked again, “Why would the Council want me dead? Who are these people to make these decisions?”

  Maggie leaned back on her desk, broad behind spreading that much further. I suddenly feared for the objects on her full desktop. “It’s like this, dear; long-established families from our community compose the Council. They're respected but not all powerful. People won’t go against them without pause and cause. Right now, in my opinion, it’s made up of a bunch of stubborn old goats stuck in the past and afraid of t
heir own damn shadow, your uncle Gerome being the exception.” Maggie smirked at that.

  The corner of my mouth almost wanted to tick, and I blinked slowly at her. “Maggie, that doesn’t explain much.”

  “Well, dear, I’ve got to start somewhere. This is where I’m starting. You’ve been made to wait your whole life. A few more minutes with me won’t make much difference, now will it?”

  I squirmed and rearranged the pillow against my middle but made no comment.

  “Where was I? Oh yes, the Council, they maintain order and give our community direction when needed. Most importantly, they make all the crucial decisions regarding the security and training of all Weavers.” Maggie paused for effect with a sideways look at my expression. Just when I was about to open my mouth, she said, “A Weaver is what you are, dear.”

  She reached behind her on top of the filing cabinet for some bottled water and grabbed two. One she set on her desk and the other she tossed on the couch next to me with the remark, “Talking and thinking are two things that make a body thirst.”

  After Maggie had continued to stare at me I sighed, put the pillow aside on the sofa, and cracked open the water bottle for a good long swallow.

  “Now, Cassandra, are you familiar with the concept of evolution?”

  I’m sure I appeared confused as I said, “Yes.”

  “Good, so if you’re familiar with evolution, would you be willing to accept humankind is still evolving? Do you think Homo sapiens are the end of the line?”

  I took another drink of the room temperature water and screwed on the cap. “So you’re saying what?”

  “I’m saying humanity is still becoming and will continue to do so.” Maggie stopped talking and gazed at the ceiling. Suddenly her chin snapped back down, and she started again as if she hadn’t stopped. “You and I are a little bit further on the evolutionary chain than the majority. We name ourselves Weavers because of what we can do with our minds. I’m certain you have questions about how Gerome rescued you and found you in the first place?”