Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

A fter the damage done last night at the Institute, they’ve called off classes again today and I wish this was one of those lazy days I could spend with Aimee practicing magic or with Zane, but instead, I’m home, in my room alone, already dressed in a pair of tight jeans that I borrowed from Aimee’s clean laundry basket and a white crop top with cap sleeves. I put on eyeliner in case I run into Zane downstairs. Is it still shallow if I admit it?

Of course it is. Especially at the moment, considering my sister has spent the night in her room crying over her lost magic. On a normal night, I would have gone in and consoled her, but I’m the thing that took from her. Not me exactly, but someone like me, and I was and still am afraid that seeing me would only remind her of what she’s lost.

She hasn’t said it, but she’s never going to be able to look at me the same again. And I can’t blame her. She’s the one without the magic she was born with, and seeing me will remind her of what she lost in more ways than one.

On the other hand, I might also be the only one who can give her back what was taken from her. I hope that I can get it back for her. The alternative is that I fail, which also means I’m probably dead.

When I walk downstairs, my mother is in the kitchen, humming while she’s cutting fresh fruit, and my father is arranging pastries on a platter. I watch them for a second and it looks like they’ve been doing this for years, maneuvering around one another without disrupting the flow of activity, sharing space.

I don’t know how to feel about it, so I turn and walk into the dining room. They have a whole drink station set up on a tray in the corner. One of their daughters is missing her magic, the second is a syphoner and is probably about to be voted out of the Institute for the crimes of others, and they’re here planning some sort of breakfast to-do, and judging by the amount of food and the number of pitchers of OJ and coffee, they’ve invited a lot of people.

I glance into the living room and try to see over the back of the couch, I can’t see if Zane is still lying there. I thought that once I went to bed last night, I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing he was on my sofa, in my house. But as soon as I laid my head on my pillow, as cliché as it sounds, I fell asleep. I don’t even remember dreaming, which I suppose is better than sleepwalking myself down the stairs and crawling onto the couch next to him.

Thank heavens that didn’t happen. I don’t know if I would be able to survive that kind of humiliation. Although considering what I’m likely facing, I probably should’ve taken the chance.

“He’s in the shower,” Mom says from behind me. “He had a bag of clothes in his Jeep.”

I nod because somewhere in my house, in one of the three bathrooms, Zane Bradbury is showering. Naked. I don’t have any words and I doubt my mother will be impressed if I blurt out that particular thought, so I shut my pie hole. The nod is my only safe move.

“Go wake up your sister. We’ve called a meeting of the nine families.” She gives me a push toward the stairs. “Tell her to get dressed.”

I turn to look at Mom. She’s wearing her June Cleaver pearls with a pair of jeans and a high collared summer sweater that doesn’t have sleeves. Her hair is falling loosely over her shoulders and she’s smiling. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her look so carefree. As happy as she is, though, I’m still not quite ready to welcome Dad back with open arms.

As I run up the stairs, the bathroom door opens and Zane steps into the hallway, and I watch a droplet of water fall from a curl onto his white shirt and spread into a small circle. I never knew water could be so damned sexy. And maybe it isn’t the water, but the man on whom the water falls. I don’t know. But I’m speechless, mouth dry, heart pounding, palms sweaty.

“Good morning.” His voice is enough to make my stomach flutter. He tilts his head. “You look pretty.”

There’s a very real chance I’m going to swoon, so I lean my shoulder against the wall. “Thanks.” I try to keep my voice normal, but I sound like one of those girls who knows how to seduce. You can bet I’ll be practicing that tone, though.

“RJ, did you wake up Aimee?” Mom’s calling up the stairs like she knows I’m about to say Aimee who and invite Zane into my room.

“On my way,” I call back to her. Softer, I say, “I got sidetracked.”

He grins. It’s a brushed his teeth already grin, and I am close enough to smell the toothpaste. I never thought of minty fresh Crest as a particularly erotic smell, but damn. Zane, dripping and minty is a lot for a girl to resist.

“I’ll see you downstairs.” He smiles again and walks past me. I wish he would come back for one of those quick kisses couples give one another, but he’s down the stairs before I can blink away the fog. If things weren’t so fucked up, I would talk to Aimee about it, but my love life insecurity is nothing compared to what she’s going through.

Before I can knock on her door, she opens it and yanks me in then slams it shut behind me. “Did he kiss you?”

I shake my head. “Not this morning.”

Her eyes are wide. “He kissed you last night and you didn’t tell me?” She’s way too giddy, far too involved in my life at the moment for this to be normal.

“I didn’t know if you would want to see me.” I don’t know how to explain so she doesn’t end up blaming me.

She squinches her brow as if I’m not speaking English. “Why would I not want to see you?” For a second, I think I’ve hurt her feelings. “You’re the one who’s going to get my power back. And even if you don’t, you’re my best friend. Of course, I care that the boy you like kisses you.” She hugs me. “Was it amazing?”

I nod because words don’t do it justice. They’re going to have to create a new word to describe how much I enjoyed that kiss.

I wonder if it’s always going to be this way for us. If we’re always going to be this close or if we’ll end up like Dad and Elizabeth.

The doorbell starts ringing downstairs and I tell Aimee, “They invited over the other families.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe to talk about the scepter?” I only know that each of the nine families has a wand that fits into the staff and makes the scepter. “Mom has donuts and pastries downstairs, and fresh fruit.”

If there’s anything that will get Aimee up and moving, it’s the promise of glazed donuts and fresh berries. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

The doorbell rings again. “Better make it five.”

“Go guard the donuts. I have no magic, I’d better at least get something dipped in sugar.” She runs for her bathroom and I head downstairs. I suppose she’s getting used to the idea of not having magic for now, enough she can make jokes about it anyway. I only hope she doesn’t have to be without it much longer.

When I get to the dining room, I see the Bradbury’s have arrived and Zane is standing beside his mom holding a goblet—I didn’t know we owned goblets—of orange juice. The Faulkners are standing near the pastry platter and the Glover and Foster mothers are huddled together in the corner with my mom. The Steros and Dupree families arrive together soon after, and Finnick shows up with his parents, the Strains. We’re still waiting for the Muricks when the Devilles and Tempests arrive.

I haven’t seen Dad since the kitchen and I wonder if the great Viktor Hadley is waiting to make an entrance. My mother moves to stand at the head of the table and apparently, we aren’t waiting for the Murick family to arrive.

She lifts her glass and we, the children, gravitate toward the other end of the dining room as the mothers take seats at the table. Three of our kitchen chairs have been added to the dining room table to accommodate nine families. The fathers stand behind the mothers and, like they’ve rehearsed it, the wives all sit at the same time .

I look at Zane, then Aimee, who just joined us. “What about Isador?” she asks Zane.

“The Muricks aren’t a first family, but they hold a seat of power at the Institute since Viktor left.” He keeps his voice low, but my mother nods as though she’s confirming his story, although how she heard it is beyond me.

After about twenty or twenty-five seconds of the women sitting straight and the men moving to stand behind them, my father walks out of the kitchen. They all gasp. Well, all except my mom. She doesn’t share the shock and awe that comes with seeing a banished man walking in like he owns the place. And technically, he does. Our house anyway.

He moves to stand behind my mother. I glance at the others at the table. Mrs. Bradbury is watching Dad with a quiet kind of curiosity, one raised eyebrow but no scowl. Dylan’s mom, MaryAnn Tempest, reaches for my mom’s hand and clasps it. I didn’t know they were close, but I’m not really surprised by how little I actually know.

Three of the moms are staring between my dad and my mom, probably gauging her reaction. Maybe they’re trying to guess how long she’s been keeping this monster-sized secret from them. Or maybe they want to know by what right my dad is back in town. Or maybe they’re sorry they ran him away for being a syphoner when according to everything they know, the syphoner stealing the power of their children is a woman.

“I want to thank you all for coming.” His voice is steady and sure, and it strikes a chord inside me. Like from a distant memory. Like a dad who used to read me bedtime stories. “I have news you all need to hear about the syphoner.”

Now they’re all listening, and Zane reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine. I know he means to comfort me, but it’s having a wholly different effect on me. I’m not complaining, but listening is going to be a lot harder with the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. I focus on my dad, listen harder than I ever have before.

“The syphoner is my sister, Elizabeth Hadley.” He just throws it out there without much preamble at all and he stands even as Rowen’s mother shoves her chair back and Ariya’s father advances until Mr. Bradbury steps in his way.

“Calm down, Paul. Vik can’t control Liz.” He speaks with the familiarity of a man who knows everyone in the room. Comfortably. “I think we owe him that, don’t you?”

Paul Glover shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. If he’d finished Elizabeth when she started up back when the kids were young, Rowen wouldn’t be in the hospital fighting for her life right now.”

“You expected him to kill his sister. Then punished him when he couldn’t.” Mom shakes her head. “My husband and my daughters were punished for something that wasn’t his fault.”

“I could kill my sister.” Piper’s mom, Maura Steros, looks around. “If it came down to it.”

“Mom!” Piper shakes her head.

Maura shrugs. “She’s a bitch. Has been since we were kids.”

Piper hides her face. “She’s so embarrassing.” Aimee hugs her.

Dad waits for silence before he speaks again. “There had to be a next generation syphoner before anyone could end Elizabeth.” He doesn’t say it, doesn’t say that the next generation syphoner is in this room, but they all start looking at one another, then at their kids.

“Who is it, Hadley?” Felix Tempest demands of my dad. “ We know it isn’t your girls since a syphoner isn’t born into the same family in consecutive generations. So, who is it?”

Dad is unbothered. He lets them all bicker among themselves. They’re arguing and it’s affecting my mom. She hates conflict. Except with me, that is. Until yesterday, I thought she lived to fight with me, but I’m cutting her some slack right now. She’s had a lot to live with, gave up a lot more for us. Right now, though, she’s probably trying to guess which one is going to stop being her friend because of what’s about to happen. To her credit, she lifts her chin. She has her pride.

Finally, Dad holds up his hand, and they all fall silent. It’s not hard to see who’s the leader of this pack. I hide a laugh behind a cough behind my hand. “It doesn’t matter who the syphoner is. What matters right now is that we need to produce the scepter.”

They look from one to another and back again. I can’t believe these are the people that the gods put in charge of a place as accomplished as the Institute, in charge of an entire generation of magic.

“I’m not giving you my wand.” Paul Glover crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Not without some guarantees.”

A couple of the others agree.

“Guarantees?” I don’t like the ominous sound of that word.

“What happens to the next generation syphoner once they end Elizabeth?” Ah. Now I understand the guarantees they want. Ending Elizabeth doesn’t end the problem. They want to end the syphoner who ends her.

“You know the prophecy as well as I do. If the next generation syphoner is killed”—Mom’s gaze flickers but everyone is watching Dad so it passes unnoticed—“Then a new syphoner will be created. ”

“Then I want the next gen syphoner locked up. Chained in selenite.” I swallow hard, but I can’t blame them. I’m sure when my grandparents gave birth to Viktor and Elizabeth that they didn’t look at her and think she was going to grow to be a greedy magic thief who didn’t care who she hurts.

“And you know as well as we do that a syphoner can end another syphoner with the scepter, but that scepter can also be used by the syphoner to drain the entire population of magic.”

Well, I didn’t see that one printed anywhere, so I, in fact, did not know it.

Ariya’s mother, Analise, looks at my father. “What if this syphoner, the next gen one, loses the scepter to Elizabeth?”

Dad nods and glances my way. “This syphoner will need to be trained.”

“I’m not handing my wand over to some unnamed syphoner. Not happening.” Chad Foster has been through a lot with Rowen. They’d lost a son already, and Rowen had been stripped of her magic. He had every right to be nervous.

“I’m the syphoner.” I step forward, braver than I feel.

Aimee moves to stand beside me. “I’m the syphoner.”

Zane. Piper. Finn. Circe. Aurora. Dylan. We form a line across the dining room, all claiming to be what I am.

And we’re going to do what our parents can’t. We’re going to fix this, once and for all.