Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
TOM
Ican’t see whatever it is everyone else is staring at—probably a gateway, based on the conversation—but whatever Marc’s doing, he’s pissing even me off. Not that I’m surprised by that.
“Patience is clearly not something you humans have worked on,” he says airily. “Gabriel, correct me if I’m wrong”—his tone implies that’s something that never happens—“but when closing the gateway, you started the process and it did the rest itself?”
Gabe shrugs, the movement tugging slightly where our hands are joined. “I guess. It goes that way with some gateways. The energy doesn’t want them to be open; they’re not supposed to be open. But they can’t close on their own, so we have to guide it.”
“Why is that?”
The question seems to take everyone by surprise. Gabe looks around. “I… don’t know.”
Marc purses his lips. “Let’s approach this from a different angle.
What was the difference between the gateway you just closed and the one up there?
” He tips his head in the direction of the big house, where there apparently is a gateway in the Garden Suite.
Is it ridiculous that out of all the things I've learned in the past week, that's the one I'm having the most trouble processing?
Gabe glances toward the house. “Condition. They were approximately the same size, but this one”—he gestures to the space in front of Marc—“was a lot cleaner around the edges. The other one is much more jagged, plus it’s fifty years old.
The constant flow of energy has eroded the edges, so even if they weren’t jagged, they still wouldn’t match up. That’s why it needs a guard—a patch.”
“And when you start to create that patch, it adheres to the gateway immediately?”
“Yes.”
“One more time,” Marc insists, and a second later, everyone inhales deeply again. I don’t get it… although, come to think, I do feel a little more refreshed. Does that mean he’s opened another gateway?
Gabe’s brows pull together. “Did you mean to make it so smooth?” he asks.
“Yes. I have a theory. Close it, and watch,” Marc orders. I want to make a smart-ass comment about not being able to see anything, but I don’t think that would help the situation.
Gabe must be doing his thing, because Matt suddenly says, “Did that get faster toward the end?”
“It always does that,” Connor tells him. “Especially with the easy ones.”
Matt and Ian exchange puzzled glances. “Why, though?”
“Like Gabe said before, the energy doesn’t want holes in the barrier, it—” He stops at the same time Gabe gasps. “No fucking way.”
Gabe turns on Marc. “Your theory is that the barrier will help to rebuild itself, isn’t it?”
“The time taken for that gateway to close was exponentially faster at the end when compared to the beginning,” he confirms. “You may not have noticed the exact difference because human brains aren’t constructed that way, but I assure you, it was.”
“Wait,” Jill demands. “Wait, wait. Is it possible that when Cato tears the barrier down, it will just… regenerate itself?”
Marc shrugs. “Anything is possible. Some gateways even close themselves, correct?”
Gabe grimaces. “Very few, and there’s no way to tell which. We don’t rely on that possibility.”
“And I wouldn’t suggest relying on the possibility of the barrier regenerating.
I want to discuss this with a friend who knows far more about etheric energy than I, but I think the barrier will need you to show it the way, the same as you do for gateways.
But then, yes, I believe once it knows how to rebuild itself, it will take over, needing only the occasional nudge from you.
Does it take the same amount of energy to close a gateway as it does to guard one? ”
From the look of his face, Gabe’s processing massive amounts of new information and it’s not going easily.
“No. Building a guard is far more difficult. Closing a large, jagged gateway is less difficult, but still takes more out of me than closing a small, smooth one.” He shakes his head.
“I’ve been thinking of this as building a guard, but it’s not, really, is it? ”
“I believe it will fall somewhere in between. You will still need far more power than you have, but it won’t require you to weave every thread.
And time won’t be as big of an issue as we’ve feared.
” Marc makes a gesture. “I still want to confer with the others, but it seems possible you may survive this after all, gatekeeper.”
I frown and run those words through my brain again. Is he implying that Gabe might not survive?
Like… in the general, invasion-of-demons way we all might not survive? Or is this specific to—
I catch sight of the semi-guilty expression on Gabe’s face as he looks at his lap. Oh my god.
“Gabe?” Matt asks, his voice quavering, and I glance over to see the shock on his and Ian’s faces. The dawning horror on Connor’s.
Sucking in a deep breath, I resolve to stay calm, even as my chest tightens to the point of pain and anger roils in my gut.
So Gabe knew he might die from building the barrier.
So he kept it secret from us all. It might not happen.
And us arguing about it now isn’t going to achieve anything. We have guests… and Marc.
Quick. Distract everyone.
Gabe and I can discuss this later.
“That still leaves us with the issue of maybe not having enough power,” I say as calmly as I can manage.
“And… not to be a downer, but while the barrier’s rebuilding, there’s still likely to be demons crossing over, right?
And once they’re on this side, they can help to tear holes in the new barrier before it even gets a chance to finish being created. ”
“We need an army,” Randy agrees. “Although even if we had one, where would we deploy it? The barrier is everywhere. It’s an energy nexus between dimensions.
” He pauses. “Actually… when the barrier is down, where will the otherworld appear? Is it going to be overlaid on Earth? Two dimensions existing in the same space?”
Whoa. This is getting a little too exotic for me.
“Yes and no,” Marc begins, but Connor holds up his hands.
“We don’t have time. It doesn’t matter anyway.
When the barrier comes down, we’ll be overrun.
The only long-term chance we have is to get it back up fast, and kill as many demons as possible in the meantime.
Or contain them. Whatever we need to do to keep them from attacking the new barrier and killing humans. ”
“Contain them how? Like with a circle?” Jill asks. “I don’t even—”
“All right, I’m here,” Norval booms, popping in beside Ian and making us all jump. “What was so urgent that you couldn’t come and find me yourself?”
We all look blankly at each other. I don’t even remember, and I don’t think anyone else does, either.
“I believe they have questions about sharing energy,” Marc suggests smoothly, because of course he’s not stressed and off-balance from everything we’ve discussed. Damn him.
Norval looks startled. “Sharing energy? Not possible. You lads know that.”
“Marc’s friend saw something in the archives that says it is,” Connor tells him.
For a second, Norval’s shocked silence is heavy enough to fill the space around us. Then his fury takes over.
“There’s a way to share power and reduce risk to hunters and it’s not being used?
” he roars. “I did not create the Collective to have it come to this! Traitors and politics and bullshit!” He stops yelling and sucks in a deep breath, his beard quivering with the rage he’s expressing. “I’m going to end this right no—”
“Uncle,” Ian breaks in, scrambling to his feet, “you can’t do anything to give us away.
We’re so close, and if Cato finds out how much we know, he could change things.
We’d be doomed. There’s time after this is over to clean things up at the Collective.
” The hard set of his jaw makes him look older, suddenly, and beside me, Gabe stirs.
I know he noticed earlier that Ian and Matt have some kind of secret, but I wonder if it’s also occurring to him right now that it might not be a harmless childhood kind of secret.
Because looking at the boys’ faces, it’s very clear suddenly that they’re no longer children.
Norval pulls his anger under control, staring at Ian.
Ghostly tears well up in his eyes. “All I wanted was to keep people safe,” he whispers.
“Even after I died. I wanted you all to be safe. To make things safer for the innocents. And now my legacy’s come to this?
My own family consorting with demons, and the organization I put my life into an empty shell riddled with betrayal. ”
Ian puts his arm around Norval’s shoulders.
“Fuck them,” he says fiercely. “Fuck them all. We deal with this threat, and then we’ll fix the Collective.
Trust me, Uncle. I won’t let your legacy die.
” It has the weight of a vow, and part of me wants to protest. Wants to send Ian back to school to be a kid for at least a while longer, unburdened by this kind of responsibility.
Gabe clings tightly to my hand, and Connor’s face is a mask, but none of us speak.
Ian’s made his decision.
Then he looks over at Matt. “Right?”
Gabe’s brother sighs. “We were already going to spend our lives in the Collective. Sure, why not? Management’s more my style, anyway.”
A laugh bubbles up inside me and bursts from my throat. It sounds broken, but it breaks the tension, and soon we’re all laughing.
Except Marc, who’s watching us with an expressionless face.
“Okay,” Connor says, rubbing his hands over his face. “No confrontation, Uncle. But… if you could poke around the archives and see if you can find it? We don’t have the people to share power with, but maybe we’ll think of something. And the archivists are used to you hanging around.”
Norval harrumphs impressively and nods. “I like to keep up with all the research,” he admits. “I don’t know how this one slipped past me.”