The Eighth Guardian (7 page)

When he says that, the hair on my arms stands on end. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m more exhausted than I have ever been, or that it’s only about sixty degrees in this hallway, or that, maybe deep down, there’s a tiny little part of me hoping Annum Guard is for real. That there’s a secret government organization with the ability to time travel. And that they want me.

I nod my head.

Alpha opens the door and gestures me inside. The first thing I notice is the green-striped dress. That bitch who was tailing me is here. She’s taken off the hat and let down her hair. She has pale-blond locks that spiral in curls around her face, and she might actually be pretty if not for the look on her face. It’s the look you might get if someone was holding a bag of dog crap under your nose. I don’t like this chick. I don’t know anything about her, but a girl just has an intuition about these things. She’s not going to like me, and I’m not going to like her. End of story.

She’s standing off to the side of the room whispering with the guy who was tailing me before. He’s smiling at me, but it doesn’t annoy me like it did back in 1874. The smile is . . . friendly. Relaxed. But still I don’t return it. Not yet.

There’s a long table at the front of the room with two people seated behind it and an empty seat in the middle. One chair is set front and center before the table, and another row of chairs sits behind it. Seven, I count. Seven chairs. Five of them are occupied by guys and girls who have their backs to me. It’s like everyone is waiting for me.

Alpha pushes me forward, and I walk past the row of chairs on my way to the seat that I assume is for me. I pass by the girl with the purple hair, but I don’t look down the row. I’m staring straight ahead, at the people sitting behind the table. It’s clear they’re in charge. Alpha takes the empty seat, pulls out the same worn notebook he had on Testing Day, and jots down something. There’s a woman to Alpha’s left, and I know I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help myself. She’s in a wheelchair, and her arms and legs are bent at unnatural angles and are as thin as twigs. There’s despair on her face, and it makes me think of my mom.

I look away, to the man on Alpha’s right. He’s in much better condition. Like Alpha, he’s probably around the age my dad would be today. He doesn’t have that tough, gritty look that Alpha does—if I’m being honest, he was probably a bit of a pretty boy when he was younger. He has dark-brown hair flecked with slivers of gray, an angular jaw, and aquamarine eyes staring at me from under eyelashes that most girls would kill for. But still, behind the exterior, there’s something about the way he carries himself that’s really intimidating. That’s one thing he has in common with Alpha. He has to be military or former military, too.

“Sit,” Alpha commands. I do. “You passed the test. Welcome to Annum Guard. From this moment on, your code name will be Iris. You will go by this name until the day you die. Understand?”

I don’t move. Don’t blink.

Alpha stares right at me. “Annum Guard was founded by seven men in 1965,” he says. “These seven men were given the ability of Chronometric Augmentation, to project through time and tweak past events to improve present consequences. They are our founders—our forefathers, if you will. They created the organization and the rules we abide by to this day, including the use of code names. These seven men used numbers as their codes: One through Seven.” Alpha gestures to the people sitting at the table. “My colleagues and I are the second generation of Annum Guard. You already know me. To my left is Epsilon, to my right, Zeta. We are all that remain of the second generation.”

I rack my brain, trying to remember the Greek alphabet. Alpha Beta Gamma Delta Epsilon . . . what?

“The people seated behind you are third generation. Your generation.” I crane my neck, but I can only see the guy seated all the way on the left. He has dark hair, olive skin, and cheekbones like a movie star’s, and is wearing a white button-down shirt and a pair of navy pants.

“Red!” Alpha says, and the guy I’m staring at jumps up. “Introduce your team.”

He nods his head once. “Sir.” I turn all the way around in my seat to look at him. If he was going to give a presentation, you’d think they would have come up with a better seating arrangement beforehand, one that wouldn’t require me to sit backward in a chair.

“I am Red,” the guy says, even though Alpha made that clear. “The leader of Annum Guard Three. Our code names are colors.

“This is my team,” he continues, “
your
team. Orange!” The guy next to him stands up. He does, in fact, have orange hair. That’s unfortunate. “Yellow!” The bitch in the striped dress stands. “Green!” My gazes follows down the line to a short guy with long brown hair. “Blue!” I stare at a tan, blond guy who has his head down, staring at his feet. But at the very last second he looks up and makes eye contact with me. My heart lurches, and I let out a sputtered choke.

It’s Tyler Fertig.

I barely hear Red introduce the guy who was tailing me as Indigo and the girl with the purple hair as Violet. Because Tyler Fertig is Annum Guard. Tyler Fertig, superstar of Peel who didn’t get selected to graduate as a junior. Tyler Fertig, who looked angry enough to punch a wall during that graduation. Tyler Fertig. He’s here.

This does more to solidify Annum Guard in my mind than that little stunt back in Boston. If Tyler Fertig is a member, it has to be legit.

Tyler and I lock eyes, and I know he recognizes me. He knows who I am. But then he breaks his gaze and sits down with the others.

Alpha clears his throat, but I hesitate before I turn back around to look at him. I can feel Tyler—Blue—whatever his name is—staring at the back of my head, boring a hole through my skull.

“And you are Iris,” Alpha says.

“Which isn’t a color,” I point out.

“It’s not,” he admits as the man to his right—Zeta, I think?—raises his eyebrows, as if he’s shocked that I just spoke to Alpha that way. “And that’s because you are here on a trial basis.” He clears his throat. “Before we get to that, I think we’d all like to hear a report of how you performed on your first mission. Indigo, we’ll start with you.”

Indigo makes his way to the front of the room. He’s standing off to the side, in between me and the table.

He clasps his hands together in front of his body. “Iris did an admirable job. She used powers of deduction to determine the precise year, and she figured out how to use the Annum watch in record time. I think she’ll make a fine addition to Annum Guard.”

I like Indigo. Not how I like Abe, of course, but I’ll get along with Indigo.

Behind me, someone clears a throat.

“Yellow?” It’s the man on the right. “You disagree?”

I hear her get up behind me. Her dress swishes against the floor as she walks over and stands next to Indigo.

“I absolutely disagree, sir. Iris committed a number of infractions.” She tosses her head back to get the hair off her shoulder and shoots me a dirty look as she does it. “First, she was seen in civilian clothing by several of the historical subjects. Second”—she pauses, and I’m sure it’s for dramatic effect—“she tried to use a
cell phone
. In 1874.”

Behind me, there’s a soft ripple of laughter.

“I don’t blame her for trying,” Indigo says. “She had no idea where she was, and for all she knew, it might have worked.”

Yellow holds up a hand to silence him. “Third, she made vocal contact with an historical subject.” I want to tell her that I’d like to see her not react when someone tries to rob her, but she’s talking so fast I can’t get a word in. “Finally, she nearly blew the mission by walking around in a torn dress with a modern-day school tie wrapped around her waist.”

I open my mouth to tell her that no one seemed to notice my tie and that I did the best I could with a dress that was clearly too small, but then she’s looking straight at me, one eyebrow raised and a sneer on her face.

She looks me up and down, her gaze lingering on the torn waistline of the dress, and says, “You’re going to need to lose some weight.”

“And you’re going to need to kiss my ass.” The words tumble out of my mouth before my brain can process them. Everyone behind me gasps, but I don’t blink. I jump to my feet, and Yellow crouches down like a trained combatant.
So she wants to fight? Well, okay then.

Alpha jumps up and bangs his hand on the table so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t break it. “Everyone, sit down!”

I don’t take my eyes off Yellow as she slinks away and slides back into her seat between Orange and Green. It’s only then that I turn forward, to Alpha’s angry eyes waiting for me.

“I told you to sit!” he barks at me, and I do. “Do you not remember me telling you that you were here on a
trial
basis?”

“Well, maybe someone should have asked me if I wanted to be here before they plucked me out of school in my junior year, strapped me to a table, implanted a goddamned
tracker
in my arm, and forced me to join an organization I’ve never heard of.” I’m so angry I don’t care if I’m breaching protocol.

Alpha leans forward. His eyes are furious, and I expect him to leap across the table and slam me to the ground again. I brace myself. Instead he leans back, grabs a file, flips it open, and starts rifling through a bunch of papers. He pulls one out, walks over to me, and slaps it into my chest. “Remember this?”

He lets go, and I glance at it. The Peel Academy seal is emblazoned at the top, and I immediately know what it is. It’s the commitment letter I signed my freshman year.

“Read it,” Alpha says.

“I know what it says.”

“Read it,” he repeats. “Out loud.”

Anger courses through my veins and seeps out my pores. But I take a breath, fan the paper in front of me, and start reading in a calm voice.

“I, Amanda Jean Obermann, hereby give the United States government the authority to assign me to any given organization they deem necessary of my service, at any time such service is deemed necessary.” My signature is at the bottom.

I drop my arm. “I’ve never heard of Annum Guard.” There’s still an edge to my voice.

Alpha breathes a sigh. I can’t tell if it’s one of frustration or one of relief. “Well, there are certain things you’re going to have to take at face value, this included. So you have two options. Stay here, on a trial basis, or leave.”

I straighten. “Leaving is an option?” Abe’s face flashes in my mind. I could see him tomorrow.

Behind me, I hear someone say no in a hushed, angry whisper.

“Of course it is,” Alpha says. “But probably not in the way you’re thinking. You’re done with school. You’ve graduated and moved on. Iris is a pupil no longer. And Annum Guard happens to be among the most secret government organizations in existence. You’re one of a handful of people who know about it, so I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able just to turn you loose. If you choose to leave, you will be . . . detained.”

My mouth goes dry, and I feel little pricks of electricity in my shoulders. Alpha’s voice got low. Scary. Ominous, even.

“Detained how?”

Alpha’s mouth presses into a thin line, and he pauses, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word his response. “You’ll be taken to a secure facility where your actions and interactions will be monitored on a full-time basis in the name of national security.”

My vision clouds as I read between the lines.

“You don’t mean detained,” I say. “You mean
contained
.”

Alpha’s lips curl up into the smallest smile, but he doesn’t answer me.

“Where?” I demand.

“Most likely Carswell.”

I jump out of my seat with such force that the chair falls over. I know what Carswell is. It’s a women’s federal prison in Texas. And now I fully understand what
detained
means.

Solitary confinement.

We studied solitary at Peel. It’s a form of psychological torture. Humans are social creatures by nature, and you can’t change that. Cut off from contact, isolated prisoners slowly go mad. Years and years of untreated madness. And I already know what that’s like.

My only thought is escape. I have to get out of here. Now. But before I take even one step, hands are on me from behind. Lots of them. My supposed teammates. Someone picks the chair back up, and I’m lowered down into it. I kick and fight, but it’s no use. It’s like ten on one.

“You’re really going to have to learn to control your temper,” Alpha says in a flat, almost bored voice. “Now, do you choose to stay or to go?”

“Do I really have a choice?” I spit.

“Yes. You can choose to stay or go.”

“So no,” I say. “I don’t have a choice. Of course I choose to stay.”

Alpha nods his head. “On a trial basis,” he repeats. “You see, our numbers are set. Teams have always been made up of seven. The government is thinking of expanding us, but they’re not sure yet. You’re the trial. If you succeed, you’re in, and we’re open for business. If you fail, well . . . you’re out. And I’ve already explained what that entails.”

I try to jump out of the chair, but several pairs of strong hands hold me down.

“Why are you doing this to me?” My voice is bordering on wailing. “I did everything right. Everything. I’ve always played by the rules.” My voice cracks. “All I ever wanted was to—”

I cut myself off before I say too much. No one here needs to know about my dad, although chances are they already do. They seem to know everything.

“Was to what?” Alpha says. “Gain clearance levels? What makes you think you can’t do that here?”

And there it is. Alpha knows. I’ve never told anyone my true motives in choosing Peel—the realization I had as soon as I found out what the school really was—not even Abe, but somehow Alpha knows.

His words replay in my mind. I could have clearance. It’s the one thing I’ve wanted since I was seven years old and figured out that asking my mom about my dad was getting nowhere. I could finally—
finally
—discover what happened to him. Why he died. What his mission was. I wouldn’t have to speculate, to build an explanation in my mind around a sole pair of U.S. Navy dog tags I found hidden deep in a shoe box at the back of my mom’s closet. My mind wouldn’t go back and forth between thinking my dad was a fighter pilot who got shot down in a covert mission in Somalia or a Navy SEAL who was taken hostage and killed in North Korea. I could know the truth.