Gateway (The Gateway Trilogy, Book 1) by Christina Garner Page B

and let go, his scream fading as our speed put distance between him and us.
    I was panting, taking air in huge gulps. I was beginning to suspect that this was somehow a normal day at the office for Taren but it wasn't for me. I grew cold, icy fingers wrapping around my spine, my teeth chattering violently.
    “You're going into shock,” Taren informed me. “Put your head here and elevate your legs.”
    The aforementioned shock kept embarrassment from getting the best of me and I did as instructed, resting my head on his thigh. I propped my legs against the door and stared at the ceiling, not really seeing it. Taren rubbed my arms briskly, trying to keep me from shivering.
    “Hang on, Ember. It's not too far,” he said.
    I wasn't sure if I should be comforted or scared that he was finally treating me like he did Callie.
    The minutes stretched and eventually I stopped seeing streetlights zip by in a blur. Whatever road we were on was sparsely lit. Taren drove at a more reasonable speed and my shaking began to cease.
    We came to a stop and I sat up too quickly, causing my head to swim. We were parked in the driveway of a modern two-story house jutting out from the hillside.
    “Do you need help walking?” Taren asked.
    Although I was still struggling for composure, I eyed Callie's limp form and said, “Not as much as she does.”
    Callie had made it through the crash intact and I envied her lack of awareness. If I could have, I would have erased the entire night from my memory. I felt changed, soiled by the brutality of all I'd witnessed. Something had finally replaced teenage girls on my list of things most heinous, and I didn't even know what to call it.
    I followed Taren as he carried Callie up the stairs that led to the house.
    He opened the door, revealing the most exquisite living room I'd ever seen.
    “Where are we?” I asked.
    “This is where I live,” he said, for the first time seeming self-conscious.
    There were no lights on, yet the space was bathed in an ethereal glow. I looked up and saw two skylights letting in the light of the full moon. I stepped into that light and felt a sense of calm wash over me. Emergency rooms might dread the full moon as the night when they saw the most casualties, often of a bizarre nature, but for me it had a calming effect. I closed my eyes and drank in the feeling, knowing I would need it for whatever else was to come tonight. When I opened them, I stepped toward the wall of glass that looked out over the city. The lights of Los Angeles glittered below.
    “Wow,” I said, taking in the site, “this is better than the view at Griffith Park. You live here?”
    “When I'm not in mental institutions,” he replied, a hint of wryness in his voice. “I don't get to enjoy it much anymore.”
    “You've been in more than one?” 
    He nodded. “It's part of the story I have to tell you, though I have no idea where to start.”
    Taren laid Callie on a sleek designer sofa.
    “What about her?” I asked. “Is someone coming to help?”
    “Soon,” he said. “They're on their way.”
    I studied him then: his eyes tight with worry, his shoulders finally sagging under the weight of all that happened. Black slime stained his pants and the shirt that had been fresh an hour ago was now splattered with blood from the man with the red eyes. In that moment, sympathy trumped my need for answers.
    “I'm beat,” I said, knowing Taren would never give into his own exhaustion, but might acquiesce to mine. “And I reek. If you think we're safe here, and if your parents wouldn't mind, would it be alright if I took a shower?”
    Taren exhaled, relieved. I couldn't be sure if it was because he wanted to clean up, or was eager to delay having to explain the horror of the evening.
    “Yeah,” he said, “my parents are out of town. You can use their room.”
    He led me down a hallway and into a room large enough for a king sized bed and sitting area. Off of that was a bathroom the size of my