The Gathering by K. E. Ganshert Page A

anyone to know about a prophecy that may or may not be about me and the demise of our kind.
    “Where does Cressida live?” Cap asks.
    “In New Orleans, in the family mansion.”
    He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to jump up from the couch and insist on going. Like I should want nothing more than to hightail it south so I can learn more about these journals and the prophecy that is no doubt contained within. The prophecy he believes is about me. “You should go,” he finally says.
    A week ago, I would have been chomping at the bit to learn more. But now? I’m done taking the lead. I’m done making the decisions. It only seems to put people in danger. “If you think it’s a good idea.”
    His eyelids flutter, like my response catches him off guard. He’s not used to me being so docile. “I do think it’s a good idea. I also think you’ll need a team. Luka will obviously be a part of it.”
    “So will I.” The eager words belong to Jillian—a Shield with no exceptional strength or power. But she’s my friend and I trust her, which makes her worth more than five hundred Cloaks.
    Cap nods, like it’s a good idea. “Anybody else?”
    I want to hold up my hands and tell him to stop looking at me. This isn’t my team. I’m not leading it. But I can’t help picturing the boy with the caramel eyes and the shaggy hair and the mischievous dimples. The boy who makes me feel brave and confident. Right now, I could use some of both. “What about Link?”
    A muscle in Luka’s leg twitches. He’s never been Link’s biggest fan, mostly because he thinks Link treats my life too casually.
    “It’s a good idea. The four of you will go to New Orleans to see what the journals have to say.” Cap looks from me to everyone else. “The rest of us will go to Newport.”
    A collective gasp tumbles through the room.
    “Newport ?” The glow in Danielle’s eyes goes dark. Her face turns the color of the oatmeal we eat most mornings.
    I can understand why. There’s nothing left of Newport. It ceased to exist fifteen years ago, after a group of terrorists targeted the naval base and decimated the entire city along with it. The survivors were evacuated and nobody returned. From all accounts, it’s a wasteland.
    “What could possibly be in Newport ?” Ashley asks.
    “Headquarters for The Gifting. It’s where everyone is gathering.” Cap spins his chair around and starts rolling away, as though the meeting is adjourned.
    *
    I set my bag of toiletries beside the journals stacked on my dresser. After the meeting, I pulled them from beneath my mattress and flipped through the pages. I rub my thumb over the strange swirly symbol on the cover of the one on top. It’s on all five of them, in the same place—upper right corner. I don’t know what it means.
    There’s a soft knock-knock behind me.
    I turn around.
    Luka stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He wears a pair of sweatpants and a white undershirt, his hair damp from a shower, his face clean-shaven. “Can I come in?”
    I lift my arm in invitation.
    He walks to my bed, snagging my hand and pulling me with him as he goes. My heart accelerates as we sit facing each other on the mattress.
    “You were quiet during the meeting,” he says, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “I wanted to come check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
    His feather-light touch has goose bumps racing up my arms. “I should be asking you that question.”
    When he looks up, there are traces of shadow beneath his eyes. “As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”
    “I think that goes both ways.”
    Luka smiles a little, then holds up his fist, showing off the hemp bracelet I tied to his wrist earlier. “How’d this get here?”
    “I thought you could use it more than me.”
    He starts to untie it, but I place my hand over his. My fingers are shaking. My eyes start to sting. And the knot of fear in my chest tightens. “I want you to keep it.”
    “Hey.” Luka