The Gate

14. Forbidden and Funerals

Lena Matthews

"What were you thinking?" Dad asked for about the fifth time.

"I was trying to figure out what happened last night. Carter asked me to visit Rowan with him, and I saw an opportunity. You can't blame me for taking it! We're looking for a female Forbidden that creates cold. She's the reason that Rowan was found frozen. If I could just -"

"No!" Dad yelled, interrupting me. "What was your assignment?"

"To keep the family from looking suspicious." I finished obediently.

"Did anyone see you interrogating Charlie?" Dad asked.

"No one except for Makaya, I guess." I answered truthfully.

"Makaya?" Dad roared.

"That woman's everywhere, I couldn't help it." I defended weakly.

"It doesn't matter, Lena! This town is dangerous! I can do my job, and I don't need you risking everything so you can feel better!" I shriveled, and Dad guiltily brought his voice down. "Listen, you're just not meant for this. Some people have a gift, or a spark, and you just don't. That's okay." Dad tried to touch my shoulder to comfort me, but I slapped his arm away.

"You want to talk about a spark?" I asked, furious. "You can start by telling me about your mom!" I walked to the stove and turned the natural gas burner on. A small flower of blue flame clicked to life, and I put my hand on it without hesitation. As I expected, I couldn't feel anything. I looked at Dad, a fire blazing in my eyes.

"Turn that off." Dad commanded. It wasn't the reaction I had expected, and I turned off the burner immediately.

"You heard me talking to your mother last night," said Dad flatly.

"Why didn't you tell us?" I demanded.

"It was better that way. I was worried that you might feel guilty, or like there are consequences to killing something that shares your blood." Dad explained.

"So you thought that I would go soft?" I asked, my blood beginning to boil. "You raised me to know that the Forbidden are always dangerous, and that there's no exceptions. One little detail is not going to override all of that!"

"It's not that simple, Lena." said Dad.

"I think it is. You just don't trust me." I responded.

"No, Lena, I do trust you, but-"

"I'm tired of being underestimated over and over!" I exclaimed. "I'm tired of you!" As much as I hated fighting, here I was arguing with Dad for the second time this week. "I'm tired of this." I said quietly, but Dad couldn't hear me. I made a slow procession back to my bedroom and shut the door.

I hadn't bothered to decorate my room here. I wanted to avoid getting too attached to Atalka, and that started with the house. Despite it being a really nice place, my real life was back in those apartments at Oak View with my family.

I flopped onto my bed and sighed dramatically. For a moment, I let myself wonder what it was like to be someone like Jane-Anne. I didn't doubt that her room was painted some pastel color with matching curtains and five million throw pillows. Maybe a bay window to go with it. It was a life in a pretty little dollhouse, with no rough edges. Well, except for the attack thing.

I sat up straight. I had almost forgotten that Taylor had mentioned that Jane-Anne's attackers lived in this house. What if they left something here?

I looked around the bare room, wondering if some remnant of the attackers was tucked away somewhere. I walked across the floorboards carefully, listening for any creaks. The process was interrupted by a knock.