I see the shock in every pair of eyes in the room.
Wilhelmina places a firm yet tender hand on my shoulder.
“We were wrong,” she says simply. “One day you will learn that as parents we don’t have all the answers. There’s no manual to show us the pitfalls of our decisions, we do the best with the information we have. In this instance, your parents and I made the wrong call. That doesn’t mean we’re not sorry for what you’ve been through or that they love you any less than you grew up believing. So your choice is quite simple, forgive them and get over it or keep screaming at them like a child, what will it be?”
“Just like that? It’s that simple; get over it and forget about the betrayal and destruction of trust?”
“It can be as simple as you want it to be.”
I don’t appreciate being scolded by a woman I don’t know, but she has a point, albeit a small one I’m loathed to admit. It would be stupid of me to push away the few people I can be myself around, who know the complete truth about me and love me unconditionally. The only other person I’ve had a similar connection with is Jackson…but we’re not going there.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you all. But don’t think that my willingness to move past this is a green light to keep me in the dark about things; if there’s anything else I need to know, now is the time to tell me.” I don’t want to fight, but I’m not going to just roll over and be a doormat.
“You appear to know as much as we do, courtesy of that boy,” says my father testily.
“You mean the one-hundred-and-sixty-year-old man who didn’t lie to me?” I don’t know why I’m continuing to defend Jackson, especially as it earns me a scathing look from my dad. “This is pointless and I’m exhausted, what are my options now?”
“Well, with your grades you’d readily be accepted to Columbia and I have a long-time understanding with the faculty for transfer students of particular interest – that’s how I provide support to those Guardians who start maturity whilst at college instead of displaying symptoms before. Most of my girls are transfers in fact, so you won’t be out of place,” answers Wilhelmina.
“What are the symptoms of maturity?”
“In the early phase, as your DNA begins to evolve, you may feel fatigue, nausea, vomiting, and general flu-like symptoms. Some people have reported feeling insecure and retreated into themselves, socially speaking, while all of their energy is focused on the changes their body is going through. This stage lasts for up to a month and from then until immortality is set, symptoms are sporadic and mostly display themselves as difficulty in controlling the newly-developed powers, such as speed and strength.
“The physical changes enhance the senses, so my girls frequently see and hear things they don’t want to, and prior to maturity, wouldn’t have. They heal at accelerated rates and they cause accidental damage due to underestimating their increasing strength. Some girls develop talents that are a rarity, even for supernaturals.
“After the first stage of maturity, the most prominent issue is mental well-being. It’s no small task to evolve into an immortal being; there’s a level of responsibility that comes with such enhanced powers. Not to mention the emotional toll upon realizing that you will live for a considerable amount of time, likely outliving people who are very dear to you. Supernaturals are quite difficult to kill once they reach their prime and their immortality is set; it can be done, but it’s not easy.”
“It isn’t hard if you bleed out faster than you can heal,” I say without inflection.
“Is that how your first incarnation was killed? How was that accomplished?” asks Wilhelmina.
“Most of my throat was torn off by an Avidite. I bled out before Jackson Smoak could do anything to save me.”
“He was there?” asks my father incredulously.
“I died in his arms.”
“Well that explains why he was so keen to re-acquaint you with our world before you were ready,” Wilhelmina sounds almost accusatory.
“I’m not so sure it was before I was ready; if by ready you are referring to the onset of maturity? I’ve felt shit for weeks, I’ve lost all social skills, I’m dizzy at least once a day and there have been occasions when I couldn’t even get out of bed. My moods have been all over the place and I haven’t felt like myself since I left for Dartmouth.”
“Early onset of maturity would be concurrent with the amount of power needed to be contained within you to enable you to be reborn. I guess we just missed your symptoms by a couple of weeks. I will be able to confirm this once you join me in school, but honestly, even if it’s not maturity, you are better off safe with me and a sorority full of ladies who can protect you than out there on your own now that you are on the Avidite radar. You are vulnerable until you hit your Prime. James, Margot, I will be able to confirm Emilia’s place with us first thing tomorrow morning,” she says the last part to my parents.
“Thank you, Wilhelmina,” my dad’s voice finally sounds like its back to its relaxed, even tempo.
Tristan escorts Matron Wilhelmina Price back to our foyer and out the front door.
She calls first thing to make arrangements for my transfer to Columbia and a few days later, I’m packed and ready to leave.
Things with my parents are tense so it’s a relief to flee the nest. I know they love me and I agreed to forgive them, but that doesn’t make forgetting any easier. Trust is a fragile thing and ours took a pounding.
In the underground parking garage, I find Tristan waiting next to one of my parent’s fleet of SUVs – another Audi. His bags are already loaded in the open trunk and he opens a back-passenger door for me.
I hate the back seat; being chauffeured doesn’t sit well with me. Not to mention, I prefer the unobstructed view through the windshield.
I walk past Tristan and reach for the front passenger door, ignoring his unamused expression.
I feel bad for Tristan, his job protecting me means that he has to live wherever I live…and that’s seen him pack his life up twice in a week. Still, I don’t feel bad enough to sit in the back as he wants.
“My job is to protect you, Miss. Vincent, I would rather you sat in the back,” he said gruffly but firmly.
I don’t know a lot about Tristan Matthews except that he’s ex-military, a British Green Beret, and I know enough about that to know he thinks I won’t fight him.
He’s wrong.
“The windshield is bulletproof, just like the rest of the stupid car, and surely you can protect me better if you can see exactly where I am; the front seat of the car seems like a good place for you to have an uninterrupted view of me.”
I stand my ground against the glare of his earthy brown eyes until he caves...that or he’s realized that indulgence is less futile than resistance.
Yeah, I sound like a brat, but the past week has given me license to be. My parents lied to me my whole life and I’ve expended what little energy I have to not stay mad at them – no mean feat. My heart is breaking for the fractured relationship we now have and that’s ignoring the pang of guilt, pain and need I feel every time I think about Jackson. The look on his face as I left him standing on the sidewalk haunts me nightly. So I think I’m entitled to a little bit of indulgence.