Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) - By Dan Rix Page 0,39
such a child persist.”
“But Dravin, I have made such a child persist.” Casler swung around, smiled at Aaron, and stepped into the bright warehouse.
***
Aaron’s pulse quickened as he followed the men inside. A child without a half . . . so a cure for half death was possible, and Dr. Selavio was going to demonstrate it tonight. Aaron swallowed and tried not to think about the article he read earlier.
Hot air circulated inside the warehouse. A hundred folding chairs faced a podium, most of them filled, and Aaron noticed immediately what was wrong.
The chairs were filled by men—only men. Not one of them was with his half. They all wore the same red cloaks with sashes. The murmur of only male voices, like a constant growl, was a sound Aaron had never heard before.
The three of them, Clive, Dominic and Aaron, filed into a row near the front. Clive shook hands with the men around him.
Aaron scanned the audience for Amber’s father, but there were too many faces, their identities lost under red hoods. Coincidence or not, the blue Corvette had gotten him to thinking about Amber and her disturbing, impenetrable life. There was so much she hadn’t told him, and now, as Aaron sat in the cult’s secret warehouse, her secrecy stung like betrayal.
A moment later, Father Dravin stepped behind the podium and took hold of the microphone. He peered around the room, hawk-like, until the conversations trailed off.
“Schrödinger’s gift,” he began. “The gift that keeps on giving. Your half is your slave; cherish her, and the depth of her loyalty shall touch your heart.” Dravin smiled. “Please look to the Brother next to you and recite the creed.”
The din of low voices and sliding chairs filled the warehouse. Aaron crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. Stupid cult formalities.
Dominic and Clive had already paired up. A hand gripped Aaron’s arm, and he glanced over as a wrinkled old man settled into the seat next to him. The man started to speak.
“I am master and keeper of my half—” He paused. “Eh? You got to speak up son.”
“Keeper of your half?” said Aaron in disbelief. “That’s how it starts?”
A deep chorus resonated around them as everyone else recited the creed.
“Eh?” The man cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned closer. “You don’t know it? Listen closely,” he said, and then his gruff voice articulated every syllable. “I am master and keeper of my half. So was my father, and so too shall be my son. Bind me to my birthright, brother, I shall bind you to yours . . . ”
The old man was oblivious that everyone else in the warehouse had finished.
At last, there was quiet throughout the warehouse—an embarrassed, echoing silence. Aaron pulled his sleeve out of the man’s iron grip. He caught Dominic’s gaze and rolled his eyes, then slumped in his chair and tugged his hood until it covered his face.
Father Dravin nodded, pushed his glasses up his nose, and continued his talk. “Eighty years later, the clairvoyant channel is stronger than Schrödinger could have dreamed, and each new generation knits it tighter . . . ”
So this was the Juvengamy Brotherhood—men who thought their halves were slaves. It made sense that Clive was here, but why Dominic? Aaron shifted, and his cloak peeled away from the chair, stuck with sweat.
“Unlike our bodies, clairvoyance lasts forever, which makes our commitment to forging strong channels at birth all the more pressing . . . ”
Dravin finished an incomprehensible philosophical lecture an hour later, and there were sighs of relief as the men rose for intermission. They congregated along the back wall at tables laid with whisky and crackers. Badly in need of fresh air, Aaron slipped out a back door.
Outside, dark clouds swallowed the full moon. Before he could sift through his thoughts, though, Aaron heard a muffled roar of applause inside the warehouse. The door unlatched, and Clive poked his head out. “Harper, get inside,” he said. “It’s time for my father’s demonstration.”
***
Back inside the warehouse, chairs tipped back as the audience stood to cheer for Casler. The doctor leaned against the podium, let his hood fall to his shoulders, and flashed his dazzling grin. A dozen men lined up to shake his hand and congratulate him, but there were too many and he waved them all back to their seats. While his standing ovation roared on, he pointed to different people in the audience and winked.