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Was I allergic to words?
The disk smoke had a lightly cloying scent of cloves, but also cinnamon and other smells I couldn’t determine. But they were all earthy and organic. There was nothing chemical in them.
Harlow repeated the words again and drew the smoke of the disk down her body as if she was washing with water. I followed suit, and my tongue grew one step closer to painful. I could sense that if I kept going, it would begin to hurt very shortly.
When she opened her eyes, I exhaled with relief.
“That felt weird,” I said. “I don’t think I was supposed to say those words. I must be missing something.”
“You’re an Upper, most of you lose interest in the ritual early on, but last year you would sneak in with me. That’s why I wanted to try it again this year, to make sure you could still enter.”
“Why wouldn’t I be able to enter?” I asked.
And she looked at me as if contemplating how much to reveal. Finally, she set her smoking disk down on the silver plate next to her match and said, “You really don’t seem like yourself. I wanted to make sure you could still do the same things as last year.”
“I’m the same person. It’s just that everything feels foggy,” I replied. “I feel the same. I’m just me.”
She took my disk from me, set it next to hers, and smiled. “Let’s see if you can do this.”
She held out her hand, and I took it, walking through the remaining smoke with her. To my surprise, we entered a stone room, much like a church, and there were already people there. Other students, Lowers, I could tell by the way they carried themselves and dressed. I could already subconsciously separate the two distinct classes here at Crimson, so maybe my rattled head was getting better.
She took me to the center, where we bowed our heads and closed our eyes. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say at this point, but she was quiet as if in prayer. Only I didn’t know if I could call it prayer.
I took that chance to look around and found a couple familiar faces, but most of the other attendees were older and, therefore, strangers to me.
Uppers didn’t mix with Lowers other than those directly in their classes. It wasn’t like I was going to go to a Lower party or hang out with a group of them. Being around Harlow and desiring Luke was already dancing along a line, and I knew it.
I wondered what had happened to Luke’s sister Marianne and if I’d been part of it somehow.
I turned back to the front of the room and looked at the stained glass there. Other than the lack of pews or an altar, this felt like church. The stained glass depicted many different scenes, though. Skeleton-headed royalty battled on their gigantic horses, and beneath them, the skulls of hundreds of people were ground under the horse’s hooves.
I wondered what the story was about and suddenly longed for the depictions of Christ on a cross. I’d always found that too macabre, but this Lower ritual space had really dialed it up a notch.
I closed my eyes and bowed my head again, uncomfortable and uncertain. But after a few heartbeats, I heard it like a siren call. A low, steady throbbing in my ears timed perfectly with my heartbeat.
Thrum.
Thrum.
Thrum.
Thrum.
Thrummmmmm.
It got louder with each passing second, and I felt that familiar tug in my stomach right beneath my belly button. It was a physical draw, pulling me somewhere other than here.
I looked up without opening my eyes and found a swirling black hole in front of me. It was swirling and throbbing in time with the beat, and I was fascinated by its sudden appearance.
Light began to leak from around the edges of the hole, and I felt compelled to stick my head inside of it so I could look around. It called to me.
I took a step forward and then another, still without opening my eyes and still able to see the black hole in front of me. I lifted my foot to take another step when I felt a hand grab my arm and Luke’s voice said, “What the hell are you doing, Willow?”
My eyes snapped open, and it was as if an immense weight had been lifted off my chest. I sucked in a deep breath, and my vision returned. Bright lights and color exploded all around me as sunshine back-lit the stained glass windows, making beautiful patterns kaleidoscope across the floor.
“I don’t know,” I replied and exhaled with a whoosh of air. “It was like—”
I didn’t finish because I couldn’t explain it. The black hole had been opening up, and I’d heard sounds along with the light. Voices, some of them calling my name.
