Gabi knew that Apostle Ames’s persecution of her brother was about her. Mathew had excelled on his exams, distinguished himself during his brief training and performed every task to perfection. Gabi was who Ames hated, as every poisonous look he shot her way attested, yet whatever strings her father had pulled to get her and Marnie onto a team had also created a force field of protection around them that Ames didn’t dare breach. Instead he took his resentment out on Mathew.
“Hey, reject,” Bradley sneered as she approached the washing station. “What are you doing over here? There’s actual work being done, in case you didn’t notice. Why don’t you stick to the campfire with the other deadweight?
“Shut up, Fiske,” Mathew barked, lifting the tub of dirty dishwater and carrying it to the edge of the clearing to dump it in the concealment of brush. Gabi followed her brother, but he refused to look at her.
“Mathew, will you please talk to me?” Gabi asked. Mathew dropped the tub, greasy water sloshing over the side. He stared at it in silence. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know you must feel like I used you to get ready for the exam, but I did it for a good reason. Can’t you just trust me?”
When Mathew finally looked up, his eyes were ablaze. “Trust you? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Did you even think for one second about me or Dad or anyone else on these teams?”
“Of course I did,” Gabi protested. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about! Do you think it’s my dream to go off to some forsaken, dangerous place with a bunch of people who hate me to face people who want to kill me? I’m not in this for the same reasons you are, Mathew. There’s more at stake than you realize.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Mathew demanded, tugging her into the shadows when he noticed a few of the other Witnesses casting them curious looks.
“I mean that you’ve been playing at being a Witness since you were a little kid. You’re here to prove you’re tough or brave or better than Dad or something, so you can go back and get on the council and be a big shot, so don’t you dare question my motives. I don’t have to ask your permission to live my life!” As soon as the words were out, Gabi regretted their edge, if not their meaning. She didn’t want to hurt her brother. She just wanted him back.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with quiet finality. “You being here puts all of us in danger. I don’t know how you got Dad to get you on a team, but it killed him to do it. He told me to look out for you, but I’ll be lucky to survive Ames, thanks to you, never mind the Lilim. I’m scared, and you should be too. This isn’t a Junior Mission. Even the vets on my team say they’ve never seen anything like we saw today. Just do me and everyone else a favor and stay out of the way.”
His words landed like blows as he stalked back to the dishwashing area. She knew what he said was true. As long as the others believed her incapable of taking care of herself, they would feel obligated to pick up her slack and endanger themselves in the process.
“Bank the fires,” Sykes yelled from the folding card table where she and Apostle Ames stood reviewing a topography map. “Ten minutes to lights-out!” There was still a tremor in Gabi’s knees from the shock of the scene in the temple, but she forced herself to march over to the Apostles.
“Apostle Ames, sir?” Gabi said, hating the high pitch of her voice as her throat constricted. She could almost look him straight in the eye, but the menace he radiated made her want to crawl under the card table. Sykes took one look at his face and excused herself to her tent. Gabi waited for an invitation to speak, but none was forthcoming. Ames was too busy trying to incinerate her with his eyes.
“Um, sir?”
“Speak,” he growled. “What do you want me to do, hand you a script? Is there anything you can do for yourself, Lowell?”
“I just wanted to say that I don’t need any special treatment. I’ve been sick, but I’m not anymore. I know my father must have spoken to you—”
“Your father,” Ames spat, “is a bureaucrat. He knows nothing about the work we do in the field and prefers to keep his hands clean when it comes to the real work of the fellowship. The only reason you’re here is as a special favor to Ben Nystrom. He and my father were Witnesses together when Alder was no more than a struggling outpost, so don’t think your daddy means piss-all to me.”
The mention of Messenger Nystrom’s name baffled Gabi. What investment could he possibly have in getting Gabi on a team, unless it was as a favor to her father? Not that it mattered. All that mattered now was proving herself to Ames so the other Witnesses could focus on keeping themselves alive.
“I’m not asking for special treatment,” Gabi persisted. “I’m just asking to be treated like everyone else. I didn’t come here to be a burden.”
Ames took a step toward her, the stiff leather of his boots creaking in complaint. “Isn’t that refreshing,” he said silkily, his face so close to hers that her eyes nearly crossed in an effort to meet his. “A Lowell who doesn’t expect the world to throw rose petals at their feet. You want to
