THE GATES OF HAVEN: HEART'S HOME

CHAPTER 7

"Zachary." Marek quietly called from several steps ahead of me. "The time has come."

I tore my gaze away from the angel to follow them up the stairs. As we approached the building, I was once again reminded of how much I cherished white noise. I missed the sounds of cars, people talking, horns honking and music—anything to fill the void. At the entrance, another linebacker guard stood at attention. He propped the door open and didn't give us a second glance as we walked past him into the building. The curved walls of the interior structure were lit glass, swirling across the spectrum of blue, purple and turquoise, so that they seemed to be constantly in motion. It was impossible to tell if this was just an optical illusion or if the light behind the glass was actually moving. The floors were a dramatic black against the bright walls. Only the doors were decorated, with engravings of large white-glass wings . Turning to check where we should go, I saw the guard put a hand on Marek's shoulder, pointing to one of the doors with the other. Marek nodded. Then, with a moment of hesitation and a glance back at me, he headed for it. Alex turned to me and placed a hand on my cheek. His eyes rested on my lips and, with an apologetic smile, he left me to follow Marek.

As I watched him go, a sinking feeling threatened my stomach. I flinched when the guard placed a giant, gnarled paw on my shoulder. His face was expressionless as he pointed one massive bony finger toward a different door. The one to the left had been for Marek and Alex. Mine was to the right. I nodded and slowly made my way.

The two doors led to different sections of the same room, a great circular hall. I saw Marek and Alex join a large group of people in a crescent-shaped auditorium balcony that wrapped the back of the large open space. My door led to a set of stairs with low walls on either side. It descended beneath the seats and out into the main floor area. I walked down the steps and followed the short path. At the lowest level of the room, at the very centre, were tables that bubbled out of the floor and chairs filled with men in suits. A lanky man with a boyish mushroom haircut was waiting for me. He indicated that I was to sit in the chair next to him.

I settled in and glanced up. At the head of the room was a broad cylindrical structure, embossed with the same ornamentation as the outside of the building and rising up approximately six feet. To the left and the right at the very top were pathways that led to two doors. On either side of them were two more Haven henchmen, standing perfectly still, gazing straight ahead just as the gate guardians had, with their hands folded in front of them.

Sitting just off to the right at a ballooned glass chair and desk was a woman I guessed to be the stenographer. She stared at me with wide, curious eyes. She had a Macintosh laptop in front of her and was sitting perfectly still as she waited with the rest of us for the session to begin. She didn't seem like a typical typist, but then who was normal in this place? She was gorgeous, with long, straight brown hair and wide, light hazel eyes. I smiled at her and she blushed, her lashes fluttering as she looked down at her twisting hands.

"I'm thinkin' ya just made 'er happier 'n a junebug at a porchlight sale," the man sitting next to me leaned in to whisper in my ear.

I jumped and turned.

"Sorry? Oh, her? Uh... heh-heh... Ya think?"

"Hank Hallinsworth. We've howdied, but we ain't shook."

He reached a hand out, and I took it and gave it a good solid pump.

"Zach Taylor," I answered.

"I know. I'm yer rep."

"Oh. Really. Okay."

"Now, don't go gettin' your cows a-runnin', kid. This here's just a standard ceremony that they have whenever someone new comes along."