Free Gateway (The Gateway Trilogy, Book 1) by Christina Garner Page B

climbing back into the SUV.
    “Oh, pretty clever of her actually, though I thought it ridiculous at the time. Sometimes Mom gets paranoid, thinks people might be out to get her, out to get me.” I laughed nervously at how close that hit to home. “Anyway, one night she was really freaked out and came up with a code. If I was ever kidnapped or something, she would say something about me liking fish sticks. If I said I wanted fish sticks, that meant I was in danger and needed help, no matter what else I’d said to her that I was fine.”
    “So by you saying you hate fish sticks…”
    “She knows I’m fine and she doesn’t need to further involve the police. Who says bipolar disorder can’t be useful?”
    If anyone in the car was uncomfortable with the admission that my mother was mentally ill, they didn’t let on. Although I guess Callie battled mental problems of her own and therefore not likely to throw stones, and if Taren and Kat’s jobs entailed bringing people back from the brink of crazy they probably weren’t easily shocked.  
    We had passed through the heart of Hollywood and were making our way toward the Sunset Strip when Taren made a right, heading up the mountain that served as a boundary between the rest of Los Angeles and the dreaded Valley—where aging movie stars who had run out of residual checks went to die. Where club-going poseurs, who worked as production assistants, lived because they were spending all of their money to lease a BMW Z-4. Where I lived. Even my city didn’t fit in.
    This border town, known as Laurel Canyon, was an elite colony nestled between both worlds. One of the few places in Los Angeles where trees hadn’t been torn down to accommodate housing needs. The roads were narrow, houses perched precariously on hillsides, and deer were not an uncommon site. As with most places, the higher you went, the more expensive it got. Having seen Taren’s place in the Hollywood Hills, I was unsurprised that we kept winding up, up until my stomach lurched and it was all I could do to not give into car sickness.
    We came to a stop in front of a gated driveway. A guard stepped out of the small shack and gave Taren a polite wave. The gate slid open and we eased through. The narrow driveway curved its way through a canopy of trees that filtered out all but the softest rays of sunshine, then opened to reveal a sprawling estate. Fruit trees dotted the landscape, as did the occasional marble bench. The beautiful scenery did nothing to calm me, however. Instead, my pulse quickened and bile rose in my throat.
    “Thank God we're here,” I said. “I don't usually get motion sick but I'll be very glad to get out of this car.”
    Taren and Kat exchanged glances.
    “No, not again…” Callie moaned softly.
    “Hold on, Callie. We're almost to the safe place I told you about,” Taren said, easing to a stop.
    “What’s bringing this on?” I was concerned for my safety as well as hers. If she was hearing voices, they might be telling her to attack me again.
    “It’s being this near to the Gateway. The voices will be louder and more controlling,” Taren answered. “It's also why you feel sick. Aren't you hearing anything?”
    “Not a thing.” I was glad for yet another distinction between the Voice I heard and the ones that had a hold of Callie. “So, you both feel nauseous, too?”
    “No,” Kat said. “Only Marked ones are connected to the Gateway like that.”
    Taren locked eyes with me in the rear view mirror.
    We piled out of the car and Taren brought us not to the mansion set atop the gently sloping hill, but toward a path that led to a dormitory-style building. My stomach continued to roil while Callie clutched her temples and muttered non-sensically.
    The moment my foot touched the packed earth of the trail, I felt better. Still queasy, but noticeably improved. I looked at Taren who gave me a comforting smile. With each step, my stomach calmed even more. Callie looked around with