by Lola Gabriel
Ara sniffled and pulled back, embarrassed at her behavior.
“Of course you’re right,” she replied quickly. “I think I’m just… overtired and emotional.”
“Go on and rest now.”
Ara watched as her benefactor disappeared back into the hallway and swallowed the lump in her throat.
She is going to make leaving here way more difficult than it already is, she thought mournfully, but she shoved it out of her head. She had to go. There was no other option. You’ll have a clearer head after you rest.
Ara woke with a gasp, her heart thudding wildly in her chest.
Outside, dusk had melted away into early evening, and for a fleeting second, she forgot where she was, the nightmare still gnawing at the edge of her mind as she fought to understand.
You’re in Port Elizabeth, she reminded herself, willing her pulse to even. Rolf and Betty Van Buren have taken you in. You can go back to bed. You can’t sneak away yet. It’s still too early.
A part of her wondered if that was the only thing keeping her from slipping out of bed.
Before she had fallen asleep, she’d had a mental debate like no other, wanting to stay with every fiber of her being. Of course, her common sense had won, but she was still in no rush to jump from the comfort of the soft bed into the unknown beyond.
Ara sat up, her green eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room. Something nagged at her, keeping her from falling back against the pillows to bury her nose into her freshly washed curls.
Suddenly, she knew what it was.
Someone was speaking just outside the open window below. The tone was low, but there were unmistakable words to be heard.
Cautiously, Ara threw her legs over the side of the bed and padded toward the window to listen.
“—saw her face, Rolf. How can you do this?”
“It’s out of our hands, Betty. Keep your voice down or you’ll wake her up.”
“She trusted us!” Betty cried. “This is a new low, even for you. No wonder the kids never come around! You’re despicable!”
“You won’t say that when we cash in the reward money and I take you to Brazil like you’ve always wanted.”
“It doesn’t feel right, Rolf. Maybe we’ve got the girl all wrong. What if she is innocent?”
“That’s for the police to decide, Betty, not us. We are doing our civic duty.”
Chills of terror shot through Ara as she realized what was happening, her body springing into action before her mind could entirely catch up.
They sold me out to the cops! she thought as she snatched her bag off the floor and shoved her feet into her worn runners. Inhaling, she pried open the door and peered into the hallway, willing her heart rate to slow down. It was pounding so loudly, she could hear nothing else over the incessant thudding.
Betty and Rolf were at the back of the house. Ara would have to leave through the front and pray that the cops didn’t show up before she made a dash for the coastline.
In her panic, she was disoriented, unsure of which direction to take. How could she have been so stupid? Of course they knew she was a wanted fugitive! That was the only reason they had been so nice to her. They had wanted to win her trust so that they could collect the money on her head.
For a brief moment, Ara considered sitting down and allowing it all to happen. So what if they found her and questioned her association with Skylar? She could play dumb, and at least she would have a place to stay with food and a lumpy bed. Would it be that bad?
But just as quickly as the idea surfaced, it dissipated. Arabella Pinot did not resign for anyone. It was not in her blood. If it had been, she would have been dead long ago.
I will keep running until I find safety, she told herself. It is what I have always done, and no South African cops are going to take that away from me. She shoved her almost palpable fear aside and slid into the hallway, stealing down the stairs toward the front door. I think I saw a wooded area not far from here. I can disappear in there for a while.
Strangely, a flash from a dream overcame her mind for a brief second, but it was gone before she could capture what her subconscious was trying to tell her.
Okay, here goes nothing. Inhaling, she threw open the door and froze as half a dozen flashlight beams fell on her, the geared South African Police Service aiming their weapons at her.
“Arabella Pinot, you are being arrested on the charges of aircraft hijacking and computer crimes in varying degrees. Show us your hands and step forward slowly.”
Ara’s eyes darted through the darkness, looking for an escape, but their guns were suddenly very real and terrifying. She stared into the night, at the team of officers designated to take her down, and the desire to fight suddenly dissolved into a puddle.
There was nowhere to run.
After a week of running, she had been defeated by people pretending to be her friends, by a couple she had trusted.
This is becoming the story of my life, she thought miserably, raising her hands in surrender.
4
“You really don’t understand how pointless this all is?” Titus asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Trina, if we can’t figure this out, the police sure as hell can’t, either!”
Trina eyed him. “You need to file a police report,” she repeated for the third time. “It needs to be on record.”
“Trina, there will be an investigation, and we can’t allow for outsiders to see what’s in our systems. You know that.”
“I also know that you have to cover your ass with the board,” she replied evenly, and Kamil grunted in agreement.
“She’s right,” he sighed, his eggplant head gleaming with sweat as he paced around the reception area of the police station, waiting for a sergeant in the Commercial Crime Unit to take their statement. “It needs to be documented in case we lose proprietary information in the future.”
“It won’t happen again,” Titus insisted, but even as he said the words, he still had no idea how it had happened in the first place. I have no idea if it could happen again. This is insanity.
Despite the breach, he could not shake the mounting appreciation he had developed for the hacker.
“Covering our asses,” Trina chirped again, and Titus knew she was right. It didn’t mean he felt any better about standing around the SAPS stationhouse, admitting failure to the police.
“What the hell is taking so long?” Titus grumbled, glancing at his diamond-studded Piaget before looking up at the clock as if to confirm their times were the same. “We’ve been here for an hour!”
“A second ago, you didn’t want to talk to anyone,” Trina chimed in.
Titus scowled at her. “If we’re going to do this, I’d rather we get it over with.” He sauntered up to the constable on duty and drummed his long fingers against the table, his grey eyes flashing with annoyance. “How much longer will it be before—?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Williams,” the woman sighed. “There has been an arrest of a dangerous fugitive this evening, and all hands were on deck to bring her in.”
“How big is she that you need that many men to take her down?” Titus grumbled.
The constable’s face twisted into a sneer. “Perhaps you have never been on the wrong end of a gun, sir, but that can certainly add many inches to someone’s stature.”
Titus was contrite at his flippant comment from earlier. They’re off capturing real criminals, and I’m worried about filing a stupid report that shouldn’t have to be filed in the first place.
“Never mind,” he muttered, turning away.
Trina’s grin widened. “SAPS, one, the infallible Titus Williams, zero,” she tittered.
“Trina, I’m going home,” he sighed, his patience expired. “You and Kamil can handle this. I have better things to do with my time.”
Before she could respond, he stormed out into the humid night.
What a mess, he thought, standing on the front steps of the police station on Gail Road. The board
is going to be furious when they learn about this. We’re supposed to be the most secure company in the world. I’ve just been played for a fool by some hacker who probably lives in his mother’s shanty in Nigeria.
But what bothered Titus the most was that he had not seen it coming. Of course there had been attempts to access his networks in the past, but they had always been thwarted well before any damage had even been started. It boggled his mind that no one had caught even a whiff of such a blatant violation. Had he gotten too comfortable? Too arrogant?
He wished he knew what the genius had wanted to accomplish.
It didn’t really matter. They needed to step up their security to NASA levels.
Even though NASA comes to me for their own protection, he mused. This cannot get out. The company will take a hit. It will hurt our image, and once our security is in question, we may as well shut the doors.
Titus trusted Kamil and Trina as much as he did his own brothers. They would keep their mouths shut, but if such an incident happened again, it would be much harder to hide. And what if there was a leak in the police structure? Reporters would pay good money to smear his name through the mud for the sake of “public safety.” Cops were so poorly paid that no one could blame them for selling such a juicy piece of information.
Titus shuddered at the thought, bounding down the steps to distance himself from the stationhouse as quickly as possible. As he reached the sidewalk, half a dozen unmarked cars screeched to a halt in the lot before him, and Titus paused to watch policemen flooding out of the vehicles.
Ah, the fugitive is here, he realized, smoky-colored eyes scanning the cars for a glimpse of the elusive woman who had evaded capture for a week.
He remembered the tidbits he’d heard over the radio over the past few days, but truthfully, Titus had been far too distracted in his own life to pay attention to the comings and goings of a criminal. He wasn’t even certain he remembered what it was she was wanted for, exactly.
Something about a hijacking. She’s a terrorist, he reminded himself. He wondered what group a single woman might be working with, and he suddenly found his curiosity get the best of him.
Standing back, Titus watched as the men stalked into the precinct, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. His eyes shifted about, and his pulse inexplicably began to race slightly, as if the anticipation was too much for him to bear. Where was this woman? What did she look like? Was she young? Was she old?
More importantly, why did he care?
You have shit to do, he reminded himself, but the argument was weak. He refused to move, his palms growing sweaty as he finally saw a fully armored officer open the back door of a car.
When the woman stepped from the backseat, Titus felt the air abandon his body in a single whoosh.
A strange whirring filled his ears, and his mouth parted in disbelief as he stared at the criminal.
Shackled at the wrists and feet and dressed in a too-large tracksuit was Isabella, and she was being led toward him, her jade eyes hidden behind her reddish-blonde tresses as if she was shamed by being caught.
True, her hair was much shorter, and she seemed much skinnier than she had been the last time he had seen her.
But it was her. It was unmistakably his Isabella.
Titus struggled to find his voice as she shuffled past him, her arms held at either side like she was going to make a break for it and take hostages in the process.
“Bella?” he whispered, and her head jerked up at the sound of her name, her clear eyes widening in shock. Titus walked to her as her face contorted in confusion, her pupils dilating and then constricting, but she was pulled up through the entrance before she could respond. “Wait!” Titus yelled, his cheeks crimson. “Where are you taking her? What has she done?”
“Step aside, sir,” one of the officers instructed. “She is a dangerous criminal. This doesn’t concern you.”
“It does!” he roared, racing back up the steps. No one paid him any mind, their attention focussed exclusively on the prize they had acquired after hundreds of manhours. The group disappeared into the station, leaving Titus gaping after them in stunned disbelief.
“What are you doing with her?” Titus demanded of the desk sergeant. “What has she done?”
The policewoman looked up at him, shaking her salt and pepper head with amusement.
“Where have you been for the last week?” she chuckled. “She’s part of a conspiracy group to overthrow the government. She robbed the federal reserve of a hundred and sixty million rand.”
“No!” Titus choked. “You have the wrong woman!”
The sergeant peered at him as Kamil and Trina flanked him.
“What is going on, Tito?” Kamil asked, his brow furrowing. “Why are you getting so upset?”
“Do you know her, Mr. Williams?” the sergeant asked, leaning closer with interest.
“Yes! No! I don’t know!” Titus choked, and he was suddenly aware of the way everyone was staring at him.
“Titus, come and sit down,” his assistant instructed, but he shook his head.
“No,” he insisted. “I need to get her out of here.”
“Do you know that woman, Mr. Williams?” the sergeant asked again, rising. A bemused expression touched her lips.
“I—I knew her a long time ago,” he replied, heat flooding his cheeks as he tried to compose himself. It’s impossible. It can’t be Isabella. My Isabella would never be a part of some heist job.
But his eyes and his heart would know her anywhere, no matter how many centuries had passed.
It was his Isabella, and his Isabella was a criminal. How had this happened?
“Well, then,” the sergeant sighed, “I suppose we have one more crime solved today.”
Titus stared at her uncomprehendingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Arabella Pinot is a renowned hacker,” she said. “She’s being charged with a dozen computer crimes as we speak, not to mention her little hijacking stunt. The reserve robbery was a cyber hack.”
“Isabella,” Titus corrected. “Isabella Morrow. Her name is…”
He stopped talking. His Isabella would never have committed any crimes. His Isabella was pure and kind. His Isabella was dead.
This woman’s name is Arabella, he thought.
“There you have it,” the sergeant replied. “Wrong woman. Maybe they are related. What did you say your friend’s name was?”
Titus didn’t answer, backing away from the counter, his small entourage following.
“It’s her,” he whispered, but it was more to himself than to anyone else.
“Who do you think she is, Tito? You heard the sergeant; you confused her with someone else,” Trina offered gently, sensing her boss’s disconcert. “Their names are different.”
Titus fell onto a hard, plastic chair and tried to make sense of what he had seen. The stationhouse fell away, and he was hundreds of years in the past, racing up the turret stairs.
“Victory!” the children shouted. “Victory is ours!”
Titus shoved his way past the cheering women as they smothered their little ones with kisses of relief, none of them realizing what changes were yet to come. They had been sheltered in the tower, unable to see the beasts he and the others had become, breathing fire and reducing their enemies to ash.
He could still smell the stench of singe in his nostrils.
“Where is Bella?” he demanded, searching through the horde, his head above the crowd. “Where is she?”
But she was not there.
“Corinne, where is my love?” he demanded of his cousin. “Has she left the turret already?” How could she know it was safe? Why would she leave before getting word?
His cousin’s eyes grew wide with shock.
“She claimed she had gone with you!” Corinne cried. “She left in the night and has not returned.”
Titus’ heart froze as he tore through the castle, screaming out for her.
I should have known she would never stay when she learned of the spell! he cursed himself, running through the halls. Why did I tell her anything about it?
Guilt pumped through his veins as he ran out through the charred woods, crying out for her, but she never answered. No one had seen her since the night before.
Where had she gone? Had she run away?
Titus hoped as much, for the alternative made him sick to his gut.
It was not until Maximus and Anders went forth to collect the spoils of war for the castle and returned with her burnt headdress of gold that Titus knew what had happened. She had run off in the night, determined to leave him behind. Had she hidden in the trees, or had she been captured by the Northmen?
Whatever the case had been, the result was the same: he had killed her in his haste to protect her.
“Titus, what the hell is going on?” Trina called, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “You’re freaking us out! Are you losing it?”
“Get my brother Anders on the phone,” he ordered.
Trina’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, okay. For what?”
“Just get him on the phone!”
Trina and Kamil both balked at his sharp tone. She nodded, reaching for her cell phone to dial Anders in New York City.
“Anders, it’s Trina MacKay. I have Titus standing by to speak with you… thank you… please hold.” Trina handed the device to Titus without speaking and he snatched it from her hand.
“Anders,” he choked. “I need you in Port Elizabeth.”
“Oh, bro,” Anders said, “I wish I could, but—”
“No,” Titus interrupted. “You have to come. It’s about Isabella.”
There was a deep, uncomfortable silence.
“Tito, you know that she’s gone,” Anders said gently. “I thought we had dealt with this already.”
