by Nina Walker
He whipped back around and slammed his wide shoulders through the door. I sped up but the door closed in my face, the sound of a lock clicking in place. I bristled and stepped back, my jaw dropping.
Since when had he installed a lock on the outside of the door? There was a huge lever on the inside of this door and the one below, which made sense, considering it was a bunker. But to purposely make a way to lock me in? All my bugging him about being down here must have finally gotten the best of him.
Either that, or he’s suspicious.
I sighed and rested my head against the cool metal, momentarily lost for a solution. Jessa was over there. She was stuck in the middle, and I needed to make sure she was okay. As much as she hated me, I couldn’t pretend there wasn’t something there between us. I’d felt it from the moment I’d met her. I needed to see that something through and that wasn’t going to happen if she was dead. Besides, I wanted to join in the battle if it came to that and help where I could. After I witnessed what she was being forced into and how broken she’d become, I wanted to offer help.
I slammed my fist against the door, cussing. Stubborn man! I tested the handle, just in case. It was still locked.
Running back down the stairs, I jumped over the last four in one swoop, and flew through the door at the bottom. I needed yellow. If I could just get my hands on some yellow, I could break that lock myself. But it had to be organic yellow like a stone or a plant or something.
Why hadn’t I stocked up?
I tore through all the bedrooms, rummaging through cabinets and drawers. I even lifted up the couch cushions.
But there was nothing.
I plopped back onto the misshapen couch, tossing the book laying next to me across the room. It hit the wall and clattered to the floor, pages flying open. Breathing fast, I ran my shaky hands through my hair and stared up at the stark white ceiling. White was in abundance down here, even the flowers on the kitchen table were fresh. But what good would invisibility do if I couldn’t get through the door?
At that thought, I heard the click of the door handle.
“Hey you,” a silky voice chimed behind me. “Are you doing okay? I heard you were stuck down here.”
I stood and spun around—Celia Addington. She sauntered into the room, casually removing black gloves and unraveling a long cream scarf. She unwrapped the soft fabric from her neck several times, eyeing me with interest. She tossed the items onto the table like she owned the place and sashayed toward me.
“How did you get in here?” I asked. And more importantly, was the door upstairs still open?
“Leo let me in.”
I stared at her. “Leo?”
She giggled, the sound forced. “Your guard, silly.”
Okay, why was she acting so weird? If she thought this was flirting, she was trying way too hard to pull it off. She was attractive, but this was not. And why were my guards so easily paid off? It didn’t make sense. What did Celia have on them?
“Umm, okay,” I replied, clearing my throat and focusing all of my attention on her. “And what are you doing here?”
“I came to keep you company.” She smiled seductively, walking her fingers across the back of the couch as she worked her way around it, finally standing right in front of me. She tugged on the collar of my shirt, biting her bottom lip and looking up at me through a set of dark lashes. “I bet you have a lot on your mind, hmm?”
“Uh, yeah,” I sputtered. “You could say that.”
A lot of Jessa on my mind. Or maybe the problem was that I didn’t have enough on my mind, namely my memories that still hadn’t come back, and the full truth. Even though, I was beginning to piece that together on my own.
“I can help you take your mind off those troubles for a while.” She ran her hands down my chest. “Nobody has to know,” she whispered.
I narrowed my eyes and stepped back. Hadn’t we already had this conversation?
“I’m not interested.”
She pouted. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been thinking about our kiss.”
“I haven’t.”
She put her hands on her hips, attitude flaring. “I don’t believe you.”
I shook my head, annoyed. “Believe it. I haven’t thought about it once since that night.”
Hurt flashed across her face, breaking her smooth exterior. “Why are you fighting this, Lucas?” She stomped her foot like a spoiled child. “You know, I’ve never had a guy turn me away before you. I’m sick of your prudishness. And by the way? Things will be a lot easier for you in the future if you don’t fight this.”
Umm, okay?
She turned, her hair flipping as she stormed toward the door.
“Wait!” I called out. I didn’t want her here, but I also didn’t want her to leave and lock me up again. Her arrival had marked the only opportunity I had to get out. If that door upstairs was still unlocked…
She spun back around, raising her eyebrows. “What, Lucas?”
“I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat and looked down. “I didn’t mean to be rude. You can stay. We can hang out for a bit…as friends.”
She laughed, her cold anger thawing quickly. “Sure.” She winked. “As friends.”
“Sit,” I said, motioning to the couch. “I still don’t have a slatebook. But, uh, we could read or something? That’s pretty much all I’ve been doing lately.”
That, and sneaking out a few times under the guise of white alchemy.
That, and obsessing about Jessa and what she really meant to me.
Jessa, who spent her nights sleeping on the other side of my wall.
“You’re an interesting character.” Celia relaxed into the couch. “We could talk, ya know? We don’t have to read.”
“Yeah,” I returned. I jogged over to the roses, sliding two out from the massive arrangement. I strode back and dropped one into her lap.
“Uh, thanks?” She giggled.
“One for you and one for me,” I said, feeling and sounding like a total idiot. It was a necessary evil. I needed to play this whole thing off as nice, as funny, as anything other than what it really was.
“You’re sweet.” She buried her nose in the rose.
My eyes caught on a flash of metal sticking out of her pocket. I frowned. “Is that a knife?”
Her eyes popped to mine, red brightening her cheeks. Slowly, she nodded, pulling the long, thin blade from her pocket. She twisted it around in her hand, a smirk playing on her lips.
“A girl can never be too safe,” she purred.
It didn’t ring true. Something about this whole situation was off. A small alarm bell went off in my head, a warning to play it cool.
“Don’t worry, Lucas,” she grinned at me, pressing the tip of her finger to the knife. A tiny bead of blood swelled on the end. She placed in her mouth, sucking it for a moment. “When all is said and done, you and I are going to have a great life together. And if you can’t see that, well, I think you know what that means.”
The threat prickled over me, pins and needles covering my skin.
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you saying if I don’t agree to a relationship with you, you’ll what? Slit my throat?”
A smile played on her lips as she feigned innocence. “I never said that. Of course I would never hurt someone I care about so deeply, especially because I know how strongly you feel about me. Besides, it’s best for Jessa this way, too. She’s too busy with alchemy to be a good wife to you.”
I nodded once and she slipped the knife back into her pocket. The message was clear. She was threatening me. And not just me, Jessa! I didn’t think I’d ever have the urge to punch a woman, but I did right then.
“I told them you’d come around,” she leaned into me, cuddling into my side.
“Who?” I stilled.
“My parents, silly. They wanted this match from the beginning. They’re with Jessa right now, did you know? She’s their little puppet.” She laughed lightly, sighing, a craze to her eyes that I�
��d never noticed before. This woman was truly delusional if she thought I was in love with her, that I would dump someone as sweet as Jessa to be with her.
Taking a long breath, I ran a hand down her arm. My other still held the white rose and with a quick squeeze, I remembered my plan.
“I’ll be right back,” I peeled her off of me and strolled to my bedroom. “Stay right there, I have a present for you.”
She bounced in her seat, beaming.
The second I rounded the corner, sure I was out of her eye-line I worked the white magic into my veins. I popped off the head of the rose and squeezed it between my fingers, the silky texture releasing a sweet scent into the air. As the white seeped from the rose, my form also seeped from view.
Entirely invisible, I carefully walked out of the room, past where Celia sat primping on the couch, and through the open door into the stairwell. Then I hurried up, my legs burning.
“Lucas? Are you okay? I’m ready for my present now!” I heard her voice call from below as I slipped through the door above. I thanked God it was unlocked.
The guard, Leo, leaned lazily against the wall, completely unsuspecting. It wasn’t the same guy from the first time Celia had snuck in. She must have bribed a second guard to get to me yet again. Gee, some guards you got there, Dad.
To throw the guard off his game, I slammed the door shut with a loud clang. He jumped up, eyes wide and hand reaching to his rifle. The second he rushed forward to inspect, I took off in the opposite direction. It wouldn’t be long until I’d be on board some helicopter, speeding away from the base. But I did wonder how long it would take to actually find Jessa. It didn’t matter to me if New Colony was winning the battle at the moment. The soldiers of West America would kill Jessa on sight if they knew what she was doing to the people of Nashville.
If there was anyone I wanted to be stuck in a bunker with, it was definitely that mysterious wife of mine. In order to do that, I had to find her and get us both out of Nashville alive. And then maybe I could work on figuring out how to get my father to stop hurting so many innocent people. Because one thing was starting to become clear, one thing Jessa had revealed that I couldn’t believe at first. Richard had lost his mind, and it was up to me to stop him.
I dove from the chopper, rolling across the pavement. Gunshots rang out, pilfering the city street. I trailed behind the line of soldiers as they jumped from the machine and took their positions. Ducking into an empty alleyway, squeezing the white rose in my left hand, my breath came out fast. Shaking racked through my body, taking in the sounds of battle. I needed to calm down, to make a plan. My ambition, my need to be part of the action, had gotten the better of me, and that realization stared me straight in the face now.
I’d overlooked getting a gun.
How could I have been so stupid as to not bring a weapon? To make matters worse, I didn’t have any other colors on me besides the white rose. And I still had no idea where Jessa was. This was a huge city, and she could be anywhere.
Searching eyes darted in every direction as I thought through my options. Weapons. Those needed to come first. I slowed my breathing as I scanned the area. No luck.
I ran to the opposite end of the alley, peeking out. The street was in ruins—an all-out battle waged in front of me. My belly churned as men and woman destroyed each other, blood and bullets flying. Our alchemists wore their gear, the advantage obvious: a rainbow of stones embedded into their uniforms. The shiny black helmets made it impossible to tell who was who, creating a menacing uniformity. They fought alongside our soldiers, and to my astonishment, what appeared to be West American civilians also putting up a fight.
Most of the civilians were on our side. It didn’t surprise me, but it didn’t feel right. I doubled over as I watched one kill his own countryman.
On the other side of the battle, some fighting in hand-to-hand combat, others using guns and even hand grenades, were the West Americans. They moved lithely in their khaki uniforms, skills just as impressive as any of our soldiers. They had a trained synchronicity to their attacks, a lethalness not to be underestimated.
I squinted, making out the occasional West American alchemist, head to toe in black with a ropy gemstone necklace wrapped around each of their necks. The news of West American alchemists left me staring, hands fisting and aching to help. Many of them were young. Too young. They were novices, quick to succumb to the battle. What was going on in West America that they’d send untrained alchemists into battle?
A young teen West American alchemist fell into the mud, gasping out a curdled scream, blood gushing from his right side. A West American soldier sprinted forward to help. Hunching, he hitched his gun over his shoulder and stretched out his arms. A masked Guardian jumped in between the two, shooting the soldier down, his body landing inches from the boy. Then the Guardian quickly tended to the wounds of the fallen alchemist with streams of green magic, all the while restraining the kid with a zip tie. He hauled the lanky boy into his arms and ran. I squinted, eyes following them, questions burning.
“Remember, orders are to keep as many alchemists alive as possible,” someone shouted from down the street. Their barking orders barely carried over the roar of battle. The Guardian carrying the kid ducked around the fighters, disappearing into the distance.
Keep the alchemists alive? It had to mean one thing: Richard didn’t want to waste magic. He saw no problem with everyday soldiers and civilians losing their lives, but the alchemists were too valuable. He would keep them, like pets.
The carnage continued and revulsion boiled up inside. Bodies littered the streets, streams of alchemy shot alongside the bullets. It tore me up, seeing something that could be used for such good, twisted in this horrific way. How much longer could this continue?
A West American alchemist stumbled into the alleyway. I threw myself against the brick building before the woman careened into me. Was she hurt? I held my rose to my chest, blood rushing through my ears, as I looked her up and down. I didn’t see any wounds. Dressed in black, her wrinkled hands ran along her gleaming necklace as she gasped in short breaths. She dropped her hands to her sides and a second necklace appeared, one full of black stones. They were stacked in neat rows, shiny orbs that blended with her clothing. My breath caught, confusion bubbling inside.
Was she a black alchemist? What did black magic even do?
I forced myself to remain against the wall as I studied her. She was older, maybe in her sixties, and something about her was incredibly familiar. She had silvery blonde bobbed hair and light knowing eyes. Sweat soaked her skin in the sunlight, as if she’d exerted herself more than usual. She was powerful beyond imagination, dressed like that in a place like this.
A slatebook pinged at her belt. She fumbled, pulling it close to her mouth, talking low. “I’m here,” she said. “I made it this far. Now what?”
“You’re only five blocks east from Imperial High School,” an authoritative male voice replied, booming from the speakers. She must have turned the sound all the way up because of the noisy battle. “That’s where we have reason to believe King Richard just landed and many of his troops are there to guard him. Get there and use your weapon.”
She nodded, a little reluctantly, squinting up into the sun. She slid her slatebook back into place and squared her shoulders. “Here we go,” she muttered. And then she took off, jogging as fast as her body would take her.
Imperial High School?
Use your weapon?
Confusion interlaced with sinking dread filled me, making my feet feel like anchors, pinning me to the concrete. If my father was near that area, then I had to assume Jessa was near as well. I took a resolute breath and ran back down to the other side of the alley, deciding it would be better to travel in the areas that weren’t currently a bloody battleground. My boots pounded against the pavement, dodging rubble and the occasional fallen body.
I tried not to look too closely at the dead, tried not to picture the way their lives should have
gone, with family and friends, with happiness and living into old age. But I couldn’t help it. The guilt flashed the images through my mind anyway.
Before long, I rounded the final corner of the fifth block, the school’s patchy green and brown lawn sprawling out in front of me, a field of death. The entire area swarmed with soldiers, their magic and bodies and guns clashing in a cacophony of cries and smoke and blood. The sun arched high, making the air as hot as the battle.
Or maybe it was nerves that made me feel like I was boiling from the inside out.
I lunged forward. The gratitude for my invisibility pulsed through my veins as my boots tore through the field, escaping notice. After a minute that felt like an hour, I approached the high school, fully unscathed. Taking the front steps two at a time, I rushed through the doors and skidded to a stop in the large lobby.
I eyed the glass partition, looking into what appeared to be a large office on the other side. Inside stood my father, his advisor Mark and Mark’s wife, Sabine, a few alchemists and soldiers, a blonde girl dressed in black who was apparently under arrest, sulking in the corner with guns trained on her, and in the center of it all, Jessa. My heart burned when I saw her, saw the way she was standing, saw the pain etched in her every line and curve. She had her arms crossed over her chest, lips turned down in a frown, and eyes so full of fear I thought they might spill over.
I crept across the lobby and waited for someone to open the door. A couple of soldiers with determined gazes careened into the lobby, going right for the door and giving me the very opportunity I needed. I followed easily, pressing myself against the far wall the moment I entered the office.
“Your Royal Highness,” one of the soldiers said, dipping low in a quick bow. “Something is happening outside. They have some kind of…unknown weapon. I think you need to see this.”
Richard’s mouth fell into a flat line, and he trudged past me and out the door. “I’ll be right back,” he called after him, the door swinging shut as he went.
