by HP Mallory
We pulled up to a white fence and an attendant wearing a grey uniform stepped out of the guard booth. He glanced at the troll with a frown as Jax rolled his window down. Upon seeing Jax, however, he briefly nodded before honoring Jax with a salute and returning to his booth. At the press of a single button, he opened the gate and granted us admittance.
Having never been to the BrokenView ANC office before, I had no idea what to expect, but I was nothing less than amazed when Jax was granted entrance. It didn’t make any sense to me; unless …
“Don’t tell me … you’ve, er, the Rebellion’s taken over this branch already, hasn’t it?” I asked in a hesitant voice as I turned to face him.
The smug smile on his arrogant face was my reply.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dulcie
“Are all of these people members of the Rebellion?” I asked without expecting an honest answer. We’d already walked down the hallway from the parking lot into a long corridor, which led to the ANC office building. The werewolf was already long gone; ostensibly to take care of his baser needs. So the troll was carrying me, bridal-style, down the hallway. I was still so weak, I couldn’t even take a step on my own.
“Yes! So don’t go getting any stupid ideas like asking any of them for help,” Jax spat back as he fixed his angry eyes on me with a stern expression. “They all report to us personally. And they’re all very dedicated and loyal to our cause.”
I didn’t give Jax the courtesy of a reply, choosing instead to pay closer attention to my surroundings. But the surge of disappointment that flowed through me was difficult to ignore. However, it was extremely important that I remain conscious so that I could record a mental note of everything around me. Any escape from my current predicament was unlikely, given the circumstances of my confinement, but I hoped that maybe the information could prove useful later on. That was in addition to, of course, my own morbid curiosity. I was dying to learn more about the Rebellion and how it operated.
Once inside the main lobby area, I noticed two hallways on either side of the lobby. The closer we came to the reception desk, the better I could see down each one. They both appeared to lead into a large common room, which was divided into rows of cubicles. I watched an assortment of people in various ANC uniforms busily doing this and that, while looking for all intents and purposes totally normal. Yes, there weren’t as many employees as I expected to find in such a large building, but finding any here at all was still a small surprise.
Their minimized numbers and the robotic manner in which they worked, seemingly so calm and structured as if none of them had a care in the world, was nothing less than unsettling to me. All this time, I, as well as several others in the ANC, erroneously assumed the potions rings were nothing more than a collection of misfits, petty gangsters who were too disorganized and unsophisticated to pose any threat. They were always arguing amongst themselves, as far as anybody knew. Witnessing the systematic teamwork that was before me now, I realized that we couldn’t have been more wrong. And any flawed conclusions, especially one such as that one, didn’t bode well for us, the good guys.
The more I studied the cooperation of the employees surrounding me, the more impressed I became. If I were judging them strictly by the way they were dressed and going about their business, I’d never have even guessed in my wildest dreams that they could be part of the Rebellion. They all looked far too comfortable, like creatures of habit, as if they’d been in this building and doing what they were doing for years on end. Some were even making idle chitchat over the coffee machine in the break room at the end of one of the hallways. I couldn’t imagine how a recently besieged ANC office could look so unscathed and back to full production mode as this one appeared.
Then I got a feeling deep down in my gut that suddenly made a new idea pop into my head. However, I sat on it for a couple of seconds, basically trying to avoid any further conversations with Jax in general. But my question continued to nag at me until I was practically forced to ask it so I could confirm or deny it. “They’re the original ANC employees, aren’t they?” I phrased it like a question but said it more as a statement of fact, since it was. Of course, I had to be spot on, as it was the only logical explanation for such a swift recovery of organization.
“Yes,” Jax answered without bothering to look up from his phone. He was busily texting someone whose identity remained unknown to me. Either way, Jax’s attention appeared to be distracted somewhere else entirely.
“And are they doing the same stuff as before only now they must report to you?” I asked, just to verify and confirm my assumption.
“Yeah,” he replied flatly.
“So they know about the illegal imports and exports?” I continued, sounding baffled.
“What?” Jax asked as he glanced up at me and frowned. “No. No, they don’t.” Then he dropped his attention back to his phone. “They don’t know anything that’s going on in the background.”
I was pretty astounded that Jax was even bothering to answer my questions, considering all his refusals to do so earlier. I had a premonition that his acquiescence had more to do with his anxiety and nervousness about something else. I was sure he wasn’t paying any attention to me or my questions, and thus failed to realize what he should and shouldn’t be telling me. Or maybe he just planned to kill me shortly anyway, which would have made all of this nothing more than a moot point.
Don’t become a victim to your own negative thoughts, I reprimanded myself. Stay strong and be positive until you can figure a way out of this.
“How did you manage to convince ANC employees to continue working their jobs only now under your command?” I asked, genuinely curious. I looked at the staff again and shook my head, wondering if all those people were just intimidated into resuming their positions or if something more nefarious might have been responsible.
“We didn’t manage to convince them of anything,” Jax answered. He stopped texting and glared at me instead. “As far as they know, there’s just been a slight change in management, and that’s all. And that’s all they need to know.”
“A slight change in management?” I repeated. “Do you mean, as in they don’t know who’s in charge now?”
The troll nodded vigorously. “We got rid of all the big guys, and the ones we thought could give us problems. Little guys don’t usually bother with details,” he said, his voice growing instantly low. It almost sounded like it was a faraway echo from a stone well, or from deep inside the ground.
“You murdered everyone in upper management?” I asked, even though it wasn’t a question and, as such, I could barely conceal my shock and dismay. My mouth dropped open as I wondered exactly what had gone down here; as well as what was going on in the ANC office in Splendor, the city where I was from. Who knew if it were still under the guidance and control of the ANC authority anymore? Or had the Rebellion already adopted it as their own? My biggest hope was that Sam, my best friend, along with the rest of the ANC employees, were all safe and alive, even if that meant they had to report to and follow the orders of the Rebellion. Alive was so much better than not.
“What did I tell you about divulging too much information, asshole?” Jax reprimanded the troll as he faced him angrily, clutching his cell phone in his hands.
“You were answerin’ her questions, boss, sose I thought it was okay fer me ta do it too,” the troll defended himself before hanging his head in obvious humiliation. He looked a lot like a dog who had just been scolded for bad behavior. I almost felt sorry for the pathetic creature. Almost.
“No more fucking questions,” Jax snapped as his attention drifted from the troll back to me. “Got it?” At the same moment, his phone dinged, signaling another incoming message. He glanced down at it and took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he muttered as he shook his head and bit his lip. He looked worried.
“I got it!” I answered, still wondering what was up with him. He definitely wasn’t playing his usual role: that of the self-righteou
s, arrogant, smart-ass I’d gotten accustomed to. Now, he looked like he was stressed out and totally losing it.
“We gotta check in at the front,” he announced to the troll while shaking his head like he was ticked off about it.
“We do?” the troll asked, looking dumbfounded.
Jax nodded. “I can’t believe he’s makin’ me go through this damn protocol!”
The troll didn’t respond but obediently dropped behind as Jax walked past him. They headed toward the reception desk. An older woman with heavy makeup, brightly colored red hair that was piled high atop her head and a pair of black-rimmed, thick glasses sat behind the desk. She appeared to be taking turns at staring at each of us with a well-developed frown.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a nasal voice with a high-pitched inflection.
As soon as I got close enough, I could instantly detect that she was a witch—proof was in the purplish aura that surrounded her.
“We’re here to cross over to the Netherworld,” Jax informed her, seemingly put out over the requirement that he had to check in in the first place. I wasn’t sure why, but I found the whole situation amusing. Actually, I did know why. Anything that pissed Jax off or otherwise made his job even harder was music to my ears.
“What name is your reservation under?” the witch asked Jax as she pushed her spectacles higher up on her bony nose and eyed him with visible impatience.
“The Darkness, himself,” Jax answered in a sarcastic tone, his lips tightening. The witch’s eyebrows rose for a split second before her poker face reappeared and she tried to seem emotionless. “Which is the reason why I don’t know why the fuck I have to even check in with your ass in the first place,” he added. He was glaring down at her and she, to her benefit, returned his dour expression. I couldn’t restrain my smile.
The witch took out a spiral notebook from her top drawer and opened it. Then she started silently reading the entries while using her long, skinny index finger to keep her place.
“The Darkness?” I repeated, and my eyebrows rose for the ceiling as a smile curled up my lips. “You really report to someone who calls himself the Darkness, Jax? Couldn’t he have thought a little longer or harder to come up with something more unique, less corny or, failing those, less stupid, at least?”
“One more fucking word out of you,” Jax started as he turned to stare at me, and his eyeballs practically bulged out of his head, “and I’ll slit your throat right here, right now.”
“Come now, is that any way to address your collateral?” I asked as I shook my head. I also tsked him in the same way he’d done to me so many times. Even though I was still physically exhausted and my throat burned just to talk, there was no way I could miss an opportunity to give Jax a hard time. Somehow getting under his skin made my situation just a little bit more tolerable.
“There comes a point when I could give a shit about collateral,” he answered, his tone sounding more serious. “And I’m quickly approaching that point.”
The witch glanced from me back to Jax, her expression one of ennui and disinterest. It was as if she’d just overheard Jax and me discussing the weather rather than him threatening to slash my throat. “I’m afraid I don’t see any reservation here under that name,” she said as she faced him with a triumphant frown. “Could there be another name that was used for the booking?”
“Rochefort, maybe,” Jax answered. Anxiously drumming his fingers against her counter, he looked like he was about to blow his top over all the delays.
“Tell her your handle, Jax, don’t be shy,” I teased. I was long past the point of self-censorship, mostly because I couldn’t deny how much Jax’s disquietude pleased me. It was about time that Jax’s smart-ass mouth and behavior got turned around on him. I turned to face the witch again. “That would be the Lightness.”
“Get her the hell away from me!” Jax commanded the troll as he pointed to the other side of the room. The troll simply nodded and slowly turned around before he started lumbering back across the stretch of generic, grey carpet. I could feel the anger in Jax’s glare spearing my back.
“You shouldn’t provoke him like that,” the troll warned me before he sat me down on a bench at the far side of the room. He took a seat next to me and the wood groaned beneath his substantial tonnage. As we both turned our attention to Jax, who now leaned against the counter and continued his former texting at a feverish pace, the troll muttered, “He’s got a screw or two loose.”
“Yeah? You’re telling me,” I said with a sigh as I wondered what sinister hell awaited me once we reached the Netherworld. Whoever this Darkness person was, I felt convinced he was the true source of Jax’s disquietude and overall stressed demeanor. And if Jax were afraid of him, then it probably made perfect sense that I should be afraid of him also. Especially since we were both on opposite sides of the law.
The werewolf rejoined us eventually at the exact moment when Jax motioned to the troll to return with me. The troll nodded and took a few seconds to hoist himself up, amidst tottering and appearing pretty unstable despite his enormous feet. If he didn’t have back trouble yet, he would soon. Because of their immense size, the bodies of trolls usually expired when they were only in their forties. If I had to guess, this troll was probably in his mid- to late-thirties.
“What happened? You fall in, Greebow?” he taunted with a raucous laugh before turning to face the werewolf, who just frowned at him. Then he reached down and lifted me up like I was a paper doll.
“Hey, it ain’t often we gits ourselves a bit o’ private time, so I put it ta good use,” Greebow answered with a wink in my direction. I just rolled my eyes and withheld my comment.
When we reached Jax, he was still facing the witch. “One, two, three, four,” he counted, first pointing to himself, then at the troll, then at me and, finally, at Greebow. “There’s four of us,” he insisted. “If you don’t believe me, count for yourself.”
“I believe you,” the woman snapped back as she leaned forward and peered at us, looking down her long nose. “And which one is the prisoner?”
I couldn’t help feeling surprised at hearing that. I figured my being held a prisoner and their traveling with me was classified information. But apparently not.
“The woman,” Jax answered.
The witch looked at me and raised one brow in a condescending fashion before nodding at Jax and handing him four pieces of paper upon which she stamped something in red ink. He accepted them and thrust them into his back pocket before he started to walk away, but she stopped him.
“Uh-uh,” she said as she shook her head. “The prisoner has to be identified first,” she explained as she glanced down at her desk.
“Make it quick, lady,” Jax ordered. “You’ve already wasted enough of my time.”
The witch didn’t respond but produced a sticker, which had some numbers on it, along with the address of the BrokenView station. She’d also scribbled Jax’s name across the bottom. She glanced at the troll and motioned for him to hold me closer to the desk. Then she reached over and pulled the sticker off the non-stick backing before pressing it on the top of my shirt.
And then she did something that was interesting. It happened in just a split second, but before pulling away from me, she brought her hand to my exposed clavicle, placing her thumb momentarily into the depression where my bones met.
As soon as she touched me, an icy coldness washed over my entire body that caused all the hairs on my arms to stand up at attention.
Act naturally, I heard her voice saying in my head. I am your friend, not a foe.
She didn’t say anything more, although, strangely enough, it suddenly felt as if she were actually inside my head. Not only that, but she seemed to be sorting out and discarding the memories of my past within nanoseconds. I could see and hear these distant moments as if I were watching them on a screen nearby. Each memory, at least those which she apparently deemed useful, was then sucked out of me, forcibly as if she were a vacu
um. My own memories, however, remained intact so it wasn’t as if she were actually stealing them from me, but rather like she was merely duplicating them before feeding them back to herself.
Then she pulled away. The icy coldness instantly faded, and I blinked a few times before my attention was drawn back to her and Jax. The whole memory extraction process must have lasted barely a second or two at the most; and it seemed that none of the motley crew with whom I was traveling even noticed anything out of the ordinary.
“If you go down the hallway to the left,” the witch started to instruct us, then she stopped talking in order to push her tired spectacles back up onto her nose again. “It’s room four, and you’ll find it on your right once you pass all the cubicles.”
“And you’re sure you got our final destination right?” Jax asked impolitely before yanking the stamped pieces of paper from his back pocket and skimming them again as if to double-check the witch’s coordinates. I noticed the witch didn’t bother answering the fool, but only frowned at him, raising one of her eyebrows in unmasked irritation. Jax didn’t say another word to her before he turned on his heels and started heading for the hallway to the left. The obedient Greebow followed right behind him.
“Good luck,” the witch said to me as the troll carried me past her. I couldn’t veil my surprise at her warmth, and when I glanced over at her, she simply nodded at me. I failed to respond, however, mainly because the whole episode of having her inside my head pretty much left me reeling with surprise. I didn’t know what to make of it. Clearly, she had no trouble tampering with my mind. Luckily, I managed to see the specific memories that interested her the most. The only thing they had in common was that they were all centered on what happened to me from the first moment I met Jax. I didn’t care that the witch had them, or at least a Xerox copy of them because I was even feeling better than I had before.
She was looking out for you, I thought, reassuring myself as a glimmer of hope began to bubble from deep inside me. Maybe somehow, some way, she can get in touch with Knight. Maybe she was able to pull information about him and his whereabouts in the Netherworld from your mind, and maybe she can reach out to him. I could only hope!
