Hunted (Dark Secrets Book 1)

by Mousseau, Allie Juliette

  I looked to Theron. He reassured me, "This is the reason you came all this way. You are the bravest person I know. You can do this."

  I pulled in a wavering breath and spilled the contents of the case onto the desk in front of me. There were several photographs of my mother, newspaper articles and clippings in several different languages and a manila envelope marked "Confidential" in black bold marker. I gingerly set my finger tips on the corner of one of the photos. She looked so happy. Her natural blond hair was pulled into a ponytail and she held a small, gleaming metallic cylinder.

  "What is she holding?" Theron asked.

  I shook my head and shrugged. "Will you read the article?"

  He took the clipping between his fingers delicately. "Swedish-American scientist discovers exotic matter." We looked at each other in astonishment. Then he opened the envelope and scanned its contents.

  Mikkelsson reappeared with a picturesque tray and mugs with blue and white country scenes emblazoned onto the bone china. He handed me the first cup, along with a moist white towel. "Thank you," I said.

  "How far did you get?" he asked.

  "Exotic matter," Theron answered, never looking up from the papers.

  "Ah, yes, the substance that secures an object traversing a wormhole. Your mother collected and contained it," Mikkelsson stated proudly, "and was soon able to utilize it. Everyone wanted to be a part of the great discovery and adventure into the unknown; the American and Swedish governments and our allies as well as Federal Agencies: NASA, the CIA, FBI, Interpol… and even Immigration hastened to get in on her work. She was brilliant! A rising star." Mikkelsson's voice shook as he spoke. "Ah, but that is when she began receiving the death threats from terrorist organizations, religious radicals and extremists and receiving hate mail discouraging her work. She was afraid but had a fighting spirit. She chose to continue her work outside of the university and created an apartment here for herself. She thought she might be safer—she never left the lab anyway." He pointed to the picture of her holding the cylinder. "The authorities confiscated the matter after her disappearance. She really did create the Bifrost, you know. It was no longer an experiment. She started sending small objects through—a hairbrush, a teacup, a wristwatch—all attached to cords containing varying proportions of exotic matter."

  Theron and I exchanged looks. He had to be thinking what I was thinking! That his theory of the Takers using my mother's exotic matter was closer and closer to confirmed!

  "Three months into the experiments there was an exchange," Mikkelsson said. "She woke one morning to discover a book tied to a strand she had used previously. She was so excited. She waited for me before she opened it. She definitely wanted to keep it a confidential finding because she was concerned about the possible implications. We contained the book in a clear plastic casing and used safety gloves, allowing us to examine it safely without possible contamination.

  "The book was written in English, which shocked us greatly. They had written vital information about who they were and where they were from. They were from a galaxy we had never heard of. Their scientists had been able to access some of Earth's signals and languages through satellite waves, but had not been able to establish formal communications. They were as overjoyed as we were about finding others in the universe. Anna and one of their main agents sent information back and forth daily. A little while later, Anna started sending live animals. The agents received them but couldn't send them back without the gravity of the Bifrost crushing them to mangled shreds. It wasn't stable enough to support living beings coming back. The agents and scientists there could not locate any exotic matter from their world and they struggled to utilize the matter Anna sent back to them. She deduced that it would be better if she could be on the other side to teach them."

  I gasped, covering my mouth with both hands.

  "I came in one day and she was gone. I don't know if she was really able to cross the Bifrost and then later came back, if she had been kidnapped by the radicals, or if all the pressures and threats became too much and she orchestrated her disappearance into anonymity. Considering your existence, that is the answer I feel would be most plausible."

  Yes. My mind lurched. Concealing her identity sounded very much like my mother. She could have easily shacked up with some guy—probably here in the Swedish countryside—had me and never reported me. Home birth—that made sense. That made the most sense in all of this madness! I was born here in Sweden and when authorities closed in on her she stowed away to the U.S. and lived like a fugitive. My thoughts tumbled. Just because she was a fugitive didn't mean I had to live that way though, right? I could give a sample of my DNA, prove I was her daughter and live as a citizen of Sweden. I could live a regular person's life!

  "What about the existence of the Takers?" Theron broke into my thoughts. I wanted to punch him hard for bringing them up!

  "That presents a problem. Off the record—they are using the same style strands Anna used to conduct her experiments. However, I don't find it very feasible that the strands could protect the life of its users. Another question to pose is why are their attacks concentrated in the U.S.?" Mikkelsson stood suddenly. "Well, children, I have other engagements scheduled."

  "Professor, can we meet with you again?" I asked.

  "Are you staying in Sweden?"

  "For a while."

  "Where are you staying?"

  I turned to Theron for the answer. "I don't remember the name," Theron said. "Can we take these papers, Professor?"

  "No, I have to keep them under lock and key. I could get in a lot of trouble if it were discovered I still had them. But you may take the picture. I am in conferences for the next week but after that you are more than welcome to visit again."

  I stood and shook Mikkelsson's hand then took the photographic treasure and slipped it into my pack. Theron got up and shook his hand as well. "Thanks for answering our questions," Theron said. But his face seemed hard and expressionless, which worried me.

  I handed Mikkelsson back the moist towel and set my tea cup on the tray. We said goodbye, and Theron and I walked out of the building and out onto the street.

  Theron hailed a city cab while my mind spun. Something wasn't adding up.

  Chapter 22 Djurgårdsbron Bridge

  Theron spoke in English and broken Swedish to the driver. But I wasn't really paying attention. Scarlett had told me my mother had gone back to Stockholm University when she left me to see Mikkelsson and close the Bifrost. But Mikkelsson just told us he hadn't seen my mother in twenty years. Then she couldn't have made it all the way back here…

  "Or maybe he's lying," I heard myself say out loud.

  Theron looked over at me, concerned. "Let us out here," he said to the driver.

  Once we pulled over Theron paid the driver in Swedish currency, removed our backpacks, putting one over each shoulder then offered me his hand.

  "What do you think he was lying about?" he asked as his fingers entwined with mine.

  "Scarlett said my mother left me behind to find Mikkelsson and close the bridge. Mikkelsson stated he hadn't seen her for two decades," I said, formulating the idea as I spoke.

  "So either she never got to him, or he's not telling the truth."

  "Maybe he didn't really believe I was her daughter."

  "I doubt that. Then he wouldn't have shown us the files. But I'll admit—I felt like something was up with him, but I don't know what."

  "Maybe my mom died on the way here. She could have stowed away somewhere and been found with no identification—she would have become a Jane Doe and I would've never found out about it." It was horrible to say, but it was a possibility.

  "Don't close the door so fast," Theron said. "There are definitely more than just two possibilities. You came here looking for answers."

  "I came here looking for my mother," I said bitterly.

  "But look at the cards you're holding now that you didn't have before. You found out your mother wasn't completely crazy.
You know most of what she said was real," he reminded me.

  "Yeah. She traveled between universes, and the world freaked out. I know it's selfish but all I can think about is that I'm never going to figure out what really happened to her. I'll never know who I am, I'll never know who my father was and I'll never have a life!"

  Theron stopped and gripped my shoulders, turning me to face him. "You are Freya Catten—daughter of the Nobel Prize-winning scientist Anna Gyllenhaal-Catten—and you can do or be anything you want. You are intelligent, funny, resourceful, loyal and strong… You could do anything with your life!"

  "No! I can't!" I hotly protested. "My mother's legacy has kept me hidden—out of sight—non-existent! Thanks for the speech and the compliments, but how do I build off of that?"

  "Then maybe that's our next question," he said squarely.

  "What?" My voice was edgy.

  "Why did she keep you hidden? Why was she so desperate to keep you out of sight?" We started walking again. "You used to think she was insane. Now you know that might not be the case."

  "I don't know." My defenses softened.

  "After reading through that file I have a few theories," Theron said pointedly.

  "You do?" I asked anxiously. "Like what?"

  "Freya, take a breath. Look around you. Look where you've brought us. Did you ever think you'd see someplace so incredible?"

  We had reached the canal. The buildings along Stranduagen were gorgeous. Each building stood up against the next in a stately line like courtiers before royalty. Yachts, house boats, sailboats and schooners lined the canal while colorful kayaks and canoes bobbed merrily in the gentle waters.

  Theron stole my attention. "This is the Djurgårdsbron Bridge. It crosses the canal onto the Djurgården—an island in the city with gardens, museums, art galleries, shops—our hotel is there too. I thought you would like it. And since the attacks by Takers have all been in the U.S., I thought we'd be safe to explore and have a short respite."

  It was beautiful and I never got to enjoy things like this. That normal human feeling came over me—maybe it was possible after all.

  I took in the bridge which was, in itself, a work of art. Sculpted iron statues graced four pedestals on each side of the bridge as if watching over the entrances and exits. Theron read the historical marker which was thankfully in English as well as Swedish. "The Djurgårdsbron was built in 1897 before the World's Fair. The four wrought-iron sculptures are of the four main Norse gods. Here on the city side stand Heimdall the watchman (whose horn sounded the opening of the Bifrost, allowing the gods to pass into other worlds) and the mother goddess Frigga, Odin's wife. On the garden side are Thor, the god of thunder with his great hammer Mjölnir, and the goddess Freya. Adorned with her Brísingamen and holding her enchanted falcon, Freya guards the gateway to the city."

  Theron echoed what he had just said, "Freya, adorned with her Brísingamen… guards the gateway to the city."

  Theron snatched my hand and started running as he dragged me over the bridge.

  "What's the matter?"

  I was now running of my own accord. We swished past tourists and tall iron lamps until we reached the far side of the bridge. He stopped us at the tapered granite column trimmed with a ring of golden garland. Towering above us was the goddess Freya. I felt a kinship with her immediately and wished she were set low enough to touch. I guess my mom gave me a pretty cool name, I thought, admiring her. But before I could get too comfortable leaning against the ornate iron railing, Theron pulled me down to the side of the bridge near the water for privacy.

  "It's you Freya—it's all about you!" His eyes trailed up and down my body as if he were seeing me for the very first time. I wanted to take a step back from him and steady myself but the ground was uneven.

  "About me? How?" The words spilled out.

  A warm summer breeze wafted up from under the bridge, enveloping me in tepid air. Just then a group of laughing people stepped off the bridge and descended into the garden. We waited until they were out of earshot.

  "Freya adorned with her Brísingamen"—he gently unearthed my necklace from underneath my blouse and laid it exposed over my chest—"guards the gateway to the city." He looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. "All of your life you were kept hidden. Your mother made sure you were un-trackable—no records, no pictures, no identification. She taught you to live off the land and use survival skills so you never had to rely on society. From your fairytale necklace—which is probably more valuable than we could even imagine—to safeguarding your DNA. You are the key, Freya. That's why the Takers are searching for you! You can open and close the Bifrost."

  I could feel the fibers of my sanity unraveling. "How—how do you mean?"

  "I'm not sure—maybe your DNA unlocks a biometric code of some sort. And maybe your necklace is a piece of that puzzle. One thing I feel sure of—your mom wasn't cracked. I am confident that she was highly intelligent and purposeful."

  I wanted to open my mouth and dispute his claim. But his eyes surveyed me with a powerful intensity and his words landed with a certain accuracy. Suddenly, I wanted out of my own skin. A pathetic cry escaped my throat while I began wiping my arms as if they were covered with poisonous insects. I dropped to my knees in the grass. Why? Why me?

  "It's okay, it's okay." Theron knelt down on the ground, cradled me in his arms and rocked me. "We're going to get through this."

  I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to calm down. I didn't want to be a key! I didn't want any of this! More people talked and laughed as they stepped onto the bridge. Jealousy stabbed angrily at my soul. This isn't fair!

  A memory from when I was six infiltrated my thoughts. "Don't ever let them catch you, Freya. You are more special than you know," my mother had whispered.

  I pulled my hand across my wet eyes so I could see again and raised my head to peer at the goddess. Do you ever get tired of being so special? I exhaled.

  Where did my strength go? I had never felt this frail before. The goddess was majestic as the evening sun glinted off her iron dress, illuminating it like divine battle armor. She was great and powerful. I was endowed with her name. I was powerful. I was not beaten. This was no time to become feeble—on the contrary, I'd have to be stronger than I had ever been before. I stabilized myself—no way was I going down now! I nodded in affirmation at Theron who apparently saw the change in my eyes and helped me to my feet. I straightened my clothes and took a deep breath then walked purposefully to the goddess' pedestal and laid my hands onto the cool, soothing granite where she sovereignly stood. I knew what I had to do. She reminded me of who I was. I would never forget my encounter with her.

  "Let's get to the hotel room," I said to Theron authoritatively. I reached down to grab my backpack off of the ground.

  Theron stopped me. "Uh-uh. I've got it." He slung it over his shoulder, watching my manic behavior cautiously.

  I wasn't normal and I would probably never live the ordinary life I longed for. But whatever the sequence of events that designed my existence and set my destiny into motion—those events were mine—mine to live and mine to live up to. I would live it nobly and with dignity. I would never back down!

  We marched past a lovely European cafe that was hopping with locals and tourists sipping lattes and discussing the day's events. A moment later we happened upon the Nordiska Musseet—the Nordic Museum. It didn't look like any American museum I had ever seen. I could have easily argued that it was a palace.

  "Want to go in?" Theron asked.

  "Not now," I said.

  He was looking at me as if I were acting peculiar—I was.

  We zipped by several more museums and shops along with a playfully colorful mustard yellow and vibrant red building with a sign that read CIRKUS. I figured I could live happily on this island for a month.

  Theron stopped in front of a creamy peach colored building covered in white-paned windows. An outdoor restaurant spilled onto a decorative terrace lin
ed with elegant cream colored cloth umbrellas that shaded each table. The structure was stacked just so—it reminded me of a sumptuous rectangular cake artistically crafted for a gala event.

  "This is our hotel," Theron announced, grinning at me.

  My mouth dropped open. I had never stayed in anything so beautiful. A glorious smile spread across my face, which was obviously what Theron was waiting for. He took my hand and escorted me into the lobby.

  I was mesmerized by its grand features—dark polished wood, gleaming floors, ornate crystal chandeliers and high, bright ceilings. I felt like a princess. Seemed like I'd felt like a princess during a lot of my time with Theron.

  "If you'd like to sit down, I'll go ahead and check us in," Theron said. I nodded and walked into a sitting area with plush chairs and a huge expanse of picture windows that merged the indoors and outdoors together. Despite its cultured demeanor, the Scandic Hasselbacken was pretty laid back and casual. Children ran through the lobby with parents close behind them, and tourists walked through just for the experience.

  Theron came over to me. "Room is ready," he announced. He looked so pleased with himself that he made me happy too. He held my hand romantically as we got into the elevator.

  Our room was beautiful. Pale yellow drapes flowed from a soft white ceiling to the honey-glazed hardwood floor. The queen sized bed was covered with a complimenting yellow blanket and dust ruffle and framed with a carved dark wood headboard that was inlaid with gold design work. A wardrobe, writing desk, table and chairs made of deep cherry wood contrasted gorgeously with the colors of the room. I walked across the room to the cheery picture window and looked out over the flower garden that burst into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes.

  Theron dropped our backpacks by the side of the bed and embraced me from behind. His arms wrapped gently around my waist. "Are you happy?" he asked.