by Ava Benton
“You’re right. It was uncalled for, the way I just challenged you. I don’t know Mary very well, outside of our professional relationship—and even then, we’re not close. It isn’t fair to assume anything.”
I waited for him to add a caveat at the end of his statement, but none came. Maybe he was sincere.
“Do you know what it’s like, having a mother like her?”
He shook his head. “I barely remember my mother, but she was nothing like yours. A strong woman, proud, beautiful, but hardly as—how do I say it? Connected.”
“Connected. That’s a good word to use,” I muttered, kicking aimlessly at the sand under my feet. “I could think of a few more, of course.”
“I’m sure you could. Isn’t that normally the way for children? We always see our parents our own way, outside of the public’s interpretation. You have all that personal history with her, behind closed doors.”
“You sound like a diplomat.”
“How’s that?”
I turned toward the water with a sigh, staring out across its rippling surface as a warm breeze stirred my hair. I was in paradise—and, ironically, I was a prisoner. Still. As always.
“I said, you sound like a diplomat. Trying to appease me while being careful not to say anything that might ruin your future relationship with my mother.” Once again, I couldn’t find a friend who would actually listen to me.
He stood at my elbow. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Decide my intentions and turn away from me like a spoiled, petulant child.”
My head snapped around so I could glare at him. “There you go again, calling me names. Watch what you call me.”
“But you are behaving like a child now, when I’m only trying to learn more about you. And why should I? I owe you absolutely nothing. You snuck into this mission and destroyed any chance of our calling in for backup. You’ve put us all in jeopardy, and for what? Because you were certain you could be of help? Well, look where you got us.”
“You don’t know that I won’t be able to help you. We haven’t even tried to locate your people yet.”
“We are never going to do anything. I am. My cousin is. Not you.”
“I know I could help you. Somehow. If you would just let me.”
He threw his hands into the air, turning away from me as he let out a cry of frustration. “I can see why the two of you never got along! Talking to you is like talking to a wall.”
I shoved him—or tried to, since all the force I could muster barely swayed him. “I told you to watch yourself.”
“Why? Are you going to tell Mary that I was mean to you?”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” I warned, not knowing if it was a threat or only a reminder of there being more to me than met the eye.
“Oh, you’ve made it quite clear,” he snorted. “You’re capable of sabotaging a mission on which untold numbers of lives might depend, all because of some selfish need to prove yourself and stick it to your mother. Because—let me guess—she was never there for you. Isn’t that right? She gave all of her attention to her work. You were neglected. Unappreciated. Left to fend for yourself while she went gallivanting around the world to help other people. But not you. And it crushed you. You started doing everything you could to get her attention, to make her remember she had a daughter. But even that didn’t work. You were no more than a distraction, an inconvenience. Right?”
I drew myself up, chest puffed out, ready to give him hell. But I couldn’t. He was too close to the truth, and the pain choked me. I couldn’t seem to find my voice.
He turned with a sneer, ready to give me even more grief, but something on my face must have stopped him. Maybe it was the tears already glistening in my eyes, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back.
The triumphant look dissolved from his face, and he suddenly seemed contrite. “There I go again. I’m sorry. That was inexcusably rude.”
“I deserved it.”
He shook his head, solemn. “No. There’s never an excuse to speak to someone that way, no matter what the circumstances. I’ll do whatever I can to keep that in mind before I let my mouth get ahead of my brain and keep me from being a gentleman.”
I turned away before he could see the first tear spill over. How embarrassing, bursting into tears like a baby. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone since I was maybe five years old, when I’d learned it wouldn’t get me anywhere.
“I remember being a little girl,” I murmured, running my hand over my cheek. “I remember the last time I cried in front of her.”
“Mary?”
“Yes. I was five years old, and she had just announced that she was sending me away to school. Boarding school, you know. She’d never mentioned it before, mind you. It came as a total surprise. One day, I lived with her—I have no memory of my father, and she’s never spoken of him. The next day, I was being shipped off. All alone.”
“At such a young age?”
“I’m sure she would’ve sent me sooner if she could have,” I chuckled, but there was no humor. “I was in the way. Just one more thing to think about when she already had so much on her mind.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do. I do.” When I was sure I wouldn’t cry again, I looked at him over my shoulder. “Kids understand things like that. When they’re in the way, when an adult doesn’t want to be around them. They might not have the words to describe what’s happening or why it is, and they may not be able to articulate how they feel, but they understand much more than we give them credit for. I felt it, deep down inside, the fact that I was just one more thing to concern herself with—instead of the first thing, the top thing. The way it should’ve been. She didn’t need to tell me so.”
A funny sort of look crossed over his face then, like my words had hit him. “Hmm. I wonder if you’re right about that.”
“About how she felt?”
“No. About the way children know when they’re a nuisance, even if we try to cover up our impatience. It makes me think of someone I know, and how I need to apologize to him. But this isn’t about me,” he added, his tone suddenly crisp.
I wanted to know more, for some strange reason, but knew I wasn’t going to get anything else out of him. Not right now.
“I knew I was in the way,” I continued, turning to face the water again. I wrapped my arms around myself when it became chilly, even though the temperature hadn’t changed and the breeze was still just as warm as ever. It was the memories which chilled me, sending goosebumps up and down my arms and legs. “It was the little things. The distraction. The way her face twisted up into a scowl when I crossed her path anytime she was on her way here or there, in the middle of doing something. And she was always in the middle of doing something, I can tell you that. She never rested. She still doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong—she would remember herself in a split second and wipe the irritation off her face, but I would always see it and know it was there, under her brief hugs and the way she half-listened to what I had to say.”
“Might I make an observation? And this isn’t delivered with any ill intention, I promise.”
I rolled my eyes, but he couldn’t see. “Sure.”
“A lot of time has passed since then. Isn’t it a little late now to be upset over things which happened so long ago?”
“You’re telling me to grow up and move on. Is that it?” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He shrugged.
“Slightly less delicate than I was trying to phrase it, but yes. I am.”
“And I agree with you. I do. I ought to grow up and move on. This isn’t about that anymore, though. Mommy’s love. That’s not it. Now, it’s about Mother’s respect. Which I’ve never gotten and will never have, especially after screwing up so badly.”
I turned to him with my heart in my throat. “I’m sorry about the radio. I really am. I don’t know what I was thinking. Desperation makes a person do stupid things, I guess.
”
“There’s an understatement,” he grumbled.
“I’m trying really hard right now,” I reminded him. “Please, don’t make it harder on me than it already is.”
“Fair enough,” he sighed. “And for the record, I’m sure we’ve all done things we wish we had thought twice about. I know I have. I’ve been alive long enough to make mistakes you couldn’t imagine.”
“Oh?” I asked with a slight grin. “Now there’s a story I would like to hear.”
“Maybe some other time.” But he was grinning, too.
And I meant it. I wanted to hear something, anything, which would make him seem a little more real. Less… untouchable. Less perfect. I might not feel like I was so far out of my league if he shared a little bit about himself. None of the others would—they both hated and resented me, and with good reason. I was just as alone on that island as I had been with my mother. Just as much of an inconvenience, just as much of an outsider.
Except for him. When he smiled, I could believe if only for a moment that somebody finally understood me. Just a little.
But what did he mean about being alive long enough?
“By the way,” I explained as we walked back to the boat, “I’m a second-level black belt in karate. I’ve been studying for years.”
“Really?” He paused, looking me up and down as though he were seeing me for the first time.
I stood in front of him with my hands on my hips. “Yes, indeed. I also taught kickboxing classes to earn money during grad school and have been using rifles for hunting and target practice for roughly half my life. And I qualified as an alternate on the Olympic archery team back in 2016.”
I could tell this bit of information knocked him askew, but he recovered quickly. “Well, then,” he said. “It’s a shame you didn’t bring your bow along.”
I gave a smile before turning away. “How can you be sure I didn’t?”
7
Gate
“There’s more to her than meets the eye,” I concluded in a low murmur.
She was below deck, having promised to stay on the boat throughout the night, so I’d nearly whispered while explaining her background to Miles as he and Klaus worked on the radio.
“Yes, she’s a remarkable girl,” Klaus spat through clenched teeth. “Remarkable at getting us all in deep shit.”
He clearly didn’t share my appreciation, and I supposed his opinion was understandable. She didn’t strike him, or Miles, the way she’d struck me. Thoughts of her were like chewing gum I couldn’t scrape off the bottom of my shoe no matter how hard I tried.
“No success, then?” I asked, though there was no need to.
The radio looked no better than it did before—if anything, it was worse after the two of them had disassembled it to get inside.
“What’s it look like?” he asked, glaring at me.
“Don’t take this out on me. I don’t want this to be the case any more than you do, all right? I would love nothing more than to be knee-deep in this mission, instead of watching the two of you try to fix a radio which is clearly beyond fixing.”
“Thanks for your confidence,” Miles scowled, though he was still in a better mood than Klaus.
But that wasn’t saying much, since Klaus looked as though he was ready to tear off somebody’s head.
“I say we do a little recon work tonight,” I suggested. “Now that the sun has set, it’ll be easier to get around without notice.”
Klaus at least appeared to think this over. “I would feel much better about that idea if there was any way for us to call in additional boats if need be.”
“Which is why this is nothing more than recon,” I reminded him. “I do know a little something about getting around without being noticed. It’s sort of our job, and has been for roughly a millennium.”
He sat up, silently challenging me as he had earlier. “This is hardly the same thing. You’re guarding a cave, not venturing into an unknown jungle where you could be facing armed guards.”
“We’ll be armed, too. Won’t we?” Miles asked.
I sensed the same restlessness in him as I felt in myself. The dragon paced in my brain, already yearning to be free. The promise of a fight was just on the horizon, and he was ready to soak himself in sweat and blood, if need be.
My cousin would be going through the same internal struggle, if I knew him half as well as I thought I did.
“There are rifles here on the boat,” Klaus admitted.
The thought of Martina being below deck where there happened to be weapons flashed through my mind, almost a warning, but I stayed silent and hoped she had enough judgment to at least keep her hands off them.
“We’ll be fine, between that and our night vision.”
“What about her?” he asked.
“Somebody should stay behind with her—and it’s not as though you were ever meant to go along with us. No offense intended,” I added in an attempt to cushion the blow. “One of us had to guard the boat.”
“That’s so,” he agreed, albeit grudgingly. “Take a flare gun with you, in case you need to send up a signal.”
“We can do that.” I looked at Miles, who was already on his feet and ready to go.
8
Gate
“We would’ve had to wait until nightfall, anyway,” I murmured as we walked single file, Miles behind me.
“What?”
“I said, we would’ve had to wait. It wouldn’t have been advisable to go out like this in daylight.”
“Are you making excuses for her behavior?” he hissed.
“No! I’m only saying, there’s no reason for us to blame her for holding us back, since she didn’t really do any such thing. Waiting was the right move.”
“Mhmmm.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you’re making excuses. You’ve already taken her under your protection. It was obvious from the beginning.” He snickered, and I could just imagine the way he rolled his eyes.
“Unlikely,” I growled. “And why don’t we just stop talking about her? How does that sound? We have much bigger issues to concern ourselves with.”
Plus, we were talking much too much. Like two old biddies gossiping over their knitting instead of carrying semi-automatic rifles through the jungle in full darkness.
We had only been on the move for ten, maybe fifteen minutes and had yet to catch sight of anything out of the ordinary.
I stopped, sniffing the air with eyes closed. “Do you smell it?” I breathed.
“Yes,” he confirmed once he took a moment to connect with his senses.
It had been a long time since we’d had to do any such thing. A thousand years of same old, same old would do that.
Klaus was right about us not having faced many challenges when it came to doing our duty. It was different back in the old days, when people were more likely to explore what they were unaware of. Modern times meant the internet, virtual mapping, and less of a need to venture out of one’s comfort zone.
Even with the potential danger ahead of us, it was refreshing. Perhaps because of the danger.
The scent of humans.
I was surprised I hadn’t picked up on Martina’s scent when we were below deck with her, but it could’ve been the fact that I wasn’t prepared to notice her. Or the conflicting odors of the engine, the fuel, the salt air.
And in this instance, there were more than one human scent. The scent was much stronger.
We took our time moving forward, careful of our footfalls.
I still didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just more and more of the same.
Trees. The sounds of wildlife provided background noise as we searched—chirping, cheeping, squeaking. I didn’t want to know exactly what I was hearing and hoped any animals that might be nearby had sense enough to know what we were and stay far away. Nothing would blow our cover faster than a sudden shift or the sound of rifle fire.
A flicker of light caugh
t my eye, and I threw out an arm to halt Miles’ progress before pointing to what I’d just seen—or, rather, the spot in which I’d seen it.
Darkness had taken its place, but I hadn’t imagined it. I was certain. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck and dripped into my eyes, but I didn’t dare make a move to wipe it away for fear of missing another flicker.
“There,” I whispered when it appeared again, slightly to the right of where I’d first seen it.
“A cigarette,” Miles breathed.
I nodded in agreement. Half a second later, the scent of smoke registered on my senses. A guard? Most likely. It was crucial to stay quiet, as the smoker couldn’t be more than a hundred yards ahead of us.
I allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness even further and a wall revealed itself to me, just beyond where that cherry red dot of light kept appearing and disappearing.
I decided to fall to the right and motioned for Miles to follow. I wanted to understand the dimensions of the building in front of us. The wall was dark, probably gray or black, and taller than I could make out from our position. It didn’t look as though it was very wide, however, and I had to assume that the aboveground portion of the building was merely used to enter and exit. Ironic. We’d spent our entire lives living underground, and the rest of the clan was being held there.
A voice cut through the still air. “… quiet.”
Another voice chimed in. “Fried fish again tonight.”
“Again?” The first man, the smoking guard, made a retching sound.
“Yeah, well… only so much to choose from.”
“I’d kill for some tacos.”
The two of them chuckled and kept going on about what they wished they could eat and other mainland luxuries they missed.
I glanced at Miles, who rolled his eyes—even so, this was interesting information.
They’d been on the island for quite some time, it seemed. Both of the men were weary of the same old thing again and again.
