The Felix Chronicles: Five Days in January

by R. T. Lowe

  “I’m Sophia,” she said to their group, gesturing for everyone to take a mug. “In case you’re wondering who to cast your vote for as barista of the month.” She smiled brightly and wiped her hands on her green Caffeine Hut apron. “I’ll bring you another one as soon as Caleb’s not looking.”

  “I’ll wait,” Harper said, staring off at the door as if she was expecting someone to arrive. Felix turned and looked, but didn’t see anyone he recognized.

  “Thanks,” Lucas said to Sophia, reaching for a mug. “I missed this stuff. My mom gives me the evil eye whenever I drink coffee at home.” He laughed softly. “She acts like I’m doing tequila shots.”

  Sophia smiled at him. “My mom does the same thing and I work in a coffee shop.” She started for the bar, then returned with a yellow flyer in hand. “If anyone’s interested, the local ERA chapter is holding a rally in The Yard tomorrow. With everything going on—the shootings and the food contamination and all those bridges collapsing down south—anyway, all the information’s there if you want to go. But go early—they’re expecting thousands.” She handed it to Allison and added, “I’m not in the ERA or anything, but you gotta wonder if they’re the only ones in this country who aren’t completely clueless.”

  Felix didn’t think it too unusual the ERA was holding a rally at PC, but he was surprised the administration was allowing them to do it on the first day of the semester. It seemed odd to him that Dean Borakslovic and company wouldn’t make them wait at least a few weeks.

  “Wow,” Harper said, waving off a smitten kid who was offering her his chair. “Thousands huh? I wouldn’t expect that on our little campus.”

  Allison looked over the flyer. “It’s everywhere now. Millions of new members every week. All because Dirk Rathman’s their new leader.” She gave Lucas a curious smile. “Why would anyone give a shit about what some insane celebrity is doing with his free time?”

  Lucas laughed at the barb. “You’re asking me? Dirk is huge. He’s been in tons of movies and now he’s gonna be that Demongel thing in Mesmerizer Jolie. I was on Summer Slumming, the dumbest reality show in the history of television—that’s not an exaggeration, that’s an actual poll in People magazine—and I have my own cologne, my own protein powder, a book deal in the works, and four million Twitter followers who seriously get all excited when I tweet about whatever I’m thinking. And I usually come up with that shit when I’m drunk. You’d have to be an idiot to take me seriously.”

  “Agreed,” Caitlin deadpanned.

  “Look who found a sense of humor over break,” Lucas said to her, grinning. “You know what? If I was starting a political party, I’d do exactly what the ERA’s doing. Getting Dirk was pretty smart.”

  “Totally agree,” Sophia said. Then she appeared startled, as if she’d just remembered she was at work. Glancing around, she noticed Harper was empty handed and smiled apologetically as she headed for the bar. “I’ll be back with that coffee in a sec.”

  Chapter 4

  The Infiltrator

  On a typical evening, the exclusive Hatfield Room at Le Cirque Portlandia provided the finest French cuisine in the state and the privacy its elite clientele required to negotiate back room business deals and forge political alliances. Tonight, a single table stood in the center of the Baroque inspired room, square and sheathed in white linen as crisp and flawless as a sheet of ice. Kayla couldn’t have dreamed of a more appropriately regal setting for a meeting of Lofton Ashfield and his most senior and trusted Drestianites.

  Kayla was a Drestianite, but nowhere near to being considered ‘senior’, and she could only hope Lofton trusted her. She sat next to the other unimportant Drestianite, Jalen, hands on her lap, wringing her fingers nervously. Jalen’s sudden burst of laughter gave her a start and she squeezed her hands together, the rings on her index fingers digging into her skin. Lofton’s eyes were on her as if he’d sensed her discomfort and she tensed, feeling the weight of his stare from his seat at the end of the table. She let out a silent breath to calm herself and laughed along with Jalen as though she’d been a silent participant in the conversation, giving Lofton a discreetly flirty smile, biting down softly on her lip. A wide grin spread across Jalen’s face, tightening the skin over his chiseled ebony cheekbones, ecstatic, as always, when he thought Kayla was finding him amusing.

  Not everyone was so ecstatic.

  Natalie and Iphi stared at her from across the table with expressions of scornful contempt. Kayla had never met them before tonight, but it didn’t matter. Their narrowed, suspicious eyes told her everything she needed to know. They thought she was wholly unworthy of her invitation to the meeting, an unqualified irritant owing her good fortune to just one thing: Lofton’s fondness for the company of beautiful young women.

  Natalie and Iphi couldn’t have been more wrong. Although young and inexperienced, Kayla, like Jalen, owed her seat at the table to her talents, which were, to put it mildly, unique. Lofton was using her, but it had nothing to do with her beauty, though Lofton, she speculated, probably regarded her mounds of rebellious chestnut hair and deliciously wicked smile as an added bonus. According to Jalen—a year older than Kayla at twenty-four and born with an innate ability to effortlessly acquire information, a gift which was balanced by a corresponding inability to understand when he ought to keep that information to himself—Lofton maintained close relationships with fifteen or twenty ‘low level’ Drestianites for no other reason than to serve his immediate interests. What specific interests Kayla’s talents served was presently unknown to her, but she intended to find out.

  “Let’s get on with business before they close the kitchen,” Lynch announced with a glance around the table. Lynch didn’t joke, rarely smiled, and he never looked at Kayla the way other men did. She kept her guard up around him, always careful to conceal her fear from the man Lofton often leaned on for his most unsavory assignments. If he sensed she was afraid, this would be the last time she occupied a seat at the table. He drew his eyebrows together and the scar that stretched from his hairline to the knot of muscle in his jaw, straight at the top through eyebrow and cheek then curving back toward his neck at the bottom, creased with deep lines across his broad forehead. Kayla had never heard him mention the old wound (nor would she expect him to since she wasn’t close to him like Iphi and Natalie, which was fine by her), though she’d wager her life whoever had left it was no longer breathing. “Devory,” Lynch said, his flinty, emotionless gaze fixing on the doorway, “can you update us on the Portland College matter?”

  A frail, bow-legged man approached, almost timidly, and eased himself between Natalie and Iphi. He straightened his jacket and rested his fingertips delicately on the table. Devory was a mystery to Kayla. The cornerstone of Lofton’s philosophy was the belief that non-Sourcerors—Wisps—were incapable of governing themselves. The Wisps ‘required guidance’ was the Drestianite creed, though Kayla knew that was merely a disingenuous euphemism for the Wisps ‘required enslavement’. Yet, Devory was a Wisp, the only Wisp, to Kayla’s knowledge, aware that Lofton was much more than just the sole shareholder and CEO of AshCorp, one of the largest and most successful multinational conglomerates in the world. Jalen had told her some time ago that Lofton’s father had employed Devory in England before he and the rest of Lofton’s family perished in a fire on Lofton’s eighteenth birthday. Kayla didn’t know where Jalen had obtained that information, but she had no reason to doubt its accuracy.

  “As some of you are aware,” Devory began, “the cause of the Faceman’s death was determined this past month. A projectile—a brick to be specific—to the back of the head and to the face. Apparently, the brick made two separate trips through his skull. He was also missing a hand. His right hand.”

  “Seems fitting,” Jalen snickered, smiling at Kayla, always seeking approval, encouraged by her earlier laughter. “Wasn’t he also missing an ear and some other stuff?”

  Kayla didn’t smile back. She knew better.

  “Fitti
ng?” Lynch said to him, eyes hard. “Is that so? Even sociopaths have their usefulness, boy. I hope you appreciate the purpose he served.”

  Jalen sat with downcast eyes, staring at the table, his dark face flushing purple.

  “The Faceman,” Devory resumed, ignoring the interruption, “was in the process of testing several Portland College students. Their whereabouts at the time of his death are all accounted for with the exception of two. Lucas Mayer and Felix August, who reside together in Downey, one of two freshman dorms on campus. Lucas has four siblings and shows no indication of being a Sourceror. Felix, on the other hand, is an only child.”

  Iphi grunted, apparently unconvinced.

  “Is there any direct evidence this Felix kid took out the Faceman?” Natalie asked.

  Kayla studied them, carefully, though she kept her head down, looking up through her eyebrows.

  Iphi and Natalie were like a pair of killer drones. They took orders from Lofton or Lynch, carried them out unquestioningly, and if you got in their way, they killed you. Jalen called them the ‘Hatchet Twins’, though they looked nothing alike. Iphi was dark-haired and tan, originally from some unpronounceable province in South Africa, while Natalie was pale and freckled with copper hair and an Irish lilt to her voice. If Devory was Lofton’s de facto Chief of Staff, Iphi and Natalie were his Chief Operating Officers, jointly responsible for managing the fifty or so Commanders who led Drestianite teams deployed around the globe. Their role was vital, a testament to Lofton’s trust in them. The Commanders were in charge of regions (or in some cases, special projects, like the one in the nation’s capital where several Commanders had been stationed for the last five years) and gave orders to the backbone of Lofton’s army: the thousands of Drestianites working tirelessly to end the reign of the Wisps and usher in Lofton’s ‘perfect world’.

  Devory gave his head a quick shake, pinching his tie to secure the perfectly knotted triangle. “The circumstantial evidence is rather compelling. For the past month, Felix has been living in a house in Cove Rock, which he inherited from his recently deceased parents, the victims of a fire on Felix’s birthday—his eighteenth birthday.”

  “Is that so?” Lofton said, arching an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  Devory nodded politely. “Another body has been recovered near the Cliff Walk. It washed ashore and was discovered by a local man walking his dog one week ago today.”

  “The Cliff Walk is where they found Riley,” Lynch explained, though everyone in attendance already knew about the loss of the promising young Drestianite, a kid with the ability to adopt the appearance of others simply by touching them. Lynch shook his head in disgust and added gruffly, “Stupid headstrong fool. What a waste.”

  “Indeed.” Devory ran a finger over the bridge of his nose, frowning, and Kayla wondered what plans they’d had for Riley. Probably something important from the way everyone grew aggravated when his name was mentioned. “This last body,” Devory went on, “the fifth—which includes Riley—was only a partial. It was badly burned and decomposed. We’re not even sure of the sex, but it wasn’t one of ours, and the medical examiner’s office will soon discover the dental records are of no help. We’re quite certain it was another Protector who must have been with the three others found on the Cliff Walk. There is no indication at this time Riley was anywhere other than the parking lot.”

  “So that means Riley couldn’t have killed them?” Jalen said, apparently recovered from Lynch’s rebuke.

  “Correct,” Devory replied.

  Natalie twisted her neck to look up at Devory. “So this freshman—Felix—he took apart the Faceman, then he killed four Protectors and Riley?” Her voice was thick with skepticism.

  “Yes.” Devory nodded. “That is how it appears.”

  “How can we be sure?” Iphi said doubtfully.

  “Test him,” Kayla suggested to the table, thinking if Felix was powerful enough to demolish the Faceman’s head with a brick, she wouldn’t be putting him in harm’s way. “We should test him.”

  Lofton smiled approvingly at her. “I agree.”

  Iphi’s cold stare bored into Kayla, daring her to meet her gaze.

  “We already have a tester on campus,” Devory remarked lightly, “and he’s in position to initiate the test.”

  On campus? Kayla thought, dismayed someone had been activated so quickly and was on site. Then it dawned on her Lofton had only voiced his approval because the plan to test Felix was already in motion. The realization made her anger flare.

  “Who is it?” Lynch asked.

  “Leviticus,” Devory answered.

  “Leviticus?” Kayla exclaimed. “I understand the necessity of inspiring public fear, but isn’t it time to put that animal down? His methods are…” She searched the table for support but found none, not even from Jalen, who kept his eyes on his fingernails. “He makes the Faceman seem like a reasonable person.”

  “You’re not getting soft on us are you, sweetie?” Natalie said mockingly, turning to Lofton as if expecting an encouraging word.

  “Instruct Leviticus to stand down,” Lofton declared abruptly.

  Natalie sucked in a startled breath, mouth open in surprise.

  “If Felix August is indeed the one responsible for all this…turmoil”—a thin smile crossed Lofton’s face—“Leviticus testing him will simply result in one less tester at my disposal. I have something else in mind.” He observed them each in turn, waiting for one among them to understand his intentions.

  Kayla understood immediately. She wrapped her fingers around the bottom of her chair to keep from falling out of it. “The Numbered Ones?” she said, affecting a broad smile, as if bursting with delight at the thought of bloodthirsty creatures attacking (and most likely killing) an innocent eighteen-year-old kid. Kayla had been in the presence of a Numbered One on a single occasion and had no desire to repeat the experience. The stench of death clung to it like a noxious cloud and during the meeting it seemed to sense her unease, smiling at her provocatively and licking its lips. Jalen had heard that Lofton created the monsters. “Hundreds of them,” he’d told her, “straight out of the earth, just like a witch casting a spell in one of those old fairy tales.” Thinking about it made Kayla shudder, though she was careful to maintain her eager smile. She knew of Drestianites with extraordinary powers, but only Lofton possessed the ability to create life. That was to be expected, of course. Lofton, after all, was the Drestian. He’d never had the need to demonstrate his abilities in front of Kayla, but she knew—everyone knew—his powers were limitless. It was said there was nothing he couldn’t do. Nothing. She shuddered all over again.

  “Yes.” There was pleasure in Lofton’s voice as he nodded at Kayla, grinning crookedly. “Lynch, I’ll make the necessary arrangements with our friends, but I’d like you to coordinate the test.”

  “Of course,” Lynch replied, trying to sound both cavalier and respectful, but Kayla noticed the apprehensive look in his eyes. Lynch wanted nothing to do with the creatures. Although the Numbered Ones were under Lofton’s orders to “not harm a single Drestianite,” it was widely known they had disobeyed him in the past. Their worst act of insubordination had been straying from the seventh and eighth quadrants in Ashfield Forest, where Lofton had tasked them with protecting the secrecy of something not even Jalen knew anything about, and killing two people out for a stroll in a state park. A man and a woman had lost their lives—Ethan Powers and Mia Vujicic, a nice couple, both accountants about to start their lives together—all because Lofton’s monsters were simply hungry. They’d wanted a snack. If they were capable of doing something like that, it wasn’t much of a stretch to think they might seek to satisfy their hunger on anyone, Drestianite or not.

  Kayla sat staring at Lofton’s tanned handsome face, trying to ascertain why he seemed so pleased at the prospect of using the Numbered Ones to test a college kid. If the kid survived, he would be recruited—just as Kayla was recruited four years ago—to join their cause. If he didn
’t, if the monsters killed him (and ate him), she knew Lofton would be unfazed. The kid’s name—Felix August—would never be spoken again. Lofton’s mind would turn to the next kid or the next problem and he wouldn’t show the slightest hint of empathy. Lofton professed to care only for the greater good. He preached the necessity of sacrificing the few to save the many. Kayla didn’t buy into it. Not for a minute. Lofton only sought power. He was willing to sacrifice not just the few, he was willing to incinerate the whole damn planet to achieve his goals—his destiny, her fellow Drestianites would call it. Of their own accord, words began to form in Kayla’s mind, and she shouted them, silently, at Lofton’s face, I’m with the Order of Belus, asshole! One day I’ll find your weakness. Then I’m going to end you!

  “Lofton Ashfield!” a voice boomed from the doorway.

  Kayla’s head jerked in surprise.

  “I thought I’d find you here!” The man tugged awkwardly at his collar to loosen his deep burgundy tie.

  “Mr. Poole,” Lofton replied amiably. Turning to Kayla, he said, “My dear, would you be so kind as to request a chair for the deputy mayor? Perhaps he would like to join us for dinner.”

  Kayla pushed her chair back from the table.

  Mr. Poole snorted sarcastically and Kayla stayed put. “The mayor fired me today, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t break bread with the man responsible.” He stared Lofton down, waiting for him to deny the accusation. When Lofton didn’t reply, Mr. Poole’s anger boiled over and he raised his voice to a near shout. “Five years of unwavering loyalty and she drops me without notice for some bullshit pretext about a conflict of interest!” He stubbed a meaty thumb into his chest. “My only interest is the mayor and she knows that! You”—he jabbed a finger at Lofton—“poisoned the well! The new deputy mayor, the new deputy mayor with a fucking tiger tattoo on her arm, is your flunky!”