by S. S. Segran
With a jolt, she thought, He should have switched by now.
She propelled furiously toward him and hoisted him against her. Her panic returned tenfold when he remained unconscious. She held his face, finagling his body against hers to keep him from sinking further. Oh, God, no. Come on, Marshall, come on!
Reaching a decision, she pulled one of his arms around her neck and swam away from the abandoned complex, dragging the other Sentry with her. He was deadweight and it was a nightmare but Gwen pushed on, putting distance between them and the traffickers, all the while staying underwater.
Something suddenly smacked the side of her head as Marshall lurched violently. She released him and he pulled back, eyes stretched wide. Brief panic flickered over his face before he got a grip on his surroundings. He tested his arms and legs to make sure all was well, then turned to her with a nod.
Gwen must have still looked shell-shocked because he swam up to her and smiled reassuringly. She returned to herself soon enough—along with a fluttering heart—and together they swam toward the distant shore as if they were born in the water.
Why the delay in his switch? she wondered, then felt a pang of guilt. Was it the stress? You bring people nothing but trouble, don’t you, Gwen?
Whatever it was, she was glad he was still there with her.
The rattling of the Mustang bouncing over a pothole pulled Gwen out of her reminiscence. She lifted her head from the window and glanced sullenly at Marshall. The other Sentry’s hair had dried, some of it falling slightly over his forehead, but his clothes were still damp. His face was set in an angry mask, and Gwen felt even worse. She wanted to say that she was sorry but apologies had never been her forte.
She released a resigned exhale. “Marshall?”
He grunted in response.
“I… I…” She threw her head back against the headrest. “Damn it! I’m horrible at this. I’m sorry, Marshall. I’m really sorry. What I said was stupid. And you’re not an idiot, I am. I shouldn’t have compromised us like that. I should’ve just listened to you, and you shouldn’t have had to save me like that. I’m sorry.”
The other Sentry’s eyes were fixed on the road and he kept silent.
“I’m a moron,” Gwen said, desperately. “You’re one of the best people I know and I hate that I keep falling short and slipping up and doing or saying something tragically stupid. I guess that’s the one thing consistent about me, right? I screw up.”
Marshall groaned. “For God’s sakes, G. Stop.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
Sighing, Marshall pulled over and turned off the engine, then turned to her. She couldn’t look him in the face.
“What happened, happened,” he said. “Was it ideal? Far from it. Those traffickers have probably packed up and become ghosts by now. Rupert Nolan would’ve definitely recognized your face. And if he’s smart, he’ll put two and two together and toss his phone, so we’re back to square one. Those men got a good look at you, but not me. Fact of the matter is, for your safety, you should probably lay low, maybe head back to California. And this is not me chasing you away, all right? I care for you, and I don’t want you to take any more chances.”
“I didn’t mean what I said about you getting soft after getting out of the military,” she muttered, picking at her nails.
“That hurt, I’ll admit it. It really did. But you’re forgetting that I know you, Gwen. I know that tongue of yours can be sharp when you intend it to and even when you don’t. I accept your apology, only because I know you’ll use this experience as a reminder to do better, just as you always do.”
He patted her knee, then put the car into drive and continued the two-hour ride back to Provo. The sun was already climbing the horizon by the time they arrived at his house. As they pulled into the garage, Marshall suddenly went still. Gwen had seen it before and easily recognize that he was communicating telepathically with someone. He parked, then guided her into the house while motioning for her to keep silent.
As they passed the living room, he grabbed her by the elbow and gently pushed her down on the couch. Bewildered, she gazed up at him. He wore a look of concentration that dissipated a few moments later when he sat beside her.
“What’s up?” she asked.
His countenance had shifted considerably and slight tremors travelled through him. He slowly met Gwen’s eyes, a plethora of emotions warring for dominance on his face. “I…” His throat worked. “G, the prophecy.”
Gwen sat up straight, her exhaustion melting away. “What about it?”
“One of the Elders just reached out to me. Elder Nageau. The last time we talked was over a decade ago, when my dad helped me establish a telepathic link to him. Nageau… he had a message, just now.”
Gwen’s breath caught. The way he was talking… could it be?
Marshall licked his lips and bowed his head. His shoulders shook as though he was weeping, but when he lifted his chin, the brightest smile she had ever seen graced his visage. “The Chosen Ones are in Dema-Ki.”
Gwen clamped her hands over her mouth but it did nothing to hide her own jubilance. “Are you serious?”
“Not something I’d pull your leg on.”
Gwen leapt up, hollering around the living room before falling into a heap on the floor, head thrown back in laughter. Marshall slid off the couch to join her and they sat back-to-back.
“Wait,” Gwen said. “Are we the first outside of Dema-Ki to know?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my God! Marshall! What!”
“We can share the news with the Sentries we know, and they’ll spread it to the rest of the League.”
He seemed to lose energy with each word and finally fell completely silent. Gwen nudged his back with hers. “Hey, what’s the matter?”
He slumped against her. “The arrival of the Chosen Ones. It also means...”
Gwen half-closed her eyes. “Ah... the intensity of the disturbance in the fabric. A dark storm really is gathering on humanity’s horizon.”
“Yeah.” Marshall rested his head on her shoulder, then dragged in a breath. “There was another reason Nageau reached out to me.”
“What is it?”
“The Chosen Ones have been training in Dema-Ki for the past couple of months, but the Elders will send them home soon. Nageau said that someone needs to watch over them, and that he’ll provide more details when we get closer to the time. But he wants me to find someone to do this.”
“Where are the Chosen Ones going?”
“Great Falls, Montana. Thing is… they’re young.”
“Well, I figured they wouldn’t be baby boomers.”
“No. I mean they’re really young. Like sixteen.”
Gwen stilled. “No. That—that can’t be right.”
“I know. But the Elders believe they’re the prophecy’s fulfillment.”
Marshall turned around to look at her. She mirrored him.
“G,” he started hesitantly, “if you’re up for it, I’d like you to be the one to watch over them.”
She was taken aback. Her mouth worked uselessly before she uttered, “Huh?”
“Is that a yes?”
“Marshall, as much as I’d be beyond honored to accept this responsibility, are you sure you’re asking the right person? I mean, we just experienced a classic example of why I probably shouldn’t be trusted with this.”
“The fact that you recognize this, and that this is probably the most extraordinary duty any of us in the League will ever have, convinces me that you’ll do just fine.”
“Marshall…”
“We all have our shortcomings to battle with. The fact that we fight these demons is an ode to conscious living. Gwen, I trust you. I do. So use this to prove to yourself that you can overcome, that you can trust yourself, too.”
“How do you have so much faith in me?” she whispered. She’d decided long ago that she was not worthy of so much confidence, especially not from someone the likes of t
he Sentry in front of her.
Marshall got to his feet and pulled her up. “Like I said earlier. I know you.”
She looked up at him. He smiled softly, then brushed a light kiss against her forehead. She closed her eyes, battling with herself.
“What about the missing kids I’m looking into?” she asked. “We just—I just blew my chances today.”
“We can pass everything you’ve learned to the League. I’m sure other field Sentries will be glad to take that on.”
Gwen stood still for several long seconds, then eased her eyes open. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Marshall lifted her into a flying hug, eliciting an outraged squeak from her, then let her feet touch the ground again. “Perfect,” he grinned. “I’ll let Elder Nageau know. Now hit the shower and get to bed, G. You look like you’re gonna pass out any second.”
“Yes, Mr. Marine.” She gave a mock salute and slipped out of the living room.
Once cleaned up, Gwen cocooned herself snugly in the guest bedroom, the mattress accepting her weight eagerly. She let out a long sigh. To say she was disappointed didn’t begin to cover the feeling, and she knew she’d be berating herself for the mess-up at the factory for months to come.
But… perhaps Marshall was right. Maybe she could use her new role with the Chosen Ones to prove to herself that she won’t always screw up. That she was worthy of the faith he had in her. That she’d be worthy of it for herself.
She drifted off to sleep with a small smile.
Aegis Chronicles:
#2 - TONY CROSS
by
S.S.Segran
AEGIS CHRONICLES
VOLUME #2
TONY CROSS
Tony’s head slammed against the floor. He pressed his cheek against the rough wood and groaned as bright lights flashed behind his eyes. Flecks of dirt got into his nose. He snorted out the grime, then forced himself up into a sitting position. The room was spinning but he couldn’t tell if it was from his brain rattling around from the fall or the liquor.
“Okay,” he rasped, holding out a hand as though to stop something. “Okay. Give me one second and I promise I’ll put your head through a wall.”
A derisive chuckle sounded above him. “Right. So much for all the bragging about your black belts.”
Tony bristled. Drunk or not, he didn’t like having his word questioned. He got to his feet slowly, glowering at the fifty-something barfly who, truthfully, looked like he could have used Tony as a toothpick.
“I’m going easy on you so you don’t wind up in a hospital having to sip your food out of a straw,” he spat.
The man lifted a thick eyebrow. “Oh, so you mean letting me knock you out was all just you being thoughtful? How kind.”
Tony rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, veins already popping in his forearms, but a hand on his shoulder made him stop. He looked behind him and found a short, well-dressed Asian-American man sporting a colorful polka-dotted bowtie and thick-rimmed glasses.
“Gentlemen,” said the newcomer, smiling, “I think this little tussle is over. You’ve annoyed the other patrons enough, and the bartender doesn’t look like she has much patience for petty drunken squabbles tonight.”
Tony and the big man glanced toward the woman behind the bar who stared at them with the stoniest, most unamused look Tony had ever seen. Before either of them could say anything, the newcomer grabbed Tony by the arm and pulled him toward the far end of the bar, leaving the big man to trudge back to his table.
“I don’t turn away from fights I can win,” Tony growled as he was forcibly pushed onto a tall stool.
“I assume that only counts before you’ve had a few drinks.” The man leaned over the counter and raised two fingers. The bartender came over and poured a couple of shots, all the while giving Tony the stink-eye. Under normal circumstances, he would have flashed her his trademark rascally grin, but tonight was a bad night and he knew it would only get worse when he returned to his parents’ estate later.
Once the bartender had moved away, Tony picked up his glass and sloshed the drink around. “Really? Even after what happened, you buy me this?”
The man smiled again, more gently this time. “It seems like you’ve been having a difficult day.”
“How do you—”
“Jerry Li.” The man stuck out a hand and Tony cautiously shook it. “I was at your parents’ charity gala this evening, representing the company I’m with.”
Realization dawned on Tony. He buried his flushed face in the crook of his elbow, letting out a sound between a whimper and a laugh. “Oh. Oh, God. You were there. You saw?”
“Definitely! And Mr. Cross, I have to admit that I agreed with everything in your passionate rant.”
Tony lifted his head, now more curious than embarrassed. “What?”
Jerry nodded enthusiastically, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Oh yes—the way you went off about how pretentious the whole event was. Truer words were never spoken.”
“Highly doubt it, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Tony knocked back his drink. “So why did you leave? The gala should still be going strong right now.”
“Your walking out may or may not have given me the courage to do the same thing.”
“Cheers to that, Mr. Li.”
“Please, call me Jerry. And I’d like to hear more about the thoughts that you were roaring tonight.”
Tony slouched back on his seat and loosened his tie. “I really shouldn’t. I’d probably end up talking smack about my parents in the process. Loose lips sink ships and all that.”
“Heh. It’s good that you’re not drunk to the point where you’re senseless.”
“I am not drunk. Just tipsy.” Tony rubbed his eyes, feeling the slight buzz in his head, and vaguely wondered if he should just vent his frustrations to this stranger after all. He’d never been able to talk to anyone about his hardships or his opinions on matters growing up. Out of respect for his parents—or maybe it was fear—he refused to divulge anything regarding his twenty-three years of life.
An image of his sharp-dressed family slowly materialized in his mind: their perfect white teeth glinting in shark-like smiles. Their eyes feigning warmth they never had. The expensive jewelry dangling from his mother’s ears, neck and wrists, ice cold as the queen herself. The luxurious three-piece suits his father loved to flaunt more than his own son.
Tony squeezed the empty glass in his hand as anger coiled and burned in the pit of his stomach. He could easily blame the booze for making him teeter between silence and a full-fledged tirade, but he’d been balancing on that brink for years. Was he supposed to just sit back and be silent while he was drowning in himself?
No. Not anymore.
Tony slammed his glass down on the counter, teeth gritted. “I never felt like I was enough. No matter what I did, no matter how good I got at something, it was just never enough. You know I was a varsity eight rower in Princeton while being at the top of all my classes? Yeah, my folks said I could be doing more. So I joined more clubs and teams, became president of the senate officers in the undergraduate student government. Guess what? That still wasn’t enough. I finally said screw it and dropped out.”
Jerry’s mouth fell open. “You did what?”
“Hey, it wasn’t my dream to go to Princeton. Literally everything I’ve done in my life was to appease my parents, to make sure I was a worthy heir to their business and fortune. Do you know how many friggen’ breakdowns I’ve had because I didn’t know who I was? I still don’t know! How am I supposed to be who I’m meant to be if all I’m doing is fighting and failing to earn my parents’ approval and love when they refuse to give me either?”
Jerry shook his head, looking as though he was trying to stave off an expression of pity.
Tony pushed back a few stray strands of blond hair that had escaped the stiff gel. “Christ, and don’t get me started on the guilt trips they’d send me on whenever I tried
to stand up to them. ‘We give you everything, a house, a car, good education. Maybe that’s the reason. Maybe you’re too spoiled.’ Right. Because that was the problem. And when I was younger, they allowed me to choose an after-school activity that I wanted, so long as I excelled at it. So I took on multiple forms of martial arts and got my black belts.”
“And I’m guessing that didn’t make them proud?” Jerry asked.
Tony chuckled bitterly. “They didn’t attend any of my award ceremonies. Business this, business that. What’s the point of having a kid if you’re not gonna show them support in the one thing they chose to do? At least Geoffrey was always there for me. He’s, ah, our butler... and the one saving grace in my family.”
“I’m sorry, friend. Guess not everyone’s fit to be a parent. But what did you do after you left Princeton? Your mom and dad must’ve been furious.”
“They were. Which was why, as the coward I am, instead of facing them, I ran off to California and got a job with a security contractor.” Emotion clogged Tony’s throat and his eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. He blinked them away quickly. “How it felt… for the first time in my life, to be appreciated for my skills, to be appreciated for something that I wanted to do, to be appreciated for me… there are no words for it. I earned it on my own and I sped up the ranks despite my age because of it. Quest Defense has become more of a family to me than my real one has ever been.”
Tony thought he saw a flicker of recognition flash across Jerry’s face, but the man’s expression smoothed out before he could confirm. “I think I understand,” he said. “You’re part of something that matters, and the people take you in as one of their own and look out for you.”
“Exactly. And they’re excited for you when you do well. I called my parents for the first time in months since I left home to tell them about my accomplishment. My dad hung up on me after telling me that I was a disgrace to the family name. But I suppose when you’re in the league of Koch, Ford and Walton, it’s to be expected.”
“That should never be the case, no matter your status,” Jerry said firmly.
