Exiled - 01

by M. R. Merrick

  Even though the topic should’ve had me boiling with anger, I found talking to Rayna somewhat calming. The more we talked, the more I realized we had more in common than I could have guessed. We both loved the same music and horror movies, but I couldn’t help but laugh when she complained about Marcus. Considering the things he’d seen in his life, who would have thought a big bad hunter the size of a house would get scared during horror movies?

  After chatting with Rayna, and having spent some time with Willy, I was starting to feel like I had more in common with the Underworld than the Circle. I wasn’t anything like the hunters involved in beating up Willy, but even the Circle I remembered from growing up seemed distant and irrelevant to my current life.

  I felt a little disappointment as we approached the condo. This was the first pleasant hour I’d had in a long time. Mom was right; we were more alike than I ever would’ve guessed. Rayna had surprised me.

  ~~~~~~

  Chapter 14

  The sky changed from red and pink to shades of orange, with streaks of yellow that lit up the condo strikingly. The living room table was now also covered with open books, and Marcus and Mom were both asleep on the couch. Mom’s head was on Marcus’s shoulder, and Marcus’s neck looked to be on a painful angle against the back of the sofa.

  Rayna led me to the second floor to show me the room I could stay in. Oddly, I wasn’t tired, so I went back up to the library. If half of what Willy said was true about Vincent, then I was praying for another source to find what the Circle was up to.

  I skimmed through more books, but nothing jumped out at me. Marcus had an impressive collection, and although I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d managed to get it, so far none of it was helping.

  I scanned the shelves again before I ended up at Marcus’s desk. The bottom drawer hung half open and I could see some books inside. I grabbed one black notebook and read the date March/06 written on the spine. A few pages in, I found a passage about Rayna and realized it was Marcus’s journal.

  Rayna is showing signs of telekinetic abilities and can move small objects with her mind. The power is weak now, but it shows her progression. Although she is an earth elemental, and telepathy is a trait of air, I believe this pulls more on her abilities as a witch than a hunter.

  She is developing the ability to draw power from the earth, in both a healing and destructive manner. Although inconsistent, it’s piqued my interest.

  Earth and air elementals are strange compared to the others; they have a wider range of abilities that can develop. Rayna has shown signs of psychic potential was one of the other notes written on that same page. I flipped through some more, reading a line or two on each page until one passage caught my eye.

  Rayna’s exhibiting more of her demonic background. There are nights I’ve found her screaming in her room. When I entered, she was sweating, tense, and running a blisteringly high temperature, like a shifter in the beginning stages of its first change. She has yet to exhibit any other signs of the change.

  After a few days, the symptoms of the shift disappear. I haven’t seen this behavior from her in many years (see entries January 5 – 10, 2001). I’d hoped they were something she’d grown out of, however, I fear their return and what it means. We still don’t know where the shifter bloodline comes from. I’ve found nothing of it in her mother’s lineage, and her father could not have carried the disease because of his hunter heritage. If her body continues to attempt a shift, I worry she will suffer permanent damage, or worse…

  My pulse sped as I finished the passage and I looked back into the drawer, searching the spine of each book until I found January/01.

  January 7th, 2001

  The attacks started a few days ago. Her muscles have taken on an abnormal strength and tension, and her body temperature has risen to over 108 degrees. So far, the morning after the attacks she’s fine, showing no signs of pain or memory of the previous night, until last night.

  Rayna showed the first sign of a true change: her eyes shifted into full werecat form. I was expecting the rest of her to change, but she did not fully shift. When she awoke this morning, her eyes had not shifted back. The bright blues of her childhood are gone, and now all that remain are the bright green eyes of a cat. I fear they will not change back.

  I have never heard of a shifter having experienced this phenomenon. I will have to confer with others to see if there are any other recorded cases. I have not told Rayna yet. I worked a small spell to ensure she will not notice the change, for her peace of mind. I will continue to work with her, but until puberty when her magic starts to develop, it will be unwise to assume anything.

  “Anything interesting?” The deep voice cut through the silence and I jumped. I slammed the book shut and looked up to find Marcus staring down at me.

  “I, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, it’s just, well, the drawer was open and…” I stumbled over my words. It was true I hadn’t gone up to the library to snoop. Perhaps once I saw the notebook I could have resisted, but I hadn’t. I had a sudden, unmistakable feeling of déjà vu which I couldn’t quite place.

  Marcus stepped towards me and my stomach clenched. My nerves rattled as he neared, but calmed when he extended a large dark hand towards me, palm up.

  “Sorry,” I repeated, handing him the book.

  Marcus shook his head. “Most of what’s in here isn’t anything I wouldn’t be willing to share, but there are some private notes I’ve made. I’d prefer to keep them private, for now.” He slipped the book back into the bottom drawer of his desk.

  “Of course. I never meant to invade your privacy.”

  “No harm done,” he said. He turned his invariable neutral expression into a half smile that looked forced.

  “You really don’t know why Rayna is part shifter?” I said before realizing, given the circumstances, maybe I shouldn’t have been asking. “Sorry,” I added.

  “Don’t be. It was bound to come up again eventually, whether you read this or not. And no, I truly don’t know. Her mother was a witch, as were her ancestors. Where the line of shifter DNA came from is unclear. Her father was part of the Circle, so unless he somehow, impossibly, carried the virus and lived, there is no reasonable explanation. Lately, however, it seems that’s the only possible one we have.”

  “Did you know her father?”

  “I hunted with him for many years, as did your father, but he vanished soon after Rayna was…conceived,” he replied, with a hint of embarrassment.

  “Rayna started showing signs of the change when she was seven, and that’s early even among born shifters. I tried a spell to prevent her from seeing the change in her eyes, but I underestimated her resistance to magic. The spell should’ve lasted years, but it worked only days. Once a seven year old starts asking questions, you cannot stop until you’ve answered them all. They are most resilient opponents. But enough about this. How did things go at Revelations?”

  The major subject change bothered me. Marcus was always so quick to avoid questions, but since he’d caught me snooping, I thought it best to let him guide the conversation.

  “Pretty much a bust,” I admitted.

  “How so?”

  “We met Vincent, but I’d consider him more of a last resort than a resource.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “It’s Vincent Taryk. Need I say more?”

  “Ah yes, I too have heard the rumors. But he has helped us before; he has a particular liking for Rayna.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that too, but it sounds like the only way we’re getting anything out of him is at a price that I’m not sure I’d like.”

  Marcus raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I’d like to investigate further and avoid making any deals with him until we determine that’s our only option.”

  “Why can’t we go with plan “A” and track down Brock? Between him and his lackeys, we’re bound to find something. It seems to be the lesser of two evils, and better than making a deal with a powerfu
l demon. I don’t want to owe anything to the Taryks.”

  “It’s too dangerous. We’ll find another way.”

  “You do realize we’re dealing with both the Circle and the Underworld? There’s nothing safe about this situation in the first place. We aren’t going to find the answer in some book. We’re going to have to get our hands dirty.”

  “I am well aware of what we’re dealing with, indeed more so than you. I’m also experienced enough to weigh the danger of what you’re suggesting. Neither course is worth the risk,” he said firmly.

  I tried to stop myself but I couldn’t – my anger was already on the rise. “Is that really it, Marcus? Are you trying to keep us all safe, or are you scared of what’ll happen if the Circle finds out your little secret?”

  Marcus looked at me, still wearing his neutral expression. “What secret might that be?”

  “Hmm, let me think. I dunno, maybe the fact that you’re alive?”

  “My secrets are my own, Chase, and for now I’d like to keep them that way. It’s better for everybody.”

  I wanted to argue. I wanted to fight and provoke some emotion in him but it was no use. No matter what I said, he would have a calm response. That was more infuriating than anything.

  I stared at him, defiance in my eyes, and then turned away. I didn’t agree with his decision. I felt like he knew something I didn’t, and I didn’t like that one bit.

  “Chase,” Marcus said.

  “What?”

  “Sit down. Please,” he said. I was tempted to keep walking, but turned back and slid into one of the leather chairs.

  “Chase, I have no doubt in my mind you’ll make a formidable leader someday. However, you’re not ready yet. Your ideas aren’t bad; they show how much you want to get to the bottom of things, as do I. But they’re impulsive, and they put you in unnecessary danger. I can assure you, there will be some point at which the danger will be unavoidable, but throwing yourself in peril is reckless. I won’t risk any of my people needlessly. I let the Circle believe in my death because it would paint a target on all of us if they knew of my continued existence,” he said.

  “From who, my father?”

  Marcus sighed and nodded. “Yes, among others.”

  I felt badly now. My anger had gotten the best of me once again, probably to mask the guilt over reading the journal. “I’m still sorry about your journal.”

  “I’m not mad about the journal. There are many of them, all of which I will let you read, at some point. But you’re not ready yet.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I’ve seen it,” he replied.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means it’s time for you to get some rest.”

  I wanted to ask more questions, but knew his lack of answers would only frustrate me further. Marcus clearly didn’t tell you more than he felt he needed to. That was something I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get used to.

  I walked back to the stairs and stopped, giving in to my hunger for answers.

  “Marcus, do you know what the hunters want?”

  He sighed. “I have an idea, but until I know for sure, I don’t want to panic anyone.”

  Yep, that made me even angrier.

  ~~~~~~

  Chapter 15

  I searched the books on the lower shelves, but I knew the ones I wanted were on the top. I moved the ladder to the right spot and climbed. Dad had said I wasn’t allowed to look at these books until I was eighteen. I was six years away, but too curious for my own good. I wanted to show him I was ready to know what he knew. I wanted him to be proud of me, so I was taking the initiative, just like he wanted. “You need to take the initiative to be better than the next guy, Chase. Show me you want it.” I let those words propel me up the ladder.

  I reached the top rung and searched for something of interest. I found a collection of small books, all the same size and color, with unmarked spines. I pulled the first one out and opened it, recognizing my father’s handwriting within.

  After reading a few lines I realized it was one of his journals. I always saw him writing in them, but he’d never tell me what he wrote about. I went against my better judgment and slipped the book into my pocket. It would make for some interesting reading later.

  I stepped down the ladder, but when I was only halfway, the door opened. I turned to see my father’s back as he closed the door. I panicked and my heart leapt in my chest. Before I could decipher my own thoughts, I slipped and started to fall.

  My foot snagged a lower rung and stopped me a few feet from the floor. My body jerked violently and smashed into the ladder. I muffled a cry of pain and my father turned to face me with an unfriendly look.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. His tone was one of surprise. He didn’t seem as angry as I expected.

  “I, uh, was just looking,” I muttered, my heart pounding in my throat so hard I was sure he could hear it.

  I felt the book slip from my back pocket and slide down my back, making the sound of ruffling pages as it hit the floor. I looked at my father and saw the shock on his face. All I could do was close my eyes.

  I felt a hand grip my shirt and lift me up. His other hand wrenched my foot out of the rung and I cried out in pain. When my foot was free, it dropped down to meet the other, but they weren’t touching the ground.

  He carried me with one arm towards the door. He flung and released me, and my back cracked against the door handle.

  “What did I tell you about snooping?” he screamed.

  “I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Of course you knew what you were thinking. You didn’t just accidentally climb that ladder and take one of my journals, did you? One of the very books you knew you were prohibited to touch. After all the work I`ve put into you, after all the training, you repay me by going through my things?”

  “I’m sorry Dad. I didn’t mean to make you upset; I wanted to make you proud. I was trying to take the initiative, like you said, to be better than the next guy.”

  “So this is my fault?” he said, his face turning red.

  “No, Dad, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, I know what you meant, and you know what I think? I think it’s worse than snooping. You couldn’t own up and be responsible for your actions like a man. No. You had to make an excuse and blame it on someone else. Well, that’s worse than snooping, that’s cowardly, and I won’t allow my son to grow up a coward.”

  Before I could brace myself the back of his hand hit my face. I fell to the floor with the heat from his knuckles burning my skin. I felt the bruise form instantly.

  I hunched over on all fours, feeling the heat of his anger beat down on me.

  “Get out,” he said, too quietly.

  I crawled to the door, moving as fast as I could, but my ankle was throbbing.

  “Get out!” he yelled.

  The room’s temperature spiked and sweat dripped off me. He kicked me from behind, sending a sharp pain up my spine and pushing me the last few inches. I reached for the brass handle on the door, dented from my back’s impact, and I wasn’t sure it would work.

  Relief washed over me as the handle turned, but I struggled to hold on to the near-scalding brass. I pushed through the pain and pulled the door open, using it as support to stand up. I pulled the door shut behind me and fell to the ground as the latch slid into place.

  My eyes opened and drops of sweat ran down my face. My pulse spiked and panic set in until the smell of coffee and bacon washed over me. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized it had been a dream. The scene had felt so real and I remembered it like it was yesterday. I took deep breaths to calm myself and let the scent of breakfast bring me back to reality.

  It was strange to have a clean white ceiling above me. There were no cracks, no plaster crumbling on me, but most noticeably, no sounds of yelling coming through the wall. I could hear distant faint chatter laced with a bit of laughter, and it he
lped calm my nerves.

  I opened the door and the smell of coffee and bacon grew stronger as I headed downstairs. Mom and Rayna were at the kitchen table and Rayna’s laughter filled the room.

  “Morning, sleepy head,” Mom said.

  “Morning. What time is it?”

  “Almost eleven,” Rayna answered in a chipper voice.

  Marcus was in the kitchen moving frying pans around on the stove, cracking eggs, and creating delicious smells. I went to the coffee pot, grabbed an empty mug and filled it to the rim.

  “Sleep well?” Mom asked.

  I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee. “What have you two been talking about?”

  The ladies looked at each other before Rayna answered. “Your mom was telling me what you were like growing up.”

  I choked on a mouthful of coffee and had to force it down to keep from spitting it across the table.

  “Oh gods help me.”

  “They can’t help you with this one,” Rayna said. “I’m told you were quite the handful: arrogant, rude, and, well, very much like you are now.”

  My mom laughed. I really didn’t like the way they were ganging up on me.

  “I’ll have you know I was a perfect child. And I’m not sure I’m pleased you two are even discussing this.”

  “Well, you don’t have a choice. All you’re doing now is interrupting,” Rayna said.

  “Marcus, a little help here?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off the cookware. “If there is one thing I’ve learned in all my years, it’s that women will talk and you just have to live with it.”

  “Ha!” Rayna said.

  “Great, good for us guys to stick together,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be living with this in the other room.”

  I was still taken with the incredible view from the condo. It overlooked most of the city and I could see the edge of the forest on the other side. The main thing I loved about living in Stonewall was that once out of the city itself, there were forests full of life all around it.

  I took in the scene for a few minutes before I turned on the TV, watching as it flickered to life on the news channel. The anchors talked about the weather, calling for more heavy rain and storms. They moved through a few other light topics before one caught my attention.