The Scent of Lilac: An Arrow's Flight Novella

by Casey Hays

  Thank you Cheree Castellanos with your help in polishing the book to perfection. And thank you for being a true friend. I'm so glad you're in my life.

  And as always, thank you Anna Faulk, the best content editor a girl could ask for. I know I've said it too many times, but you make me better in more ways than one!

  Chapter 1

  Diana sits on a large, flat, tree stump, legs crossed and hidden under her skirt, a book propped in her lap. It’s a children’s book. For over a year now, Sophia’s been teaching her how to read, and honestly, she’s been a fast study. In fact, I’m surprised by how quickly she’s caught on.

  I watch her, half listening to her soft, comforting voice as I work my knife through a piece of fresh wood. A low breeze upsets her blonde curls, and she reaches up to push a strand away from her face. The children gather at her feet, waiting anxiously for her to show them the next illustration in the book. They take turns pointing chubby fingers and chiming in excitedly before she nods with a smile and moves on to read the next part of the story. Today, they tackle Goldie Locks and the Three Bears, and I can’t help the smile that keeps invading my face. These kids have some strong opinions regarding the wayward girl who stumbled upon the cabin in the woods.

  “Why does she go for Papa Bear’s stuff first every time?” Nicholas exclaims. “If she went straight for Baby Bear’s porridge, she’d be better off.”

  “Because Papa Bear’s things look better,” Jacob replies.

  “How do you know?” Nicholas retorts.

  “I know because it’s right there in the picture.”

  The other children shuffle around watching the exchange with anticipation, and I don’t miss the familiar gleam in their eyes. Diana straightens, her fingers tightening on the edges of the book. “Boys,” she cuts in. “There’s no need to argue. Let’s see what happens next, shall we?”

  “You weren’t there.” Nicholas narrows in on Jacob, ignoring Diana completely. “Pictures aren’t the real truth.”

  “The story’s not real either,” Jacob points out before returning to pulling up handfuls of grass and scattering them across his jeans. “Duh!”

  At this, Nicholas rears back his shoulders and bunches his fingers into fists, a scowl creasing his young face. Diana glances at me, a hint of wariness clouding her eyes. I pause in my whittling.

  “Nicholas.”

  My tone is harsh enough to cause him to swivel his head in my direction, his fists relaxing. “Sorry, Justin.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for… as long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He settles back, and Diana mouths a silent “thank you” before returning to the story. All seven children hone in to hear the end, although if I’m counting correctly, this is the eleventh time they’ve unanimously selected this book.

  Still, this is the first time that particular argument has cropped up. I study Nicholas, making a mental note of it.

  “… but Mama Bear’s chair was too soft.”

  Diana’s voice carries across the grassy lot, and I return to my carving. I’m working on something special. The thing is… I don’t exactly know why I’m doing it. I just know I woke up one morning with this nagging urge to carve it.

  I’m usually pretty handy with my knife. I can visualize just about anything and transform a piece of wood into that exact image in no time. If I can look at the object I’m trying to emulate… like a butterfly… or a flower… or a sword… even better. A couple hours and voila! Mission accomplished. Time to move on to the next project.

  But this time, it isn’t working. I can’t get it right.

  I’ve started over twice.

  I study the distorted chunk of wood in my hands. It’s pathetic and not even close to what it should represent. Frustrated, I glance up. A sigh explodes from my lungs, and I stand and chuck the half-carved piece into the air and over a stand of trees a hundred yards away.

  “Whoa!” Caleb comes to his feet, disregarding the fact that his mother is not quite finished with storytime. He smiles, and saunters over. “Do it again, Justin.”

  I plant a look of surprise across my face and fold my pocketknife, slipping it into my pocket. “Do what? There’s nothing to see here.”

  “Yes there is,” he points. “I saw you throw that stick. Just like Stephen, only better.”

  Stephen is on his feet then. “Wrong Caleb. Nobody’s better than me!”

  That’s my cue to scoop Caleb up and secure him on my shoulders, far from Stephen’s reach.

  “You know what I think, boys?” I say, angling my head upward enough to see the underside of Caleb’s chin before I settle my whole gaze on Stephen. “I think Stephen is going to master throwing sticks far better than I ever will. And probably soon, too.”

  Stephen beams up at me, his hazel eyes glistening with a sense of future pride. I’m not wrong to say this: the kid has skills. Just last week I watched him throw one of those huge acorns from Scarlet Forest eighty yards before it hit the ground. To say that’s impressive for a four year old is an understatement.

  “Really?” Caleb ruffles his fingers through my hair, and then covers my eyes with his small hands. He leans over, his mouth close to my ear. “He’ll throw farther than you?”

  “No doubt,” I laugh, prying his hands from my face. I take Stephen by the hand and escort the two back to Diana, flipping Caleb over my head and depositing him in his mother’s lap. He giggles and snuggles in close to her chest. Finished with the reading, she sets the book aside and wraps him in her arms.

  “All right children,” she lets her eyes fall on each one of them individually. “Off to the kitchen for supper.”

  An excited jabbering explodes from them. In unison, they bounce to their feet and take off. Caleb squirms out of his mother’s arms, wipes off the wet kiss she deposited on his cheek, and trails after his older brother, Henry.

  “Be careful boys,” Diana calls out. “You listen to Penelope. And don’t upset the others.”

  “Okay.” Their voices fade as they disappear around the bend, and Diana and I both know they will never catch the other children.

  “I hope Nicholas leaves some food for the others,” she says with a sigh. She picks up the book and hugs it to her chest before her blue eyes find mine. “I don’t know what you’re expecting to do with that one.”

  I chew on my lip. Of the five babies rescued from the rubble, he’s been the most difficult. Ian and I knew we had a challenge ahead of us the minute we took on the project to train the last of the Serum babies—babies who had already developed their heightened abilities and were possibly indestructible—for real. Of course, this theory has yet to be tested. And Nicholas? He shows signs of a strength beyond what we imagined.

  “He’s coming around.” I hold out my hand, and she takes it and comes to her feet. “Maturity will make all the difference.”

  “Yes,” Diana takes to the path, and I fall in step beside her. “And with that maturity will come his strength and his speed and his power.” She pauses, tilts her head upward until our eyes meet. “No amount of training can prepare you for what they may become. You’ve as much as said so many times.”

  “Well, yeah,” I shrug, shoving my hands into my pockets. “It’s a learning process for all of us. But imagine if we hadn’t started training them at all. They’d be… animals. Test subjects locked away for life.”

  I take a breath as the memory floods in on me. It still surprises me how much I didn’t know about my dad and his work.

  “True,” Diana concedes. She cocks her head. “But don’t let your guard down. Even when you think they’ve mastered everything they could ever learn, don’t turn your back.”

  I raise a brow. “You’re lack that much confidence in me?”

  “Not at all. It’s the children that worry me, not your prowess to teach them.” She pauses a moment, a look of hesitation crossing her features. I frown.

  “What is it?”

  “I just
... I think we all must be careful.”

  I nod. I understand her fear. From day one, the children have been aggressive. I haven’t been blind to it...