by M. Leighton
“What? Are you practicing for Shakespeare or did I miss poetry week?”
We both snickered.
“Alright, so I got a little flowery. I’m feeling profound and philosophical.”
Jersey’s tiny smile died.
“I guess you know about Jackson, right? That he’s gone?”
I tried to school my expression and regulate my reaction as best I could.
“Yeah. Commander Jessup told me.”
“I can’t believe they’d do that to him. I mean, fire him for disagreeing with them? Isn’t that a little extreme?”
“Fire him?” I asked, turning to fully face Jersey. “What do you mean ‘fire him’?”
“Jessup fired him,” Jersey said, and then added, “Well, I guess that’s what you’d call it. Jackson can no longer be a Sentinel. To me, that sounds like he got fired.”
“What? Jessup told me he’d been ‘reassigned’ and ‘relocated’.”
Jersey snorted.
“He’s been reassigned alright—to not being a Sentinel. He’s not even sure where they’re sending him.”
I sat quietly, digesting Jersey’s words with growing agitation. Jessup had purposely misled me. I was sure of it. And now what was I to do?
“I just hate it for him. It’s all he’s ever wanted since—”
Jersey stopped, catching herself before she divulged something she apparently shouldn’t. My guess was that it was about a girl—the girl—the one that had run away with his heart and never brought it back.
“How long has he been gone?”
“Not very long.”
“Do you know where he was going? I mean right now?”
“No,” she confessed, shaking her head sadly. “It doesn’t matter anyway. If Jackson doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. And I’m sure he won’t want you to find him.”
Something about the way Jersey said you made me think that she blamed me. I wondered if Jackson blamed me as well.
“Well, after this operation tonight, if we can get back into Atlas, he won’t be hiding for very long. I’ll see to it that they make things right for him.”
Jersey scoffed.
“Madly, if you think you’re getting into Atlas without Jackson, you’re dreaming.”
I knew she was right, but I didn’t want to think about that since the time was nearly at hand. I didn’t want to go into the operation already defeated.
“I guess we’ll see,” was all I said.
A short pause followed, during which it seemed that Jersey and I made a silent agreement to be casual and normal, maybe for the last time. Neither of us could be sure how this would all work out, what my life in particular would be like the next day. So, we sat together on Jersey’s bed, chatting about inconsequential things, just like two best friends with all the time in the world would do.
It seemed like only a few minutes had passed when I heard a knock at the door. Jersey and I looked at each other and I slid off the bed, straightening my hair. I’d pulled it up and back so that the length couldn’t be determined. I knew that the shadow of long flowing hair would be a red flag to Wolfhardt right off the bat.
I took a deep breath and walked to the door.
“Good luck,” Jersey said, reaching beside her to ring her bike bell once. She grinned. “That’s me sending you off with a smile.”
And she did. Send me off with a smile, that is. That bell was just an extension of Jersey’s personality, not nearly as annoying as it usually was. It was cheery and playful and positive, just like Jersey. How could I not smile?
“Thanks.”
I opened the door to find Sentinel Jensen standing in an at-ease stance in the hallway. He bowed his head in respect. I sighed. Casting one last look back at Jersey, I stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind me.
“Are you ready, Princess?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
With a sharp nod, Jensen waited for me to precede him and then we were off, pushing through the front doors and heading out across town in a path that ran directly parallel to the forest.
Jensen took us on a convoluted trek through Slumber that ended up bringing us out on the other side of the woods, in back of Kellina’s house. We’d essentially walked all the way around the forest to sneak up from behind.
As we approached the house, a thought occurred to me, one that had the potential to muck up the entire night.
“What about Kellina’s grandmother?”
Why hadn’t I thought of that sooner?
“She’s already been taken care of. She was supposed to be home tonight, but we used a Mer to facilitate her absence. She’s the Treasurer of the Slumber Beautification Society, the President of which is Mer. We had him call an emergency meeting just a few minutes ago. He fabricated some accounting discrepancies that they will be forced to work on for several hours.”
“Glad you guys thought of that.”
“It’s our job to think of everything.”
I reminded myself that Sentinels were very competent, well-trained soldiers and that, in all likelihood, I was in good hands. But deep down, I just didn’t feel as comfortable, as confident, as I felt when Jackson was in control.
Jensen ascended the five back porch steps and stopped, waiting for me to follow, which I did. As soon as my foot landed on the last step, the back door opened. It startled me because it appeared that there was no one behind it. But then I saw the dark head of Sentinel Prokonow peek around the heavy wood.
We entered the house and Prokonow gently closed the door behind us.
“How did you get in here?” I asked him.
“We picked the lock, Princess.”
Somehow, I had trouble believing that lock-picking and felonious breaking and entering were things routinely taught at the Sentinel Training Facility in Atlas.
The two big Sentinels escorted me through the house, rushing me quickly from room to room. Under different circumstances, I would’ve liked to take my time and appreciate the high ceilings, tall windows, intricate crown molding, and rich hardwood floors of the old mansion. But tonight, I had the safety of the planet to worry about.
With Jensen in front of me and Prokonow trailing behind, we mounted a wide, sweeping staircase, our footfalls muffled by a thick oriental runner that spread across the tread of the steps. At the top, we veered right and walked to the next-to-last door on the long hallway. Jensen stopped in front the partially open, white-painted door and turned to me.
“You said the second window from the left, correct?”
I thought back to my vision with the Seer and I nodded.
“Yes.”
Jensen pushed the door wide and indicated that I should precede him once more. I stepped into the large room and looked around.
An enormous poster bed sat against the wall across from the door. It was framed by two tall windows. The bed was covered in a rich, floral spread that was nothing like what I would’ve expected Kellina to select. To my right was a long dresser with a beveled mirror propped upon it. Scattered across the glossy wooden surface were several perfume bottles, a pearl necklace, some hair pins and a framed picture of a young man. The photo was yellowed and the man’s hairstyle looked like something from the 50’s.
I walked a bit further in and turned a circle, taking in more of the details. From the ancient-looking pictures on the walls to the robe hanging on the back of the closet door, nothing in the room gave me the impression that Kellina resided there. Her grandmother, quite possibly. But Kellina? I didn’t think so.
“Guys, I think we’ve got the wrong room.”
Two dark heads jerked toward me.
“You said the second window from the left. That one,” Jensen said, pointing to the right-most of the two windows, “is the second window from the left as you’re looking at the house from the woods.”
“Are you sure? Have you checked the room next door? If it has two windows then—”
“Of course we checked the other
rooms, Princess. There is only one window in the room next door.”
“You realize, of course,” Prokonow interrupted, “that Wolfhardt probably couldn’t see exactly who was behind these blinds. It’s also highly unlikely that he knows which room is the maiden’s.”
I thought about that. In my vision, he might’ve mistaken the grandmother for Kellina. Either way, the light was sure to draw him in.
“True.” I shook my head. “Sorry, guys. I’m just nervous I guess.”
And that was the truth. I was more nervous than ever now that Jackson was gone. I felt vulnerable in a way that was completely foreign to me.
I don’t know why (especially when I’d survived without him just fine up until recently), but Jackson’s presence seemed to be so vital to me now. It was as if being near him had changed me somehow, like some piece of me had melded with him so completely that I didn’t feel whole by myself anymore. I felt as though he’d walked away with a part of me and I was lost without it.
I pulled out a padded stool that sat beneath the small vanity and I perched upon it. I watched Jensen and Prokonow as they peeked out the blinds, waiting for the moon to appear high in the sky. They took turns speaking in low tones into the tiny Bluetooth-like radio devices that they wore in their ears. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I assumed they were performing perimeter checks and things like that.
Finally, when the room had fallen so dark I could barely make out my hand in front of my face, I heard the light patter of rain on the roof. It was a brief shower that lasted only a few minutes, but I knew that it was the rain in which the Seer and I had traveled.
When the drops faded, Jensen turned from the window and approached me.
“Alright, Princess. It’s time.”
Nodding, I stood and walked to the bedside table. I heard the light sounds of Prokonow leaving the room and then Jensen spoke again.
“I’ll be just behind the door, Princess. As soon as he comes through, we’ll take him down. Easy as pie.”
I knew he was trying to inspire my confidence, but neither his words nor his plan could accomplish that. The only person I truly had confidence in was Jackson, and he was nowhere to be found.
“Whenever you’re ready, turn on the light.”
I heard the faint rustle of Jensen’s pants as he walked across the room. When he stilled, I assumed he was in position. I took a deep breath and reached for the light, flipping the lamp switch that would lure a vicious killer into a trap—with me inside it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The click of the switch seemed extraordinarily loud and I flinched when the light blazed brightly into the darkness of the room. At that moment, I felt like exactly what I was—bait!
I moved in front of the window, much as I’d seen Kellina do in the vision the Seers had given me. I puttered around the room as if I was readying myself for bed. After a couple minutes, I returned to the lamp, to the window and, with another deep breath, I perched on the side of the bed and turned the light off with an ominous click.
And then we waited. And waited. And waited.
I was listening so closely for sounds in the house that I could hear the crickets outside, even through the thick glass of the closed window. Other than their song, however, there was nothing to hear but the beat of my heart pounding furiously in my ears.
Once again, I heard the rustle of Jensen’s pants as he moved across the room toward me.
“You can try again in a few minutes,” Jensen whispered. “But this time, after you cut the light off, walk quietly over and stand beside the closet door. That way, when Wolfhardt comes in, I’ll be between you and him.”
“Ok,” I breathed, now glad that Wolfhardt hadn’t come the first time. If he’d leapt into the room, he would’ve had a clear straight line to me where I sat on the bed. It rankled that Jensen hadn’t thought of that a little sooner.
It was blunders like that that made me miss Jackson even more. He would’ve been thinking of my safety from every possible angle, start to finish.
Jensen moved back over into position. I heard the hushed tones of him whispering communications to the others and then it was silent once more—just me, my pulse and the crickets.
I waited for a few more minutes and then I stood and repeated the entire process again—and got the same result. When Wolfhardt hadn’t shown up after another ten minutes of sitting in the dark, waiting, I felt the first pangs of frustration.
We repeated the process a third time, also with no luck. The Sentinels, of course, were like robots. They weren’t feeling antsy or annoyed; they could probably wait all night and never say a word. But not me. I was quickly reaching my boiling point.
My movements were a little sharper, my inner monologue a little more aggravated as I went through the motions for a fourth time. When I snapped off the lamp, I paused, growling under my breath before creeping over to stand beside the closet door.
As they had each time, my ears strained to pick up any extraneous sounds, hoping upon hope that Wolfhardt would take the bait.
And this time he did.
My first clue of his approach was the warming of my bracelet against my skin, almost as if it was powering up for the fulfillment of its mission. My second clue was hearing the monster himself as he neared the room.
The soft, quick puffs of sniffing penetrated the silence. They were followed by one sharp snort and then…nothing.
My heart banged ruthlessly against my sternum as adrenaline flooded my body, making me feel jittery and jumpy, ready to run. My eyes, having adjusted somewhat to the dark, were trained on the edge of the door, expecting to see Wolfhardt’s snout appear at any moment. What I wasn’t expecting to see was movement inside the closet to my left.
There was a shift in the shadows, as if something black was filling the already-dark, empty mouth of the closet. I looked and saw a form lowering itself down from the upper shelf inside the walk-in space. Panic rose in my throat, threatening to suffocate me, but not before I sucked in a deep breath, preparing to scream my head off.
Something shot out of the closet toward me. A large hand clamped down hard across my mouth, smothering the scream before I could sound the alarm. I reached up to grab at the thick wrist attached to the hand when words at my ear sent goose bumps of recognition skittering down my arms.
“Quiet, Princess.”
It was Jackson. He whispered the words so slowly and his voice was so low I could barely hear him. But I heard enough to know that it was him. My body filled in the rest of the blanks.
My knees felt rubbery with relief and I wanted to turn and throw myself against him. Luckily, the part of me that was still thinking rationally reminded the rest of me that we were at a critical juncture in the apprehension of our first escaped Lore, so I resisted the urge.
Oh-so-quietly, Jackson removed his hand and stepped in front of me, his body completely shielding me from the rest of the room. Unfortunately, Jensen didn’t know that Jackson had arrived, so when he moved in front of me, it startled Jensen. Reflexively, Jensen turned to attack.
Everything that happened next was a blur. It happened so quickly, it seemed that one minute I was appreciating the heat from Jackson’s body pressed tightly to my front and the next I was screaming for them not to hurt Wolfhardt.
When Jensen turned on Jackson, it alerted Wolfhardt, who charged through the door—teeth bared, ears back, hackles up—ready to defend himself. I stood with my back pressed to the wall, paralyzed by fear when I saw the big beast leap into the room.
As Jackson and Jensen wrestled, one of them accidentally hit the door and it slammed shut with a loud bang. That left me trapped between the wall and the wolf with nowhere to go.
Wet, quivering lips pulled back even further from long white teeth that glistened in the low light. The mirrored eyes of the wolf met my terrified ones. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat and his eyes shifted to Jackson and Jensen where they tussled. My eyes didn’t follow. I couldn’t
look away from Wolfhardt.
In my peripheral vision, I saw one of the big men get thrown to the ground in short order, the victor rushing quickly to my side. I was awash with relief when I saw Jackson appear beside me. He was staring murderously at the wolf.
I saw the wolf’s eyes flicker from Jackson to me and back again, and then another growl rumbled in his barrel chest. As I watched him, I couldn’t help but feel that there was something hauntingly familiar about his eyes, something that no longer made me feel threatened.
Like the flash of lightning in a midnight sky, recognition struck and the fear inside me abated. I gasped when I realized where I’d seen those eyes. Though I didn’t understand how it could be, I knew the identity of the descendant Wolfhardt had come to awaken. And that’s why I couldn’t let them hurt her.
It was Kellina.
The bracelet heated in recognition of the Lore, threatening to burn the skin on my wrist. Stunned by the new development, I paused, and it was that fraction of a second that could’ve cost us the entire operation and the life of my friend.
As if in slow motion, I saw Jackson crouch ever so slightly, preparing to spring forward. Rashly, I grabbed his arm, screaming one word into the confusion of the night—No!
The uncertainty in that moment, the hesitation in that one short heartbeat, was all she needed to escape. And she did.
Turning, Kellina sprinted across the width of the room and leapt through the window. With the loud crash of breaking glass still ringing in our ears, Jackson and I stood, unmoving, as she dropped out of sight, falling toward the unforgiving hardness of the earth.
It was as if life suddenly rushed back into our bodies at the same time. Simultaneously, Jackson and I both moved—he to the door, I to the window. I heard him shouting commands to the other Sentinels and, despite his questionable status among them, they obeyed him without question.
As they scrambled about, I leaned through the window to scan the ground for Kellina’s broken wolf-like body. But it wasn’t there. Frantically, I searched the tree line for her, my eyes stopping with relief on a long, fluffy tail as it disappeared into the forest.
