by Lincoln Cole
Abigail moved before she realized it, charging forward at Anong, who spun with a shout, raising her pistol. However, Abigail was already on her. She pushed the barrel away, and the shots went wide over her shoulder. Then Abigail stepped in and punched Anong in the chest, knocking her back and to the ground.
Abigail kept moving while the other three tried to react. The two guards with assault rifles raised to fire at her. She dove to the side, sprinting in an arc toward one of them. The other fired, but she slipped past his partner and used him as a body shield. The bullets thudded into his chest, rocking him as Abigail held him up.
Two bullets went through his unarmored body and out the other side, but they didn’t have enough force to pierce Abigail’s skin. They hit and bounced off, thudding to the floor.
The other man stopped firing and let out a gasp, realizing he’d shot his friend. Abigail took the opportunity to throw the man at him. She threw a lot harder than she expected, and the body collided with the other guard, knocking him to the floor.
Abigail charged in after, pushing the guns away and kicking the unhurt guard in the face repeatedly.
Colton had spun back to the fight and now aimed at Abigail, who ducked and dove just as he pulled the trigger. Bullets flew close to her body. She closed the distance to him, dodging and weaving to narrowly avoid the shots, and then tackled him.
Though a big and strong man, she thought she might manage to wrestle him to the ground if she got hold of his legs. It surprised her at how easy it proved to lift him from the ground. Abigail slammed him into the wall hard, and the drywall collapsed under his weight.
Colton groaned, barely conscious, and Abigail let him sink to the floor. She raised her foot to stomp him in the face, and then noticed Dominick standing a few meters away.
A deep gash ran down the side of his face, and he’d picked up his gun, which he aimed at her. However, his hands continued to shake, and he wore a horrified expression.
“What … what the hell?” he muttered.
Abigail took a menacing step toward him, and then realized what she was doing. Instead, she took a deep and calming breath and forced her heart rate to slow.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just sort of lost it there—”
“Stay back.” Colton took a step backward, toward the hall. His hands, if anything, shook even worse now.
“Dominick, it’s okay. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He didn’t seem convinced and took another step into the hallway.
Loud footsteps approached and, suddenly, Haatim and Frieda rounded the corner to the room. Both of them glanced inside. Haatim took a sharp intake of breath.
At first, Abigail put it down to a response to the four people on the ground, one of whom lay dead.
And then she realized that his gaze had fixed on her.
Frieda stepped into the room, a concerned look on her face. She pushed Dominick’s gun down, and he looked at her with an expression of fear.
“It’s okay,” she said, gently taking the gun from him.
“What …?” Clearly, he didn’t know how to finish the question.
“What?” Abigail asked. “What is it? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
None of them answered. Into the silence, an alarm blared overhead.
“Come on,” Frieda said, gesturing for Abigail to come with her. She walked at speed down the hall. Abigail followed, and Haatim and Dominick moved back, getting out of her way. She cast them each a glance, but then simply went after Frieda.
“Where are we going?”
“Your identities won’t work,” Frieda said. “But you’ll find two new ones in the glove box that should hold you over for a while. Stay out of sight and don’t make yourself conspicuous.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ll need to lay low for at least a few months, but eventually, they’ll stop searching for you. In the trunk, you’ll find a suitcase with enough cash to last you a few years. Euros.”
“Frieda, what are you talking about?” Abigail asked. They stood near a side exit. “They came to execute me.”
“I know.” Frieda pulled out a pair of keys and handed them to Abigail, and then pushed open the door. Outside, snow met them in the pitch black, and the moon lay hidden behind the clouds. Wind whistled around them, bitingly cold. “Remember this address.”
Then Frieda rattled off a location. Abigail committed it to memory. “Where is it?”
“Ohio,” Frieda said. “You’ll need to find out for yourself. Now go.”
Then Frieda turned and headed back into the building. Abigail stood in the doorway, thoroughly disoriented and confused by everything that had gone on.
Frieda disappeared around the corner, leaving Abigail alone with only the sound of the alarms around her.
She hesitated, and then headed out into the snow. It took her a few minutes to find Frieda’s car, and only moments after that, she drove toward town and away from the hotel.
***
“What the hell just happened?” Shocked, Dominick stared at the carnage of the room where they’d held Abigail. Haatim stood beside him.
The destroyed room had bullet holes littering the walls, broken furniture, and a man lay dead. Anong had found her feet, but still felt dazed and out of breath. Colton remained unconscious, as did the other guard.
Abigail had done this …
Dominick remembered the way she’d looked when she slammed Colton into the wall. The feral look on her face; eyes red. Not like bloodshot red, but like demonic and angry red.
“I wish I knew,” Haatim said. On the floor, Colton groaned, returning to consciousness.
A few moments later, Frieda reappeared. Despite everything that had just happened, she appeared calm and collected. She stood next to them for a second, staring at the room around them.
“Arrest me,” she said, turning to Dominick.
“What?”
“Arrest me. Handcuff me and bring me before the Council.”
“Why?”
“I just freed Abigail,” she said.
“You did what?”
Frieda eyed him for a long second. “She’s gone. I understand your duty now, so I won’t put up any fight. Now, arrest me.”
Dominick rubbed his eyes, trying to understand. “All right,” he said. “Frieda, you’re under arrest. Let’s go.”
Chapter 8
When a knock sounded on the door to her makeshift cell, Frieda looked up from the book she sat reading. In the last few days, she hadn’t had many visitors and enjoyed the chance to relax and not have a million concerns about which to worry.
Her cell occupied a separate floor from where they had kept Abigail, and Frieda had no doubt that she had a larger room and more luxuries. And yet, it felt more confining. They hadn’t bothered to reinforce the window and had posted only one guard at the door.
Should that offend her or not? Abigail had two guards. Frieda liked to think of herself as dangerous, under the right circumstances. Or, at least, conniving. Before making any decisions, she planned things out carefully so that everything went smoothly. She didn’t like surprises.
Surprises like what had happened a few days ago.
Everything had spiraled out of control since she’d first let Abigail escape. Dominick had brought her before the Council to explain what had happened, and she’d told them, in the most uncertain terms as she could, that she’d freed Abigail because this was not how they were supposed to operate.
Naturally, they’d been furious. Immediately, Aram had demanded a trial for Frieda for letting a sentenced woman go free, and all of his cronies had jumped on board. Some had supported Frieda, of course, but even they appeared reluctant to stand by her with an open admission of guilt.
The thing was, Frieda felt sick of all of the manipulation and lies. She was done putting up with it, and the time had come to take a stand. The Council had become fragmented and corrupted in the last several years, divided against its
elf, and Frieda had grown tired of fighting shadow battles against her fellow members. Everything happening with Abigail had simply shone a light on how deep the corruption went, and shown her that she needed to take a stand.
Frieda set her book down and walked to the door. Jun Lee stood there. Not the Augmented Reality avatar of Jun Lee she’d grown used to seeing over the years, but the man himself.
He looked even more vibrant in person, though he carried a decorated hickory cane.
“Frieda,” he said, leaning on the cane and smiling. “It’s good to see the real you.”
“You as well,” she said. “It’s been what, twenty years?”
“Longer,” he said. “The last time I saw you in person, you were a little girl.”
Frieda laughed. “I haven’t been a little girl in a really long time.”
“Nor I a young man,” he said. “And yet, here we are.”
“Here you surely are,” she said. “Pulled some strings to come visit me while I’m locked up?”
She expected him to perhaps chuckle, or at least smile. Instead, he sobered up, and his expression became grim.
“I’m only the first to arrive.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Council is gathering. All of us.”
“Everyone?” Frieda asked. “That hasn’t happened in …”
She shook her head. She didn’t even know how long ago something like that had happened. Even hundreds of years ago, the Council was reluctant to bring everyone to the same location at the same time because of security.
“Not in my lifetime,” Jun said, just above a murmur.
“Should I feel flattered?”
“The Council has stripped you of your command of the Hunters. They plan to start the trial as soon as everyone arrives because of the security risks. Some have called for your removal from the Council.”
“They couldn’t do that.” Frieda shook her head. “My forefathers founded the Council.”
“Exactly why many of them don’t trust you,” Jun said. “They feel like you got handed your position and didn’t have to earn it. They want you out.
“Also, we’ve looked into the two dead Hunters. Their deaths have been added to your crimes.”
“What?” Frieda asked. “Aram did that.”
“The Hunters answer to you,” Jun said. “Aram is making a case that you acted unilaterally in sending them and are withholding things from the Council. It’s a compelling case.”
“But I didn’t do it,” she said. “He’s the one who betrayed us.”
“I know,” Jun said. “We have no real evidence that you had anything to do with it, but unfortunately, there isn’t evidence against him, either.”
Frieda sighed, rubbing her brow. She’d landed in the precise position Abigail had, though with higher stakes.
“Still, this needed to happen in person?”
“Any decision on this level must be made by all of us in person. We can’t take the risk of anyone outside hacking into our systems and being able to watch the events that take place. It’s too personal and important. We will remove all technology from the meetings.”
“It’s risky,” Frieda said.
Jun nodded. “Incredibly. I voted against it, even for something so important as this, but I lost, and so the trial will take place soon. Aram feels confident that we will all be protected.”
“Mercenaries?”
“Many got hired just this morning, with more being sought in the coming weeks. They erected an electric fence and have regular patrols. We should be safe.”
“It’s still an ignorant decision,” Frieda said.
“Yes,” Jun said.
“I guess our goal isn’t to hide anymore,” Frieda said. “Aram is turning this place into a fortress.”
“Indeed,” Jun said. “Impractical and quite expensive. With operating costs this high, however, it won’t be long before the trial commences. Everyone is preparing their travel plans now, and we will vote within a month.”
“How will they vote?”
“Things will work out in your favor,” Jun said. “People have had time to think about it, and sentencing Abigail to death was a poor decision. Aram will seek to have you stripped of your command, but not from the Council. It’ll be an easy feat, considering all the evidence against you.”
“You hope,” Frieda said.
Jun stood in silence for a long moment. “Yes,” he said. “I hope. Execution for treason is on the table.”
Frieda sighed. “What else did you find out about Jim and Michael? Do we know who killed them or why?”
“No,” Jun said. “No one has taken responsibility. We have people looking into it, but it isn’t encouraging. A Hunter’s life is a risky life. We ask much of them.”
Frieda shook her head. “Not in this case. They went somewhere without approval and weren’t even on assignment. I don’t know who sent them, but they didn’t act under my orders.”
Jun scratched his chin. “You’re certain that Aram sent them?”
“As certain as I can be,” Frieda said. “This past year, he’s acted erratically. If he has betrayed us, we need to find out why. A lot of things have gone on that the Council hasn’t received notification about. Something strange is going on, and we need to get a handle on it before it gets out of hand.”
Jun nodded. “I agree. As soon as the trial is sorted out, I will assist you in investigating this issue.”
“Thank you, Jun.”
“We’ll sort this out, Frieda,” Jun said. “I shall return to discuss things with you in preparation for the trial.”
Jun stood and gave her a hug, and then headed out into the hall. Frieda sat alone in her room once more, trying to figure out her best move.
From in here, she wouldn’t be able to investigate Aram. She had limited communication with her assistant, and Martha could only do certain things while Frieda remained locked up anyway.
No, she would need to be patient and let things run their course. Aram would strip her of her command, which would give him control of the Hunters. Frieda felt confident, however, that once they set her free, she would manage to find all the evidence she needed to bring him down.
It had gone past the time that they should begin reorganizing the Council and remove some of the most egregious blemishes. Frieda sat on the bed and picked up her book, hoping to distract herself. Not being in control felt so difficult.
Had Abigail gotten away? Had she found the house? Though a difficult decision for Frieda, Abigail should learn the truth about Arthur and herself now. Tough times drew near for the young woman, and Frieda didn’t envy her position.
Chapter 9
Abigail’s attempts to stay one step ahead of the Hunters in pursuit of her had left her rundown and exhausted. Almost two weeks had passed since Frieda had rushed her out of imprisonment. At least six members of her Order hunted for her, and she’d even had a few close calls on her way out of Europe and back to the United States.
The closest of those calls had taken place in Frankfurt while she booked her flight to New York. She’d planned to take a tram to get to the airport but felt that something was off. At the last second, she changed her mind and found a hiding place, from where she could watch the passengers load onto the tram instead.
Her caution paid off; Colton and Anong showed up and lurked in a nearby café, watching the passengers enter the tram. They must have realized the route she’d most likely take to get off the continent and tracked her to the location.
Luck had kept her from getting caught then. That happened a week ago and had forced her always to look over her shoulder and second-guess every decision she made. Intentionally, she did things erratically and made poor choices, not wanting to back herself into a corner.
It wore on her, though, and she couldn’t keep it up for much longer. Eventually, she would make a mistake, get spotted, and they would fall upon her.
Abigail had managed to make it to the States this mor
ning, flying in to New York and then to the airport in Columbus, Ohio. Under one of the false identities that Frieda had set up for her, she’d made it across the ocean.
The airport terminals had proved a nail-biting experience: people thronged the area, and Abigail found it hard to keep track of everyone. If the Hunters had learned her destination from Frieda, they might be able to move against her.
But no one had approached her, and she’d slipped easily through customs. At the airport, she’d rented a car—an ugly little blue thing, but cheap—and now she drove through the Amish country of Ohio on her way to the address that Frieda had given her.
The drive through the countryside felt like a blast from the past: she’d been to this part of the country on many occasions when a little girl. Arthur liked to visit this part of the world, and they’d spent countless hours exploring Amish Country and relaxing when they had downtime between missions.
As a kid, Abigail had hated it. Endless fields of corn and beans and old farmhouses. Boring. She craved excitement and had argued with Arthur every time he brought her out here, telling him it wasn’t fair and that she wanted to be somewhere else, where she could have fun.
Now, it brought back painful memories and nostalgia. Abigail found something calming about driving down the two-lane highways in these rural areas. It reminded her of good times spent with Arthur, and she felt like the sheer weight of his loss would suffocate her.
By the time she reached the location that Frieda had given her, night had fallen. Out in the middle of nowhere, with only sporadic farmhouses decorating the landscape, endless fields of corn and beans and sorghum wafted in the breeze.
The address belonged to a gravel driveway at least a kilometer long. Abigail passed through several copses of trees and across an old wooden bridge before arriving at an old house on the top of a hill.
A two-story blue structure, the paint had faded with time. It looked to have been abandoned many years earlier. Abigail pulled the car up in front of the garage and climbed out.
Why had Frieda given her this address? She’d never been here before and didn’t recognize the area. With pursed lips and a slight frown, she went up the stairs and onto the porch, boards creaking underfoot, and listened at the door. All quiet. Next, she tested the knob. Unlocked.
