by KJ Harlow
“Dante is the most dangerous person you will meet. He speaks plainly, but he’s able to move people. He looks deeply into a person’s heart, extracts what is closest to them and holds in front of their face. With that, he can get anyone to surrender themselves to him. All that he wants from them is undying loyalty and their torment.”
“We have to rescue him, Walter. We must. When are we planning to go back to the Overworld?” I said leaning towards him.
“I can’t guarantee that we can. It’s dangerous walking straight into enemy territory, especially now that we know that Dante is around. He was flexing his muscle this time around, showing off not only his invincibility to our attacks but his new candidate.”
“I’m going back to the Overworld to rescue him by myself then if that’s the case,” I said resolutely.
“You will be doing no such thing, Rose. Not on my watch,” Walter said flatly. His tone softened. “I know you didn’t expect to see him in the grasps of Mortimer and Dante, but that’s the case now. We are watching them and if the opportunity arises, we will go back up and try to rescue him.”
I relaxed, smiling gratefully at Walter. I was glad that he was the leader here. Tor might be the most battle-hardened but as he just demonstrated, he had some personal demons that made him emotionally volatile. I took a seat. Tracy patted me on the leg and Greg gave me a thumbs up.
“Thank you, Rose. Now, we move into the last item for the Regroup, our information sharing protocol.”
“Um, should someone go and get Tor?” Greg said, tentatively putting a hand up.
“No. We’ll be keeping track of these discussions and will make sure that he has access to recorded notes later,” Walter replied. “There were a number of apparent breaches of information on these last few missions, ones that haven’t happened before. I wanted to bring them to everyone’s attention so that we could address them together and see what we could do to prevent it from happening in the future.” He turned to Silas. “Silas, can you share what you know about these breaches?” Silas stood up, wincing slightly. His hand was clenched by his side.
“There have been two breaches of information during the last two missions,” Silas started. “In the first mission, Rose and I had set up our surveillance in an apartment opposite the children’s hospital. This was planned weeks in advance after we had scouted out Mortimer’s location.” He paused to survey the room. Seeing that everyone was listening, he continued. “Rose and I were ambushed by two Conflicted, specifically two Conflicted who were manning the east wing of the hospital that we were to go through. In the second mission, Rose and Tracy were sent in to rescue Tor and Greg. I was told that Tor and Greg were able to initially ambush Mortimer, but that they were captured.”
“No one should have known we were up there. We were well hidden. The only way they could have known we were up there was if someone who knew we were up there tipped us off to the Tormented.
“I have personally spoken with every worker who is down here. They would have had access to this information as well, though they wouldn’t have had a motive to share it nor a means for it to leave the Underworld.”
It seemed silly but I only just realized then that since I died, I hadn’t spent any money. I wasn’t a huge spender when I was alive, but it was nice to be finally free of the trappings of consumerism. While I pondered how the workers were paid for their time, Silas continued.
“The only way to communicate between the Under and Overworld is through the Light Bug. That or to go the Dante himself and inform him that we would be paying him a visit in a few weeks’ time,” he said dryly. I laughed out loud but seeing that no one else appreciated the joke, I snuffed out the rest of it. Agatha gave me a rebuking glare, but Silas smiled at me appreciatively.
“That leaves only one option: that one of us Deliverers is tipping off the Tormented,” Silas concluded. Hearing those words made each of us bristle. How could it be that anyone would help out the Tormented? I looked around the room. Each person had the same expression: wariness. No one showed any outwards signs of guilt. Greg stood up abruptly.
“Everything was going perfectly fine with the second mission until that Matylda showed up,” Greg said, eyes wide and sincere. “Tor started behaving strangely. He dropped his guard. Matylda instructed him to give her our weapons and Light Bugs. I didn’t know what to do!” Greg said, wringing his hands. “So we just went along. Mortimer asked Tor if there were more of us. He wouldn’t say anything but if Matylda, who was standing next to Mortimer asked the same thing, he would answer her. It was like she had him completely under his control,” Greg finished, letting his hands flop to his sides.
“What I think Greg is trying to say is that no one tipped the Tormented off about them coming in,” Silas said, peering above his oval spectacles at Greg, who had taken his seat. “Is that right?” Greg nodded vigorously.
“I guess that is something else we have to come back to later with Tor,” Walter said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“It doesn’t change the fact that someone told the Tormented about our hiding place before Tor and Greg went into the hospital,” Silas said.
“Rose, there’s no easy way to say this,” Walter said hesitantly, “but right now you are the main suspect.” I whipped my head to the head of the table.
“I’m sorry?” I said incredulously. Did I just hear him say that?
“You are the newest member of the Deliverers. Yes, you have come here the same way as all of us but there are some worrying signs.” Now no one was looking at me. I was speechless as Walter continued his accusations.
“You are the common denominator out of both missions. You are the only one who was a Conflicted before you were Ridden. Have you retained a way of communicating with the Tormented that we don’t know about?” Seeing that I was still flabbergasted, Walter continued. “Did you know all along that Stan was going to be targeted?”
“Walter, stop,” Tracy shouted, slamming her right fist on the table. “These accusations are baseless. We are meant to be a team. How can you target our newest member like this?” Tracy reached out to touch my hand.
“Rose I am not accusing you of anything. We just have to consider every option. A breach of our intelligence is a severe–”
“Then work on how you breach the topic because it sure sounds like you are you accusing her,” Tracy interjected, on her feet.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled, making my way to the door. I couldn’t hold them in. I had to let my tears fall now. I ran blurry-eyed to the corridor. I descended down the steps as quickly as I can.
First, he told me off not paying attention during a mission. Now he was accusing me of being a double agent for the Tormented. I felt stupid thinking that Walter was my friend. Thank God for Tracy. I can’t believe I thought she was a backstabbing airhead when I met her. She saved my butt in the Overworld and the Underworld.
I made it to the bottom of the stairwell and was heading straight to my room when I heard yelling. That was Tor’s voice. I doubled back to look at the wooden door to The Room. He must have created a space inside for himself to train. I put my hand on the ornate doorknob and pushed down. It wasn’t locked.
Not hesitating, I pushed the door wide open and found myself in the Norwegian fields that Tor had taken me to for my first day of gun training. This time, he wasn’t gun training. He wielded a long staff. He was also topless, his tight, muscular body glistening with sweat in the afternoon sun. He noticed that the door had opened and was staring at me, his chest rising and falling as his muscles twitched beneath his skin.
Perfect. Some eye candy would make me feel better. I smiled and slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind me.
Sixteen
I closed my eyes and let the sun splash warmth on my face. The wind swirled lazily about me, wrapping me in the scent of wildflowers. For a place that wasn’t real, it was pretty relaxing. Ignoring a half-naked Tor staring at me, I threw myself onto the grass and succumbed to the lush Norwegia
n flora. Just for one moment, I didn’t have to think about rescuing boyfriends or false accusations.
After a minute or so, I could hear Tor swinging his staff around, attacking imaginary Conflicted. Why didn't he just conjure up a room full of Conflicted? Or better yet, a room with Mortimer in it, tied to a chair? I closed my eyes and chuckled to myself, imagining the scene. Out of nowhere, storm clouds blocked my sunlight.
“Why are you here?” Tor demanded, standing over me. I opened my eyes, looking straight up into Tor’s hulking figure. From close up he looked even more impressive. I stood up and crossed my arms, meeting his smoldering glare calmly. I allowed myself to go sightseeing down his body. His broad shoulders were nearly double my width. They ably supported his upper arms, which were wrapped in thick triceps and bulging biceps. His forearms looked hard enough to dent steel as they glinted in the afternoon sun. His time in the Norwegian army had served him well.
My eyes flicked back up to his angular jawline before returning to his dark, questioning eyes. Here was a man, half naked and exuding animalistic masculinity, releasing pent up physical and emotional frustration. Not only that, he had some deep scars that he was hiding, making him that much more mysterious and exciting. I wanted to explore him in more ways than one. I loved Stan but as I stood there less than two feet away from his heaving chest, I allowed myself to wonder what it would be like to close the distance between us and touch my aching soul to his.
I took half a step forward but suddenly he was gone. He was training again, attacking the trees and slamming his staff into the trunks. Judging from the bareness of some of them, he had been at this for a while. I started walking through the grass, observing him from afar. Every time his staff slammed into the trunk the tree would shudder, leaves fluttering to the ground.
I stood several feet away, marveling at how his back muscles converted raw energy into an intimidating force as he wielded the heavy looking staff. Without notice, he pivoted on one leg and launched the staff at me, as if it were a lance. I turned my head away and raised my hands instinctively in self-defense. This was going to hurt. I felt a rush of wind and my hands came into contact with Tor’s hard and slippery chest.
The staff was in his hand, inches away from my face. The scent of the wildflowers mixed with the scent of his sweat, now slick on my hands. I jumped backward in shock.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I yelled. He lowered the hand that was holding the staff and looked at me with indifference.
“I was getting annoyed at you just standing there,” he replied passively.
“You could have hurt me,” I said, balling my fists.
“Yes. But you’re not hurt now, are you?” He responded, planting the staff into the earth. The wind blew through the trees, whispering secrets amongst each other as they watched us stand there. Slowly, I unclenched my fists. I began walking towards Tor, eyes not leaving his battled-hardened face. I stopped a foot away from him. His chest wasn’t heaving anymore.
I raised my hand and closed it around the top of his staff. I slid my hand down until it rested on his. I looked into his expressionless face, probing and exploring with my eyes. What was he hiding?
Ever so slightly, he relaxed his grip around his staff. I coaxed the staff out of his hand and threw it to the side. It thudded into the grassy embrace of the earth. Tor’s hand was still suspended where he had just held the staff. Something was coming through, something that he had kept locked up in a cage for too long.
I gently brought his hand to my face to cup my cheek. His breath caught in his throat as he felt my cheek on his coarse hand. My face hadn’t been touched for a long time. It didn’t matter right now. Tor’s scent was entering my soul, intoxicating my being. I nudged my face against his hand. My right hand now was on his chest. His sweat had already begun to dry but his muscles were still taut beneath my fingers.
The air was still and the trees silent as they held their breath with Tor.
“I am hurt – and so are you.” I breathed.
Our beings collided together as both our souls exploded with passion. Tor’s hand gently cradled my chin, tilting it up as he kissed me heavily on my mouth. My hands were possessed with wanderlust, exploring the ridges of his back, then his waist, then his stomach.
I closed my eyes and succumbed to his lips as he hungrily devoured me. He was insistent but soft, asking permission with hesitant touches and applying pressure only when I pressed my body into his. He bit my bottom lip then circled my ear with his tongue before nuzzling my neck as he nibbled my neck. I moaned as my hand started descending towards Tor’s torso. My fingers dug underneath his waistband, wanting to explore further. Alarm bells started going off in my mind. What was I doing?
“Tor wait,” I whispered breathlessly, turning my head away from his deluge of kisses. “Wait, wait, wait.” I pushed gently against his chest. He jumped back as if I had sent an electric shock through his body. He was wide-eyed with concern.
“Did I hurt you?” He rumbled, his chest heaving again.
“No, you didn’t,” I said looking away. “It’s just… I shouldn’t be doing this.”
Tor stood a step away from me unsure of what to do. Guilt came down hard on me as I looked up at him. He didn’t deserve this. Stan didn’t deserve this either. The latter was who I was fighting for. It was the whole reason I became a Deliverer.
I was attracted to Tor, but this couldn’t happen. Not like this. We were just two vulnerable souls who had chosen to fight. I straightened out my clothes and smiled at Tor. He still stood defensively, not moving.
“Thank you, Tor,” I said gratefully. “It’s good to know that in the Underworld we’re still able to feel things like that.” He stood up straight and on his face, I saw the smallest of smiles. I held out a hand to Deliverer in front of me. “Put something on. I want to take you somewhere.”
“Let’s play 21 Questions,” I said, tinkling the spoon in my latte. We were back in the Lindt Café in Melbourne. It looked like I was just starting to get through to Tor. I was still keen on exploring this man. He looked around furtively.
“You know that we are still in The Room, right?” I giggled.
He frowned at me and concentrated on his untouched mocha latte. Pinching the teacup handle with his forefinger and thumb he took a sip, hesitated, then took another before placing it gingerly back in its saucer. I smiled broadly then leaned into him.
“Let’s play 21 Questions,” I repeated.
“How do you play that?” Tor asked warily.
“It’s pretty simple really. We ask each other anything we want but it can only be a maximum of 21 questions.” I explained.
He focused on his coffee again. “Why do you want to ask me questions?” He asked suspiciously.
“Because you’re my friend and I want to get to know you better,” I said simply. He shot me a quizzical look, arching his eyebrow. Better than his expressionless mask.
“OK, you can start,” I said, looking at him intently.
Tor leaned back in his chair, watching the barista frothing some milk. “What do you want me to ask you?” I rolled my eyes. He frowned again, concentrating.
“Why were you hurt before?” He asked.
“In our Regroup, we had finished discussing Stan and had begun talking about the information breach. Walter basically accused me of being a strong candidate for being a double-agent that was supplying information to the Tormented only because I am the newest Deliverer.” I said indignantly.
Tor put his hands behind his head and extended his legs, staring into the distance. The table was so small that even with his legs straightened his knees nudged the table.
“Are you a double-agent for the Tormented?” He asked plainly.
“It’s my turn now. You can ask that after you answer my question.” I put my elbows on the table and looked into Tor’s cool, blue eyes. His face clouded over; it seemed that he knew what I was going to ask.
“Who’s Matylda?” Tor’s passi
ve mask came back as my intent gaze met a brick wall.
“No one you need to know about,” he said bluntly.
“She is someone I need to know about, Tor. We could have been Ceased before! You just gave up your weapon when you saw her. As a Deliverer, I have to know who she is,” I demanded. Tor looked at me stone-faced. I didn’t break my gaze, staring him down. Was he going to go back to being impenetrable?
“Matylda and I grew up together,” Tor finally said. I kept my elbows on the table and cradled my chin in my hands, staring at Tor intently.
“When I was 16, the Norwegian army came and took me away. They had been informed about my suitability.”
Tor’s eyes flicked up to mine. “Are you a double-agent for the Tormented?” He repeated.
It wasn’t going to be easy getting information from this man. “No, I’m not a double-agent for the Tormented.” I huffed indignantly. “How could Walter even accuse me of that? OK, so I’m new and was a Conflicted for a while, but I can’t communicate with them.” I seethed. “I used to like Walter. I took him here,” waving indistinctly around the room, “and he liked it too. He told me about the Tormented, about Dante, about everything. Why did he suddenly feel the need to attack me? I bet you it was Agatha. She doesn’t like me,” I ranted.
“I believe you,” he said simply. I looked at Tor’s face. For the first time, it was open and honest. Was I truly getting through to this man? I nodded at him, smiling and patting his hand.
“OK, my turn. How did Matylda die?” I said, putting my elbows on the table and resuming my interrogation pose.
Tor leaned back again as his mask flew back on his face. Was I pushing my luck by asking this question? His eyes flickered behind me as I felt a hand on my shoulder, making me jump.
“Sorry to interrupt but you guys have to come back up to the control room,” Greg said grimly. “Death wants to have a word with you both.”
My mind was racing as I ascended the steps back to the control room. Tor trailed behind me soundlessly. Greg led from the front not uttering a word. He wouldn’t tell me why Death had summoned us. Had it been because we had both left the Regroup before it was finished? Was it because Walter had told him about his suspicions that I was a spy for the Tormented? Had he secretly been watching Tor and I in The Room? My hands started getting clammy as we arrived at the opaque glass door. Greg placed his hand on the glass and went straight through. Even though my mind was going into overdrive, I kept calm and walked through to the control room, Tor not too far behind.
