Glazier

by Bri Clark

  “Hello, Mr. Tenison. Was your suite satisfactory? It was the usual I expect?” Peter asked his brows furrowed.

  “Yes, Peter, all is well. A young woman up there who can stay at least another couple of days, and she can order anything. Take her anywhere she wants to go, just put it on my card,” I explained even though I knew it sounded too much like the American movie Pretty Woman, but it was all the consolation I could offer her.

  “Will you be checking out, sir?” Peter asked.

  “Yes, Pete, I am. What do you have on hand that’s fast?” Sitting at his desk and pulling out a small tablet, his fingers ran over the keys effortlessly. Scratching his head and pushing the down arrow several times, his face finally lit up.

  “How about a motorcycle?” he suggested.

  “Crotch rocket or bike?”

  “Bike,” Pete answered, grinning like a fool. No answer was needed. He turned and wrote down an address on a piece of paper with a code. Committing it to memory then handing it back, he then shredded it. This was why Pete was paid so well. Resources. The kid had resources. I reminded myself to make sure to send him a good tip this time.

  Pulling the bike up into the pub hidden among the trees as ancient as the English monarchy, I considered how foolish I looked riding a motorcycle in England. The weather was dreary and misty, and I refused to wear a slicker. They were too restrictive, and if I was attacked, I needed to move fast.

  After shaking out my clothes, I ran a hand through my hair before going into the pub. There was a table in a back corner that still afforded me a good view of the front door and the one restroom in the opposite corner. Thoughts I had been trying to bury for a lifetime invaded my mind like a painful, unwanted disease.

  The waitress sat the pub special of mystery meat and potatoes down with a mug of ale making sure to give me a generous view of her backside as she walked away, halting any more thoughts. A few months ago, I would have flirted with her, perhaps taking her out back and showing her my bike. Stealing a few kisses or two. But today, just like all the other times in the last few weeks, my flirtatiousness was at an utter loss, drowned out by my melancholy. Digging into my meal, I did what came easiest, ignoring my feelings and burying them down deep, allowing Glazier to numb any pain.

  Ah, Glazier she was the power that had created this life I lived. She enabled me to join the Queen’s Army then be recruited by Abram for the work I did now. A vibration in my pocket demanded my attention. It was a text from my informant at the base. While I was away, I liked to monitor my boss and the operation he ran. To say there was a lack of trust would be an understatement. Calling the latest burn number I had given the informant, I took another swig of ale as the phone rang.

  “Yeah?” he answered.

  “It’s me. What’s up?”

  “You need to get back quick. We need to talk in private.”

  “Just tell me now,” I responded, setting my cup down and sitting straighter in the chair. It wasn’t like him to be so insistent for a personal meeting.

  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Tell me now,” I demanded again, making my voice go down even lower than it was, a trick I had learned to get information.

  Sighing the man agreed. “Abram has found another Glazier, and they’re at the base.”

  My hands shook and it was as if everything finally might make sense. I cut the call. I ran to the bathroom as I shoved the phone in my pocket and locked the door. Hands still shaking, I ran warm water in the sink, splashed my face, and then rubbed the back of my neck. I’m not alone. Finally, a comrade that can understand. Maybe he’s older and can teach me. For the first time in a long while, things were looking up.

  The phone vibrated again. Looking in the mirror at my own reflection, I took a deep breath in through my nostrils and out through my mouth before I answered.

  “Yeah.”

  “You okay?” asked the informant.

  “Yeah, I’m leaving now. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Wait. There’s one more thing.”

  “What?” I asked holding the phone with my shoulder while drying my hands on some paper towels.

  “The other Glazier…it’s a woman.”

  The words echoed through my mind. The phone slipped through my fingertips, this time falling to the tile floor and breaking into several pieces.

  Instead of driving back to Norway after the call, I had found an airport and boarded the first flight available.

  Marie sighed and moaned, her creamy leg peaking out from under the sheet, almost identical to the woman I had left in London.

  Only now, I realized that everything that had happened was for a reason. It was as if I had been prepared for Marie. Sure, I had expected another male, but frankly, if fate dictated all this, I owed her because Marie could be the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  I just didn't quite understand why yet.

  Two years later

  Chapter Six

  Marie

  In the arena at the base

  Cursing, Henry rubbed his cheek. I shook my head at his antics. A bruise wouldn’t even appear. Well maybe his ego. Crouching down like a lion after his prey, I prepared myself for his attack. Doing a full rotation with one of his brawny calves totally extended, he attempted to knock my legs out from under me. I anticipated the move and somersaulted over his shoulders, landing behind him and pulling one of my blades out to meet the skin of his throat.

  “You give?” I asked.

  “Give.” He grunted. “Best two out of three?”

  “No, I'm done for the day.”

  Usually content sparring with Henry for hours, I needed a break in the routine today. Eating, sleeping, breathing and training with him daily, I was beginning to anticipate his moves. While I’d love to put a time frame on my acquaintance with Henry…I couldn’t. I had no memory of my life before coming to Norway. Some of my first memories of the base were still fuzzy.

  Eventually I quit trying to remember. It seemed like a defeated purpose. Whenever I did, it was as if a black wall rose to block a part of my brain. My mind could be protecting me from something. I concluded that being in the dark was perhaps for the best. The memories I did have, I held dear. Of course having Glazier made remembering everything easier. She enabled us to have a heightened sense of awareness being able to remember details, times and places more accurately than a normal person. It was as if a memory appeared like a movie in our mind and without even trying we recorded the tiniest of details.

  I accepted the loss of my past and enjoyed my job and my partner, Henry. He was an excellent teacher, patient and thorough, my constant companion. I was aware Abram had ordered him to be, but over time, it seemed he even enjoyed being with me.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s clean up and get something to eat.”

  We picked up our gear and I reminisced about the first time we came to the arena. Fear was the best way I could describe my feeling on that day. I thought Henry was going to attack me and Glazier would magically help me protect myself. He’d surprised me when he brought me here, sat down cross-legged in the middle of the floor and began to breathe. Like a cross between a hippie and a yoga instructor. From the doorway, I simply stared at him in confusion.

  Sensing my mystification, he proceeded with patience and care. Glazier allowed her hosts to sense the emotions of others. We could turn it on and off but with each other, the feelings came naturally, more intensely. As I progressed in my control over her, I learned I could use a shield to block him from sensing. Soon enough, I realized Henry’s emotions were so intense that they could physically affect me. He had already known this, realizing it to be the cause of my blackouts when in the infirmary.

  However, he had chosen to keep that information to himself, allowing me the opportunity to learn on my own. Approaching cautiously, I sat down across from him. “What are you going to do to me?” I’d asked.

  “Peace,” he assured me. It was one
of his favorite words. The way he said it with his deep British enunciation, it never failed in its meaning. “Marie, we are going to start with some breathing exercises.” His sincerity followed quickly after his words ,giving me added comfort.

  The thought of Henry hurting me now was flat out hilarious. Even if he were capable of it, he would still have to catch me first. I already knew Henry was inhumanly strong, his power from Glazier. Soon enough I learned just how strong he was mentally.

  Glazier was like having a personal super power and villain fighting within you at the same time. The stronger she made a person, the greater she filled the system, the harder to the person's fight for control. That control Henry had to spend years perfecting. He’d not had the luxury of a teacher as I.

  “Breathing exercises?” I rolled my eyes. He ignored my childishness. I'd learned from day one that he was serious when it came to training.

  “If you learn to control your breathing and your heart rate, you can control your emotions. I imagine that you already figured out that Glazier is rooted to your emotions. If you can learn to control them, you can control Glazier.” He’d explained while sitting crossed-legged, index finger to thumb, his hands resting on his knees. He made it all sound so easy, like breathing.

  My time training went by quickly to say the least. I conquered all the breathing exercises within hours, and I mastered several fighting techniques that would have taken anyone else years of practice in a matter of days. Despite his praises, I could still feel Henry’s shock. With Glazier I could learn at an accelerated rate. Glazier’s power could shut my body down as if dead and make it go to limits any regular human could only imagine. Nevertheless, with power came consequences. The longer I invoked Glazier’s powers, the more I would feel the physical effects afterwards. I was tired and I almost always needed to eat.

  Through the course of my training with weapons, we learned I had a talent for blades. I delighted in the sleek bodies, the variety, and the stealth. Being a woman, I invented interesting places to hide them, and I was never without one.

  I developed a particular fondness for throwing stars, light, lethal and easy to conceal. Short point throwing knives were a great compliment to those deadly stars. With no distinction between the cutting edge of the blade and where the handle begins made me think of how the horizon blends as seamlessly with the sea.

  At Henry’s insistence, I tried different types of swords. The samurai sword was too gaudy and bulky. While the ninja sword was simpler, I didn’t like the way it felt in my hand. After trying the Odachi sword, light with a slight angle in the blade, I knew it was well suited. The dark sword was easy to conceal under my long coat. My mission attire consisted of tight but flexible clothing and a cropped platinum wig, which I hated. Henry insisted on the wig. He said platinum blondes blended since there were more of them than redheads in the world, enabling us to mesh with the general population more easily.

  During our first missions, I learned Henry was just as particular about his weapons, although his preference was guns. However, it wasn’t often we used weapons of any sort. Our missions were usually just intelligence gathering. Glazier gave us the ability to get in and out so quickly that confrontations were seldom a problem. Nevertheless, should one occur, we were always well prepared. Henry never left my side, either, during those first few times we were out together. His nearness always comforted me.

  “You ready?” Henry asked bringing me back to the present.

  “Yeah.” I grabbed my stuff and joined him in the doorway.

  “What do you feel like today?” he teased, already knowing the answer, for we only went out to one place.

  “I like Elias’s Café,“ I said, playing along.

  “Yes. We can go there.” He grinned.

  Hans Nielsen was the owner of Elias’s Café, but I took to calling him Elias. It was a nickname I overheard Henry calling him one day and Hans insisted I call him that as well. His small café was nestled among old buildings in Fredristad, Norway. It was the first place I’d ventured to outside the base. Upon my meeting Elias, he had been kind and didn’t push when I evaded his polite questions. I’d been uncomfortable on my first outing, and he had somehow understood.

  “You want to clean up before we go, right?” Henry asked.

  “Well yeah. I’m all sweaty and a complete mess. You don’t want to go out in public with me looking like this do you?” I teased.

  “Yeah, your right. We both need to clean up,” he agreed. I shoved my elbow in his rib cage for the jab.

  Before he could get the last syllable out of his mouth I shot passed him in a blur. He followed close behind. Wanting to shower wouldn’t happen unless I got there first. Technically, it was his turn. I had just enough of a lead to reach the quarters first, punched in the code then locked the door behind me. His deep booming bass filled the corridors as he yelled.

  “Marie, open this door, NOW!”

  I giggled. “I will if you promise to let me shower first.”

  “No way!” he called, “it’s my turn!” He was right, it was his turn but he never played fair anyway.

  “Hmm…well I guess you won’t be able to get in till I am done then.” I cooed.

  “Fine you can have the shower first,” he answered then I opened the door.

  Muscle-bound arms draped the doorframe, while his perfectly sketched mason’s face scowled down at me. I smiled up at him hoping he would see that I was only playing. His reactions were usually more good-natured.

  Offering me a half smile he pushed passed me and threw his stuff on the bed. “It’s my own fault. You’d think I would learn by now. I guess if I want to shower whenever I want to then I shouldn’t have a roommate.”

  The comment took me by surprise. I had never dreamed of him moving out. Did he want to move out? Did I make him that mad? An aching throb formed in my chest. Feeling Glazier trying to assume control, to numb me from the emotion I felt, I took a deep breath and maintained control. That was part of the villain in Glazier …she was all-instinct and no reason.

  “Do you want to leave?” I asked my voice just above a whisper. He was all I knew and when I thought of him leaving the sudden sadness that enveloped me was startling.

  He stalked back to me and placed each hand on top of my shoulders and leaned down so he could look into my eyes. Since the first time we touched, I could always count on unseen jolts of energy to spark. We didn’t have skin on skin contact much outside of smacking each other around. Probably another Glazier side effect I never bothered to bring up.

  “I could never leave you,” he said, looking deep in my eyes. Then his brilliant smile returned. “I won’t have anyone to clean up after me.”

  Too embarrassed to laugh or even face him, I turned away.

  He sighed and ordered in a soft voice, “Look at me.” There was a feeling I sensed from him that I couldn't quite dissect.

  Why I didn’t look at him when he asked, I don’t know. Easing his fingers under my chin was all that he needed to do. The feel of his fingertips touching my face disabled any resistance and I turned.

  “You thought I would leave you. How can you even consider it?” The tense line of his jaw and furrow of his brow told me he was offended, but his soft touch once again contradicted him.

  “I don’t know, just a crazy thought I guess.” I tried to downplay my reaction though I knew he could see through me. Mercifully, he didn’t push the subject.

  “Well at least I know you don’t want me to go.” He grinned ear-to-ear letting go of my chin with a tiny nudge.

  Shooting invisible daggers with my eyes, I prepared for my shower. I chose a long, green dress that flared slightly at the waist, feminine yet practical. Henry had suggested the more feminine the better. The dress was fitted at the top but the flair from the waist allowed me to conceal my weapons. To finish off my ensemble, I wore black stockings with boots. I put my foot on the toilet to harness one of my holsters. Each one housed an array of blades.

 
“Crikey, Marie I’m starving here. Hurry up,” Henry called while knocking.

  “Patience, I am almost done. You know it takes me a while when I have to blow dry my hair.”

  “Yeah, whatever, sounds like you’re just dithering around.” Upon opening of the door, his eyes grew wider, and he was silent as he went in.

  Always quick to shower, he came out looking like a genetically enhanced Hercules in only a few moments… chiseled, handsome, and large. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a long-sleeved blue sweater. Blue was a flattering color on him, highlighting his eyes against his pale complexion. He was an eclectic mix of beauty and brawn.

  I couldn't help but wonder how he saw me.

  Chapter Seven

  Marie

  At the base