Harken (Harken Series)

by Kaleb Nation

  From where we stood, I could see a vast horizon of rooftops and chimneys—not nearly the view that had been in the sky, but at least a more telling one. Trees and fences blocked a lot of the houses. It felt too quiet for midday so close to Los Angeles, little more than the snipping of garden scissors and water hoses running. I guess you can get serenity if you pay for it.

  “Is this it?” Thad said, stumbling on one of the looser tiles.

  “You sound so unimpressed,” I replied. “You might be able to play basketball off this roof.”

  “If it wasn’t so bumpy, I’d try.” He grunted. Callista, whose severity had lightened up during the flight, ventured away from us. She found the brick chimney and waved for us to come over.

  “If we’re gonna do this, let’s get inside,” she said. “I haven’t figured out how no one can see us when we fly. But it’s not a good time to start testing it out now.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I said. So I went to the edge and jumped over, hovering around in a circle as I descended. I saw the window right below the chimney and pushed myself toward it. There was a screen to keep bugs out so I extended a claw and sliced through it. The glass was unlocked, just as Anon had said it was. I grabbed both sides of the frame and pulled myself through.

  The floor was further from the window than I thought. My face slammed into the carpet. A painful snort erupted from my nose.

  Unfortunately, the other two had been right behind me so they’d seen the entire episode. I heard Thad and Callista trying to hold in laughter, even as they landed beside me. Neither of them volunteered to help me up this time.

  “Come on, guys,” I told them, rubbing my now-sore nose.

  “Shut up, Thad,” Callista commanded him, though she was having a harder time being quiet than he was. Inside, I was relieved that something had dispersed a little of the tense air.

  I brushed the dust from the roof off my hands as Callista shut the window and pulled the curtains closed behind us. Our surroundings went dark as the window’s glow disappeared. We had entered a room of white and gray, a giant bed with folded sheets and an abundance of pillows against one wall, and opposite that a couch and flat-screen television nearly as tall as me. The floor was carpet, the softness of which my nose was still grateful for. Everything from the intricately threaded rug to the glass cabinets filled with pottery exuded wealth and perfection. Even the way the blanket rested languidly on the couch looked like a photo from an advertisement.

  “This feels weird,” I observed.

  “But we were invited, weren’t we?” Thad said.

  None of us really dared to venture from the window at first, looking for any signs that we might have come to the wrong place—or worse, fallen into a trap. But Anon had been right so far, and the silence that embraced us and flowed freely throughout the vacant house only strengthened the truth in his directions.

  “Who do you think lives here?” I asked them.

  “Does someone live here?” Thad said. He gestured at the bed.

  “That doesn’t look like it’s been used in a while,” he pointed out.

  “Could be someone’s second home,” Callista suggested. Both Thad and I looked at her in disbelief.

  “Come on,” she insisted. “You’re in Beverly Hills. People here have a few homes. Maybe they’re only here in the winter.”

  “And Anon gets to send people here all the other seasons?” I pondered aloud. I felt a strange thrill at the idea of traipsing through this giant house—maybe finding pictures of its owner on the walls or family portraits scattered throughout. It could be a treasure trove for my Great Work.

  The others followed me to the door and I could feel their anticipation as we crept out—everyone taking quiet steps even though we didn’t have to, whispering even though we quickly realized there was nobody around to hear us. The hallway was just as magnificent as the bedroom, walls lined with rich paintings illuminated by sunshine that streamed through skylights. The carpet was so thick it was like a layer of white moss beneath my shoes.

  There were several doors on each side of the hall, all open and inviting us in. As I passed, I glanced inside them: a blue bedroom, a green bedroom, a tiled bathroom with two sinks and sparkling-clean mirrors. Everything was neat and made up like a model home, the only sounds coming from the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Oh such lavish extravagance: a house with air actually circulating. Should’ve invited my mom.

  “This place smells like a department store,” Callista observed in a low voice. “It’s like the scary furniture section.”

  “That place scares you too?” I said, grinning. “I thought I was the only one.”

  “It’s a bunch of rooms with no walls,” she insisted. “It just doesn’t feel right. Ever since I was a kid I’ve hated that place.”

  “Imagine it at night,” I said. She shivered.

  “I don’t know what you two are talking about,” Thad said under his breath. “There’s nothing scary about a bunch of empty furniture and bedrooms.”

  “But there’s no one here,” I said, waving my hand in front of us as we crept ahead. “That isn’t a little creepy to you?”

  “I think it’d be much creepier if we ran into somebody,” Thad said. “And it’d be a bit hard to explain how we got in through the second story.”

  “‘Sorry, a random letter we found on a cliff told us to break in,’” Callista said in dry retort.

  We reached the end of the hall. It opened up to a balcony area with shelves of books against the walls, light streaming from a giant circular window that was high above the twin front doors, a chandelier hanging by a chain from the ceiling. A stairway with white railing curved down to the ground floor.

  Everything was decorated beautifully. But no photographs, I noticed. Not a single portrait of a person, not even a painting of a face. All the artwork was of bland, nondescript things: flowers, animals, and shapes. No clues to the owner. No eyes for me to read.

  We were all pressed together, having gone silent unintentionally. When we reached the top of the stairs, though, I finally spotted something that was out of place: three propped-up paper bags sitting in front of the door. They were from Trader Joe’s, the grocery store. Beside them, stuffed into the letter slot, was a thick white package.

  “And there’s the note,” I told the others, already hurrying down the stairs. Hearing them so close behind sent a wave of déjà vu: hadn’t I dreamed of running up stairs with them? I pushed the feeling away in time for me to reach the bottom and pull out the envelope.

  Just like the first letter, this one also had my name printed on the front. But the envelope was heavier: something far bigger than a letter inside. Anon must have had a lot of confidence in the fact that I would follow his instructions, or at least a lot of hope. I glanced around at the other’s faces, already full of so much expectation that I ripped the envelope apart.

  Two things tumbled out. I managed to catch one but the other slipped out of my hand. I’d grabbed a rectangular and bulky object, wrapped in plain red gift paper. An old VHS tape had fallen to the floor, with a white note taped to its front. Callista swept it up.

  “Be careful!” she told me. “You almost broke this thing.”

  I reached to snatch the letter from the tape, but she was already opening it herself. Thad and I leaned over her shoulders:

  To Mr. Asher,

  I am grateful you are reading this. My hope in your survival has increased. You are already proving many people wrong.

  By now, you are likely wondering who I am. Unfortunately, I cannot remedy that. Though we will correspond, you will never see my face, and you will never meet me. To risk myself being discovered will obliterate any chance we have of succeeding, now or forever. This is a more important part of the Grand Design than who you are in this life.

  You may also be wondering why you are here. I have promised to answer this. But to tell you all the things about who you are in this page would be of no avail. You wo
uld not believe me, and I would be unable to answer all your questions.

  However, I have been keeping some things for you for many years. One of those things is this videotape. The other is in the safety deposit box listed at the bottom of this page. Now that you have proven yourself in this further step, you should have them.

  I have also included a gift for your birthday. Do not unwrap it until you have watched the tape.

  Have courage. Don’t trust anyone.

  ANON

  13

  Daniel Rothfeld

  The moment we read the final words, and probably even a second before, the three of us spun around, immediately searching for a television. We didn’t need direction: I shot off one way, Callista the other, Thad up the stairs, our feet pounding against carpet and tiles and hardwood floors from different parts of the house.

  Finding a TV was not hard at all in that well-furnished place, but finding a TV with a VCR proved to be far more difficult. I dove in to an office with eerily empty bookshelves and a desk with fake flowers in pots, and checked the TV on the wall to find that it only played DVDs. I bumped into Callista as she came out of another room.

  “There’s a whole entertainment room but no stupid VCR,” she told me. Who even used VHS tapes anymore? Finding a cart and buggy might have been easier.

  In the end, Thad called out from upstairs, and Callista and I stepped on each other’s feet in our haste to get to him. He’d gone into the green bedroom and found that the small television had both DVD and VHS players embedded in its front. Callista pushed the tape in without hesitation, flipping the TV on and finding the correct channel. Thad and I sat on the bed and she squeezed between us while holding the remote.

  The tape started. We had fallen into such a hush of anticipation that I could pick Thad and Callista’s anxious breathing apart from each other.

  There was a little rolling static in the beginning of the recording, but that ended in seconds. Then it showed a blank screen, and finally a face.

  It was a man filmed shoulders up, sitting in front of a nondescript white wall. He wore a black button-up shirt but no tie, his skin white but not pale enough for me to think that he was unhealthy, slight circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He had a carefully shaven face, leaving a slight stubble that looked too intentional to be unplanned, hair swept to the side leaving his forehead exposed. His eyes were hazel, staring straight in to the camera, making certain it was filming before settling back a few inches in his leather chair.

  He hesitated, just looking at us. It was almost like he was studying us, or rather debating what he was about to say. He cleared his throat.

  “I am Daniel Rothfeld,” he began. “When you see this tape, I will have already been murdered many years ago, because tonight I will die.”

  Hadn’t Father Lonnie said something about a Daniel before? The man on the screen didn’t show any feelings of fear or even sadness. His eyes didn’t quiver as if he was reading a script behind the camera, though he appeared to have practiced this speech.

  “There are some things you should understand about me,” he said. “First, is that I didn’t want it to happen this way. If I could rip the conscience out of my chest then I would, even if it meant ripping my own heart out with it. But I cannot, just as I cannot go on ignoring what I know needs to be done.”

  He took a deep breath. “Secondly, this world is not what you think it is. If you are watching this tape, then I’m sure you already know that much. You likely know of the Guardians, have seen an inkling of their hold on this planet. By the time you watch this, their grip will have worsened. I know, because I am partially to blame; I am a Guardian with them.”

  I heard Callista swallow hard beside me, her hand tightening against her knee.

  “But despite what they may tell you, their plans are not a part of the Grand Design,” the man continued. “All is not right—in fact, few things are. The powers of the Guardians were never meant to establish them as a superior race on this planet. They have done well to hide the truth of our history—of how we really came to be in power.”

  He stopped for a moment, as if considering delving more into the past, but deciding against it. Time concerned him, his voice never rushed but his mind intent on sticking to what he’d already decided to say.

  “I discovered a plan of theirs,” he said. “I only had to look back—history repeats itself. The world is growing too quickly for the Guardians to keep their hold. Their power is slipping as human numbers grow. Then like a reaper, they will cleanse the world of all they deem unnecessary. It is genocide against humanity.”

  He shook his head. “When you have seen the great evils that Guardians have caused, when you have seen the manner in which they have enslaved the earth, you will understand why they can no longer remain in power. You will understand why I have come to this decision.”

  He finally glanced away from the camera. “I must end the Guardians. The darkness of their power must end to bring the world into a new dawn.”

  A flare of static caused the tape to shift, but it restored itself a moment later.

  “To do this,” he said, “means to betray who I am, to betray those who I’ve wrongfully trusted. But I have no choice. Because I am the only one who can stand against them, I am the only one who can complete this. This was the true Grand Design.”

  He spread his hands. “You should also understand this: Guardians do not die natural deaths, and are therefore impenetrable to natural law and order. We will never die of age. If we are killed, there is no corpse: we turn to dust. Our essence is then reincarnated into another body, hosting off a human to continue our line. In this way, we never end, and continue to return forever.”

  Mr. Sharpe, I realized. His body had disappeared! After all this time, suddenly I had an explanation for how he’d left no trace behind.

  The tape went on:

  “So even if I was to alert the world, as unlikely as they would be to believe me, and even if I was to form another army against the Guardians, it would be no use. Killing a Guardian would only make them return again. I found myself in a dilemma.”

  Then, leaning back, his face opened with a slight, triumphant smile.

  “But I made a discovery,” he said. “I do not have the time to tell you how. But I found a hope.”

  Here, he reached to his side and off the camera. When he pulled his hand back in front of us, he was holding a knife.

  The opaque black of the dagger’s handle looked like it was made out of charcoal, wrapped in complicated swirls around a yellow guard for the bearer’s hand. The weapon was no longer than his forearm from hilt to tip, and the way he held it so lightly made it appear almost weightless. The long edge itself grabbed my attention at once because it didn’t appear to be a knife. In fact, the entire length of the razor looked exactly like a giant feather.

  “This is the Blade,” he said, voice dropping to a strong tone filled with intensity. “This is what they fear.”

  He was holding the Blade a safe distance from himself, but still his other arm and shoulder were drawn back. He looked nervous just holding it.

  “This dagger has a power opposite to theirs,” he said. “One cut from this weapon strips a Guardian of their power: making them just as human as those they despise.”

  The three of us sat dumbfounded, and I closed my mouth when I discovered that it was hanging open. My eyes crept to the side, trying to gauge their response, trying to see if their breath had also increased its pace with every sentence the man on the screen had spoken.

  Thad’s eyes were still locked on the television. Callista’s hands were now clenched. Daniel Rothfeld paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before going on.

  “So this was my plan,” he said. “I was to remove their powers, to make them human. To force them to be equals. But I have already failed in my mission. I’ve been found out. I know I will be killed tonight.”

  He said this flippantly, like it was merely a small roadblock. B
ut of course, I realized. He was a Guardian. If they killed him, he knew he’d just come back in another life, right? That piece was so vitally important that I was shocked I hadn’t figured it out on my own.

  “I could try to run, but it is too late for me, and the risk is too high—they would catch up, and then have the Blade,” he continued. “They are on to me, and I have been told by a confidant that they will end me tonight.”

  Finally, there was some inkling of emotion, just a prick of sadness in the man’s blankly staring eyes.

  “When a Guardian is killed, his two Chosens vanish immediately as well,” the man continued. “But that is their duty. My Chosens will die with me. It is the only way. But we will see each other again.”

  Even such a small reaction to the thought of his Chosens dying felt considerable, because for it to seep out meant that he was feeling great inner pain. He managed to push it back inside.

  “So I am hiding the dagger,” he said. “They will never find it, and even if they do, only I can obtain it. And that is why I am making this tape.”

  He nodded at us as if he could see is through the glass of the TV. “At this very moment, I walk among you. At this very moment, I am with you. I have left everything that I need to continue my mission as if it had never been stopped. You only need to find me…wherever I am. Find me, and aide me. I will do what is right.”

  There was a click from the tape. The screen went black.

  That couldn’t possibly be the end!

  A burst of empty static shot through the speakers in answer, making all of us jump and Thad swear. Callista leapt to her feet to eject the tape and switched the awful noise off. The screen fizzled as it disappeared.

  She spun to Thad and I, but stared at me. The room felt like it’d gone hot from our racing hearts, my hands uneasy as I tried to digest what we’d just watched. I wished that I could have read a Glimpse through videotape, but alas I could not.

  “W—what do we do now?” I asked. They were both looking at me. Their eyes made me uncomfortable, as if they thought I should have the answer to my own question.