Harken (Harken Series)

by Kaleb Nation

  “Underground,” I gasped suddenly.

  Thad looked up at me. “What?”

  All at once, something from the dream that had been pushed to the back of my subconscious leapt into the forefront. It was so obvious that it was nearly blinding.

  How could I have missed that? Such a tiny detail…

  “What did you say?” Thad demanded, rising up as he looked at my stricken face.

  “M-my dream,” I managed to force out. “The first one, from my first life when I hid the Blade. There were stairs. You and Callista and me were running up stairs from a basement.”

  Thad comprehended what this meant at the same time I did.

  “The Blade is under the restaurant!” he realized.

  20

  Déjà Vu

  I whipped my phone out of my pocket immediately. Not even a genius would claim wide enough knowledge of random trivia to match the Internet. It only took a few searches to find the answer we were looking for.

  “The restaurant is built on the church’s foundation,” Thad told Callista, after a whirlwind of a flight back to the cliff. She stood with arms crossed, dubiously looking from his face to mine.

  “There’s a basement under it,” Thad insisted, like she hadn’t heard him. “Somewhere in that basement is a door that nobody knows about.”

  She still didn’t look convinced. I held my phone out so she could see what was on the screen: a history of the restaurant on its website, detailing how the original owner Gustav Fabolli had bought the worthless spot from the Catholic Church and turned it into a family business.

  “It’s from the dream,” I said. “In the first one, we were running up stairs behind a hidden door. So if nobody knew it was there, then nobody’s moved it, and the Blade is still inside.”

  “So there’s some secret door under the Italian restaurant?” Callista repeated. I caught the incredulity in her voice instantly. I’d thought that Callista would feel the same rush that Thad and I had, and her disinterest was throwing a damper on our discovery.

  She twisted her face up and looked to Thad. “I thought we decided to hide for a while.”

  Thad was taken aback too. He blinked a few times, unable to gather his words.

  “Yes…” he said slowly. “But things have changed.”

  “You know what this means, right?” I insisted to her. “Wyck thinks the Blade is somewhere up north. But it’s not. So while he’s traveling all the way up there, we have a chance to get it. Then they won’t touch us. What’s the one thing they’re afraid of more than anything?”

  Being human: I knew that for certain. I’d already seen that on their faces, their utter disgust for the creatures they deemed so inferior. Fear of death drove them to insane lengths.

  She was right, though: the Blade was why I’d been killed in the first place. But what was I supposed to do? Run off and hide even though I was so certain the Blade was there? I might have done that a while ago. It was different now. It was time for me to make their sacrifices worth it.

  Callista appeared to be thinking the same, debating it inside though still not looking convinced. She’d changed too. Maybe it was because of my recklessness. She didn’t want to fight now. She wanted to retreat and regroup in someplace safe.

  “Let’s try,” I insisted. “Just one more time. And if it’s not there, we’ll go east and disappear. I just can’t leave without taking this one chance.”

  That decided it for her. Maybe it was the fact that there weren’t tears in my eyes anymore and somehow the renewed determination showed in my gaze. Her set shoulders fell as she uncrossed her arms. Thad and I turned, and with running bounds, we flew off the cliff like a small formation of birds, heading in the direction of Los Angeles.

  * * *

  The moon was masked behind heavy clouds, throwing the city into an even darker gloom than usual. Scattered cars and people continued on their duties, unperturbed by the time. It was as if Los Angeles simply refused to bind its life to the day hours, lights in the tall skyscrapers still burning for late-night workers and the windows of cheap fast food restaurants still alit.

  Luckily, though, the darkness managed to conceal us when we landed in a deserted alleyway as our camouflage wore off. And just in time too, as a group of rowdy pedestrians walked by the opening. We startled them and they scraped to a stop—a group of rough teenage boys in baggy clothes—but when Thad stood up to his full height, they continued on in a hurry.

  “You’re good at scaring people,” I murmured to Thad, rubbing my hands together under the bluish color of the streetlamp. “I could use you, if…you know, I ever go back to taking clients.”

  “How so?” Thad asked, as we started to walk toward the end of the alley, wind whistling around the corner. I shrugged.

  “I think I caught four Glimpses when you stood up and puffed yourself out like that,” I told him. “Those guys thought about robbing us for a second, then you changed their minds.”

  Thad gave a tiny chuckle. Callista shook her head though she was obviously entertained. Our banter had lightened the air that for the longest time had seemed too brutal to yield. I tried to push it aside so that I could focus, but each time the skin around my wrists and ankles stung I was reminded of the gurney’s straps that had rubbed them raw. But my hurt became like a battery to me. It made my steps stronger. There was a mission, a purpose now.

  Revenge? Maybe; but I preferred retribution.

  We turned the corner and continued along our quiet path on the sidewalk. Tall lamps went up and down the street and continued so far that they only disappeared when the hill blocked them from view. Only one car drove far off in the distance, and even though I studied the windows of the buildings around us, each step only confirmed to me that nobody was watching. I saw Fabolli’s from a block away.

  Callista fell beside me as we walked, stony and determined. I knew she didn’t like this idea, especially now that we were out in the open for these few minutes. She kept studying the windows and dark spaces, hands swinging tensely and always ready to produce her claws the moment she might need them.

  “We’re alright,” I assured her. She nodded.

  “If it’s there, then we’re safe,” I said. “We’ll have an upper hand. It’ll throw them off.”

  “One bullet and you’re dead,” she reminded me. “You don’t think they’ll sniper you out? Having that Blade just makes you more of a target than before.”

  “And it makes them far more scared than ever,” I replied. She pressed her lips together, choosing not to continue. We crossed the street, our steps the only sound besides the whistle of the crossing sign and the fizzle of a neon light. The green shutters on the restaurant’s windows were now nearly invisible in the shadow of its porch overhang.

  I led them around to the back. Breaking in to buildings was not my specialty, but I’d been forced to do it once or twice when clients had conveniently “forgotten the keys”. Picking a lock brought my heaviest surcharge because it carried such a high risk of prosecution. Also, when chasing down cheating lovers, sometimes picking a locked door revealed sights I never wanted to see—I kept the charge high in case I’d need therapy one day.

  As I expected, there was a door tucked away in an alley behind the restaurant. I didn’t have my picklock set. It didn’t really matter though. A quickly lifted hand and the slashing of five blades all at once took care of both the lock and the handle. The noise sounded like swords grinding against each other—or on this side of town, more likely a drunk scraping the side of his car against a wall he’d swerved too close to. When the employees arrived the next day, they’d likely think a bear had mauled their door.

  A bear loose on Pico Boulevard. I could just imagine all the locals curling up in a panic. I grinned and shoved what remained of the door open with my shoulder. There was no alarm. That was one of many mistakes the owners of this shop had made. I should have offered security consultations too.

  The thrill of my easy entrance pushed me fas
ter, even allowing some excitement to seep through. With cautious steps, we entered in to the kitchen: long countertops sitting above cheap floors, spatulas and utensils and knives hanging in rows against the wall. I couldn’t see much more than a flicker from a pilot light inside an oven, the lights from a refrigerator door, the red glow of a digital clock on the wall. Everything was heavily noiseless.

  I held my hands out to avoid bumping the edge of something. I heard Thad fiddling with his flashlight and he finally got it on, but the beam was so weak that it would only shine a few feet around our shoes.

  “Sorry guys,” he apologized. He took the lead though, sweeping the ground in front of us and trying to light up the walls. The radiance gleamed against the bottoms of hanging pots like they were misted mirrors, onto the metal of the industrial freezers and sinks, across the knives and cleavers washed and ready for the next day’s business. If we were lucky, we wouldn’t even need to leave this room. If there was a basement, surely the door would have been designed to sit in here.

  Unfortunately, though Thad swept the walls with light on all sides, there were no doorways other than the one we’d passed through and the exit to the dining area. So Thad continued ahead and pushed the flapping doors apart with his side.

  When we stepped through and into the nearly pitch-black hallway, suddenly my outstretched hand was caught by another. I jumped, but recognized the soft fingers instantly: Callista’s. She clutched mine, riveted in terror and trembling. Her fear had been disguised by the inky darkness that she was so afraid of.

  It distracted me immediately. My mind traitorously started to debate what her hand in mine meant. Was she actually trying to hate me less? We walked like this behind Thad, searching the walls for a door.

  The blinds on the front of the restaurant were closed so the windows provided only minimal light. Cleaned booths and tables were lined up in neat rows. Thad’s light skimmed over them, careful to avoid the windows and door. He let the beam go up the wall, across the old jukebox, around the cashier’s computer.

  We all spotted it at the same time: a wide-open frame with no door beside the counter, obviously leading down because of the sloped roof beyond. We darted toward it until we’d all gathered in front of the entrance.

  “There’s our basement,” Thad said. His light revealed a set of wooden stairs. He didn’t wait for us to reply before heading down.

  The steps creaked unsteadily beneath our feet. At the bottom lay a giant room with green carpet, and wooden paneling on the walls littered by outdated neon signs and old license plates. Four pool tables sat in a neat row in the center, with chairs hijacked from the upstairs tables in disorder around the games. A row of pool sticks hung on the wall beside a change machine. The ceiling was so low that it was only a few inches above Thad’s head. A game room.

  I was about to say something snarky, but was cut short when Thad’s flashlight shone into the corner of the room. All of a sudden, I was hit with a strange feeling of déjà vu so strong that it caused me to turn and look back up the stairs, trying to shake off the momentary dizziness.

  “This is definitely the right place,” I spluttered. Thad shone the flashlight at me.

  “I remember this” I went on, “It wasn’t this place, but looking up that stairway. This flat roof. It’s weird. Claustrophobic.”

  “Familiar?” Thad pressed. I nodded.

  “Definitely,” I replied. He was relieved.

  “Then we’re in the right spot,” he said. “But unless the Blade is a pool stick, we’re still looking for another door, right?”

  I nodded, drawing away from them but finding that Callista wouldn’t release my hand. So I pulled her along with me, hoping that my palms wouldn’t sweat into hers as I nervously studied the walls, trying to recall my dream. Obviously, this basement was part of the heavy foundation from the original church. It hadn’t changed at all since my first life, except for the new walls and the tables. If I was only to line this up with what I remembered from my dream…

  It clicked like a peg sliding into a slot. When I stood in the far corner of the room, suddenly it was like I was back in my dream again. The familiar urge returned: the push to run away, to hurry up the steps and outside, even though I could see that there was now a restaurant beyond the opening.

  “Over here!” I whispered, running my free hand along the wall. Finally Callista let me go so that she could press her palms against the walls too. The wood paneling fought to throw me off so I had to imagine it wasn’t there.

  “That spot?” Callista checked. I nodded, then dove out of the way as her fists suddenly came forward. With sharp, commanding jabs, her silver hands pounded the wood like eggshells in two strokes. Thad and I jumped forward to peel the wrecked panels off, revealing that behind it was a wall of solid white stone.

  Instantly, the newly revealed walls fell into place in my memories. In another life, I’d pressed against this wall and sealed a doorway behind it. I ran my fingers across the flat panel instinctively, feeling the cold rock, discovering the thinnest of seams too small for even a fingernail. As the memories of the dream came back, a lump formed in my throat. I knew that if I tore all those hideous panels off the walls and threw the games upstairs, then this room would be the exact same as I had left it minutes before I’d died the first time.

  We were so close to finding the Blade that when I whirled around to look at the others, I saw that their faces had matching expressions of anticipation.

  “There’s no hinge or anything,” Thad observed.

  “If I remember correctly,” I said, “the whole thing kinda just sealed into the wall. I don’t think we’re going to get it open in a normal way again.”

  Thad shrugged. “Not like that’s ever stopped us before.”

  Callista nodded with a knowing grin. Seeing her face brighten gave me the confidence I needed. So with renewed power inside, I spun back to the wall, claws out. I wasn’t sure how much strength those blades could take before they’d crack off. They’d been rather strong against everything they’d faced before. No time for hesitation.

  I jabbed my fist forward. Their bladed tips slammed into the wall so heavily that I was pushed backwards, shoes sliding. They’d broken deep chips off, though, so that was encouraging. I shook my head. This was going to take some extra work.

  I started again, this time with legs spread to support myself. I’d slam with the scale-covered back of my hands and then dig at the cracks with my blades, sending slivers of rock and whirling streams of dust flying through the air. I had to close my eyes lest I be blinded by the stones that darted at me, the blades hitting like picks then slashing like saws, grating the stones down with such a horrible noise I feared someone outside would surely hear.

  But no one came, so I continued to attack. It was working. I beat it again and again, and before I realized it, I was hitting the wall with angry, vengeful growls, striking it as if the stone was Wyck standing before me. It was a thousand screams of pent up anger let out soundlessly, my voice replaced by the cries of the wall as I tore it to bits.

  The smooth outer surface was soon wrecked and slowly began to thin out and turn gray. Suddenly, at the very center I saw one of my blades break a tiny hole through. I felt a spray of cold air in my face.

  I battered the wall with even more passion. In seconds, the center of it crumbled, and all at once there was an opening covered in falling dust and debris. I beat it again and again, and the wall crumbled even further.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder reaching to stop me and all of a sudden I was back from my frenzy. I coughed when I breathed in too quickly. Thad motioned for me to lift the edge of my shirt to my mouth.

  The dust was thick and refused to settle easily, and even Thad’s flashlight wouldn’t cut through it. But sure enough, I saw that there was now a hole in the wall, and beyond it on the ground, a wide metal plate. It was a single stair, and as the dust fell to the ground, I was able to see that others curved down behind it.

 
The circular stairway.

  When I saw it, I drew in air too quickly again and fell into another fit of coughs. Thad patted me on the back as I doubled over.

  “Should I run and get you water?” he offered. I shook my head and waved a hand at him. I wasn’t going to let that stop me now. I knelt toward the opening I’d made so I could see through the hole better. I took the flashlight from Thad and shone the light down.

  I couldn’t see far around the corner. But when I turned the beam of the light downward, I saw through the large slits in the steps that they wound far out of my eyesight. I kicked the lower part of the wall, widening the hole and placing a foot through.

  The others didn’t seem as eager to step inside, so for a few moments I was entirely in the dark of the tunnel by myself. One of my hands rested on the cold stone, the other waving for them to follow me. Callista went first with widened eyes as she crawled through the jagged hole. Thad was even more hesitant, so I took his light and guided him inside.

  “We’re so close,” I whispered to them, voice sounding like it was in a can. At first, none of us walked ahead, studying our new surroundings. The tunnel was no wider than a car, like a tall chimney vent from some underground base the military had forgotten about. When I shone the light up, the ceiling was just inches above our heads, and when I turned it down the middle, it wasn’t bright enough to see the end.

  I took up the lead. The steps were hollow and metallic, supported by heavy beams. Each time I stepped further down, it was like walking deeper into the heart of a drum. The stairs were so tightly packed that their bottoms nearly touched our heads as we walked below them.

  It was difficult to feel any eagerness when I was surrounded by tons of rock. Who knew how sturdily this place was constructed? After all these decades, maybe the walls had worn down, and if we only touched it in the wrong way, it would collapse and bury us alive. We were so far underground that nobody would hear us screaming. The tunnel would become one tall, triple-occupied coffin.