by Jeff Altabef
My legs pump fast. He has to be here somewhere. An internal countdown ticks in my head.
Fifteen seconds.
Details bombard me and my mind spins: a middle-aged married couple walk a miniature poodle off to my left; a homeless man slumps against a bench across the street; a group of four twenty-somethings laugh and point toward the park; I smell pizza.
Ten seconds.
I don’t know if anyone can even see me; I may be moving too fast. Squirrels race in front of me, and two pigeons find crumbs by a mailbox. I see everything in such stark detail it’s scary. A man who waits to cross the street has short black hair, a small scar on his chin and a cut on his cheek that looks old from shaving in the morning.
Eight seconds.
Where’s Blake? How far back can he be? Then I see it: a brighter aura than the others two blocks away. It has to be him. I’m a ball of energy now and will myself faster.
Five seconds.
Blake’s khakis are ripped, blood drips from his right shin, and a nasty scrape tears the skin on his hand and forearm. His eyes are wide and his aura swirls with colors as black mixes with the white.
Three seconds.
I thrust the flask at him.
Two seconds.
“Drink!”
He grabs the flask and tips it to his lips.
A firecracker explodes and shatters my head.
The stopwatch buzzes in my hand as Blake gulps the cure.
Is it too late?
The world twists and starts to gray. I fall and see nothing but black before my head hits the pavement.
Sicheii smiles at me, his white hair pulled back in a low ponytail, his slate eyes twinkling. It’s so good to see him.
I’m reminded of our secret trips to the gift shop next to his gallery. I was thirteen the last time we went. I’d give anything to go back with him now, just one last time.
The store sold mostly T-shirts and red rock souvenirs, but in the back they had an old glass freezer where they scooped homemade ice cream—four delicious flavors: chocolate, vanilla, chocolate chip, and strawberry. It was one of those small town places reserved only for locals, hidden from tourists.
I’d always get chocolate, and he’d usually choose vanilla, except for special days when he’d buy chocolate chip. Those times he’d shrug and explain how a part of me was in him and how some of him was in me. Back then I never really understood what he meant. Now I kind of get it.
“So have you decided to be the rock and not the river?” His voice sounds soft and fuzzy around the edges. Rocks are strong and true to their inner nature. They don’t bend and find the easiest path like rivers. He was always a rock, and he wants me to be the same.
“Yes, Sicheii. What choice do I have?”
“There’s always a choice, Little Bird.” He tips his head back and breathes deeply. “Do you smell that? Life floats on the wind and lives in everything around us.”
Our surroundings come into focus. We’re sitting on a grass field on the edge of a riverbank. The water rushes past us and laps against the shore. One log floats in the middle of the river, bobbing up and down in the rushing water. It looks lonely and out of place, as if it’s one of a kind, lost in a watery world.
“What is this place?
“It’s nowhere special and yet it is all things special. The river is more than just a river, as things generally are.”
The river looks foreign, but I’ve seen it before—maybe not exactly in this form, but one that’s similar.
My heart aches. I long for a simpler time, a time before Seekers and Prime Electors and before I knew I was a Chosen. That time never really existed—it was just an illusion—but that doesn’t stop me from wanting it back. “I’m scared. I don’t like the changes that are happening to me. I’m separated from everyone else. It’s like I’m not human anymore.”
He shoots me a pensive expression and nods. It’s the look he gets whenever he’s about to start one of his tales.
They used to annoy me. Now, I miss him so much, I don’t even mind, so I sit up straighter and listen.
“You should have paid more attention to my stories.” He arches his white eyebrows, but he’s not angry. “What’s human? When the world was new the First Man lived with all the animals: the beaver, hawk, and wolf. He spoke with them and they lived in harmony together. Was the First Man human or something else, something greater? All living things are connected in spirit. Who cares if you have abilities that separate you from others? Your spirit is what counts. It’s strong and connects with other creatures and the life around you. Maybe you’re more human than these other people you so admire. Maybe you are closer to the First Man.”
“They say... I’m the Alpha. What does that mean?” My voice cracks, and I fight back tears that form in the corner of my eyes. “Isn’t it enough that I’m a Chosen? Why do I have to be still more different?”
Sicheii raises his arms out to his side. The wind gusts and blows his hair behind him like a kite’s tail. “The Great Wind Spirit has big plans for you, Little Bird. Embrace your destiny. Be the rock.”
I hate when he speaks in riddles. Most of the time I never understood what he meant. If he’d just speak plainly for once... but before he can answer any more of my questions, his face twists and morphs into Connor’s face.
I try to hold onto Sicheii, to bring him back, but he’s gone.
Connor’s mouth is moving, yet I can’t hear his voice. I focus on a small scar above his left eyebrow. It must have happened during a fight, maybe the same fight that broke his now slightly bent nose.
His eyes are carved with worry. I lose myself for a moment in them and find a depth I missed before—they’re filled with compassion. They’ve been hurt before, and now they worry about me. Small violet flecks swirl in his blue-gray ocean.
Heat flushes my cheeks, and I begin to hear him as if he’s talking from far away.
“Are you okay, Juliet? I thought we had lost you for a bit.” He holds my shoulders and lifts me off the pavement, while Akari and Blake hover behind him. I smell traces of alcohol on his breath and remember the half-filled water bottle he brought with him to dinner.
“I’m fine.” My voice sounds harsher than I expect. I push his arms away and sit up on my own. The world tilts, but steadies a moment later. When he lowers his hand, I grab it, and he pulls me to my feet.
Blake stands off to the side. His leg has stopped bleeding and he looks disheveled, but definitely not like he’s about to drop dead from poison. The cure must have worked.
The auras that almost blinded me a moment ago have vanished, so I’m back to normal, or whatever version this is of normal.
“How long was I out?” I shake my head to chase away the cobwebs.
Blake answers. “I’d say fifteen minutes or so. Um... thanks for coming back for me.”
“What happened to you anyway?”
His face reddens as he looks over his shoulder and down the street. “A mailbox got in the way.”
“I hate when they jump out at you.” I grin.
Connor adds, “You’re a criminal now. Monkeying around with the post.”
We chuckle at his expense and it feels good.
“I think that’s the least of my problems.” Blake smirks, so at least he’s taking the ribbing well.
Akari glances at me. “When you left the park, you moved so fast we couldn’t keep up with you... like a tsunami.”
“We couldn’t even see you. You were a blur.” Connor shoots me a piercing gaze, as if he’s studying me.
His expression worries me. I don’t want them to think I’m different from them, so I shrug. “I’m sure I didn’t go that fast. I knew we didn’t have much time, so I gave it all I had. Either one of you would have done the same, if you had the flask.”
“Right,” mutters Connor, but he’s not buying it. An odd expression still sticks to his face.
I want to change the subject. “How about you, Blake? Are you feeling all right? I
was worried we had run out of time.”
“Well, I’m not dead yet. Do you think he really poisoned us? I mean, maybe he just made that stuff up to encourage us. I bet we could have strolled to the park and we’d have been fine.”
I remember his aura right before he drank the cure. His spirit had started to turn from white to gray and black. “That rat poisoned us. We all would have died if we didn’t drink the cure in time. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, what do we do now?” asks Blake.
“They’re probably looking for us by the park bench.” I want to head in the other direction, but Troy will be there with Stuart and Sydney. He’ll worry like crazy if I don’t show up. “Let’s see what he wants us to do next.”
We start to march north, and Connor walks close to my side. I try to focus on where we’re going, but my eyes keep flashing toward him, which is super annoying. When his hand brushes against my arm, my skin burns from the accidental connection.
“Should we kill Stuart?” asks Akari.
I expect to see her grin, but her face is pure granite.
“Maybe. How hard could it be?” Connor waves his hand. “We’re supposed to kill this Prime Elector. We can practice on that rat.”
Troy, Stuart, and Sydney bunch around the bench under which the flask had been hidden. Troy paces, each step punctuated by anger and tension, while Stuart relaxes on the bench with his legs crossed as if he has no worries in the world.
Sydney stands off to the side and studies Troy, a sly smile on her face. The top two buttons on her shirt are undone. They were fastened when we ate dinner.
What a tramp!
When Troy sees us, he stops pacing and the tension blows out of him. He tilts his head back, lifts his eyes toward the heavens, and stretches his arms to the side. He looks like Sicheii did in my dream. He quietly mutters, “Thank you, Great Wind Spirit.”
I quicken my steps until his arms fold around me.
He holds me tight for a moment and whispers in my ear, “I was so worried about you.”
What do I tell him—that everything is going to be all right? Blake almost died. One second later and we’d be carrying his lifeless corpse back to the park.
I won’t lie to him, so I whisper, “I’m fine,” brush my lips against his cheek, and push him away.
Stuart rises to his feet. “I am certainly pleased to find you all well. Yes, yes, pleased is a good word for it, but I’m confused why you didn’t stay in the park.”
Akari steps toward him and growls. “Blake had a trouble. Juliet brought the cure to him. He almost expired.”
Stuart’s eyes wash over Blake, and his lips turn into a disappointed frown. “That would have been a pity. Quite a pity for you to die so soon. We have much yet to do.”
Connor grabs him by the shirt. “Maybe we should pitch you from a bridge. I’m sure I can find one in four minutes.”
“Come now. That would be a poor choice, an extremely poor choice indeed. You need me. I’m the Host. Without me you stand no chance, and if you fail to kill the Prime Elector he will kill you. He’s close as it is. Yes, yes, so close. We don’t have time for all these threats. We have work to do.”
Connor’s hands tighten on his shirt, and Stuart’s eyes widen in response.
I think Connor only wants to scare him, but the weasel is right. We need him. He’s the Host, so he must know important information that’ll help us.
I put my hand on Connor’s back and feel the tension. “We can always kill him later if we want.” I try to add levity to my voice, but the words sound flat. Part of me wants to help him toss Stuart from a bridge, but the rational part overrules the emotional for once.
The hard edge in Connor’s face melts. “Okay, so long as all my options are still open.” He shoves Stuart backward.
Stuart straightens his shirt. “So good we got that out of the way. Let’s move along, as we have training to start. Yes, yes, training.”
Blake limps to my side. “Well, I think I should see a doctor. My leg hurts. You’ll have to go on without me.”
Sydney clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Don’t be a baby. You’re not even bleeding. You look fine to me.”
Blake glares at her and then shoots laser beams at Stuart. “Did you really poison us? I could have died!”
Stuart tugs on his beard. “Died. Yes, certainly you could have died. Your life has been in mortal jeopardy since you were born and made a Chosen. That wasn’t my decision. Others, yes others, chose for you. Not me. You need to confront this reality. You need to face your own mortality because it’s so extremely close at every moment. The sooner you get used to it the better you’ll react when you actually face a Seeker or the Prime Elector. We have no time, no time to dawdle.”
Blake jabs an angry finger at him. “I don’t know about the others, but my life was safe before this, before you tried to kill me.”
“Really, Blake Richards, I don’t think so.” Stuart turns his head and his eyes linger on each of us for a second. “You’ve all been careless. Each one of you has been moments away from being discovered.” He points at Blake. “Your family uses the Twisted Muskets as a play thing. It’s not just carved into your house, but on your yacht and at Richards Company headquarters. Once the Deltites discover the Inn’s symbol, they’ll see the Twisted Muskets. How long before they knock on your door?”
Stuart points at Connor. “And you.... Have you ever wondered why your parents were racing in that auto so late at night? Why did they leave you, at the age of two, with the Vicar? Not even a friend? Why indeed? They were running when they crashed. A Seeker was minutes away from discovering them. If they hadn’t died in that crash, who knows what they might have told them.”
Stuart waves at Akari and me. “You two narrowly escaped Seekers just a few days ago. Yes, yes, all your lives have been in danger since the very beginning. It’s about time you realized it.”
A thick and syrupy silence fills the air between us, as if we’ve all just failed an important test.
I glance at Connor, who looks distant as he grinds his teeth and clenches his hands until the knuckles have turned white.
All the Orders have been careless to some extent. It’s only natural. Secrets can’t be kept forever, but what strikes me as odd is how much Stuart knows about us. Has he been watching us, or has he been in contact with the different Orders?
Sicheii never mentioned an outsider—a Host. He would never have kept that from me. So how does Stuart know so much?
“I guess we’d better start this training then,” says Akari, as she turns toward the park.
Stuart grabs her arm. “Where are you going?”
“Aren’t were headed to the park to start our training.”
He chuckles. “The park, yes, I can see how you might jump to that conclusion, but the park is not for us. It’s way too public. No, no, I have another place in mind. It’s a little musty, but it will serve our purposes much better than the park.”
It’s not that I’m a control freak, but not knowing what’s going to happen next sucks. Not every surprise is bad—a good twist in a movie is fun so long as your favorite character doesn’t die, but real life is different. Almost every surprise is awful: the guy you like just asked out your best friend; a friend’s parent loses a job; a relative comes down with a terminal illness; you’re a Chosen and have to save the world. Good luck and look out for those Deltites who want to destroy you.
I crave certainty, a clear, lit path to follow, and solid ground to tread upon. I keep searching for that path, hoping it will light up at any moment. Instead, only shadows and cracks in the sidewalk wait to trip me up. Must I always watch my step?
My strides slow and become hesitant. Questions chip away at my confidence and weigh me down. Where’s the Host taking us? How will we survive? Whom can I trust?
It feels like my first day at Bartens two years ago, only worse. So much more is at stake now.
We follow Stuart as he leads us from the park. T
roy and I drop behind the others, and I reach for my wind catcher pendant. Just the touch of the cool turquoise bolsters my spirit, as if Sicheii is with me.
Troy, who knows me better than anyone, must sense my unease. He starts talking in an obvious effort to distract me. “Guess what they called the American Indians who lived on Manhattan?”
He likes when I have to guess at stuff. I find it generally annoying. “Suckers?”
“Manhattanoes.”
“Manhattanoes? Come on, you’re making that up.”
He smiles. “Nope. It’s in the book Landon gave me.”
“What else does the book say?”
He frowns. “There’s not one monument or park or sacred place dedicated to Native Americans on the whole island. It’s like they never even existed. They tried to make a small park into a tiny reservation, but the City wouldn’t go for it.”
I shake my head. “Are you serious? A Rez on Manhattan. That would’ve been cool, but they would’ve screwed it up with a casino.”
Stuart turns left on 75th Street and stops a few steps away from Central Park West. “We’re here.” He shoots us a cheesy moon pie grin, waves his arms, and bends at the waist as if he’s proud of himself.
More shadows.
“What’re you talking about?” asks Connor. “Have you gone mental? We’re in the middle of the street.”
Stuart twists his head in both directions to make sure no one is within eyesight, and points at a manhole cover. “Sydney, if you would be so kind?”
She pulls a crowbar from her bag and glances at Troy. “I could use a hand here.”
Together they yank up the manhole cover with a collective grunt.
“Hurry now. We’re going down into The Underground.” Stuart points to the opening. “There’s no reason to dawdle. Yes, yes, dawdling would be bad. We don’t want to be seen.”
“I’m not going down there!” Blake crosses his arms against his chest.
