Brink of Dawn (A Chosen Novel Book 2)

by Jeff Altabef

  Landon taps on the walls inside the closet. On the third knock we hear a hollow thud. “This isn’t a solid wall. This is a door.” He sweeps his hands along the edges, presses a button concealed in the corner, a latch pops, and the door swings open. “Bingo.”

  “If there’s some type of chainsaw-wielding, blood-soaked, zombie maniac down there, I’m gone so fast you ain’t gonna even see my shadow,” says Amare, his breath fast, sweat sprinkling his forehead.

  Landon flips a light switch. “Stay here if you like.” He disappears down the stairs.

  I nudge Amare in the side and tease him. “Come on. Do you want me to hold your hand?”

  “Very funny.” He follows Landon down into the basement with me a step behind.

  A laboratory runs the length of the townhouse, complete with expensive looking instruments, examining rooms with glass doors, florescent lights, desks with computers on top of them, and a full-sized fridge that contains glass vials.

  Landon whistles. “This is quite a setup. I’ve got a really bad feeling. Check this out.” He points to a massive map of the area around New York City pinned on a wall above a desk.

  “What are those small blue patches circled in yellow?” I ask.

  Landon leans closer to it. “They’re aqueducts that supply water into the City.”

  Amare lifts a translucent crystal the shape of a small tablet. “What the heck is this?”

  He’s found an Alphian crystal. It looks like it’s made from the same material as my sword.

  “Let me see that,” I say.

  He hands me the crystal, and when I touch it, an electric current burns through my fingers, as if I’ve stuck my hand in a wall outlet. I shriek and toss the tablet on the desk. For a heartbeat, the world turns gray and I feel unsteady, as if I’m on a raft in the middle of a storm. After a few moments, color returns around the edges.

  The crystal is some type of Alphian computer. My touch activated it, and images raced through my head in a stampede of data.

  “Are you okay, Juliet?” Landon grabs my waist.

  “I-I-I’m... fine.” My tongue feels twice its normal size and tastes metallic.

  Amare swings a chair toward me and gravity pulls me down. “What happened?” he asks.

  “It must have been static electricity.” Another lame lie, but my mind still recoils with the Deltite data so that’s the best I can do.

  Landon pats my shoulder. “Take it easy while we search the rest of the lab.”

  I try to make sense of the images that whipped through me. I saw a graph with a curved line, which sloped downward like a ramp where it crossed a horizontal line. The graph had unfamiliar symbols on it, yet I understood what they meant.

  It must be knowledge from the Fusions. The vertical side is a mortality rate and the horizontal line represents twenty-five percent.

  A twenty-five percent mortality rate is the goal and they’ve reached it. It must be connected with the lab and those vials, and I check out the map on the wall.

  Water basins? Are the Deltites about to poison the City’s water supply? Why?

  I try to wrap my mind around the idea, when Sicheii’s voice rings in my head. “He’s returning.”

  I feel as if someone has stabbed my eyeballs with needles, and an image flashes in my mind.

  A black Mercedes is only a few blocks away. If he gets here before we leave, we’ll all die.

  Only Troy can help us.

  I reach for my phone to call him, but it’s gone. I haven’t replaced the burner phone I tossed this morning.

  Landon has stuck his head in the fridge to check out the glass vials, while Amare searches the other side of the lab.

  There’s no time to tell Landon to call Troy, and besides, what would I say—that I have a psychic connection to an extraordinarily powerful alien that wants to enslave the entire planet and possibly poison all of New York City killing millions of people in the process? Oh, and if he catches us in his evil lab he’s sure to torture us and devise a truly horrible way to murder us?

  I close my eyes and kick my mind into hyper-drive, projecting my thoughts outward to search for Troy.

  His spirit is across the street.

  I speed toward him like he’s a magnet and my thoughts have turned into a metallic cloud. In a heartbeat, I’m inside his head.

  His mind is troubled as he searches both sides of the street for Deltites.

  How do I communicate with him? I remember my experience last night with the hawk. I have to project images into his mind and hope he understands what they mean.

  I recall the picture of the Mercedes and concentrate with everything I have, trying hard to add urgency to my thoughts. Hopefully, he’ll get the idea and figure out a way to slow down the Deltite. Either way there’s no more I can do with him, so I pull back and return to the lab.

  “We’ve got to go! The guy’s on his way back. He’ll be here in a few seconds.”

  Landon slams the fridge closed and races over to me, with Amare by his side. “Come on!” He grabs my arm and we fly up the stairs. When we reach the first floor hallway he pauses. “How close did Troy say he was?”

  “Close.” I can’t correct him about Troy.

  “We can’t go out the door or he’ll see us. Are there any windows around here that don’t lead out front?” Landon twists, but there’s only the two in front of the house.

  The garage door opens with a screechy whine.

  Amare removes a small club from inside his sweatshirt. “He’ll be here in a second. We’ll have to take him out.”

  He doesn’t know what he’s about to face. If we try to fight the Deltite, it will only get us killed.

  I remember the door I saw earlier. “There’s a door to the backyard!” I sprint past the office and fling open the back door, hoping they’ll follow me.

  The backyard is a simple courtyard with neatly cut grass, a few metal chairs, a table, and a stone fountain off to the right. It’s hemmed in by ten-foot brick walls on three sides, and the back of the townhouse on the fourth, completing the square.

  Amare’s voice sounds two octaves higher than usual. “When he comes in the house, he’ll know someone’s screwed around with the alarm. In this neighborhood the cops will be here in a minute. They don’t like me. We’re not on speaking terms.”

  The last worry I have is the police—we’ll never live long enough to see them.

  “Over the wall, then.” Landon makes a basket by interlocking his fingers and a second later he boosts Amare, who just manages to grab the top of the wall with both hands.

  He swings for a second, appearing as though he might fall back down, but he manages to pulls himself up with a grunt.

  The garage door closes with a thump.

  “Your turn, Juliet.”

  I don’t need the lift, but I play along, step into his hands and leap. My enhanced strength makes the ten-foot jump feel like a short hop, and I easily reach the top of the wall, grab the ledge and swing myself on top in one smooth motion.

  Amare reaches down with his arms. “Come on, Bear! Just make believe you’re on a hoops court.”

  Landon backs up two steps.

  The front door opens.

  He takes three steps and leaps, but he doesn’t make it to the top. He falls a good foot short of the ledge, but he manages to catch onto Amare’s hand.

  Amare tries to wrench him to the top of the wall, but he’s not strong enough.

  Stomping noises and an explosion of energy burst from inside the house. The Deltite knows something’s wrong. He’s coming for us.

  I reach down, grab Landon’s shoulder, and whip him over the wall.

  The back door opens.

  Amare and I jump.

  Landon is already on his feet.

  I bounce to mine and grab Amare.

  This courtyard looks the same as the one we just left. “Should we jump the next wall and keep going?” I ask Landon.

  He shakes his head. “That way is a dead end. The
last house on the block won’t have a wall for us to jump. We have to go through this house and out the front door. Let’s hustle. Be quiet, but don’t stop for any reason. Once we hit the street, turn right.”

  Landon reaches the door first.

  I glance back at the wall and questions twist inside my mind. Did the Deltite see us? Is he about to leap over it? How can I keep Landon and Amare safe without my sword?

  Amare tugs on my shirt.

  Landon opens the door and leads us through the hallway at a quick pace. Noises cascade from upstairs. A woman talks on the phone. A miniature poodle yaps at us.

  “Keep moving,” whispers Landon.

  A second later we open the front door, plunge into the City, turn right when we reach the curb, hit 3rd Avenue and blend into the chaos and the busy street around us. After we’ve gone two blocks, we stop and lean against the side of a deli.

  Landon breathes heavily, sweat soaking his shirt.

  Amare smiles. “Man, that was wild.”

  A few seconds later, Troy wheels Amare’s bike over. He limps as he walks toward us, his shirt sleeve torn, blood smeared across his arm.

  “What happened to you?” Landon asks.

  “When I saw the car, I knew I had to slow him down, so I hopped on the bike and cut in front of him. He didn’t stop in time.”

  Amare grabs the bike. “You didn’t mess it up, did you?” He spins the wheel, which wobbles. “The rim’s bent.”

  Troy speaks in a mocking voice, higher pitched than usual. “Thank you Troy for throwing yourself in front of a car to save my sorry ass. I hope you didn’t break anything important.”

  “Are you okay?” My eyes stick on the blood splashed on his sleeve and my heart twists. He’s always getting hurt when he tries to protect me, and we haven’t even started the truly dangerous part yet.

  “No major damage. I have two arms. The other one works fine. Did you guys get what you need?”

  Landon grins and removes a glass tube from his front pocket. “I pinched this vial. I’ll have a friend at the hospital do an analysis. Whatever it is, it’s got to be bad, and then I’ll have some concrete evidence to tell my police friends. That should be enough for them to conduct a search.”

  The sun sparkles off the glass in Landon’s fingers. The clear liquid sloshes to one side.

  I don’t know what’s in the vial, but it’s way worse than he suspects, and based upon that graph, we’re out of time.

  Amare and Landon bend the bike wheel back into shape, and after a few swear words, Amare peddles away with the bike shaking only a little bit.

  Landon claps Troy on the shoulder. “Thanks for jumping in front of that car. That extra time really saved our bacon. I owe you one.”

  “Consider it payback for helping us find the Inn and not telling our parents where we are,” Troy says.

  “About that... time’s ticking. I’m still holding you to our original deal. One week.”

  We fist bump, and he takes off to see his friend who works at the hospital.

  When he’s gone, Troy turns to me. “How’d you do that? One second I’m keeping watch on the street and the next you’re inside my head and I see the Mercedes.”

  I want to downplay the whole telepathic thing, but I’ve already added it to my list of aberrant behaviors, which makes the number too high and means I’m already lost. “I projected my thoughts at you. It worked for the hawk last night, so I thought you’d have no problem picking them up. After all, that hawk is way smarter than you.” I punch him on the arm.

  “It was weird. I felt this electric shock in my head. Not pleasant.”

  “Must be all that empty space in there. Did you get a good look at the guy? Is he the one we need?”

  Troy shakes his head. “He’s in the same tribe, but he’s not our man. His face is too narrow and his nose too long. He was pissed when I ran into his car. I tried to ham it up a bit and lie in front of the car to stall for more time, but he wasn’t buying it. He threatened to run me over if I didn’t get out of the way, and he looked serious. When he got back in the car he started forward and I had to jump back to the sidewalk or he would have nailed me.”

  “Great, a Deltite with an attitude.”

  When we return to the Inn we pass the same Con Edison van that was parked out front when we left. “Check out that truck, Troy. It hasn’t moved the entire day.”

  “It’s probably a different truck. They all look the same to me. You’re just paranoid.”

  “Maybe.” We circle the van and find no one in sight, and I shake off the uneasy feeling. “You’re probably right.”

  “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve been right before.” He smiles, so I shove him inside the Inn and straight upstairs to our room where we find a first-aid kit under the sink in the bathroom. After he pulls off his ripped shirt, we run cold water over his forearm.

  I gently guide the water over his copper skin and wash away the blood. The cut doesn’t look too deep. It’s already scabbed over, so I remove a bandage and some antibiotic cream from the first-aid kit and patch him up.

  He shoots me a weird look.

  “What?”

  “I’ve never thought of you as the nurturing type. You’d make a good doctor when this is all finished.”

  I ball my hands up into fists. “Stop doing that!”

  “Doing what?”

  “Making believe we’re going back to normal when we finish this.”

  His eyes widen and glisten. He’s hurt, but he has to hear this.

  I can’t pretend any longer. “Whatever happens, I will never have a normal life. I’m not normal anymore. I’m not....” I want to say human, but I can’t. That’s too much for me to utter out loud. It’s absurd, but if I speak those words, I’m afraid there’s no return, so I use other words instead. “I’m not... the same person I was before.”

  Troy grabs my hands and wraps his warm fingers around mine.

  For a moment I close my eyes and we’re back home on top of the cliff that overlooks Slippery River, or maybe in line at Tito’s Tacos, but when I open them again we’re in the bathroom with the Deltites hovering over us and this destiny that presses in on me that I can’t dodge.

  “You’re the bravest person I know.” His face is inches from mine. “This is scary, but we’ll find our way. We aren’t alone. Sicheii’s spirit is with us, and he’s one tough old bird. He’ll guide you when you need him.”

  I throw my arms around his shoulders and pull him into me. He doesn’t understand. How could he? I don’t even understand myself. Yes, I’m afraid the Deltites will kill me, but I’m more afraid that I’ll live and cease being human—that I’ll be alone—so I cling to him like a life preserver in a vast ocean with no land in sight. He’s my last connection to my old world, my only connection to a normal life.

  Tears roll down my cheeks. I know I’m being selfish. What if he gets hurt or killed? I hold him tighter still and feel his heartbeat through my clothes. Mine slows to match his.

  I’m not sure how long we stay like that in the bathroom, but when I’ve soaked up enough of his strength, I release him. “We had better go downstairs and find out what they’ve discovered.” I wipe the tear tracks from my face.

  “You know there’s a good chance someone’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Either Connor’s killed Stuart or Akari’s killed Blake or—”

  “Or Akari’s killed all of them.”

  We both chuckle, but it’s out of nervousness more than anything else. He leaves and I wash my face. When I reach for a towel, something in my pocket pokes me. The vial—I had almost forgotten about it. It’s supposed to open when I’m ready, whatever that means.

  I lift the crystal and mutter, “I’ve passed Stuart’s stupid tests. I’ve got to be ready now.” I shake the tiny container and the liquid sloshes around. I hold it tight and concentrate on it. I try to make the top disappear like I have with the prior crystals, but it stays in place. My hand starts to hurt
because of my death grip on the vial, but nothing happens.

  I must not be ready yet.

  I slip it back into my pocket and check to make sure all the traces of my tears are gone, and march with Troy to the dining room.

  To my relief, we find the entire gang still alive and clustered out around the table.

  It’s obvious Blake hasn’t made much progress. The strain on his face is palpable as he bites his lip and runs his hands through his disheveled hair.

  Akari still hovers over his shoulder, frozen in the same spot since we left, which I’m sure only intensifies the stress Blake’s under.

  Connor uses telekinesis, crumpling a piece of paper with his mind and sending it flying toward Blake.

  Akari growls and the paper erupts into flames and turns to ash that falls to the table on top of a growing pile of charred paper.

  Connor is about to send another one at Blake when he notices us in the doorway and greets us with a broad grin, but it doesn’t mask the anger that burns behind his eyes. And the water bottle has returned. “Welcome back, mates. I’d like to report a few breakthroughs, but our computer genius hasn’t found any useful bits of information yet.”

  Blake peers up from his fancy custom-made laptop. “The facial recognition software is running a little slow, that’s all. It hasn’t been a total waste. We’ve found out a few other things.”

  Akari speaks through a clenched jaw. “Nothing helpful. Stellar has an office in some little island place called Guernsey. Who cares?”

  “That’s interesting.” I recount our adventures at the Guernsey consulate: the painting with the Deltite symbol, our narrow escape, and what I know of their plan to poison Manhattan’s drinking water. I leave out my telepathic communication to Troy. They don’t know I can read thoughts, and I don’t want to share that with them. It’s bad enough that I’m the Alpha, whatever that means. I don’t want them to believe that I can read their minds, which I can’t do anyway.

  “That really throws a wrench in the works.” Connor swigs from his bottle. “Any idea when they plan to start?”