by C. B. Day
Then, nothing. Nothing but the sound of Michael’s ragged breathing. His gasps for breath echoed about the cavernous room for what seemed like ages.
I slid two fingers apart to peek. There was no flame. No sword. No body, no evidence that Lucas had even been here. Only Michael. Ordinary Michael, teenage boy, looking for all the world like he had done nothing more than run a hard sprint in PE.
“Let’s go,” he said in a business-like tone, striding toward the staircase. I dropped my hands, staring after him.
“Hope,” he said, an edge to his voice as he turned to look at me, one foot already poised on the first step. “I said, let’s go.”
I opened my mouth, a smart retort in mind, but all that came out was a foreign keening that made even my own hair stand on end. My hands flew up, trying to stop the sound from escaping my throat, but it just grew louder and I began to shake.
Michael rubbed his brow, puzzling through this latest turn of events. “Shock,” he muttered, expecting no answer. “You’re in shock.”
He covered the distance between us in a few strides and pulled me down to the ground, squatting next to me as he held me by the shoulders.
“It’s going to be okay,” he soothed, brushing his thumb against my hairline. The unexpected gentleness of his gesture made me wail all the louder.
“Shhhh,” he urged. “Shhhh.” Then, carefully, he pulled me into his vast embrace. I tried to push away, but he only held me tighter until, defeated, I gave in. His impassive chest absorbed the great sobs that wracked my body, his heat enveloping me and sinking down into my core. I howled against him until my throat was too sore to make any sound; then, I shook in silent agony. Slowly, slowly, my body gave up its grief, the spasms of anger and fear gradually succumbing to hiccups and sniffles.
He tilted my chin up. Through swollen eyes, I could see him inspecting me. Finally, satisfied by what he saw, he deposited me back on the ground and backed away from me, rising to his full height.
“Better?”
I watched him warily, nodding.
“Good,” he said, looking quickly at the sky. “It will be dawn soon. We need to leave here unobserved. Lucas’s crew won’t be looking for him quite yet, so we have the advantage.”
He paused. “Do you understand what I am saying, Hope?”
I shook my head numbly. Nothing made any sense any more.
He grunted with barely concealed impatience. “We’re running away, Hope. You and me. And we need to get out of here. Now.”
I looked at him with disbelief as he stood, stretching to his full height.
“Why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with,” I demanded, refusing to stand.
His cheeks flushed. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and kicked at the dirt, softly cursing under his breath.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said tersely. He reached down, pulling me up by the armpits and shoving me toward the stairs. “Now, walk.”
I somehow managed to stumble back through the factory and to the car, wordlessly handing the keys to Michael when he held out his palm. In the passenger seat, I pressed my cheek against the cold glass and looked at the leafless trees that had stood sentinel all night. In dawn’s first blush, they seemed reassuringly normal, shrinking in the distance as we pulled away.
Normal. How could anything be normal, after what had just happened? I wanted it all to go away – my aching body, my raw throat, and especially my lingering terror. I longed for the oblivion of sleep – sleep in my own bed – hoping I would wake up and find this was all a dream. But instead of turning North through the city and toward home, Michael steered the Audi away from Atlanta.
“Where are we going?” I asked, a tremor in my voice.
“To the airport,” he said, offering no further information.
Ask him why, the little voice in my head urged.
Funnyyou should show up now, after all the fun is over, I snapped back at him in my mind. When Henri didn’t rise to the bait, I sighed and shifted in my seat so I could better watch Michael.
“Why are we running away?” I demanded.
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, deciding whether or not he should answer me. “Now that they know you are here, the Fallen Ones will hunt you down.”
“So you’re going to protect me?” I quipped, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
“Yes,” he replied coolly, never taking his eyes from the road.
“Why should I believe you?” I challenged, straining against the safety belt. “Why should I believe you when all you’ve done is lie to me?”
Careful, girl, the voice warned. I watched as Michael clutched the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. Even he can be pushed too far.
“I told you the truth about protecting you. I didn’t know about the Mark.”
Lucas had warned me that Michael would say that. I could barely stand knowing that Lucas had been right, could barely stand knowing that in this upside-down, mixed up world he might actually be on my side. I knew I was in danger, but some crazy impulse drove me on. With nothing to lose, I unleashed my anger upon Michael, almost daring him to finally turn against me.
“And now that you know? That changes everything doesn’t it? Now you’re going to take me away and kill me. What are you going to do? Dump my body in some alley? Bury me in a desert somewhere? Or am I going to go up in flames and disappear like Lucas did?”
A muscle in his jaw spasmed. Michael took a deep breath through his nose, holding it for several seconds before allowing it to escape through a giant, controlled exhale. He chose his next words carefully, articulating them slowly with the effort of controlling his temper.
“If you give me a chance, I can explain it all to you. Lucas was right about many things, but he was wrong about one, very crucial aspect of this…situation.”
“I’m listening,” I said, crossing my arms.
He glanced to his left, swiftly changing lanes.
“You aren’t the Key. Your Mark says you are the bearer of the Key.”
I thought back to that night at Tabitha’s and remembered her translation. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference is everything. Without the Key, you are harmless and the prophecy cannot be fulfilled.”
I turned this new information over in my mind. “And Lucas didn’t know this?”
The corners of Michael’s mouth turned up in a sardonic grin. “His Aramaic must have been a little rusty.”
I fell back in my seat, my head spinning. “So if I’m not the Key, why are we running away?”
“They think you’re the Key. So that means two things. One, it means they will stop at nothing to reclaim you. The only way to keep you safe is to keep you moving. And two, as long as they think you are the Key, it means they aren’t looking for the real Key. Which means if we can find it first, we can destroy it.”
“Destroy it,” I echoed, wondering if it was ever really possible to destroy something that had been foreseen so long ago. I let my gaze drift out the window, my mind wandering as the early morning lights of South Atlanta flashed by.
“If you destroy me, then there is no Bearer. Is there?”
The question hung in the silence of the car. Michael did not answer.
“And then the prophecy couldn’t be fulfilled, either.”
I didn’t ask him to confirm what I already knew. Instead, I huddled in my seat, my feet tucked under me, exhaustion pushing me finally into a merciful sleep.
As we turned a curve and came into the airport, I finally woke up, my head still resting against the cool window. Everything came rushing back.
“What if I don’t want to go with you?” I asked, never lifting my head. “What if I tell the gate agents you’re taking me against my will?”
“Why wouldn’t you want to go with me?” he asked, but when he spoke, it was not with his own voice. Wearily, I turned my head to see the figure of my father sitting behind the wheel of the car,
looking at me with bemusement. “I’m sure your mother won’t mind if we take a little trip.”
My mind immediately began generating objections – violation of custody agreements, failure to procure the appropriate authorizations and paperwork – but I forced myself to stop. It was useless, and I knew it.
Tears stung my eyes as I remembered that morning in my bedroom, the first time I’d seen him change into someone else before my very eyes.
“You promised me. You promised me you’d never do that without my permission,” I said, the bitterness of his empty promise almost making me sick.
“You left me no choice,” he said, his face emotionless.
“I have no choice, either, do I,” I stated, my voice expressionless. A lone tear trickled down my face and splashed onto my hand.
“No. You really don’t,” he echoed as he pulled the car into the long-term parking lot.
After steering the Audi into an empty space, he turned to me. Inside the fleshy face of my aging father, I could see Michael’s icy blue eyes. They were full of determination, and not much else.
“Come with me,” he asked, holding out his hand.
I stared at his hand, not sure what to do.
Go.
I paused. The last time Henri had urged me to go somewhere, I’d ended up in the middle of a death match between Lucas and Michael.
Go, the voice whispered again. If he means to harm you, you will never escape him, no matter how far you run. And if he is telling the truth, it may be your only chance. Not just yours. The world’s.
I hadn’t really thought about what would happen if the Fallen Ones reclaimed heaven. Would it be the start of the Apocalypse – or something even worse? I began to shake at the gravity of my choice. Around me, a few harried businessmen and women scurried about, running to make their early morning flights, oblivious to the destruction that was hanging over their heads.
What if I chose wrong?
I looked once more into Michael’s eyes, but this time I saw something else. They seemed clear and untroubled. Even confident. Damn him, I thought. Damn them all. Everything had been a lie, and now I was like a defenseless hare, caught in the huntsman’s trap. How could I not go with him? What other choice did I have?
I gripped the edge of my seat, trying to steady my quivering body. Slowly, still not trusting him, I clasped Michael’s outstretched hand -- my father’s hand.
A flood of warmth ran from my fingertips and up my arm. I could feel it, creeping slowly across my face and into my middle, where it made me feel funny. I looked up, hoping to find some confidence in the familiar gaze of Michael’s eyes, but the stony look on his face stopped me short. Confused, I snatched my hand away.
“Where are we going?” I demanded, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice.
“Vegas,” Michael answered, reaching into the back seat and thrusting my backpack at me.
I looked at the pack, stuffed full. With a quick glance I saw it held a few items of clothing and toiletries. “You had planned this all along,” I accused, my heart sinking.
“Not this way,” he responded tersely. “And for a different reason.”
He paused, waiting for my curiosity to kick in, but I kept my eyes glued on the little nametag that dangled off my backpack. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his betrayal had affected me.
I heard him give an exasperated sigh. Giving up, he pushed himself out of the car and came around to my side. He opened my door, and when I didn’t move he brusquely unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me out.
Without waiting for me to follow, he stalked off toward the terminal. “If you care anything for your father, you’ll do what I say.”
“My father?” I asked dumbly, scurrying to catch up with him. I glanced around. We were alone in the garage, with no one to overhear our conversation.
Michael slowed his pace, but did not stop. “We have a few days, maybe a week, until your mother arrives home and discovers you are missing. Right?”
I nodded, unsure where he was headed.
“That is a few days for us to get ahead of the Fallen; a few days for us to lay a false trail. The Key is ancient; I don’t know what it is, or where it is, but I know it is not here, in North America.”
I was jogging to keep up with him as we neared the lights of the terminal.
“We’re going to have to leave without tipping anyone off to where we are going. If we’re conspicuous enough to get picked up by all the security cameras in Vegas, we’ll have the police and the Fallen focusing their time there, while we get a head start.”
I drew in my breath. “You mean to set my father up for kidnapping.”
He shot me a sideways glance. “Your mother will believe it, won’t she?”
The truth in what he said, and the injustice of it, shot me like an arrow. I envisioned my father being led off to jail, his wrists in cuffs.
“But it’s not fair! It’s not fair to him!” My voice rang out, echoing off the concrete pillars and ceiling.
Michael drew up short, gripping my arm and giving me a shake to warn me into silence. “It’s the best we can do. Let the authorities figure out how your father was in Vegas at the same time hundreds of people saw him at work in Alabama. The confusion alone will buy us time.”
My eyes blurred and hot tears ran down my face. My father had given up everything he had to protect me. Now, because of me, he was going to be exposed, ridiculed, and hated. Hated for something he didn’t even do.
Michael loosed his grip. When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost soothing. “I promise you, Hope, he won’t go to prison for this. He will spend a few days under the spotlight, but they won’t be able to get around his alibi because it’s real.”
I sniffed a tear back. “My past….its going to come out, isn’t it?”
“Probably,” Michael said. “But knowing your mother, she’ll fight hard to keep it from the media.”
“What if he loses his job?” I asked, knowing it was virtually guaranteed.
“Small price to pay,” Michael asserted in a matter-of-fact manner.
It felt so odd, talking about my father like he wasn’t present, when it was his voice, his face, his body right here with me; odd to be treating him like a bit player when in reality this was as much his story as mine.
“Vegas will buy us time.” I repeated it to myself, willing myself to believe.
“Vegas will buy us time.” Through my tears, I saw the corners of Michael’s mouth lift slightly. “And in Vegas, we might find Maria.”
I opened my eyes wide. “She’s there?” I gasped.
“The traffickers moved her there after they picked her up again. I guess they figured things were too hot to keep her in Atlanta.” The vein in his forehead throbbed as he tried to contain his anger. “That’s why I went over to your house tonight – I know how important it is to you to find her. I wanted to tell you.”
“But how…?” I broke off, unsure how to finish my sentence.
He shrugged my question off. “I did it the old fashioned way and knocked some heads together. It’s amazing how persuasive a little violence can be when you’re dealing with street scum.”
I stared at him, more confused than ever. It was important to me to find Maria. I’d thought he’d given up on her. But instead, he’d gone out of his way for her – for me.
“You came over to tell me and take me to Las Vegas to look for her?”
“No,” he said emphatically, his eyes flashing. “I was going to tell you, yes. But I was never planning to take you along with me to search for her -- this is not the kind of trip for a teenage girl. But when I found you and your mother’s car missing, I knew something was wrong. So I came prepared,” he said, gesturing to the backpack I still clutched in my hands.
“So now I’m going with you.”
“Now you’re coming with me.”
“To look for Maria.”
He squared his jaw. The effect wasn’t quite the same
, seeing it in my father’s jowly face, but his displeasure was clear. “To lay a trail. I’m the only one who will be doing any exploration. You’re going to stay put.”
I was about to protest when I thought better of it. I still didn’t know whether I could trust him – better to not press my luck now. I could always argue my way out of it later, once we were on the ground in Las Vegas.
He lifted my chin in his hands. Another wave of heat swept through my body as he cradled my face. “The only thing I need you to do while we are there is to smile for the cameras. You got that?”
I nodded mutely, confused and angry that even after everything that had happened, my body still responded to his touch; embarrassed that his touch affected me so much, and more than a little creeped out by having that reaction when, at least on the outside, it was my own dad standing there. Gross.
He dropped his hand away and moved into the Terminal with me in tow. This early, the place was still empty. He walked briskly to the ticket counter and asked for the first flight to Vegas. The ticket agent looked at me funny, and then looked Michael up and down.
“Is everything all right?” she said, looking at me pointedly. I looked down and realized I was filthy, my clothing stained with red clay and rust from the factory.
The humiliation and fear of the night was all too fresh and I began to waver. For a moment, I considered telling her everything – but when I played through the scene in my mind, I kept getting stuck at the part where I told her that the man beside me was not my father. Who would believe that? Even I could only tell the difference when I looked closely into his eyes.
“She’s fine. Right, honey?” Michael interjected smoothly, producing IDs and some paperwork. He handed them across the counter to the agent who shuffled through the papers one by one.
“Your papers seem to be in order. Including permission from your mother for you to travel with him. Your dad, right?” She pointedly ignored Michael, directing her questions to me.
My heart fell. He’d been so thorough. “Yes, ma’am,” I answered, doing my best to look chipper.
“Funny place for a family trip. Vegas.”
