Lightning Forgotten

by Lila Felix

  Her begging became whimpers. “I’ll be careful. I can still travel. It won’t hurt the baby.”

  I waved her off. I was simply taunting her, of course. If she kept it up, I would chain her skinny legs to the bed. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to save the child. Having a child meant saving a tiny piece of me.

  I turned to the small rectangle of a window and opened the shutters. “Fine. Go. But if he catches you and brings you down to hell, I won’t come get you.”

  She and I both knew it was a lie. I’d become fond of the little brat from day one. But unfortunately for her, fondness was all I was capable of. It was the kind of affection I felt for anyone who could help me on my way to whatever I wanted—simple and shallow. At one point, I’d felt the same way about the Synod until they actually grew a conscious and stopped doing my bidding.

  What Pema didn’t know was that there was no reason to get attached to the fetus. Even she should think of the damned thing for exactly what it was—a thing. I’d already decided. It would go to Colby and Theo to raise—maybe the spawn would grow up good and be some kind of redemption in my memory.

  That was, if I let Theo live—or Colby for that matter.

  Or maybe he would be like me—a prick so consumed with jealousy over his brother that he damned himself for eternity. Wouldn’t that be fitting?

  If I could go back to that day—so long ago—I would do it in a heartbeat. There was nothing else I wanted more. The things a kid thought were so damned important actually weren’t. They were just big because I was so little.

  I heard her sigh and knew that another complaint was coming. “I hate this thing around my neck. It creeps me out.”

  I rolled my eyes at having to explain myself again. “It’s just a necklace. It keeps everyone from finding you.”

  It was so much more than a necklace. It held the key to how I would eventually make Theo do anything I wanted him to—maybe some things I hadn’t even planned on. It was all too easy to link the two together—that which he loved to no end and that which I wanted to no end.

  Colby was so stupid to have trusted me in the first place—Colby and Pema—ignorant females who believed every word that came off my tongue.

  But that was why I needed Theo and Colby, both of them, to raise the little brat—so it wouldn’t grow up to be me.

  Speaking of Theo, I reached into my psyche and felt around for the little twit. I’d quit chasing them about a week ago, but they’d kept running like morons. I’d always been one step behind.

  Not a lot had changed since we were kids—still pulling the caboose of life.

  Gripping the wall next to me, I groaned and strained against the walls of my mind.

  “What? What’s happened?” the pixie asked. I needed to find her some more things to entertain her. Maybe she could copy a dictionary or something. Anything to stop her consistent questioning.

  Inside my mind, I searched for Theo and Colby but came up empty.

  “I can’t feel them—at all. No, not at all. He said I’d know when Theo was dead—like a part of me had died as well. I didn’t feel anything, so why in the hell can’t I pinpoint him? I can’t find him!”

  Pema’s eyes were wide as saucers, so I calmed myself on the outside while I was livid on the inside.

  Couldn’t upset the incubator too much. She was carrying my one shot.

  “I’m going to the Synod. They have to help me. I’ll slaughter them all if they don’t.”

  “How long can we stay here, Theo?” I whispered to him in the dark. He wasn’t asleep. I could tell by his breathing that he was stewing. He hadn’t moved an inch since lying down. He was on his back, coffin style, and I knew that wasn’t his usual routine.

  After a few seconds, he finally answered me. “I don’t know. Long enough to get things figured out, but not so long that he starts doing something in retribution. We’ve come so far—I’d hate for him to start killing people.”

  I snorted. “He can take it out on Regina all he wants to. She’d probably enjoy it.”

  “I think it’s the other way around, Querida. She likes to see people suffer.”

  I sat up straight, and my breath hitched in my throat. “Wait. What if we confused everyone?”

  Theo chuckled and turned over to face me. “We already do confuse everyone. Well, mostly you do. What do you mean?”

  He got popped on the hip for that one.

  “I mean, what if we convinced The Synod that Sanctum was after them and we had to band together to take Sanctum out? I don’t think they are really talking as he’s been too busy chasing us and—and getting busy.”

  A shudder took over me just saying the words. But I was desperate—desperate to be rid of Sanctum and to have a simpler life.

  Theo chuckled and sat behind me, trying to wrap me in a hold, but I wriggled free. “An enemy of our enemy is our friend. But you forgot one thing. The Synod hates you—a lot.”

  I had been thinking about that at length as we traveled. Yes, the Synod had always been snotty to me, but I’d been twice or three times as snotty right back to them.

  I went into the first meeting with a chip on my shoulder the size of Idaho.

  Going back, I knew it was because of Rebekkah that I felt that way. They’d undermined my grandmother by stripping her of her official title and telling everyone that the prophets weren’t to be trusted anymore.

  I knew from the time I was small that they were a necessary enemy. We had to get along with them, but we didn’t have to like it.

  They deserved all of it. Right?

  Rebekkah told me to rethink everything I thought was truth—she didn’t discriminate which truth and how much I should look beyond it.

  I looked around our surroundings, still not believing we were safe. Somehow, it was easier to believe that it was temporary—that any moment we would have to run again—than to believe we really were hidden as Omar claimed. “We all deserve a second chance, right? Maybe they will listen to me. Maybe for once in my life they will take me seriously.”

  Theo shot up next to me. “You’re not going in there alone. Don’t even think about it. We’ve been through this.”

  There was no way to tell him that I’d already made up my mind and he needed to respect my decision, putting all of his machismo to the side.

  Not that he had very much in him—most of it was just regular old boy protecting girl instincts.

  If we were regular people, it would be cute.

  But I’d never been the cutesy type.

  There wasn’t even a point in discussing the issue or wasting our time arguing over something that would happen.

  After kissing the side of his neck in a sad attempt at distracting him, I folded. “I’ll take Collin with me. We have to try, and you’re way too emotional about everything. Plus, they need to think you’re in the Fray, doing what you have to.”

  It didn’t take long to convince him.

  His shoulders slumped. “When?”

  “I was planning on going to get Collin tonight. He’s still in California. Malynn said it was okay. She’s seen him in a vision or whatever she has.”

  Theo’s eyes darted around the room, back to me, and then did the dance again. “Take one of the Clandestine—even two of them—with you. I won’t risk your life again. If you insist on doing this alone, then at least take them.”

  “I’ll take one, along with Collin,” I answered as dryly as I could. I knew that I’d won, but it didn’t feel anything like winning. It felt like I’d manipulated him.

  Theo lay down sideways and rested his head on my thighs. His hair was longer than he usually let it grow, but haircuts weren’t exactly at the top of our list of things to get done. I combed my fingers through the raven strands, loving how after only two or three strokes, he was almost asleep.

  “How did it come to this?” he said. His eyes were closed and I felt the heat of his breath through my thin dress. It was a serious moment, but I couldn’t take it anymore. It had bee
n weeks since I saw Theo smile. If my smartass comments couldn’t do it, then we’d never get through this unscathed—well, any more than we already were.

  I had to resort to his kind of humor. I was actually surprised at how good I was getting at it.

  “Really? I’m trying to be serious and you’re quoting the Return of the King? You’ve got to be kidding me. I bet you’re planning to binge on those DVDs the next time you have free time, aren’t you? Don’t think just because we are sealed now that you can make me watch them either. I said one time, and I meant it. And I saw you searching for elven ears on eBay one time. I’m not going to participate in some weird Lord of the Rings dress-up game with you.”

  He was cracking. The redness at the tips of his ears told me that a few more quips like that and he was mine for the taking—smile wise.

  “And don’t think I don’t remember that you haven’t seen those prequel dragon movies either. I saw you reading The Hobbit when we were kids. It wasn’t even the cool version either. It was the pathetic paperback with the fat, cartoon hobbit on the front. I wanted to throw it in the ditch and buy you a new one. Wait… you watched the cartoon version too, didn’t you? I bet Peter Jackson watched it too.”

  By the time I finished my spiel, he was done for. His smile had turned to a laugh so intense that his arms were wrapped around his middle, helping him stay together.

  “You know,” he said, after he’d gotten a hold of himself. “You say you hate those movies, but you know the director and everything about them, including when I’m quoting them. And you’ve been quoting them too. I think you watch them in secret, and you know what else?” He sprang up to a sitting position, grabbed me around the waist, and hoisted me onto his lap. “I think you love them because I love them and you love anything I love. Because inside, you’re a big softie and…” He moved to whisper in my ear. “A little bit nerdy, meu amor.”

  Now he’d gone too far—way too far.

  I had so many arguments in my mouth, right on the tip of my tongue, but they were all trapped by a gasp at the sensation of Theo’s tongue at the side of my neck. He knew exactly how to drive me mad and how to shut me up.

  I was pathetic, and he was magic.

  “You’re so tense.” He pulled back and waited until we’d made eye contact, which I avoided, still stewing about the nerd comment. “Querida, we are here, in this beautiful home, made of silk and linen. We are protected by ancient soldiers who were born and bred for our protection and safety. Can’t you give in a little?”

  I could give in a lot.

  I wrapped my legs around his hips and drew him closer, reveling in his scent and the way he held me. His mouth moved to my ear. I drew in a deep breath as his teeth grazed my earlobe. Ever since the lightning had sealed us together, it sent sparks through both of us whenever we were this intimate. I could hear the crackles and snaps of it as it ran from his body to mine.

  It connected us in a way that nothing else in the world possibly could.

  I’d never worn sunglasses in my life until coming to California. But the blaring sun and the reflection of it off the ocean’s surface made me seek eye protection on my first day. There was a stand right on Venice beach, near a man who wore roller skates while he played an electric guitar, which sold the less obscure ones. I picked out a black pair and then sent Ari a picture—she called them selfies—of me with my ridiculous cell phone. I’d had the phone for years, but it was simply something that was kept in my pocket in case the Synod needed to contact me outside of my home.

  She approved and insisted I pick her out a pair.

  Sitting on the edge of the sidewalk that separated the Venice walkway from the sands of the beach, I watched as the sun bathed the people in its warmth. There was so much to do in this crevice of Los Angeles, but I wanted to stay in one place in case Theo or Colby needed me. They wouldn’t have trouble finding me if I stayed still until further notice.

  I missed my home. To the outside world, it was a stiff, staunch library, filled with decaying artifacts and whittled-away paper documents. Not even the members of the Synod would visit, and it was their books under my care. But to me, it was the only place I’d ever belonged. I was brought there at the tender age of twelve. The Guardian before me taught me how to take care of the books and how to protect them and myself. I never questioned the station or my job—it was what I was born for and I’d always considered it a privilege.

  I did, however, notice strange things a little after my thirteenth birthday. As the people played volleyball and sunbathed before me, all I could do was roll those events through my head. Every once in a while, the Synod would call and request certain documents to be shipped to them so they could electronically transfer them. When they returned, they were missing pages and, in some cases, missing entire chapters. When I asked Devrin, the Guardian in charge, he simply told me not to speak of it—that doing so would anger the Synod.

  That was when I learned that nothing was as it seemed—especially the Synod.

  But I said nothing—as we were taught. Stupid guardians that we were, we never questioned the orders.

  Shortly after, I began to keep records of the mishaps in secret. I had leather-bound journals of every size and fashion hidden within the walls of my room until, at eighteen, the Guardianship was officially passed to me.

  My home was then my own to keep.

  I kept them everywhere in the library, camouflaged as Lucent texts.

  Until Theodore showed up, at least.

  I knew the first time he muttered the word Eidolon that my life would never be the same.

  I burned all the journals the night after he left—every single one of them. I needed to be blemish-less in the eyes of the Synod for the Eidolon. Because he would have few witnesses in the beginning, and I would be one of them.

  As I thought about all we’d gone through, a text message came through from Colby. I hadn’t heard from them in days and truly hadn’t expected to. They didn’t worry about the people around them because they knew where they were just by thinking about them, but the rest of us worried about our not-so-fearless leaders.

  I’m coming to get you. Get somewhere private.

  I shook my head when I read the message. She sent a little picture of a blushing face. There were always innuendos with that girl.

  They never stopped.

  Give me ten minutes.

  Ten minutes is all I get?

  Innuendos.

  I replied quickly and then darted back to my hotel room. It was a cheap place with no security cameras to speak of, so there would be no evidence if Colby decided to poof in public.

  That was how long I’d been around Ari and Colby—I’d been deduced to using their language. The Synod would curl their toes if they heard anyone refer to flashing as poofing.

  But it made Ari giggle, so there was that.

  I made sure to stay in a place that was less secure, and, by default, less sanitary. I hoped she was bringing me to some place with a shower at the least.

  I was afraid of the one in our room, and I wasn’t afraid of much.

  I had kept my bag packed for such an occasion and grabbed it, standing there like someone waiting on a train—the Colby Express.

  When she arrived, there was hardly any wake at all—a flickering of a lightbulb to the untrained eye. She’d been traveling so frequently that her lightning wasn’t lightning at all anymore.

  “Your wake is tired. Just like you are,” I said before thinking. The last thing she needed was someone reminding her of the obvious.

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious. I had no idea. Are you ready? My man and me found a big ‘ole secret and it has ‘Collin’s gonna shit his pants’ written all over it.”

  She made it sound so appealing.

  Also, I didn’t want to go anywhere that had that kind of lewd graffiti on it. What kind of place had they found that was more scandalous than the one we were standing in?

  “Let’s go. Though I doubt there will be defeca
tion from me or words of that manner written anywhere.”

  She laughed, but it was short-lived. “We’ll see. This is some stone-aged shiznit. I don’t even think your books covered this brilliance. Grab my hands, but don’t try to cop a feel. Ari told me how you are. Second base already? Collin!”

  I’d never tried to touch any female inappropriately, but Colby was just trying to get a rise out of me. I had learned, reluctantly, how to play her game.

  “It was just the one time. She gave me my first brownie—made me frisky.”

  She stopped holding my hands and bent over in laughter. It wasn’t that funny, but when I tried to fit in with their snark, I found it was always funny to them.

  “You are getting better at that—not good, but better. Let’s go. I told Theo to be ready with the camera.”

  She took my hands in hers and winked at me, which scared me more than reassured me.

  In a flash, or a poof, we were in a tent—with rugs—and I swore there was a hookah in the corner, but I dared not ask questions. I was so tall that my head brushed the top of the fabric ceiling. Bending, I walked nearer to the center where the pitch was higher.

  “Theo, take like a hundred pictures. I want the exact moment he finds out where we are.”

  I didn’t want to wait or give them the opportunity to take any pictures. “Where are we? And who are these people?”

  A man with an unnecessary beard stepped forward and bowed a little. “Guardian, we welcome you to our home. I’m sure you are as familiar with us as we are with you.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheeks while I thought about it. “Protectors—Clandestine.” At least that was the only thing that made sense.

  The man clapped, and Theo continued taking pictures.

  “Knock it off, Theo,” I grumbled.

  The man soured at my statement. “You speak to the Eidolon as such?”

  Colby cracked up, snorting. “The Viking is our friend. It’s okay. We’re not really formal, but thank you.”

  A woman with raven hair stood. “I did not see a Viking, but I did see him. Is he a Viking? Can he be trusted? My visions are never wrong.”