The Chronicler and Mr Smith

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The Chronicler and Mr Smith Page 7

by Angie Martin


  “And, I’m the one taking his brother’s place, so I make the easiest target.”

  “Unfortunately, and I’m going to talk to him about it.”

  “No,” I said. “Please don’t. I would feel horrible about that, worse than I already do. I don’t know how I’m going to face him now.”

  “It’s not fair to you, someone who just entered the complex and is still learning about everything. You’ve been thrust into an impossible situation, and he’s making it worse.”

  “It’s really not his fault, either.” I let out a loud sigh and crossed my arms. “Where is he now?”

  “He went to his room. Didn’t say anything to me about what happened.”

  “Where’s his room?”

  “It’s the one to the right of yours.”

  I smiled at Keira, grateful to still have a friend in all this. “I’m going to apologize. I don’t know if he’ll accept it or cuss me out, but I can’t let it stay like this.”

  “He won’t cuss you out,” she said. “He’s not like that. Not the real Spencer.”

  I pulled in a deep breath and nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I must have paced in front of Mr. Smith’s closed door for twenty minutes without knocking. At one point, I retreated to my room and sat on my bed, wishing I could disappear. Nothing I could do would take away what I had said to him. Despite being in anger and as a direct result of his insults, I had no excuse.

  My knuckles rapped against the white wood, and I waited for a response. None came, not that I expected it to with my light taps. I knocked again, louder this time. I couldn’t keep putting off talking to the man.

  The door swung open, and I came face-to-face with Mr. Smith. He didn’t say a word, only crossed his arms and arched his brow.

  “I, uh…” I took a deep breath and dug deep for the courage to speak. “I wanted to apologize. I was out of line. I didn’t know—”

  “No,” he said. “You didn’t know.”

  I bit my tongue at his snide remark and continued with my apology. “You’re right, and I shouldn’t have said anything when I didn’t know. Even if it wasn’t your brother, it was someone you worked with. You’ve all suffered a loss, and now I’m here, which can’t be easy.” I paused, but he didn’t say anything. “I guess… I don’t know.” I looked down and tried to find the words. “I guess I’d like to start over with you. If that’s still possible.”

  A long moment passed without a response. I raised my gaze to his face and, for the first time, saw the turmoil behind his eyes. The dark shadows under them, the creases around them that probably appeared after losing his brother. This was someone who had never spoken about his grief. Someone whose pain rubbed so raw, he didn’t know what to do with all the overwhelming emotions. All the anger.

  “I suppose I wasn’t the best person to bring you here,” he said. “Even though that’s my job, I should have passed it on to someone more qualified… under the circumstances.”

  My heart ached at his attempt at an apology. I opened my mouth to say more, but my name sounded from inside his room. I peeked around him and saw a television on with a familiar voice coming from it.

  “Is that… Is that my dad?” I asked.

  Mr. Smith stepped aside. I brushed past him into his room and faced the television mounted on the wall. Not only my dad, but Mom, Miller, Holly, and Liz all stood around a podium with New York City police officers next to them.

  My hand flew over my mouth as I spied the tears in my dad’s eyes. Every wrinkle stood out on his face and rapid aging consumed his neck. My mom had forsaken her contacts for an old pair of tortoise-shell-rimmed glasses that magnified her reddened eyes. Miller held his head down with his arms around both Mom and Holly, and Holly’s hands circled under her pregnant belly. Liz held her hand on Holly’s shoulder.

  “If anyone knows anything about our girl, please call,” my dad said, the quiver in his voice wrenching my heart. “Magpie, if you can hear me… Well, just know we love you.”

  “I love you too, Daddy,” I whispered.

  An officer walked up to the podium – Lieutenant Manuel Graves according to the writing at the bottom of the screen – and said something about police efforts to find me, but I tuned him out. Mr. Smith’s presence beside me caught my attention.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this was on?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know about it when I saw you in the library. Jiong called to tell me a few minutes ago.” He used a remote to switch off the television. “Things like this, though. Makes it harder to leave that life behind.”

  I had spent most of the day in the library, gobbling up as much information as I could, not once thinking about my family. How could I have done that? Forgotten about them while they toiled and agonized over my disappearance.

  “I need to call my dad,” I said. “They need to know I’m okay.”

  “That isn’t a good idea,” Mr. Smith said.

  “Keira said the same thing, but there has to be a way to get in touch with them. If I can just explain what’s…” The thought stuck in my throat. What could I say that wouldn’t sound insane? That out of billions of people, some mark selected me to be part of a centuries-old secret order that fought creatures to keep the world safe? That those creatures came for me, and I needed them to not say anything to anyone or the creatures might target them to get to me? That disappearing from their lives was safer than sticking around?

  “Brent and I wanted to join the circus.”

  The odd statement made me glance at Mr. Smith.

  “When we were kids, I mean.”

  I nodded, realizing Brent must have been his brother’s name.

  “We saw a circus on television once and thought it would be the best way to be free of this place. See the world. Have no responsibilities.” A wistful smile found his lips and lingered there. “Brent wanted to be like the Flying Graysons, even though he was the clumsiest person.”

  “The who?”

  “Oh, um, it’s from Batman. Before Robin became Robin – the original Robin, that is – he was Dick Grayson. As a kid, he was an acrobat with his parents. That’s what Brent wanted to do.”

  I watched his eyes darken once more as mourning for his brother sullied his expression. Now that I knew what plagued him, I wanted to take back so many of the things I’d said to him in the past day. He had lost his brother to this life; I was also in the process of losing all my loved ones. If only I’d known, somehow, about his plight, maybe we could have found common ground sooner.

  “The problem is, Madison, that once you learn what’s out there, you can’t walk away from the mark or the calling. You can’t run away and join the circus. There’s no more living in that world, with all the innocent, naïve people who don’t even know there are monsters to believe in.”

  Sadness burned through my soul, threatening to dismantle me. In the library earlier, I had thought blood seekers were the worst thing I’d have to face. But, even after losing my family and friends, my career, my life, there was the possibility of growing close to my new family and losing one of them. Or, dying myself. Keira had said living in this world usually meant an early checkout from it.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Leaving isn’t an option. Not after the things I read about blood seekers.”

  “And, there’s much more than blood seekers out there.”

  A tremor ran through my body. Blood seekers were bad enough, but other creatures? I didn’t want to ask about those, though, not at that moment. I still had to repair my relationship with Mr. Smith. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier in the library.”

  “I did,” he said.

  I stepped back, thinking we had made progress. That we had connected.

  “It’s nothing personal, Madison, but I just lost my brother. This world that we live in doesn’t stop for death. It doesn’t allow us time to mourn or even bury our dead.”

  “You can’t bury your own brother?”
>
  “He fell on a mission, and his body had to be left behind.”

  Every word Mr. Smith spoke explained more of his attitude, his brashness. Even my family would bury me, despite it not being my corpse. How could he ever get closure if he couldn’t bury Brent?

  “I wasn’t there when he died,” he said, “and I should have been. My job is to protect the chronicler, and I couldn’t save him. Another mission came up at the same time, and I had to be there while he had to go on his. It was the first time we went on missions without each other.”

  Yet another layer to the mystery of Mr. Smith unraveled. Something else snapped into place in my mind. “Is that why you had to come get me even though you just lost him? Because it’s your job?”

  He nodded. “After our first two meetings, I knew you wouldn’t call me when the burning started. I followed you to dinner, then to your new hotel. Waited for you to fall asleep until I broke in, which wasn’t hard since you left the balcony door unlocked.”

  Though I chided myself for leaving it open, I realized the mistake saved my life by allowing him to get into the suite without trouble.

  “Anyway,” he said, “I wouldn’t be happy with anyone who came in to replace Brent as the new chronicler, no matter who it was.”

  “I’m not here to replace him,” I said, stepping forward. “I may be the new chronicler, but I’m not ever going to try to replace him. What happened was horrible, and I do not want to take away from your pain or loss. But, I have a job to do, same as you. I didn’t ask for this mark, but now that it’s here, I have to answer the call. I just hope my presence here doesn’t upset you too much or render you unable to do your job.”

  “I can do my job just fine. I won’t let another chronicler die.”

  Each clipped word tore through me, cueing me to close out the conversation. Don’t take it personally, I thought. That was what he had told me, and I needed to remember that every time I dealt with him. “Will you keep me updated on my disappearance? I’d really like to watch any future press conferences.”

  “It’s easier not to know.”

  “I have to,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I could handle watching my family suffer again. “Just until I know they’ve buried the fake me and they can start moving on.”

  “So long as it doesn’t interfere with your job.”

  I deserve that. “I won’t let it interfere.”

  “Are you going up to eat dinner now?”

  My rumbling stomach had long since stopped. “I think I’ll just go to bed.” Before he could protest, I added, “I’ll be sure to eat a full breakfast in the morning to make up for it. I just need some time alone tonight.”

  He seemed satisfied with the explanation. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  Without another word, I left his room and retreated to my own. After kicking off my shoes, I hopped into bed and pulled my familiar blanket over me, grateful for the small reminder of home.

  Chapter Twelve

  K nocking on my door roused me from a deep sleep filled with dreams of blood seekers overrunning a book signing. I wondered if Keira’s Xanax cure would take away future nightmares.

  Glancing at the clock, I noticed I had only slept for a couple hours. I slipped out of bed at the second set of knocks and opened the door. Keira greeted me with a food tray consisting of a sandwich, chips, and water. Before I could thank her, she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  My forehead creased as I let her in. “What are you sorry—”

  Garrett barreled into my room. “Mads! How are you?”

  I almost laughed at his childlike glee. Apparently, Keira had passed my nickname on to him, which didn’t bother me. “Hey, Garrett,” I said.

  “Brought you a late dinner,” Keira said. “It’s not much, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with a turkey and swiss sandwich.”

  “Perfect,” I said, my stomach reminding me I had neglected it all day. “I really appreciate it.”

  “I also put a little something extra on there,” she said, winking.

  I looked at the tray and saw a small medicine cup containing one pill. Xanax. I winked back at her; our little secret anxiety medicine club.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Garrett asked. “My dinner is just outside.”

  “He wants to pick your brain about your books,” Keira said, rolling her eyes. “I tried to tell him to leave you alone for a couple days, but—”

  “No, no!” I said. “It would do me some good to talk about something other than the complex or blood seekers or my family.”

  “I told you,” Garrett said to Keira under his breath.

  I laughed at the way the couple fit together. Garrett seemed to be a child in a grown body, with Keira constantly reigning him in. All the while, love ruled them. It shone in their eyes as they stared at each other and penetrated their playful tones of voice. The perfect relationship.

  “All right, then,” Keira said, smiling. She raised the tray. “I’ll take this out here so you guys can talk books.”

  I followed them into the lobby area where Garrett’s dinner waited. Keira set the tray down next to his plate of food and unloaded it.

  “I’ll leave you two bookish kids alone,” Keira said, tucking the empty tray under her arm. Turning to me, she said, “If he becomes too much—”

  “It’s fine, really,” I said. “Like I said, it will do me some good. And, now that I won’t be able to finish my books for the mass public, maybe I’ll keep writing them just for Garrett to read.”

  His eyes lit up and his mouth dropped, all while keeping his large, toothy smile. “Really? You mean, I’ll be the only one to read any future Madison Shaw novels? I can’t believe it.”

  “Just so long as you don’t go all Misery on me and torture me to write them the way you want,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

  “But,” I said, thinking my situation through, “I guess that means I can write more books the way I want to. You know, when I’m not doing chronicle stuff.”

  “There’s always an upside,” Keira said. “You two have fun.” She wandered toward the elevators, carrying the empty tray.

  After Garrett and I sat on the couches, I tore into my sandwich. The turkey, cheese, mayo, lettuce… all of it basic, but my taste buds interpreted it as the best damn turkey sandwich in the history of sandwiches.

  “I have so many questions for you,” Garrett said, a mouthful of his sandwich wedged in his cheek. “This is like a dream come true, for me at least. I couldn’t believe it when they said you were the new chronicler.”

  I swallowed some water and chuckled. “If only everyone here felt the same as you. But, trust me. I’m nothing special.”

  “Ah, just ignore Spence,” he said. “He’s still dealing with Brent, his brother.”

  “Yeah, he told me.”

  “He did?” His face scrunched up, and he averted his gaze. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. He’s just usually pretty closed off, even with me.” His expression cleared, and he picked up his sandwich. “On to better topics. I love what you did with Withered Flowers. I mean, you lead the reader down this path where we think everything is roses and sunshine, but we didn’t know the secrets Heath had. Suddenly, everything got destroyed to the point that there was no coming back, no matter how you wrote it.”

  I smiled at the thought of the ending. “I was nervous writing that, but I didn’t see the story any other way. The characters could never end up together. They weren’t meant to be.”

  “Well, I loved it. It was so real. It wasn’t a happy ending just to have one.”

  “I wish my critics and ninety-eight percent of my readers agreed with you.”

  “Yeah, they just didn’t get it. It was brilliant the way you wove the story together. So many twists that I never saw coming. Even when I re-read it, some of those things still get me.”

  “Wow,” I said. “If we weren’t in this life, I would hire you as m
y publicist, at least for that book.”

  Redness crept into his cheeks, but he played it off. “Nah, your publicist does a great job. What’s her name? Elizabeth… something?”

  “Liz Pohl,” I said. “She is great.” Heaviness weighed my heart down, pushing it into my stomach. “She’s my best friend, too. I miss her so much.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “Going on three years now. She makes this whole bestselling author thing so much easier. I couldn’t do it without her.”

  “She hasn’t been with you since the beginning of your career? How did you guys meet?”

  “At a coffeehouse in San Diego, believe it or not. There was some roadwork going on in front of my house, and the noise was too distracting to write. I went to a coffeehouse around the corner from me to work. It was packed with nowhere to sit. She was sitting alone, saw me with my laptop bag, and invited me over. We haven’t been apart for more than a day ever since. Until this, of course.”

  “Sounds like a great friend.”

  “It’s gonna be hard to navigate the world without her,” I said, “but I know what we do here is so important. Too important to walk away. Besides, Keira is amazing. She’s really helped me transition.”

  He beamed with talk of his wife. “That’s Keira. Since she wasn’t born into this life, it took her a long time to adjust, but my mom helped her out a lot. She likes to pass that on to anyone new, not that we get new ones that often.”

  “Speaking of which, I’m sorry about Brent. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose family like that.”

  “This is a dangerous world,” he said. “I don’t think any of us expect to live to see fifty. But, it is hard to lose someone so young.”

  “How old was he?”

  “He had just turned twenty-six. Five years younger than Spence.”

  My eyes closed at the new information. I couldn’t imagine how hard it was to have to say goodbye to a sibling, but at that age, it made it so much worse. Then again, in my world, people often lived past ninety. Spencer and Garrett were raised with the knowledge that death could come at half that age, if not sooner.

 

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