by Angie Martin
I realized that I thought of Mr. Smith as Spencer for the first time. It could have been the intimate nature of our earlier discussion, or maybe I was growing accustomed to his unusual personality. I wondered if he had always been abrasive, or if it was the life that made him that way, each loss causing him to sink deeper into a pit of darkness and death. Maybe a little of both.
“You’ll get used to everything,” Garrett said, interrupting my thoughts. “Everyone here is gonna love you. Not that we don’t miss Brent, but we know we can’t hold that against you. Spence knows that, too, even if it’s harder for him.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s going through a lot. Everyone is. And, then I come into the picture and disrupt the complex. I don’t blame him.” I laughed and leaned forward. “Although, he really doesn’t like romance writers, does he?”
Garrett’s hearty chuckle filled the room. “He never understood why I read romance novels. Always made fun of me when we were younger.”
“You have to admit, it is a bit unusual.”
“I know, but maybe I wanted something happy in this world of monsters. Something to look forward to when I became an adult. And, you’ll never hear Keira complain about my romantic side, even if she doesn’t have a soft bone in her body.”
Even in the short amount of time I knew them, I could see her taking the more masculine role in their relationship. “So, tell me something,” I said. “Do you watch 90 Day Fiancé?”
He gasped, and his eyes grew. “Are you kidding? Every chance I get!”
“Sounds like we’re gonna be television buddies,” I said, a laugh in my voice.
“I would say so,” he said. “Okay, now, tell me what book you’re working on now.”
Happy to have forged such a strong connection with not just Keira, but also Garrett, I smiled and launched into a spoiler-free synopsis for my new book.
Chapter Thirteen
T he next morning arrived much too early. A headache pounded my brain awake, most likely from eating so little the day before. Possibly from the late-night discussion about books and reality television shows with Garrett.
After showering and dressing, I headed out to the lobby. I glanced at Mr. Smith’s closed door. I considered knocking to see if he was awake, but decided against it. No need to stir the beast.
I entered the elevators and pressed the button for the second floor, remembering Keira had said that was the location of the kitchen. The hours she gave me for meals eluded me, but she also said the kitchen was always open since many in the complex couldn’t make it during the normal meal times.
When I found the kitchen, several people were seated at tables in a cafeteria-style room. A buffet was set up near the back of the room, with a soda dispenser and coffeepots next to it. Shyness overcame me when I noticed every eye trained on me, the new girl on her first day at a new school. I held my head down and shuffled my feet over to the table where Keira and Garrett sat.
“Morning, Mads,” Keira said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Actually, yeah,” I said, sitting down. “The bed is very comfortable.”
“I wasn’t sure if you would ever get to sleep or not,” she said, “since my husband decided to bombard you with questions for half the night.”
I laughed, as Garrett groaned. “We had a great discussion,” I said. “Turns out we like all the same authors and television shows.”
“Thank goodness,” she said. “I am so tired of him trying to make me watch that reality television crap with him.”
“It’s not crap, babe,” he said. “You’re gonna offend Mads.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “It really is crap, Garrett. But, it’s a guilty pleasure, so it gets a pass.”
“Are you gonna eat?” Keira asked.
I glanced around the room. “I, uh…” I lowered my voice. “I think I’m a little buffet shy this morning. Everyone keeps looking at me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you haven’t met the others yet.” She jumped to her feet and cleared her throat loud enough to stop all conversation. “Hey, everyone. I want you to meet Mads. She’s the new chronicler, as you may have guessed.”
Crimson spread from my cheeks into my neck and down into the rest of my body. I must have looked like a lobster with the all-over blush. It was hard enough to do a book signing and reading in front of people who enjoyed my writing and wanted to meet me. How many of my new colleagues were going to be like Mr. Smith, thinking I was trying to replace Brent?
“I thought your name was Madison,” one of the men said at a table two over from us.
“It is,” I said, “but everyone calls me Mads.”
“Cool nickname,” another man said.
“Do you all want to go around and tell her your names and what you do?” Keira asked.
It really is the first day of school, I thought. Is there a pop quiz later?
The round robin of introductions began with the table to our left. It would take a few days – maybe weeks – to learn everyone’s names and roles, but I did my best to remember them all. I didn’t want to be that girl, the one who couldn’t place faces or names, even though I was terrible with both.
The man who questioned my nickname was Harvey Pratt, another night stalker. His hardened face, unruly beard, height, and mass – a possible bouncer or leader of a motorcycle gang in a former life? – made him appear scarier than Mr. Smith, but his smile gave away a softer side. He welcomed me to the group and let me know he would help me adjust in any way he could.
I made it a point to remember Jia Chen, the Information Coordinator for our complex. I recognized the sibling resemblance between her and Jiong before Keira informed me they were twins. Jia said we would work closely together as new information came in from either night stalker missions or from other complexes. I would need that information for not only my chronicles, but for her to share with others like us around the world.
The nurse with slicked-back, over-gelled hair for the complex was also present at breakfast. He introduced himself as Antonio Aleo and gave me the location of their clinic on the eighth floor. He said Doctor Chandra Porter had left earlier that morning for a medicine and supply run, but that I should stop by the clinic later so I could meet her.
When the maintenance man, Jim Higgins, finished his introduction, the chef, Diego Costa, came out of the kitchen to meet me.
Once everyone had spoken, I thanked them all for the warm welcome. After they resumed their personal conversations and eating breakfast, I turned to Keira. “Where are the other night stalkers? Are there five more?”
“Yes,” she said. “Spence, Garrett, Harvey, and myself plus five more. They’re on a scouting mission. We were tipped off a couple nights ago on the location of the nest of blood seekers who killed Brent.”
“Really?” I asked, not sure why the surprise in my question. I should have assumed that priority number one of the complex was to eliminate the blood seekers responsible for killing him. “They moved from their last location?”
“They vacated as soon as our team retreated,” Garrett said. “It was a brutal defeat for us, and we weren’t ready for their numbers.”
“The others are doing recon now so that we don’t end up in the same position,” Keira said.
“Is there anything I need to do?” I asked, eager to assist.
“Learn as much as you can about blood seekers,” Keira said.
“We will leave in a week to wipe them out,” Garrett said.
“I’m going with you guys, aren’t I?” Nerves trembled inside of me, despite knowing I would eventually end up on a mission with them. After I had one under my belt, I hoped they would grow easier, but the fear of death became real in that moment.
“We need you, Mads,” Keira said. “But, we’ll have the whole team this time, and Spencer will keep you safe. He won’t let anything happen to you. Not after Brent.”
Something about knowing Mr. Smith would watch over me made me feel safe. “What exactly is my rol
e on these missions?”
“You’re our information girl,” Garrett said. “We rely on you for last-minute info. But, more than that, you record everything that happens for the other complexes and for future chroniclers.”
“Information is what drives us forward in our quest to eradicate all blood seekers,” Keira said. “One day, we will get there. Maybe not in this lifetime—”
“You don’t know that,” Garrett said. “It’s possible that we could—”
“I’m more of a realist,” Keira said to me. “As if you didn’t already know that.”
I smiled at them. “I think some hope is good. What’s the point of all this if you don’t believe the fight will be over one day?”
“Exactly,” Garrett said. “And, I want kids. Lots and lots of—”
“Then, you better hope men can start giving birth soon,” Keira said, laughing. “I mean, one or two, fine. But, lots and lots is out of the question.”
Garrett jabbed his thumb in her direction. “She wants to be a night stalker until the end of time, I think.”
“You can’t do that with kids?” I asked.
“I could,” Keira said. “Most women end up giving up the life once kids come into the picture, except for maybe the occasional run. Too dangerous, and even though the others here would help raise them if something happened to us, no one wants to leave their kids without a parent.”
The risks of my new life continued to show themselves, something I would have to get used to, and soon. Miller and Holly crossed my mind. Their biggest concerns were getting kids to preschool and playdates. Whether to put them in public or private school, or to home-school them. If they should get them involved in sports at a young age or wait for the children to make up their minds if they wanted to play sports. For Garrett and Keira, the decision to have kids would alter their lives beyond anything parents outside the complex could imagine.
Garrett’s hand shot up and waved to someone across the cafeteria. I twisted my neck in time to see Mr. Smith enter the room wearing a plain gray T-shirt and black shorts. He paused and caught my gaze for a tense moment before walking toward us. When he reached us, I realized his eyes weren’t as hard and weary as they were the last time we spoke.
“Hey, Spence,” Keira said. “Join us for breakfast.”
“I was heading up to the gym,” he said. “I just wanted to stop in and see how Madison is.”
I flinched. Did he say he was interested in my well-being? “I’m good,” I said. “Thank you. How are you?” My stilted questions reflected my stunned mind.
“Well, thank you.” He shifted his weight. “After breakfast, how about we meet up in the library? I’m sure you have questions about blood seekers that you need answered prior to our next mission.”
“I, uh… Yes, I do.”
“Great,” he said. “I’m going to work out and eat. I’ll meet you up there in a few hours.”
“Okay,” I said, barely getting the word out before he walked away.
He stopped to greet a few others in the cafeteria and disappeared out the door.
I turned back around to my tablemates. Garrett plowed through cheesy scrambled eggs, while Keira grinned in my direction. “What?” I asked her, wary of her strange smile.
She shook her head, but the grin remained. “Nothing, I’m just glad to see you and Spence getting along.”
“Um, me, too,” I said, rising from my chair. “I’m gonna grab something to eat.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Go help yourself.”
“The bacon is cooked perfectly,” Garrett said with a mouthful of egg.
I made my way to the buffet table, praying my time with Mr. Smith in the library would go smoothly, but also dreading the upcoming mission. My first, from which some of us might not return.
Chapter Fourteen
M y right leg jittered, my foot tapping against the tile floor beneath me as I waited for Mr. Smith to make his appearance in the Chronicle Library. I had picked up the same book I started the night before, but something had changed from then. No humming. Not a peep from the books, the ones that sang to me and pulled me to them yesterday.
Not knowing what I did wrong, why I could no longer hear the chronicles, I rose from the desk and walked into the center of the room. I closed my eyes, even held out my hands. I focused with all my might, concentrating on the years of history around me. All those chroniclers before me that had sacrificed so much for the words on these pages. Had sacrificed themselves.
Still, nothing.
I don’t know how long I stood like that, wrinkles around my squeezed-shut eyes, my lips turned down, a headache from all the concentrating pounding against my skull. I just needed some connection. Even if it were a small one, a slight sound… which I sometimes thought I heard, only to discover my mind was humming, not the books.
Had I lost my gift? Maybe, I was no longer chosen.
“You’re trying too hard.”
I jumped back at Mr. Smith’s voice, losing my balance and crashing to the floor. My hands tried to cushion my fall, but they did little to stop the hard tiles from colliding with my backside at full force.
He laughed, a sound I had yet to hear and one I thought he’d never emit. I had barely witnessed a crack of a smile when he spoke of his brother, but to laugh at this? At me? Right now?
Many alternative, not-so-nice names for him ran through my mind alongside vile insults biting at my tongue for release, but I held them all back. The fall might have been a humorous sight, and I might have even laughed at myself, yet something about him laughing first… I wanted to murder him and hide his body in a dark corner of a library annex, never to be found as his rotting flesh melded with ancient, leather-bound books.
His hand floated in the air above me, waiting for me to reach for it. Despite his initial reaction to my fall, he still demonstrated a small spark of humanity.
Unfortunately, his chivalrous act came much too late.
I ignored his hand and pushed myself up from the floor. Dusting off the back of my jeans, my anger rose as his laugh echoed in my ears.
“For the record,” he said, “I tried to help.”
“After you laughed at me. I didn’t realize it was so funny to watch someone fall.” I rubbed my lower back, the telltale soreness of a bruise already starting. “I probably broke my tailbone.”
“You didn’t break anything,” he said.
“Well, it sure as hell hurts like I did.” My skin prickled like the rising of fur on an enraged cat, and my anger released with dramatic flair. “I could have died! My head could have hit—”
“Hit what? You’re a good three feet away from the bookshelves, and the wall is much further away than that.”
Stubbornness swelled in my mouth, contaminating my words. “But, still. You don’t know what could have happened.” My index finger accused him of ill-will. “It’s your fault, too. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
“I didn’t sneak up on you,” he said. “I was several feet away from you when I addressed you.”
His logic annoyed me far more than anything else he’d said since we first met. “Yeah, well, then you could see I was deep in thought trying to—”
“Connect with the chronicles?” He paused for a moment, but I didn’t respond. “I saw you, and you were doing it wrong, so I stopped you.”
I crossed my arms and shifted my weight. “I’ve been here one day. How am I supposed to know what’s right or wrong when telepathically communing with books?”
“That’s what I’m here to teach you. Part of my job. Guiding you and protecting you.”
“Maybe I don’t need your guidance and protection then.”
An amused smile parted his lips. “Okay. I guess you were just about ready to have a breakthrough when I barged in and made you fall. And, since you have no questions about blood seekers or chroniclers or night stalkers, I’ll just go on about my day.” He swiveled on the balls of his feet and headed back toward the door.
“I didn’t say…” I clamped my mouth shut when he stopped walking and rotated to face me.
“What?”
My only hope at understanding what I read in the chronicles stood in front of me, packaged up as Mr. Smith. I forced my pride down to the pit of my stomach and shoved it into the growing tumor of bitterness toward him. “I might need a little guidance. Just to get started, though. After that I should be—”
“I get it,” he said. “You’re a quick learner. I’ll be equally quick about my guidance.”
His sarcasm didn’t miss its target, but I let it slide. He seemed to have taken lessons in snide at the same college I did. Excelled, really. But, he was up against a master, and I would strike back. When I could think of something to say.
“Your problem is you’re trying too hard,” he said. “You need to relax. Don’t try to force the chronicles to communicate with you.”
“I don’t even know how to communicate with them in the first place.”
“Last night, you were reading about thirteenth century blood seekers. How did you find that book?”
“I don’t kn…” I stopped when I realized I did know. “I closed my eyes and said the words. ‘Blood seekers.’”
He watched me for a moment without speaking, compelling me to explain further.
“I didn’t know what to do when I got in here, so I just said it. Was that wrong?”
His voice lowered, and he shook his head. “I haven’t seen a chronicler do that so quickly. I thought you might have picked up a random book.”
A compliment? Or, perhaps, he didn’t believe I could possibly be that good to get it right on my first try. I glanced behind me, wondering if anyone knew exactly how many books resided on the shelves. It looked like thousands… tens – if not hundreds – of thousands. “It might be a little hard to pick a random book and hope it’s the right one.”
