by Angie Martin
“What?” My heart stopped, and my breath caught in my throat. He’d had my friends and family – the last semblances of my old life, not to mention, the people I loved the most – under surveillance and failed to mention it. I don’t think I could have hated him more than in that moment.
Somehow, I restrained myself from killing him. “You’ve had people watching them? This whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because, somehow, I knew this is how you’d react.”
His arrogant assumptions! Part of me reasoned that his motives for not telling me were much more than my angry reaction. That I would want to know all about their every activity. That I would succumb to homesickness instead of focusing on my work at the complex. That I would wallow in depression over not being able to see when others watched them every day.
But, it was much easier to blame him. To take my rage out on him. To let out all those emotions I’d suppressed about losing my family and turn him into a supervillain.
“How dare you keep this from me!” Fury over his deception clashed with renewed mourning over the loss of my family, and my body shook until it threatened to shatter into millions of pieces. “How long have you had people following them?”
“It doesn’t matter how—”
“How long?” Threads of anger spun in my veins, and my rising blood pressure pounded in my head.
He lowered his voice and said, “Since the day we met in New York.”
I huffed, but he spoke first.
“The blood seekers knew who you were before we did. I figured once we got to you, they might go after your family to bring you out of hiding.”
The elevator alarm sounded, and I jumped back, hitting the wall. Looking at the two buttons on the wall, both without markings, I realized neither of us had pushed one. I jabbed the bottom one, hitting it several times, even after it lit up.
When the elevator jolted to life, I said, “You lied to me. You said my family was safe.”
“I needed you to be mentally present to do your job. You can’t focus on all the other stuff you left behind.”
“That ‘other stuff’ are people I care about.”
“They are your past.”
“No, no, they’re not,” I said. “Everyone keeps saying that, but they’re not my past.”
“They have to be. If you want to survive for long in this world, you have to stop thinking of them as your family.”
“But—”
He stepped forward and placed his hands on my shoulders. “I get that it’s hard, but it’s the only way. You need to remember that you’re not in this life for no reason at all. We save lives. Thousands upon thousands of people survived an encounter with a monster because of us. Thousands upon thousands more were never attacked because we terminated the threat. Those lives include your past family and friends.”
I closed my eyes and air shuddered through my lungs. As much as it hurt, there was no arguing with anything he said.
“We will eradicate this nest of blood seekers,” he continued after my eyelids cracked open. “That means eliminating any threat to those you care about. But, I need you in the game. Here, now. With us.”
Something sparked in those blue eyes with his words, knowledge that this mission was only partly about revenge for his brother’s death. The rest of it had to do with me. Taking care of the blood seekers who could hurt me and my family – my past family. Maybe he and I both realized it at the same time, but his motive for going after them wasn’t entirely selfish.
But, to do that, to assist with this mission and get out alive, I also had to relinquish my fears, anger, and the sense of betrayal – that he, of all people, had betrayed me. Yet, beyond all logic, my trust in him didn’t waver.
“I’m here,” I said as the elevator doors opened, “and I’m ready to do this.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
I f my dad and brother could have seen the armory at the complex, they’d think they’d gone to good ol’ boy huntin’ heaven.
The sheer number of guns on the walls, all arranged by caliber and type, made the Midwest girl in me drool a bit. A snub-nosed Taurus Mini Revolver caught my attention and drew me to it as if it were the only weapon in the room. I removed it from the hooks on the wall and grinned at my new shiny object.
“That’s only got five shots in it,” Mr. Smith said.
“That’s all I need.” Glancing in his direction, I added, “You’re supposed to carry the big guns and the machete. This is a ‘just in case’ measure.” Looking back at the gun, I said, “She shore is purty,” emphasizing a hick accent in my speech.
“Then, she’s all yours.”
“Miller would be so jealous right now,” I said, wishing I could share my find with my brother.
I turned around, and a glint from a case across the room caught my attention. I wandered over, my fingers caressing the glass covering the cache of knives, ones like I’d never seen. Latin engraved on some of the blades, Enochian on others, and a mix of Hebrew and Greek on one particular silver dagger in the center of all the others. Wonderment filled my mind as it raced with the translations.
Over my shoulder, Mr. Smith said, “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Stunning,” I said, breathless from his closeness. How could I go from being so angry with the man to thinking about him in ways that drove me insane? In just minutes, my emotions had flipped again, although part of me still wanted to murder him.
I moved forward and walked to the right, down to another case of knives. “So many different inscriptions on these.”
“For every creature we battle, there’s a different means of destruction. Let’s just say that we have a lot of cool toys here.”
“I can’t believe you grew up around all this. My childhood seems so mundane now.”
“It’s not the easiest life,” he said.
“So I’m learning.”
“There are holsters over there”—he gestured toward a cabinet in the back right corner— “and you’ll need something for close combat.”
“Um… I don’t plan on getting close enough for combat.”
He exhaled in exasperation, but smiled all the same. “Humor me on this one, okay?” He opened another closed steel cabinet. Daggers and knives all shapes, sizes, and deadliness hung, just waiting for use. Pulling one of the shorter daggers off the wall, he said, “This one should work. It’s similar to the one I used on my first mission.”
“Oh.” I accepted the blade. “I’m getting weapons from the kiddie menu, I see.” Before he could respond to my sarcasm, I said, “Thank you, though. I am great with guns, not so much with knives and all that, so the starter pack is probably best.” I realized he hadn’t picked out any weapons for himself. “Aren’t you going to get something?”
“I tend to stick with what I know. My machete is an all-occasion, non-discriminatory weapon that’s served me well for the past ten years.”
“Then, I say let’s not jinx it.”
“That’s the plan.” He led me out of the armory and further down the hallway. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I also want to make sure we’re good before we do this thing.”
“Oh, uh… uh, yeah. We’re fine.”
“I mean, earlier… you know. I didn’t—”
“We’re good,” I said, not wanting to dredge up the whole kissing or shared dream mess. Our relationship – or lack thereof – was complicated enough. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“Good,” he said, with what sounded like a tinge of disappointment in his tone. “Just wanted us both to go into this clear-headed.”
I put on my best fake smile and said, “I’ve never been clearer.”
“Me, too.”
The problem was, I’d never been less clear about anything. My new life, the chronicles, going on a suicide mission, Mr. Smith and his irritating way of getting under my skin just so. None of it could be defined as “clear.”
But, the mission had to move forward.
We stopped at steel double doors. “These lead to the loading bays. All our vehicles are in here, and it’s the only way out of the complex.”
My anxiety decided to make itself known, throwing my thoughts into further chaos. As if it weren’t real before, I now recognized my own mortality. The world’s largest and loudest stopwatch ticked away, counting down to my inevitable demise. Instinct told me to run. Logic told me I had no choice but to fight. Dark Man would keep coming. He’d already proven his confidence in walking straight up to the entrance of the complex. What was next? Strolling in for a hello and a bite to eat?
As if reading my mind, Mr. Smith said, “We have several other sets of impenetrable doors in the bays. No one can get in here, no matter how hard they try.”
He opened the door on the right, and we walked into a room as large as an airport hangar. The immense size of the complex not lost on me, I wondered what else the inside of this mountain held that I had yet to see. The rest of the team waited for us, all decked out in their own cat burglar costumes, carrying various weapons. As if I didn’t already comprehend the gravity of the mission, the somberness of the group penetrated my core. No one smiled, not even Keira or the always-cheerful Garrett.
I took my place amongst the others, who had all turned to look at Mr. Smith, their leader. Our leader.
“You all have your assignments,” he said, “but given tonight’s events, I’m having Andre stay with me to watch Madison.”
Embarrassment flushed my face. Oh, the trouble I had caused since even before I arrived at the complex.
“We have five night stalkers from our East Coast complex who are already on their way,” Mr. Smith continued. “They should arrive just before us. That’s all they could spare.” Turning to the left side of our group, he said, “Jia, Jiong, and Sandra are monitoring communications tonight.”
I looked over to see all the non-night stalkers, the members of The Order, standing together. I recognized most of them, but there were a few new faces.
Mr. Smith bowed his head and closed his eyes. Around me, the others did the same as they spoke in unison. “Sit aeterna Dei nobis et custodies in nostrorum curso malum.”
My mind translated the Latin: “May the eternal God guide us and keep us in our quest against evil.”
“Let’s get those blood seeker heads rolling,” Morgan said as an ending to the prayer.
The mood of the room shifted. The others around me laughed, whooped, and called out their “Amens.”
“For Brent,” Garrett said above the voices, which quickly echoed him.
“And, for Mads,” Andre added. He winked at me as I glanced at him and flinched. “Not gonna let Dark Man get to her.”
“For Mads,” the group called out, including Mr. Smith.
As everyone disbursed in small groups and headed toward different vehicles, Mr. Smith came over to me. His hand slipped around my upper arm, and I walked with him. “From this moment on, you are with me,” he said. “You don’t leave me, not even by a few inches. If I’m killing a blood seeker, you step back, but only a little.” We stopped at a black SUV, and he faced me, his hand still holding my arm. “Do you understand me?”
“I promise,” I said. “I won’t hesitate like at the hotel.”
He stared at me for a moment, as if analyzing my answer for truthfulness, then said, “Just like everything else in the world, the first time is the hardest. This will get easier for you.”
I let out a shaky breath, as if his words gave me permission to relax slightly. “Thank you.”
He nodded and opened the back driver’s side door to the SUV. I climbed in, and he followed. Andre entered the driver’s seat, while Morgan jumped into the passenger seat. Doors slammed shut, seatbelts clicked. The engine revved to life, and the vehicle followed the others out of the bay, through a tunnel with minimal running lights, and onto the dirt road in the back of the complex.
Morgan twisted her head to look at Mr. Smith. “The usual playlist?”
“You know it,” he answered. “It seems our new chronicler likes the heavier music.”
Morgan grinned at me. “You’re gonna get along just fine here.” She depressed the button to turn on the radio, then swiveled the knob to the right, raising the volume.
Mr. Smith’s hand brushed against my shoulder in a comforting gesture, then retreated. I glanced at him, expecting him to speak, but he only smiled. The corner of my mouth lifted, then I turned to look out the window as we exited the complex. Maybe we had more to talk about than either of us wanted to admit. But, until then, I focused my thoughts on surviving the mission and following his every instruction. If one or both of us didn’t make it, nothing else would matter.
Chapter Twenty-nine
D espite having Mr. Smith at my side, Andre looming behind me, and my hand gripping my revolver, terror consumed me. I kept my anxiety hidden the best I could and refused to voice any concerns, no matter how many popped into my mind. Like Mr. Smith had warned me, I believed the blood seekers could smell my fear. The same as I could smell them.
Though the time neared three in the morning and it was mostly black outside, a few of the streetlights still working outside the factory shone a bit of light into the abandoned space. A graveyard of dilapidated conveyer belts and defunct machinery surrounded us. Particles of dust from the aged objects scattered through the beams of light, sparkling like specks of gold and rousing my allergies. My thumb and index finger of my left hand covered my nose just in case. Sneezing while sneaking through a factory and searching out blood seekers would be the pinnacle of my short career as a chronicler. If I survived, which was still doubtful, Mr. Smith would have one or fifty things to say about that later.
Other teams had approached the factory from different directions than us, covering the perimeter, breaching the building and flanking the enemy, or something like that, according to Mr. Smith. Yet, when I spied Keira, Morgan, and Colin’s team of three nearing our left side, I realized that the usual strategy, as Mr. Smith called it, wasn’t going as planned. Either we were in the wrong place, or the blood seekers hadn’t stayed for the party.
Dread pulled my stomach to the floor, and my heart jumped into my throat. The odor of the blood seekers seemed much too strong for a long-ago nest vacated. No, they had been in the factory no more than an hour before we arrived.
Mr. Smith raised a hand in one of the rays of light, and the two teams I could see halted at the same time we did. Though shadows crossed his face, I could see his gaze exploring the area, carefully, deliberately, no doubt planning our next move. His machete to his side, he raised it slightly, as if expecting a blood seeker to jump out at any moment.
But, nothing moved.
My tense shoulders dropped despite the rest of my overly sore muscles remaining contracted. The adrenaline that had controlled my breathing since we arrived at the factory slowly eased out of my body, leaving behind fatigue. My eyelids drooped, just a bit at first, and exhaustion claimed me. My grip on the gun loosened. I could have fallen asleep on my feet, but something tethered me to the waking world. A tugging, a pulling, and then a voice.
“Madison!” Mr. Smith spoke my name in a loud whisper with a harsh, almost hissing tone.
I shook my head awake, and my eyes popped open. Mr. Smith grasped my forearm, and the intense expression on his face frightened me. A few seconds passed before I realized where we were. What we were doing. How could I sleep standing up in the middle of a mission—
The overwhelming stench racked my senses, and my eyes grew as the tension grabbed me once more. We were no longer alone in the factory.
And, we were surrounded.
Mr. Smith seemed to realize it when I did, but it was too late. Blood seekers crept out of every corner of the factory, using our tactical plan against us. Lights flickered on, no longer affording us the cover of darkness to silently kill our prey. Several blood seekers ushered in the two teams we had left outside to monitor the situation and back us up.
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As soon as I saw him, I understood what had happened to me. Why I had dozed off – if I could call it that. More like fell under his trance, the same one he could impose on me in my dreams. Mr. Smith had pulled me out of it, just like he had in the dream we shared. I did not know if I could withstand any more of his control.
I realized we were in the exact center of the factory floor. Dark Man stood in the doorway of where we had entered, Mullet Man to his left, and three other blood seekers around him. Without releasing my stare into Dark Man’s dead eyes, I stepped back three paces, maybe four. In my peripheral, Andre moved up to Mr. Smith’s right, his own machete poised for action.
“You can all put down your weapons.” Dark Man’s voice boomed throughout the space, echoing off bad acoustics.
I looked at Mr. Smith, wondering what we should do. My hand started to lower my gun toward the floor, but the side of Mr. Smith’s face I could see remained hard. Stubborn. Driven. We wouldn’t relinquish our weapons anytime soon.
“That’s not going to happen,” Mr. Smith said. “Even if you have guns, you won’t shoot us. Your nest looks a bit hungry, which means they have to get closer to us to get their breakfast.” His head twitched, and he smirked. “Most important meal of the day, isn’t it?”
My lips parted, a bit shocked at his sarcastic response, but I figured I would have said something similar. He and I were so alike. Made me loathe him even more.
“You’re right, of course,” Dark Man said. “We will feast on you all.” His eyes shifted toward me. “Except our little chronicler. My new pet.”
With heavy breaths, I side-stepped until I stood behind Mr. Smith for protection.
“You’ll do nothing to her,” Mr. Smith said.
Dark Man huffed. “And, you’ll be the first one she feeds from, Night Stalker.”
Tapping on my outer thigh caught my attention. I glanced down, then immediately up so as not to give anything away. Mr. Smith’s index finger knocked lightly against my leg, not randomly as I first thought, but in Morse code. He was signaling the other night stalkers. My eyes roamed toward Andre, and I saw him doing the same thing on the back of his thigh. For a second, I wondered why Mr. Smith used my leg, then quickly realized he had to, as I wouldn’t be able to see the code from where I stood.
