by K. R. Bowman
“Oh, great, my favorite person,” I said with a slight smirk. It was meant to be flirty, but it probably came out full of sarcasm, but I wasn’t trying to be. Sarcasm is just my way to ease tension. But to be honest, I was still a little pissed over the way he left me last night at my door. I tossed and turned over those feelings for far too long last night.
“All of us are seated over here.” He kept his eyes straight forward, but his fingers were gently curled around the bend of my arm. He applied light pressure on my arm to guide me to where we were going. His tone gave nothing away, and that irritated me too.
We threaded our way through the crowd, they parted until we came to a large table where Chuck, Ashlen, Harris, and Patrice sat.
Callum guided me around to an empty chair by Chuck. Callum took his seat at the end of the table by Patrice.
“Sloane, I heard you’ve been in the library all morning?” Chuck asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“Did you learn anything new?” Chuck continued to eat eagerly. I tried not to judge him too harshly by his bad table manners.
“Well, I did learn a little more about my grandfather, but nothing about my eyes, though, maybe a little more about my palm reading.”
“And…”
“Apparently,” I paused to take a breath. “I will have to overcome abandonment and deceit.” Sarcasm took over again, “Isn’t that just lovely?”
His eyebrows rose as he spoke, “I think everyone has to overcome abandonment and deceit at some point in their lives, so I do not think you should weigh those words so heavily. The fact that it is a part of you does mean something, of course. Though everyone has words like those in their future and intertwined in their own lives. As harsh and negative as they sound, they are general parts of life. When you came here, you left your mother and friends behind. Is that not a form of loss or abandonment?”
A slight weight lifted from my shoulders, and I nodded my head. Hopefully, those words won’t be significant. “So, do you mind telling me what words warned you?”
He placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. “My palms told me to be careful of the road before me, to watch those around me, and that some people would try to manipulate me. It did say that I would become a leader of my people.” He kind of chuckled, “Just not the Leader.”
“Your palms said all that?” I was somewhat surprised.
He nodded and smiled, “Maybe not in those exact words, but that was the general information given to me.”
“Does everyone have their palms read?”
“No, not everyone’s story is written on their hands. Some have to find it in their blood, eyes, or even their hair. Of course, not just one reader can read each of those. It takes a special person to read each.” He smiled again, “But now I’m making things more complicated for you.”
I smiled at him and gazed around the room at all the people dancing and laughing. I was really starting to love it here. If only mom were here.
“Do you mind if I ask you something else?”
He smiled, “No, I guess not. What’s the question?”
“How long have you been the Leader?”
He laughed and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “That is an excellent question. I think the best question would be: When?” his eyes sparkled with laughter.
“Okay, when did you become the Leader?”
“Well, I was thirty-seven when I was given the Leadership. Your grandfather handed me the position when your father and uncle disappeared. He was never the same. So, I’ve been the Leader for almost twenty years.” His eyes became serious as he looked at me, “If your father and his brother hadn’t disappeared then I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
“Oh.” I stared at my lap. “Will you tell me about my uncle?”
He smiled gently, “Sure, James was seven minutes younger than your dad. He was really funny and outgoing. Almost every girl was in love with him. He lived a pretty carefree life.” Chuck ran his rough hands across the tabletop, lost in thought, “Of course, he was when he was ten. He was charming and could almost talk his way out of anything.”
“What kind of power did he have?”
“I believe he had Ice.”
My eyebrows rose, “Ice? I haven’t heard of that one.”
Chuck chuckled, “I think you’ve barely scratched the surface of our world.”
I let out a big sigh, “Very true.” I paused, thinking again. “James was in the Norm for how long?”
“Oh, he was probably there for about a year, then it was time for him to come back. We are all sent over to the Norm so we can learn more of how our world affects the Norm and so we can see the Norm Defense. The Norm Defense is made up of people from our Realm who fight the last battle. Watchers, Protectors, and Hunters are all represented in the Defense.”
“One day, I might be on the other side, fighting?”
“Absolutely. The more people we have over there, the better off the world will be. That has been one of my goals. To get the majority of the Realmers over to the Norm.”
I tried to file all the information away for later. Raleigh was making her way across the room to our table with her guy in tow. Patrice was talking to Callum. I smiled slightly at him before I turned away. I spotted Ashlen and Harris dancing. They both had big grins plastered on their faces and were very close.
“Can you tell me more about the disappearance of my father, Jacob?”
Chuck glanced at me quickly. “I’ll tell you everything I know, which isn’t much.” He surveyed the room, “They had gone out with some other Hunters one night to raid a Nightlin camp. Your father had been dispatched to one area of the realm while James was sent to another. The other fighters, with them, said there were a lot more Nightlins than what they had first thought. They attacked the creatures, and more Nightlins surrounded the group of fighters. One of the men, who had been with your father, said it was strange how the Nightlins were able to capture Jacob. The creatures seemed to go straight for him like they knew who he was and overpowered him. Thankfully, most of the warriors survived.” He patted my arm.
I nodded, silently thankful to hear that from someone. Callum was still talking to Patrice when I glanced down the table.
“Where are the other fighters that were with my dad when he was taken?”
Chuck studied me for a moment before answering, “Some have died since then but, I know a couple of them left to travel to one of the larger cities, Jamestown, and I think maybe one or two transferred to the Norm defense.” Chuck watched me like he was trying to read my mind. “I’m sorry I don’t remember all of their names… I’m sure you can find that out from the library.”
“What names do you remember?”
He shook his head and scratched at the base of his neck, “I’m pretty sure your father and uncle were a part of a special team, The Dirty Dozen, there were twelve fighters.” I couldn’t help but smile to myself over the little joke my dad and others seemed to be in on. Clearly, Chuck had not been in the Norm during the 1960s. With all seriousness, he continued, “Out of the twelve, seven of the realmers have passed.” He looked at me quickly, and I just nodded, “I’m including James and Jacob in with the seven. I think Christopher Handlin is at the Norm Defense along with a Sarah or Samantha. I’m sure Chris would remember her name if she isn’t there anymore. The two that left, one had some J name, and then the other guy had a Spanish name,” he shrugged. “I’m sorry I can’t remember those two, they left pretty quickly after the incident, and we never heard from them again. And the other one, I have no idea.”
“That’s okay. You’ve given me a lot.” We sat in silence for a few minutes. My eyes wandered over the crowd of people, not really absorbing anything.
“Listen, I’m going to have the four of you begin training again to be Watchers. I think we are going to set it up for tomorrow.”
“Oh? That will be great. I’m anxious to get started.” My voice came out mon
otone. My mind wasn’t entirely on the subject at hand. Training was far from my mind at the moment. It was reeling and going on overload with all the information he had given me. I needed to be back in the library. I needed to find out what happened to my father. I needed some sort of balance to all of this… stuff.
I rose from my seat and pushed my way between the chairs. Chuck watched me leave; his face held concern and something else I couldn’t quite name. I could feel his eyes watching me as I made my way through the crowd. Words and sentences flowed through my mind. Facts and figures were being calculated. I was trying to put my past and my father’s history in order, trying to fill in the blank spaces.
I walked through the crowd in a haze.
11
I found the hall that led back to the library. The flames, in the wooden torches, flickered as I passed by them. The smell of dirt and moist air tickled my nose. Soft footsteps echoed behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. I was lost in my thoughts. When I got to the library, I went straight to my corner of the room, where the table had all the books piled up. I took my seat and stared at the books and pages.
A chair appeared on the opposite side of the table. Callum sat, his eyes roaming over the books and papers. He slid a red bound book across to sit in front of him. My face betrayed everything I was thinking. Callum wasn’t one to talk out feelings. Instead, he was a man of action, and that meant a lot to me. It was also very confusing in figuring out where I stood with him.
“What are you searching for?”
I eyed him, “Anything about my dad and uncle.”
“Okay, want some help?”
He always seemed ready to help me. I nodded slowly, “Sure. Anything about Jacob and James Sullivan. Maybe even my grandfather, Charles.”
He nodded, “Alright.”
His dark hair was a mess. Strands stuck out in odd directions; the product of his knife cutting I assumed. The candles positioned on the tables and hanging from the ceiling barely gave off sufficient light. His eyes began to move across each page, and I followed his example.
We sat at the table for hours, not saying anything to one another. Occasionally, he or I would shift in our chairs, or I would sigh, but other than that, we didn’t even acknowledge each other too lost in our research. I was reading loose pages of paper. Most were letters. One, in particular, was from my dad to my grandfather. My back immediately straightened, and I grasped the page, making the paper crinkle. I released the tension in my fingers and started reading.
* * *
October 10th,
Dear father,
As you may have noticed, James has not been acting himself. I think something may have happened while he was in the Norm. I ask you to please consider his wishes and mine. I know we have never seen eye to eye, but surely you will see the greater good from these actions that I wish to take.
Your son,
Jacob
* * *
I sat back and tried to wrap my head around what I had just read. Callum was watching me. I handed the letter to him, so he could read it. What could my father have been speaking about?
“Hmm, that is strange.” Callum placed the letter back in front of me.
“Yeah,” I mumbled as I played with the edge of the paper. I couldn’t believe I was holding a letter my father had written. I wished I had more things of his. Each was further proof of his existence and that I was now living in his world.
“Were there some more pages with it?” Callum inquired.
I shuffled some pages, “Yeah, there’s a few more here.”
He took half of the stack, “I’ll go through these, while you go through that stack.”
I smiled and nodded, “Okay, thank you.”
He raised his eyes to mine. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips and then disappeared. “Not a problem.” He began reading.
I mentally rolled my eyes and began sifting through the pages before me. Mostly, what I found were some notes taken from Jacob during their night raids and hunting trips. There were also some journal entries written by James, my uncle. It felt weird saying that and knowing that I had more family.
“Hey,” Callum pressed a worn page into my hand, “you should read this.” I tried to study his face to get some sort of feeling from him, but he only looked confused.
Taking a breath, I unfolded the faded yellow piece of paper. The bottom half had been ripped, and dark stains covered the edges.
I began to read:
* * *
22 October, 1990:
Father,
Something has happened to me that I can't explain, just that something did happen. I fell in love. I met this incredible girl while in the Norm. She makes me feel like the most important man in the world. She is caring, giving, and the most exquisite woman I have ever known. I am asking you to let me bring her over here, or I must go back to her. I didn't even get to explain why I left. She is very important to me. I want to build a life with her. Surely, you must know how I feel?
I know you will love her as much as I do. I pray each day that I will be able to see her again. Please don’t let my prayers go unanswered. I will do anything you want of me so I can be with her again.
Waiting with hope your son,
James
* * *
The paper that I held shook. My breathing came out faster. My chest tightened. Tears welled up. They threatened to spill over. What my mom wouldn’t do to know that this letter existed. As if sensing my distress, Callum was up and next to me. He gently wrapped his arm around me. His warm body heat, strong muscles, and woodsy scent were beginning to drive away all my good sense.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to be held tightly and just breathe. Confusion was my normal state nowadays. I stopped. I wasn’t sure what to think of the signature. Ignoring Callum’s presence next to me, I pointed to the letter.
“What the hell does this mean?”
Startled, Callum darted from my eyes to the letter and sighed, “Maybe there are more answers in some of these pages.” He began pulling some pages out. I didn’t mean to, but I leaned in closer.
Quietly he asked, “Sloane, are you alright?”
“Yes. I’m just so confused. This letter is from James, but my father’s name is Jacob.”
All I could do was watch him. I looked at the page, trying to decipher its meaning.
Callum watched me for a moment, then went back to his seat and turned his attention back to what he had been reading. I looked back at the letter. There were another few pages beneath it. I quickly pulled the paper out that was directly beneath.
* * *
28 November 1990
Leader,
You say it takes love to be a great Leader. You don’t show it. You say it takes understanding. You obviously don’t understand. You want me to be a Great Leader, but I’m telling you now that I will not be a great Leader because of you. I will be a great Leader because of myself. From this day forward, I will no longer call you my father, you will be just what you want to be, a Leader.
I will tell you this though, I will find a way.
Captain James Sullivan
* * *
The hair on my arms stood up. Wow, go, James. Just from reading these letters, I learned more about my family than I had in the past month. My uncle definitely had gumption. He most definitely loved my mom. I wasn’t sure what to think. Was there some sort of love triangle? Did they fight over mom? That was weird to think about.
The other papers were from other Captains or officers. There was one other letter from James, but he only wrote about the camp and Nightlins. He was direct, efficient with business, and to the point. He did exactly what he said he would do; treated my grandfather like a Leader.
“Look what I found.” Callum got up and came around to my side of the table, bringing his chair with him. He sat and flipped to a page in a small butter-yellow book. “This belonged to James at least for a short time. A note was attached to it saying
that they found it at the campsite where he had been taken. It isn’t even filled.” He flipped through the pages in the back of the book showing the blank pages. He glanced at me, “But this is what I wanted to show you.”
He held the book out to me. I practically snatched it from him. I grimaced.
He smiled, “It’s okay.”
The corners of my mouth lifted slightly. I turned my attention back to the small soft leather book in my hands. Gently, I leafed through the first few pages.
“Here,” Callum pointed to a yellowed and creased page.
* * *
17 February 1991
Another day at the camp. George and Bailey are sitting in the corner of the camp, playing some sort of useless card game. Dorian is at the edge of camp staring off into the bleak distance like always, probably brooding about something or someone. Ava is lying on the ground, snoring softly. I still don’t understand how she can fall asleep wherever she lays her head. Patrick and Morgan are out scouting and keeping watch in the forest. I can never see the enemy with my eyes, but I can feel them watching us.
We are out here at the request of the Leader… apparently, there was a Nightlin group spotted over this way, and we are supposed to establish a visual and take them down. I grow tired of his requests and orders. I wish Jacob were here so we could complain about him together. Jacob is, as far as I know, on the opposite side of the Realm searching for Nightlins too.
I think it was more of a ploy to keep Jacob and me apart. He hasn’t let us go on a search party together since October. If only I had Artemis with me so I could at least know Jacob’s real location. I hope she isn’t lost forever. I’m pretty sure I left her in the Norm, and if she is there, she’s in safer hands than if she was here. There she can’t be used against me or anyone else.
