by Nathan Roten
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Note To The Reader
Chapter One - Flash Forward
Chapter Two - A Survey of the Crowd
Chapter Three - Back At The Orphanage
Chapter Four - Night Terrors
Chapter Five - Dinner and a Guest
Chapter Six - An Invitation
Chapter Seven - The Pathway to Freedom
Chapter Eight - At The Stroke of Midnight
Chapter Nine - The Meeting
Chapter Ten - The Warehouse
Chapter Eleven - The Escape
Chapter Twelve - Out Into The Open
Chapter Thirteen - He's The One
Chapter Fourteen - The Casey File
Chapter Fifteen - Uncharted Waters
Chapter Sixteen - The Calm Before The Storm
Chapter Seventeen - Pearched
Chapter Eighteen - Now Or Never
Chapter Nineteen - Face Your Fears
Chapter Twenty - Coming Full Circle
Chapter Twenty-One - Explanation
Chapter Twenty-Two - Implosion
Chapter Twenty-Three - Revelation
Chapter Twenty-Four - Falcon HQ
Chapter Twenty-Five - Scattered Pawns
Power List
About The Author
To The Reader
Dedication
Recollection
Aegis: Book 2
AEGIS
Catalyst Grove
By: Nathan Roten
Copyright © 2014 Nathan Roten
All rights reserved. Duplication of this material and its associated logos are strictly prohibited. All contents are protected under US copyright law and may not be duplicated in any form unless express authorization by the author for the purposes of reviews and blurbs.
Edited by: Jordan Roten
Cover Design by: Damon Za
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
Note To The Reader:
Thank you for taking the time to read through the Pre-release copy of Aegis: Catalyst Grove. At this stage, the manuscript is about 95% complete. It is still in the final editing stage, so please keep this in mind as you read. There may be a few mis-spellings and punctuation issues.
Please think of this as a unique, behind-the-scenes preview of the newest Urban Fantasy Thriller Series. Upon it’s completion, I will be giving a shout out to all my beta readers (that is you), so thank you in advance for taking the time to read! You are awesome. In celebration of your efforts, I will be giving the final version away (currently only available in eBook format) for free to my list of beta-readers. In order to get the final version, you will need to sign up for my newsletter. I will be sending the download link through this list. Just go to the link below:
NathanRoten.com/TheSurge
Enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE
Flash Forward
“Get away from me, or I swear I will use this!”
It was getting dark outside. Thick fog hovered overhead, making it hard for Graham to see anything, let alone what the man coming at him was going to do next. Graham knelt in the wet grass, panting. The others stood close by waiting to see what was about to happen next.
“I am disappointed, Graham. Murder isn’t your thing.”
“You have hurt us enough for it to be self-defense,” said Graham in shallow breaths. He was dizzy from the pain. The metal blade in his hand was multiplying into three knifes as his eyes crossed. He drifted to the side a bit and then forced himself to refocus. His wrists were still glowing, though they were fading with each attack.
“There is a big difference between close combat weapons and long range weapons.” The veiled figure extended his hand, firing a blast of light from his palm. The light hit the knife, sending it spiraling into the air.
“Now you know the difference.”
Graham recoiled from the attack. The knife had taken the bulk of the hit, but his hand was stinging from the aftershock. As he pulled his hand to his chest, his heart sank into his gut. There was no way he could win.
“Fight back.”
Graham remained motionless.
“I said fight back!” Another glowing blast hit the ground in front of Graham, sending dirt and rock into the air.
Graham wanted to fight, but he was so fatigued that it took all his strength to remain upright on his knees and not succumb to the dizziness.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
The man reached out and shot a blast of light from his hand, just in front of the silent figures huddled together to Graham’s right.
“STOP IT! Why are you doing this?!” yelled Graham.
He did not respond. He just stared into Graham’s eyes as his hand illuminated again.
“Hit me! Leave them out of this!” Graham’s chest was wracked with pain as he yelled.
“You need to fight. You should be able to use your full strength by now, but you are still holding back. First you can’t control it, and now you can’t use it.” The man lowered his illuminated hand to allow Graham time to think about it. “Does everyone have to get hurt before you let go?”
Graham’s mind was numb with the pain surging through his body. He could not focus. He could hardly even breathe. Trying to stand back up, he braced on one foot, but it gave way, sending him back onto his side. Exhaustion had taken full effect.
No, it can’t end this way. I will not let it end this way. Closing his eyes, Graham pressed his face against the wet grass. In his mind, he saw a wave of black smoke. He heard the voices screaming to keep away, and then his own screams fill the air as the light surrounded him. Taking a deep breath, Graham let the memory empower him.
As his eyes opened, Graham pushed himself upright with his hand. His head was swimming, but he forced himself to focus. In slow movements, he swung his legs around so that he was on his hands and knees. His wrists began to glow again as he painfully stood to his feet. He clenched his jaw and made eye contact through the fog. His fingers curled up into fists, making the light around his wrists intensify.
“Yes, now you are beginning to understand.” The man on the other side of the fog took a step back into a fighting stance. “Now we are getting somewhere.” The chill in the air caused his breath to form white puffs of vapor after every breath as he spoke.
The pain that wracked Graham’s body was subsiding. He felt his energy levels rising with his anger as the light around him grew brighter.
“This ends now.”
CHAPTER TWO
A Survey of the Crowd
4 days earlier…
Graham sat atop Building 14 as he did every Saturday morning. It was a crisp 55 degrees outside and the leaves of the trees were just beginning to trade in their formal summer green shells for their true vibrant colors of yellow, orange, and red. Saturday was the busiest day for the Wellington Market, with all of the vendors pouring into the city after stocking their carts and stores throughout the week. Not only did sellers of produce, clothing, meats, exotic animals and rare objects come from all over the region, but customers with eager eyes came from even further away to buy these eclectic treasures.
The Wellington Market was the largest market on the eastern side of the United Sates. Perfectly positioned between three main highways criss-crossing around the small town of Portfield, it attracted sellers traveling in the Northeast United States. The market was modestly built with only two rows of buildings stretching over a 1/4 mile. The buildings were facing each other with a simple cobblestone road holding them apart. Each building was labeled with a number, ascending in number from West to East. Most of the buildings were a single story, made of wood, stone or brick, but there were three buildings that stood tall
and masterfully crafted with elegant architectural skill. These three were made of large stone, seven stories high, with steep roofs and ornate carvings peppering the corners of the rooflines.
After climbing the narrow, rusty metal ladder in the alleyway between Buildings 14 and 15, Graham had assumed his usual position between two stone gargoyles perched as overseers of the western side of the market. Graham stood a modest 5’6” tall with short sandy blonde hair and a slim athletic build. His eyes shifted from building to building. They matched almost perfectly the deep blue hue of the morning sky as the vendors finished setting up their shops. He slowly slid his raggedy green backpack off his shoulders and dropped it to the ground, creating a cloud of fine dust around the base. Graham took hold of the small zipper and opened the right side pocket of his backpack. Plunging his hand in, he fiddled around for a second or two until he felt the plastic cylinders tucked at the bottom. As he continued surveying the crowds of people, he removed his plastic binoculars from the pocket and proceeded to lie down on his belly with his elbows braced against the two stone gargoyles. Reaching into his sweatshirt pocket with his other hand, he took out a small rubber ball and rolled it around rhythmically between his fingers.
As Graham put the binoculars to his eyes, his nose was hit with all the different scents of the market. Fresh pastries and brewed coffee from Collins Cafe & Bakery were the first to come. His stomach began to growl with hunger, reminding him he had skipped out on breakfast. The eastern breeze carried in the aroma of citrus and berries from Mrs. McKay’s produce stand at Building 2. Familiar wafts swirled around him: leather, clay pottery, animal fur, and finally came the best fragrance of all. Wood. Not just because there was a carpentry shop near the end of the market, but from the woods that encapsulated Wellington like a hidden treasure.
Graham’s grip tightened around the binoculars. Today I will find you. I just know it. Armed with eager anticipation and a quickened pulse, Graham peered through the binoculars in search of answers. For Him.
His first inclination was to stare down the fresh baked pastries his belly demanded, but after deciding that it would make matters worse, he shifted his gaze to the sitting area of the Cafe. The first thing Graham noticed was an older couple holding hands under a red umbrella as they ate their spinach and cheese scones.
He focused in on the middle aged man behind the couple in a brown overcoat, bending down to tie his golden retriever to the nearby lamp-post. I wonder who this guy is? I haven’t seen him here before. Once the leash was firmly knotted, the man sat down to a cup of steaming black coffee. He then removed a small gold coin from his pocket, tucked it in-between his first two fingers, and proceeded to let it cascade down his knuckles like a waterfall.
This can’t be him, Graham thought to himself. He does’t fit the description I heard Ms. Winstone giving.
After another five minutes or so, Graham gave up on looking through Collins Cafe & Bakery and decided to work his way down the line of shops leading East. There were so many people to sift through, his mission seem almost impossible. A bit overwhelmed yet undeterred, he made his way down the road, looking far enough past his own building to where he could begin searching in a zig-zag pattern between the stores on each side of the street.
He shifted over to the store with the Bengal Tiger and monkeys at the front of the store. He was so entranced with watching at the animals move around, that he nearly forgot what he was doing. Blinking his eyes a few times to re-focus, he looked again for people around the animals, only to notice that there weren’t any. How does this guy stay in business? I have never seen him sell a single animal.
Getting back on track, Graham looked next door to the leather-smith. Maybe that’s how he stays in business, he chuckled. Looking into the store, he quickly saw there was nothing and nobody. He continued to profile every person walking through all 60 buildings of the entire market, but after hours of searching, he was forced to admit that there was absolutely nothing worth his attention. No one matched the description. No strange happenings. Not even a quarrel broke out at the pub.
Mumbling under his breath, Graham’s heart sank at the thought of another wasted morning. I have to find this guy. I have to! He threw his binoculars down and tightened his grip around the ball. In his frustration, Graham slammed his fist down hard on the ledge in front of him. As he did, a burst of light sparked around him, shooting outward. Small pieces of gravel and trash defied gravity as they hovered around him for a brief moment before being hurled through the air with the dispersion of light. Graham immediately panicked and plopped down behind the ledge, rubbing the hand he had slammed against the stone. Get it together, Graham. You have to get it together or people will get hurt. He closed his eyes as the memory took over. He was in the woods with two other people. He felt an overwhelming sense of fear and anger. Screams filled the darkness followed by a blast of bright light. Graham’s eyes opened and his head jerked in reaction to the light. He was sweating. My God, what did I do?
Graham let a few minutes pass, in case anyone below saw the burst of light. He wanted to stay for a while longer, but he knew he had to get back before Ms. Winstone noticed that he was missing. With a half-hearted sigh, Graham put the binoculars back in the pocket, picked up his backpack and made his way back to the rusty stairs.
As Graham grabbed the railing of the ladder, he looked up to the field separating the market from the edge of the forest. A bolt of adrenaline rushed through his veins, causing him to freeze. A figure in a long coat holding a thin walking cane in his right hand stood in the middle of the field about 100 yards away and was staring directly at him.
Graham started to panic again at the thought of his un-natural abilities being discovered, but he forced himself to keep calm. He slowly let his backpack slide off his shoulder so that he could retrieve his binoculars as his mind kept cranking out questions. Maybe this is him. Could this be Cavaness? He doesn’t look huge to me. No, this guy doesn’t match the description. It can’t be him.
A thousand questions reeled around in his mind upon seeing this stranger in the field. Graham glanced down for the zipper, but as soon as he looked back to the man, he had vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
What the…he was right in the middle of the field! He couldn’t have gone anywhere. Graham grabbed the binoculars and swept the field with his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to find this guy or not, but part of him couldn’t shake the hope that if he did, he would finally find answers. After a few moments had passed, he let out his breath and relaxed a little. After giving it some thought, Graham’s sensible side began to kick in.
Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, or maybe I am getting a little lightheaded from not eating this morning. There is no way a person could have just disappeared. The field was too wide for anyone to have run to the woods or the market that fast. He kept his inner monologue going until he was convinced that it was nothing. Trying his best to shake it off, he put the binoculars back into the side pocket and lifted his backpack onto his shoulders.
Putting his foot on the top rung, he could see the roof of Greenwood Orphanage towering over the sea of maple trees surrounding the Market.
Home Sweet Home.
The Greenwood Orphanage was the only home Graham had ever known. Established in 1773, it was one of the oldest and most respected Institutions for abandoned children in the Northeast. Their highest priority was education. Going beyond the physical needs of the children, skilled tutors were hired to help them in each subject they were currently studying in school: Mathematics, Science, Literature and History, in which they were currently learning about Portfield’s famous contributions to the Underground Railroad.
The building itself stood three stories tall, the exterior peppered with arched rectangular windows stretching uniformly across the outside. The green ivy crawling up the walls was just finishing its climb over the final row of windows. The Orphanage was an architectural delight to look at, though the beauty had faded
with time. The main entrance was 25 feet wide with a steep gable roof setting it apart from the two wings that expanded at a slight angle on both sides. Over the ridge-line of the wings, you could see chimney stacks standing tall every so often with three black pipes protruding from the top of each stack. Though the paint cracks were visible through the thick ivy coat and the walls seemed as though they were trying to escape from one another, it was a relatively cozy place to be.
The inside the building was set up with two main wings, one for the boys and one for the girls. Holding the two wings apart were the dining room, kitchen and main living room area called ‘The Commons.’ It was the most ornate room in the entire Orphanage, featuring a massive stone fireplace as the main centerpiece, holding a large portrait of the Founder overtop the wooden mantel.
Graham always had a hard time going back. It was so crowded there all the time. Maybe that was one reason he always came out to the Market on the weekend. He could be alone, with all the room in the world, just him and his thoughts. He could take solace in his withdrawal to the rooftop without having to worry about hurting anyone.
Jumping from the next to last rung, Graham’s feet hit the ground. Looking up again towards Greenwood, he finished his train of thought. Home sweet home. Just me and my 87 brothers and sisters. Now, walking back towards the edge of the forest, Graham shook off the feelings of disappointment, forcing optimism to the surface. “Next week then, Cavaness. I will find you next week.”
CHAPTER THREE
Back At The Orphanage
Graham walked back through the woods, until he came to a large stone arch covered in moss. He stopped for a moment, running his hands along the large chunks of rock. He remembered being lost in the woods as a child and finding this structure. It was his beacon of hope. It was his sign that he was not going to die in these woods. It was also his little secret. Orphans did not have many personal belongings, and this was one of the things he could call his own. Although he longed to stay there, Graham knew he had to keep moving.