Out of the Shadows: Book One of the Velieri Uprising

by Tessa Van Wade

  I grin, “I was just trying to figure out why you were there. I guess at moments you seemed almost familiar.” Smiles turn to straight lines when, apart from Ian, everyone glances about. My heart thumps an extra beat, “I’m sorry, did I say something?”

  “Many of us just wish that we were actually familiar.” Beckah hesitates as she moves her food around with a fork.

  “Beckah,” Arek reprimands her.

  “I’m sorry, Arek. It’s just the truth. She deserves to know why we all look at her like we do. I wouldn’t want to be her, that’s all.”

  “And did I know you, Geo?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No. I had been living in Canada up until about twenty years ago. I came to serve after the time of Remy.” He says this tenderly as he looks at the rest of the group. Then he grins and rests his hand on Beckah’s.

  “We have already introduced ourselves,” Kilon begins. “Sassi and Kilon Pierne. We, too, have known you most of your life.”

  Sassi and Kilon seem to be at least ten years older than me, but I have given up on wondering how many years that means for all Velieri.

  “So, you have been watching me?”

  “Among others,” Arek says.

  “Why?”

  “Because you meant something to each of us,” Sassi explains. “Whether you remember or not, we do.”

  Suddenly we hear rumbling outside, causing Arek and Kilon to jump to their feet. They move to the windows and look outside while speaking in their different language.

  “Is it time?” Sassi asks.

  “No,” Arek says, shaking his head as he hurries to me. “Willow, come with me.”

  “What about this guy?” Sassi asks about Ian, still snoring.

  “I’ll take care of him,” Kilon chuckles.

  Arek pulls me from the room quickly.

  “What’s happening?”

  “I’m not sure, but you have to hide until I can find out.”

  “Hide?”

  “Yes. I’ll explain later.” We rush through several rooms of the house, passing windows on all sides, and then hurry downstairs into a basement. Beside the closed door is a black square on the wall. Arek takes his phone from his pocket and presses it quickly against the black square. Instantly we hear the door unlock and it slides into a pocket. This house seems to have ahead-of-the-curve technology. The room is nearly empty, appearing to be more like a panic room than basement. He leaves my side and says, “Safe down,” as he heads to the middle of the room.

  Everything is concrete, which makes me curious about what he is expecting to appear, until a rectangle portion from the cement ceiling lowers. Finally, I can recognize shelves of guns, ammo, vests, and knives of all kinds. There are drawers also, which he pulls open and sifts through until Kilon enters and whistles behind him. Arek’s voice rumbles, “The 1911?”

  “Is there any other kind?” Kilon grins. As though Arek knows exactly where he’s standing, he throws Kilon several guns, which Kilon prepares in seconds. He notices my eyes on him and says, “There’s no better gun than this, right here. The Sig 1911.” The black steel lays easily between his fingers until he hides it under his clothes.

  Arek grins. “If you like the tank,” he says as he grabs three guns that appear to be lighter.

  “You know I do. And two Karambit,” Kilon requests.

  Arek slides two curved knives to land perfectly at Kilon’s feet. Kilon quickly hides these as well.

  When Arek has retrieved everything he needs, he turns back to us and says, “Safe up,” while he places several weapons within his clothing. Slowly the shelves rise to the ceiling until it is invisible once again. “Code on,” he says. He reaches my side, “Wait here, until I come to get you.”

  “How long?” I ask nervously.

  He looks at me carefully. “Willow, nothing can happen in here, I promise you. You will be safe.”

  Just out of curiosity, I test the handle on the door once he leaves and as expected, it doesn’t budge. In a room with nothing, five minutes can seem like an eternity. So after nearly an hour, I am studying the ceiling. There are several places with defined margins of possible dropping walls. “Safe down,” I test out hesitantly. Nothing happens. “Code off,” I say. Nothing happens for just a few seconds, until suddenly I hear a woman’s voice: “Waiting for code.” Just then the door opens and Arek looks at me with a sideways glance.

  “You expect it to be so easy?” he says.

  “I was bored.” His tension is palpable in his tired eyes. “I thought seeing you would make me feel better, but it doesn’t,” I say quietly.

  In seconds we stand just inches from each other, but neither cares to move away. He searches my eyes.

  “What?” I ask. Hope and fear often look too alike to differentiate.

  “He is here.”

  “The Monarch?”

  “Sort of. The Electi,” he nods.

  “You look worried. Should I be worried?”

  “We have no other options.” He stands so close it is possible he can feel my unchained heart. With each pump my body seems to rock back and forth.

  Kilon hurries into the room. “They’re waiting.”

  “Right now?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yes. I’ve tried for the last hour to convince them otherwise, but you are expected,” Arek says.

  A deep breath lifts my chest.

  “Before we go,” Kilon says, and Arek turns to him. “They have one request.” Kilon pulls from under his jacket something metal and places it in Arek’s hand. When Arek turns back to me his discomfort is obvious, which makes me stare at his white knuckles. He holds a pair of deep black handcuffs that look nothing like the silver ones of old.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “They need to know that everyone is safe.”

  “And I would be reason for people to not be safe?”

  “If you were your old self . . . then, yes.”

  I can’t believe what he is saying. “You were there when I was left for dead because I couldn’t defend myself. You think I need those?”

  “No, but others are concerned.”

  “What others?”

  “Leigh Rykor, for one.”

  This catches my attention. “Rykor?”

  “Yes.” He says it as though he doesn’t want to explain yet knows he must. “My father, Leigh Rykor. He’s the head of the Protectors, and he needs to make sure that the Electi is safe.”

  Kilon steps forward, “He is waiting.” He reaches for the handcuffs, but Arek won’t let them go.

  “No, I’ll do it.” Arek takes the last step until my chest is nearly touching his and I hold my breath so nothing will move. “I need you to trust me.” He turns me around so that my back is to him. The cold metal wraps around one wrist at a time with a machine gun click into place. No matter how gentle he is, the metal still strangles my wrist bone.

  At that moment it is possible that not even being buried alive would have been worse than this—the constriction of my chest and breathing—it is hard to stay calm. Being in handcuffs isn’t the norm for most and certainly not me, yet what did that say about who they thought me to be? Who had Remy been?

  Kilon on one side and Arek on the other, they lead me out of the basement and through the home. Before we enter the kitchen where everyone waits, I stop. “Wait!” I try to control my breathing. “I can’t do this.” My throat tightens.

  “We have to, and you can,” he states.

  “You won’t let anything happen,” I hope.

  Arek places a hand on my neck and unexpectedly a new man stares into my eyes. “Never. I promise you.” Just as before, deep within, there is a fascinating ability to trust him. “This will all make sense soon.”

  Just outside a room off the back of the house, two men in suits and earpieces stand like statues.

  “Who’s in there?” I ask.

  “The Electi. This conversation is for him and me. Just stand there quietly.”

  “I h
ave a job in San Francisco where kids are waiting for me.”

  “After everything that has happened, you are worried about your students?” Kilon questions.

  “That’s the world I know.”

  “Everything has been taken care of. Ian is on his way back to make sure things are well with your life,” Kilon explains.

  My abrupt stop makes the guards take notice. “Ian’s gone?” A painful lump in my throat can’t be swallowed away as my eyes burn.

  “We can’t have him here,” Arek explains.

  “And he listened? You think he’s going to do what you ask? You’re bigger fools than me.”

  “We have our ways.” Kilon grins. “Give me a moment,” Kilon says before he hurries past the guards and into the room beyond.

  I look out a window at the blanketed piece of land. Snow seems to make the life within the wild sleepy, from chirps, breeze, water, nothing is active.

  “He’ll be back,” Arek finally speaks without eye contact. I know he isn’t talking about Kilon. “He’s going to tell everyone the story we’ve asked him to tell.”

  “What story is that?”

  “That you decided to use the tickets your mother bought you last year.”

  His answer catches me off guard. “It’s a bit disconcerting how much you know about me.”

  “It’s our job.”

  “Mr. Rykor, is it? I think maybe your time could be of better use.”

  “When you’ve lived eight hundred years, time is irrelevant. Besides I was doing what I wanted to do.”

  “Who is the Electi? Why is he in here? This room?”

  “Safety. There are several rooms in this house that are safer than others.”

  “Why?”

  “You’d never understand.”

  Kilon steps from the room with a hand reached out to say they are ready.

  I take one last glance out over the rolling white meadow. The prance of a herd of deer creating their own singular path of footprints should feel more interesting, yet not with what’s ahead of me. Arek places a hand on my arm. “Let’s go. Everything will be fine.”

  Middle school dances or parties that you aren’t really invited to, but you show up anyway, are no comparison to the instant discomfort of this situation. The room off the back of the house is surprisingly spacious. There are black walls, one brick wall, and cognac brown leather couches and chairs. Women and men who resemble secret service are everywhere within the large den. Everyone has weapons in their belts, thick vests, and wires hanging from earpieces.

  There is one voice that is more familiar than any of the others, which, of course, makes no sense, but for whatever reason I am drawn to the deep rigidity of it. When I follow the sound, a man who stands just under six feet tall, his hair salt and pepper, is on the phone near the back. His voice sounds as though it has been through war, deep and raspy, as he paces back and forth.

  Only when Kilon taps his shoulder does he turn to the entrance where he then drops his phone on the table beside him without even saying good-bye. Everyone inquisitively watches what might transpire so by default I look to Arek. He squeezes my handcuffed arm.

  It isn’t difficult to see that he is important. The entourage surrounds him, but it is also his presence. His handsome and rugged smile fills the dark grandpa-in-his-den style room and even though many of the others tower over his short and stocky frame, he seems seven feet tall. There is no other way to describe his massive and consuming confidence, but that it is obvious he has lived many lives and been the David to many Goliaths.

  “So, is he like seven thousand years old or something?” I whisper.

  Arek grins, “Not quite. Just don’t say that to his face.”

  “Never.”

  He seems to have a more familial response than I expect. Perhaps I had pictured Edward Longshanks with a foul disposition, but this isn’t royalty from history books. He can’t say “off with her head” and get away with it. Or maybe he can? I suppose I didn’t know.

  He watches me just like everyone else. It is so quiet we can hear the snowflakes hitting the windows. He is dressed as any casual businessman with black suit pants and a button-up white collared shirt, which is untucked and unbuttoned at the top as if he is off duty. It makes me wonder—did these people go off duty? Everyone in the room makes sure to get out of his way as he walks to me. The closer he comes the harder my heart pounds. Arek’s eyes never leave his.

  Finally, he breaks the silence, “Hello.”

  The word is so simple that it doesn’t feel right to say it back to him. Yet I do, “Hello.”

  “Do you know who I am?” he asks.

  Again, the questions circle in my head. Does he want me to?

  “No. You’re someone that people fear though.”

  “I wouldn’t say fear,” he grins as he looks around to get everyone’s perspective. His entourage seem to disagree, and he looks at me with surprise. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

  He looks at Arek with a raised eyebrow, to which Arek responds, “She doesn’t remember anything, and I’ve told her only a small portion.”

  Sadness creeps into his eyes making him drop the smile, but only for a moment. His reaction surprises me. “No, that’s good.” His words contradict everything that can be read on his face. “That’s good,” he repeats. “I’m Briston.”

  I nod, “Willow.”

  Just then a gangly man with a hollow face comes forward. As Briston looks me over kindly, this man does just the opposite. His eyebrow is high, and he stands with his chest pronounced. Something about him is also familiar.

  “How can we know for sure?” the man asks.

  Within seconds of hearing his voice, an indistinct front line is drawn between this man and Arek, with a cascading tension hitting everyone like wild shrapnel. Arek’s chest rises and his jaw tightens but the war is obviously to be camouflaged like gentlemen.

  “She doesn’t remember a thing,” Arek states. “Like I said, she only knows what little I have told her.”

  “Arek would know, Leigh,” Briston says to the man beside him.

  What does he mean by that?

  “I just don’t see how she can go through so much and not remember anything. Did Navin get a hold of her?”

  “Never without us there,” Arek states.

  “But he did have her,” Leigh pushes.

  “Please, Briston,” Arek begins. “It’s best if we take her. It will not take long for Navin and his men to figure out where we are. She must hide.”

  Leigh attacks, “Out of the question. I have to arrest her immediately.”

  “What?” I ask quickly. My heart races and I pull on the cuffs.

  Arek grinds his teeth at the man. “She remembers nothing. There are too many rebels in the Cellar. She wouldn’t make it one day in there. Let me take her until the Powers convene. She deserves a fair trial. Two of the Prophets have already given their approval.”

  Leigh doesn’t bat an eye. “This woman has already had a trial and was declared guilty. It is rather lucky for her that she had a chance to hide again, but we cannot let that change the verdict.”

  “Of course, we can. At least until she remembers.” They speak with such intensity and neither give any indication that they will back away. “As of now she is only Willow. I don’t see why you are so threatened.”

  “Son,” he says.

  My breath sticks in my throat. It can’t be possible that these two men are related from the way they speak to each other.

  Leigh continues, “You know my duty.”

  “I know your duty well,” Arek jabs at Leigh.

  Briston jumps in. “Leigh, I agree with Arek. Nothing but harm will come to someone like Willow if we send her to the Cellar.”

  “You cannot ask—” Leigh begins with a shake of his head.

  “I can and have. I will ask for her well-being.” Briston places a hand on Leigh’s shoulder as though he clearly trusts the man.

  Yet Leigh refuses to relent, �
��How will this look to everyone else if I let her go with Arek?”

  “People should understand the danger of sending her to the Cellar too quickly. There will be no chance for her there and everyone knows what kind of war will break out if something happens to her without proper investigation.”

  Standing in the middle of these men I feel small and intimidated. “What’s the Cellar?” I ask.

  “The Cellar,” Arek begins, “is a place for criminals—like any prison. There are Velieri prisons built to remain hidden.” His thumb moves down the skin of my palm as he holds on to the handcuffs like he can somehow sense my fear.

  Leigh is quiet.

  “One more thing before you make your decision,” Arek begins. “Japha is back.”

  This doesn’t just snatch the attention of Leigh and Briston—the entire room quiets. Every eye is now on us.

  “Are you sure?” Leigh asks quickly.

  “Yes. He was there with Navin. We nearly didn’t get her out. He took down three men.”

  Leigh is upset by this news. He places his hand on his forehead and growls. “I guess this can only be expected. It was about time that he showed up.”

  “What can be done?” Briston asks Leigh.

  “Nothing. Our worries right now belong to the Seven Powers. Not Navin and Japha,” Leigh explains.

  “I hate to disagree with you,” Arek says confidently.

  “Oh, yes, we all know how you hate to disagree with me.” For the first time Leigh’s response pulls a smile from the men.

  “She has a long road to recovery and now is the time to protect her.”

  “You don’t have to mention things that I am already aware of, Arek. You may take her.” Relenting seems to take all that Leigh has until even his shoulders drop in agitated submission. “But the moment that I hear from the Powers, you will bring her back.”

  “Yes, sir.” Arek finally drops his chest and steps back.

  Before we can go, Briston steps to me. “It was nice to meet you . . . Willow.”