Out of the Shadows: Book One of the Velieri Uprising

by Tessa Van Wade

  “What is that?”

  “That’s how we know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No one else would feel that way from my touch.”

  “I could name a thousand girls who would be all too happy to have you do that.”

  He grins. “But they wouldn’t feel the way that you did.”

  “You’re kidding. How does anyone know this?”

  “The same way humans have figured things out over the years. It’s the natural progression. I was born a hundred years before you and for those first hundred years, I felt things for other women . . . then I met you. You were only twenty-five and I’d lived many years . . . but it was never the same.”

  “Twenty-five years as a Velieri I would still look like a child?”

  “For the first thirty years of a Velieri’s life we grow at a normal rate. Then the growth process dramatically slows. Our body learns to fight aging.” His eyes don’t leave mine. “After working in England, I came back to Switzerland, where I was born and raised. My father was working for your family and I began working with him. When your father introduced us, I shook your hand. That was enough.”

  The idea of not remembering this moment between us frustrates me, until my cheeks turn red. Or it could be the way he’s looking at me . . . as though I’m her. If only he knew that in this moment, that is my only wish.

  I change the subject. “Why don’t you and the others have accents? If you are from here, or spent years in England…”

  “We all are taught to turn it on and turn it off. We’ve learned so many of them over the years, we adjust.”

  This is the first time that I am able to see the Arek that might be hiding within—a man who is able to let go of his duty for just one moment. Part of me desires this to linger just a bit longer. “You had no desire to remarry?”

  “There would be no reason.”

  “For thirty years you’ve held on to Remy’s clothes?”

  “Time is nothing.”

  There is quiet, as I hold my breath. In some bizarre way I am treading on ground that feels like none of my business. We are talking about me, yet at the same time, it isn’t me—not Willow. It is Remy. Who was she? Who had Arek Rykor been in love with? How had she died? Why had she died?

  “We need to sleep.” He places his hand out to me to help me roll back into bed.

  The window reflection, once again, catches him as he walks away, lies on a couch too short for his long legs, and reach up to turn the light off. My hand runs along the empty space beside me as a picture of the two of us pops in my head. Our room and our home, my clothes and my husband . . . things that have been missing from the other life. Yet here, they place handcuffs on my wrists.

  “My husband,” I whisper. No stranger words have ever come from my mouth.

  “Willow.” The voice wakes me even at a whisper. My tired eyes blink at the glass ceiling, while it takes a moment to remember where I am. The cold air has the smell of pine. “Willow,” the whisper comes again.

  I turn to find Arek leaning over me. He reaches out and touches my lips with one hand while telling me to be quiet, “Shhh,” he warns. “We need to go.” His voice is quiet but still urgent. I have seen the same intensity before when Navin was near. He places his hand out and when I reach for it, the early morning chill makes me want to recoil under the covers. His hand is warm as he helps me to my feet, which makes the rest of my body envious.

  Arek is fully dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, but no shoes, which immediately tells me that we’re moving fast. He has always been ready for what is next. We hurry across the wood floor; his feet carry lightly, which makes me mirror his careful movement until we press up against the wall near the door to the hallway.

  Carefully he reaches out, the door handle just inches away when he places his finger to his mouth once again to warn that there needs to be silence. Something out in the hall makes him swiftly reach for his gun that has been resting within the waistline of his pants, while his back arm reaches out like a seat belt in front of me.

  “Back up,” he whispers, but before my feet can shift, the door bursts open and sends fragments of wood scattering about the floor and splinters hit my face.

  Arek grabs the man by the arm, tucks him under his armpit, and sends him onto his back. Yet in seconds the well-trained man jumps to his feet to fight back. I keep glued to the wall as Arek twists the attacker’s wrist at the joint, sending him to his knees, but then he kicks Arek’s feet out from under him. Somehow, before this man can strike, Arek twists around to face him and grabs his head in a guillotine while his strong legs lock around his waist. The veins in Arek’s bicep pulse as he clenches the man’s arteries. In just moments the man’s arms stop fighting. When Arek lets go, the man falls lifeless to the floor.

  Arek peels my body off the wall, then rushes out into the hall where another man pounces, but the fight doesn’t last long before the attacker is left lifeless on the ground as we rush on. My eyes widen at Arek’s ability and power.

  Unexpectedly Kilon flies around a corner, barely missing Arek and sending him to the floor. “Kilon!” Arek breathes out with relief that he didn’t hurt Kilon . . . as does Kilon. “They got in. I don’t know how many there are,” Arek explains as we continue through the house. His tense fingers grip my hand.

  “We know. They’re everywhere,” Kilon explains.

  A large pop explodes at my side and sends me to my knees. Glass chunks fly, hitting and penetrating my skin everywhere Arek can’t cover with his own body. I press my hands against my ears when Arek reaches over me to send loud bullets into the white meadow; the dominating smell of gun powder now overwhelms the earthy pine.

  “Come on!” Kilon yells, his bare chest tensing with every shot outside, giving Arek and me the chance to continue down the hall and past the windows. We find a corner and huddle together, my body nestled behind Arek and Kilon as they reload.

  “Where is everyone?” Arek asks.

  “I sent them out to prepare the cars.” Kilon nods, “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  They stand, keeping their guns aimed and eyes ready, as we push through the halls in order to make it to the nearest exit . . . or at least that is what I hope. A pain starts small like a ball of pressure at my neck. Then it grows, seizing every muscle.

  “It’s happening again,” I groan, pressing my palms into my eyes.

  Kilon and Arek look back with surprise. “He’s gotta be close,” Kilon states. “Just hold on, Willow.”

  Again, the pain shoots deep through my head and down my neck. They search the windows from where we stand in the den off the garage. “I don’t see anything!” Kilon shouts from a window in the living room.

  “Nothing here!” Someone calls from the kitchen.

  “You have to make it stop,” I beg.

  “I promise,” Arek whispers in my ear as we continue to the garage.

  I’m helpless as two men crash from the shadows of the room, taking Kilon and Arek down before I have a chance to retreat. Kilon and Arek defeat them in very little time. Arek grabs me again, his breathing heavy and his skin hot to the touch as Kilon guardedly opens the door to the garage.

  The others are there, waiting. Sassi sees my pain. “He’ll do more damage if it goes on too long.” She leans over to me. “Think of something else, Willow. Now. Anything else . . . it doesn’t matter what it is.”

  “Clearly something’s changed. There’s no way they can see her right now but he’s able to affect her,” Kilon says.

  “Let’s get her in the car,” Sassi commands with a hand on my arm.

  I open my eyes, but only for a moment. It feels like my skull will crack, yet Arek’s voice gives a bit of relief. We climb into the vehicle, but even when the windows are shut tight, the pain doesn’t subside and Arek takes my face in his hands. “Willow . . . open your eyes.” It feels nearly impossible. When I do, he is holding a matchbook-size screen in front of me that flashes red lights. “
Don’t look anywhere else, but here,” Arek warns. It’s his smart phone, flashing patterns. They are difficult to follow at first, but eventually steal my attention. The pain begins to dissipate, leaving my body buzzing with adrenaline.

  “What do I do? That can’t happen again.” My muscles ache and my cheeks are still fiery red.

  “We have to block out what they are feeding you. The moment you let your guard down, they can get in, so whatever continues that train of thought that took you out of it—stay with that,” Arek explains.

  “So, they can’t do this to any of you?” I ask, continuing to watch the red lights.

  “Only to the unguarded. We’ve all had years of study.” Sassi presses the button to turn on the SUV but nothing happens. She instantly looks back at Arek while trying to turn it on again. He doesn’t say anything, but Sassi responds anyway with a nod as though they’ve just had a conversation.

  Arek jumps outside, quickly shutting the door behind him.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here,” Sassi whispers.

  Yet soon enough Arek is back, his hand reaching out to me, “They’ve disabled the engine. We have to go.”

  The house is still in shadows even though the sun has risen almost completely now. Arek, Sassi, and Kilon, with Peter following slightly behind, move me through the kitchen. Arek speaks to someone on the phone using his Bluetooth in his ear. Sassi looks at him when reaching for the door.

  “Are they ready?” Sassi asks.

  “They’ll be waiting,” Arek agrees.

  Sassi pulls out her silver-tipped Glock, which I recognize from Ian’s description as one of the only guns he’d ever use. She then follows Peter. The only person without a weapon is me. Arek begins to open the door. What happens once they open? How do we get out of here? Where do we go that they won’t follow?

  The frozen hinges squeal, but nothing happens except a sudden rush of icy wind that makes me shudder, since none of us have dressed for the sheer wind.

  Everything is calm beyond the door. Yet we know something is out there.

  Sassi and Kilon move out first, pressing against the rock walls. We step on to the wooden porch under the modern metal overhang, absorbed by the falling snow, cold echo, and blanketed acres surrounding. A group of small but hardy birds feels safe enough to waddle along the white ground just in front of the porch.

  “The alpine accentor,” I whisper.

  “What?” Kilon asks.

  “My students studied birds last year and that was one of them.” I long to be there again, instead of here.

  Beyond these light brown feathered birds, we can’t see anything out of the ordinary, yet there is something here and it is heavy and oppressive. I can feel it.

  “Aaaaaaareeeeek!” A scream pierces the silence. Somewhere off in the distance it escapes from the weather imprisoned trees. The shrill tone sends shocks through my body as I grab Arek’s arm. The group actively combs the tree line. “Aaaareeeeeeek!”

  A ghost of color, off in the distance, races through the trees. “Beckah!” Arek calls out.

  Beckah, sweaty and tired, runs with strong, aggressive strides over roots and through branches. When she sees us, she stops and raises her hand in the air telling us to move. “Go!” she yells from across the divide. “Get her to the car!”

  Suddenly, several men appear from behind her. I hold my breath as one of them raises his gun.

  “Beckah!” Kilon yells out, warning her just in time. She turns, throwing her weapon up. The crash of the metal is earsplitting in the hollow meadow. For the first time, Geo tenses from where he stands behind me, yet Kilon shakes his head. “Nah, mate. She’ll be fine.”

  Then robotically, Geo seems to return to his quiet meditative state behind me.

  “You’ve got to help her,” I tell them.

  “Those men don’t stand a chance,” Sassi assures me.

  My concentration is lost. As Arek and Kilon escort me faster than my feet can keep up, I can’t stop watching Beckah. Somewhere, I’ve seen her do this before . . . in my memory? With every throw of her arm and sweep of a man’s feet till he hits the ground, it is déjà vu. Beckah’s blonde hair flies behind her, and her stance is suddenly intoxicatingly familiar. Her small size makes her nimble, yet her movements are strategic and leveraged. Brandishing both a knife and gun, they seem cemented to her hand. Silver flashes as she rolls beneath the attacker’s legs, surprising him with this sudden change. She’s nearly upside down when she wraps her thighs around one of his legs just above his knee and pulls his ankle, which sends him to the ground. He has no chance and he falls heavily into the snow.

  I can feel the cold throb of my extremities, the dryness of my eyes, and the fever pitch that makes my lungs groan, as we run straight uphill. My thighs burn. Three black cars wait for us.

  “They’re coming,” Arek says.

  When we are ten feet from the top of the hill, my foot slides out from under me. I’m grateful to hear the roar of the cars’ engines as I shuffle back to my feet. Arek practically lifts me to the top of the hill just as a black car whips down the road and screeches to a halt behind the other cars. I recognize the Alfa Romeo insignia. If Ian taught me anything, it was to recognize luxury cars.

  Arek jerks me behind him and pulls his gun as the Alfa Romeo slams its breaks and sprays snow in the air. Several men jump out—their faces serious and their weapons threatening. Each of them has a gun in their hand and a knife in their waistband.

  “Weis il unt, Kilon,” says a man with a hard face and wide jaw. Kilon doesn’t move. “Tatgamin un min uv tous.”

  With fast and heavy footsteps, Peter and Geo lean forward so that their legs work overtime bounding up the hill.

  For a moment, time stops. When I was ten, my grandfather took me hunting for the first time and we were met by several bears on our trail up the mountain. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know about the danger we were in. When Arek looks at me now, I see the same in his eyes.

  This is a deep, centuries old battle between two sides and the battle line is clear. Despite the cold, beads of sweat roll off everyone’s faces. When the pain in my head increases, I close my eyes to keep focused. Then, it relents.

  A heavy whistle fills the cocooned sound of a winter’s hell, echoing all the way over the pointed treetops. A searing pain shoots from the back of my head and down my spine as Navin appears, making his way through the men in front of us. If this white oasis can be hell, then he is the grandmaster. Even his eyes, the same as the night in the cab, are void of anything good—his soul seems to have left long ago.

  “It’s a waste of time, Arek,” he says. Every word is like an ax to my temples. “Leigh won’t give her any protection except you, because everyone knows where she belongs.”

  Arek grins. “You were always scared of her.” I soak in the salve his voice offers.

  “She’s a criminal, Arek.” Navin targets me with his stare. “Is it Willow . . . or Remy?”

  Weakness shoots through my fingertips, knees, and body, reminiscent of after the attack, and it occurs to me that I need armor. There is no way this can continue. If I am on fire every time he speaks, then where is the end? Clearly there is something I am missing. No one else cringes from his voice. Like an answer to my question, Sassi leans forward and whispers in my ear, “Look away and think of anything else. Don’t let him in.”

  I picture the patterns of red lights, and my hand shakily grabs for Arek’s phone that I have placed in my pocket.

  Arek steps toward Navin, both taller and more powerful than most of the men surrounding.

  “Take your turn, Navin,” Arek growls.

  That is enough. In no order, Navin’s men shoot forward. A man jumps over the hood of the car and takes out Kilon’s knees. Any ordinary man would have let that overtake him, but Kilon rolls, shifting his hips till he entraps the man’s ankles, and sweeps him. They scramble to their feet, their weapons tucked forcefully into their palms, and after three c
rouched steps to the left with calculated surveillance Kilon bursts forward, wrapping his arms around the man’s legs like a bear trap. Hundreds of pounds of flesh crash to the ground and roll like a demolition truck.

  Guns fire and bullets fly. This is no schoolyard gang fight. Control, technique, slaps, slices, pulls, rolls, punches, cuts are all in perfect timing. So much so that the fighting seems it might never end.

  Beckah is small and agile, while Arek and Navin are fast but have so much weight behind them. The clash of their bodies and weapons shakes the ground beneath my feet.

  Arek knocks the knife from Navin’s hand while bending his elbow till it looks to break. Navin winces, just before he pulls the gun from his back. He tries to press the gun against Arek’s temple and fire, but Arek pulls his wrist back and shoves his palm up into Navin’s chin, sending his neck back at an unnatural angle.

  Kilon now stands behind a man on his knees, grabs his chin with one hand and his seven-inch blade that tapers to a point with the other, and stabs it just behind the man’s ear. Instantly he falls to the ground, lifeless, even though he belongs to the Velieri. I thought we couldn’t die. Yet then I remember Arek’s words . . . we can, and we do.

  Meanwhile, with succinct movements, Arek knocks the knife out of Navin’s hand. Navin jumps for the knife sliding through the snow. Arek turns to Sassi, who stands in front of me with her weapon out and gives a nod. Once again it is as though they have had a conversation.