by Emery Skye
I started to knock on the white door, but I didn’t want to wake her. So, I took my ID card out of my pocket. I tried the nob. Locked. I used the card to pick the lock. Voilà. Open. Angelic of me, right? I stuck my head in. Her reading lamp casted an orange haze on her desk. Her bed was empty. Amalie was gone! Again!
I bit my lip to avoid throwing the temper tantrum that deemed me childish. Could you blame me? I bit down harder and sighed deeply before mumbling a few hate words under my breath. I immediately wanted to go get Deror, but the consequences…I wasn’t sure what they’d be or if I’d be willing to face them. I decided to find her by myself.
Surely the Patron wouldn’t let any more infractions slide. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him for punishing a student acting like Amalie. We were taught to follow the rules. It was indisputable. We weren’t freethinking poets or artists. We trained to be elite Warriors and Harbingers. It’d been this way forever. That’s what we were taught. Noviates who acted otherwise were punished. Simple as that.
But, with my sister, the lines were blurred.
What was wrong? What was right?
Amalie had to have a reason for her actions. That had to be worth something, right? I grabbed a picture off her lavender colored end table. It was a picture of us. Amalie had drawn whiskers on her cheeks and a large black dot on our noses. She wore a cheeky grin and had wild, blue eyes.
I chuckled at the photo, remembering the day it’d been taken. We’d borrowed markers from a neighbor boy, and Amalie, of course, gave us cat faces. She always had such a creative mind, so fun and full of vigor. I fought her at first. I argued that drawing wasn’t suitable for an angel, but she won. Later, when mother returned home she scolded us. Amalie cried when mother threw the markers away. Mother scolded her for that.
She never understood Amalie. She was so…free. No matter what, Amalie was free. I traded with the neighbor boy that night, my pocketknife for a set of markers. He had none, but he did have colored pencils and a flipbook of pieces of artwork. Some of them just looked like splatters of paint to me. I brought her the pencils and book that night. She beamed and hugged me.
“You can’t let mom see them,” I told her. She’d call the coloring a distraction.
She nodded.
That night she drew her first real picture as I lay in my bed a few feet from hers. I listened to the scribble of pencil on paper like it was a lullaby. I could’ve stood by mother and squashed her spirit that day. Instead, I encouraged her.
I put the picture back in its place and left the room.
I stopped at the top of the staircase. I could see the door clearly. Sure enough, two Warrior guards, one female and one male, stood by it. She half-turned. I stepped back just as she glanced toward me. For a breathless moment, I waited to be caught. She turned back.
Back to my room.
I stepped into my tennis shoes. I scanned my room, panicked. I didn't know what I needed, but it wasn't here. One of those fairy-tale portals would have been super convenient. I looked out my window.
I never thought I'd die at school. Great. Amalie and I lived on the third floor. Could be worse. I could be on one of the two floors above this one. But still. I wasn’t scared of heights, but…. it was a long way down.
I didn’t have time to make a rope out of sheets like what people do in the movies. Nope, this would be me scaling a wall.
I waited for a guard to make his rounds on the grounds. He had a spikey Mohawk. He looked like a giant rooster.
After he passed by, I stepped out onto the ledge. The old bricks chipped in areas. They felt icy under my fingers, but were void of snow. I carefully tested my footing and made my way down by digging my fingers and toes into the small nooks and crannies created by the brick and mortar structure. One...Two...Three...Just about another forty to go.
My fingers sweated, and my legs stung from the new scratches from the climb. I moved my foot around but found no other spot that would support me. I looked down—still over two stories up with nowhere to go. I heard talking, turned toward the sound, and saw Rooster coming this way.
Time to panic.
It was now or never. I was going to jump, to fling myself off the wall.
I landed terribly, with all my weight on my left leg. It hurt like hell. Good grief, Amalie made everything so difficult.
I couldn't think about the pain. Rooster was moving in. I stood on my right foot and hopped to a tree nearby. I couldn't move quickly, but with the abundance of trees on campus, it didn't matter. I could use them to hide. I wouldn't be missed for hours, yet. The guards concentrated on external threats. Technically, I was an internal one.
Where the hell was Amalie? I knew she had to be with Alyosha, that was a given, but where?
Since they'd broken into buildings to make out and steal files, I had an idea of what to expect, if not where to look. I leaned against a tree—my right leg was killing me. She could be in any one of the academic buildings, doing God knew what. Damned delinquent. What happened to the good ol’ days where my biggest concern was an art notebook? Poof.
I looked around the tree, saw no one, but decided to wait anyway. Because I was wounded, my timing had to be perfect. Still leaning on the tree. Rooster strutted by. I waited until I was sure, hoped he wouldn't hear me, and moved. I limped as fast as I could to the next tree closest to the Citadel. She'd already desecrated the spaces of a Harbinger and the gym, so I figured she'd need a Warrior building to hit the trifecta.
There were no Warriors around, so I made for the next closest tree in. I stumbled as I hopped to the tree and leaned against it, breathless. I pressed myself against the trunk as I moved around it. My head started throbbing. I could feel my blood pressure inside my skull. I might stroke out, and it would be Amalie's fault.
“Going somewhere?”
Son of a bitch! Caught! I knew that voice. I turned for confirmation. Lucas.
“Umm... What are you doing here?”
How did this guy always find me?
“I think you need to answer the same question.” His right, very blonde eyebrow arched high, and his mangy blonde hair fell over his left eye. Those hazel eyes flickered roguishly.
I tried to conjure up an excuse, but nothing even slightly believable came to mind. I’m not a witch. I’m an angel. Figures. So, I thought I might try a partial truth.
I worked up a sullen tone.
“I was meeting Amalie. We’re sisters, and we've been separated for a long time,” I sunk down to accent the words.
His lips became a brighter pink when he frowned.
“You know, I should probably report you, but I guess you could say I like to see a little guile now and then. Go on, I think I saw Amalie go that way.” He pointed vaguely toward the Patron’s office.
“Umm... You're kidding, right?” I questioned his leniency and his sanity. He seemed to miss—or ignore—both. Legites didn’t like guile; they liked order. They demanded it.
“Nope. Sure not.” He seemed almost genuine.
“Okay,” I started hopping and limping (himping, I thought and giggled madly) toward the Patron’s office. His office was an add-on part of the library. I kept my eyes open for any other guards, but hey, maybe they would be as cool and easy going as Lucas, who just totally helped me. Then again, probably not. Lucas was one of a kind. I needed to rethink my opinion of him.
I was already behind the library, so it was easy to make my way to the office’s back window. His office was a smaller building but with beautiful, massive, Tucson style windows. I stood on my tippy-toes to look in the window. Sure enough, there was a girl with her black to me, her long, thick, dark brown hair loose around her shoulder. Freaking Amalie.
I couldn’t climb through the closed, locked window, especially with my leg, so, I walked around to the front door. I tried to knob and noticed it was locked, yet it moved against the pressure of my hand. I hadn’t noticed until now, the door wasn’t closed all the way. I pushed on the knob, and the door opened. I charged
in, intent on busting the delinquent pair.
Chapter 10
Both of them were silent, which was good, because if either of them had said one word, I would have gone off like a nuke.
I took a deep, shaky breath, looking at her beautiful, brunette headed, rule-breaking self. She sat at the Patron's large black desk that stood before me as a reminder of whose office we were in.
Bookshelves and filing cabinets covered every inch, floor-to-ceiling. The bookshelves were mahogany, as was the floor. This office had a homey and inviting feel, way different than the one he used to meet with noviates. Files scattered across the floor like rat droppings. I couldn't believe she'd done this despite all evidence to the affirmative.
I didn’t know what her problem was, but I couldn’t give up on her. Not now.
“What...is...going on, Amalie?” I pleaded. Yelling and patronizing weren’t on the menu. Not this time.
“That's a great question, especially given your last warning,” Deror's deep voice was cold. “And, I’d like to know the answer.”
I whirled around. Okay, I get coincidences, but this was just nuts.
“Are you following me?” I asked, shocked, drained of all resolve. He wore a black jacket that looked hand tailored.
“Yes.”
Okay, so I wasn’t expecting blatant honesty.
“What? You can’t do that? I can’t believe you! Don’t you trust me even a little bit?” I said the words, and as I heard them leave my mouth, they sounded plain stupid.
“I trust you,” he leaned into me, “against my better judgment,” he paused, glaring at Amalie.
Shocker.
“I don't trust them!”
Shocker again. For the first time, Legite Deror didn’t look like my instructor.
He looked over my shoulder at Amalie, sitting in the Patron’s black leather chair. Clearly, the Patron wasn’t one to personalize.
Her innocent face compelled me to defend her.
“It wasn’t her. She didn’t break in here.”
“Oh, and you did?” He titled his perfect head, expecting my answer before I said it.
“Yes, I did.”
Alyosha huffed. Amalie sighed.
“Why are you covering for her, Anna? I know you followed her, because I followed you.” His five o'clock shadow had lasted until at least eight or nine. Had he slept at all since becoming my mentor? No, he stalked me, waiting for me to screw up. Sadly, I never disappoint. Everything went to the Dark World. Fast.
“It's something she's always done, sacrificing herself to protect me.”
She spoke the truth, and yet the words felt oddly foreign entering my ears.
“No more. Anna, you need to look after yourself. Let me face my demons myself—on my terms.” Her little voice squeaked around the edges.
“You should've said that a long time ago!" Deror bellowed angrily.
He clearly got a different menu than I did. It took me a second after being pissed off at him for shouting at my sister to realize he was standing up for me. Defending me. Again.
“Enough!" My anger startled me enough that I heard command in my voice. "Both of you, enough! I can handle the consequences. Amalie can't."
Amalie looked slightly offended, but I also saw understanding and acquiescence in her eyes. She knew I was right, to an extent.
“Relax. We haven’t been caught yet,” Alyosha chimed in.
“Yet, being the operative word. Alyosha, you’d better watch it. I’ll be dealing with you next!” Nathan growled.
“Nat…Legite Deror, you guys don’t understand,” Alyosha said. “There are answers in these folders,” his voice bordered on pleading.
Deror’s face softened.
“Alyosha, I won’t tell you again.”
“Answers to what?” I asked and felt like I’d walked out of the theatre at the best part and missed something important.
Alyosha’s jaw dropped, and then he shut it again.
“Not important. You need to leave before the Patron comes here,” Nathan told me.
“I’m not leaving Amalie. We’ll get this cleaned up, and if not, like I said, I can handle the consequences.”
“I am glad to hear it, Noviate Hasdiel.”
This time, the bone-chilling voice of the Patron filled the space. I didn't turn around. Maybe if I didn’t look he would just go away, and I could escape this nightmare.
The look on the kids' (I was trying to look after them, so I felt like a mom) faces yanked me back to reality. Those looks made this very real: caught! By the Patron, in his office, and in his drawers.
The terribleness of this situation blew worse than anything else. Worse than getting caught with my hands in the cookie jar. So much worse.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Amalie stood silent, jaw slack and eyes wide.
Deror grabbed my shoulder…really freaking hard.
I swallowed hard before turning to meet the scary old man’s wintry gaze.
“Noviate Hasdiel... caught... breaking into my office.” His lips tipped up in a creepy Grinch way.
“Sir, it wasn’t her" Deror interjected passionately. "I followed my charge here. She was searching for Noviate Amalie Hasdiel.”
The Patron was totally disinterested in Deror's outburst.
“Who broke into my office?” The Patron asked flatly.
“I did,” I said quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Deror glowered at me. If looks could kill, I'd have been dead before I hit the floor. I wanted for him to understand, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t.
“No, I did!” Amalie said mimicking, quite convincingly, my earlier commanding tone.
Alyosha kept quiet. Predictable cowardly bastard.
“Hmm... We have quite the predicament. The Hasdiel sisters are protecting each other. No matter! You will both be punished.” He might as well have clapped his hands to match his cheery tone.
Nathan dropped his chin in an expression as close to admitting defeat as I'd ever seen him. Maybe he felt like a failure. Maybe he thought I had failed him.
“Amalie Hasdiel, you will face five days detention and be confined to your room when not in class or detention.”
That didn’t sound so bad. Better than my current bullshit punishment.
“Anna Hasdiel, your punishment will be quite different. You are still on probation, so yours must be more punitive. This offense is, of course, more grievous than the last.” I saw a brief ghost of a smile touch his lips like an unseen kiss. “Warriors, take her to the holding area. Prepare her.”
The way he said 'prepare' made my blood run cold like I was a pig going to roast or chicken whose head was going to be chopped off and feathers plucked. Two guards came in from behind the Patron and broke apart as they went around Deror who stood like an unmovable force in the middle.
"No!" Amalie screamed with a whistle.
Legite Deror tried to stop one of the guards.
“Don't do this! She's innocent.” The other guard tried again to restrain him, but he was stronger and quicker. He fought them both. I could tell this was more than difficult for all of them. Deror was their commander, second only to the Patron.
“Legite!" the Patron snapped, then reasonably, "Nathaniel, please. If you keep fighting, you will face the same punishment as Noviate Anna Hasdiel.”
Deror seemed not to hear or not to care. He kept fighting. Then, Alyosha jumped in, guarding Deror's back.
I felt my eyes widen in surprise.
“Stop, Alyosha,” snarled Deror with a pleading urgency in his voice.
Alyosha disobeyed his orders. He held his chosen post, back-to-back with Deror. Everyone was full of surprises tonight. Alyosha wasn’t listening to his instructor or the Patron. He really was a defiant moron, but his defiance was on my behalf. I admired it in spite of myself.
“Stop, please,” I begged Deror.
The punishment was severe enough. No point in all of us suffering. I wanted—needed Deror to stay out of
trouble.
Deror looked at me sadly. He stopped fighting, hesitantly, and was taken down by three new guards as they entered the office. The two who had been ordered to seize me did so, but then I saw the butt of the knife come down. Darkness.
Chapter 11
Ever heard the saying, “Woe is me?” Well, that pretty much applied to me. I sat in dirt for six days, (with only small nuggets of food and ounces of water) behind bars, about to face some unknown punishment. Mornings wore on to noon and then to night. Warriors changed shifts every twelve hours. That was how I kept track of time. Each day melted away in darkness.
I only had the voices of those Warriors outside my cage to keep me company. I clung onto their words with a sort of desperation. The isolation was stifling. When their murmur quieted, I thought about Deror, Am… the punishment. What could be worse than the scenarios I’d cooked up mentally? I figured it would be painful, this punishment. Would it be a simple beating or whipping or extended torture? Not knowing was the scary part.
That put it simply, I suppose. I faced many trials as a noviate, but had I been whipped? No. I’d gotten shown up by Deror. My mind used sarcasm as a defense. Sitting here, what I wouldn’t give to be running twenty miles in the blistering cold or a simple fist to the nose. When I thought about it, all those things involved Deror. The thought irritated me. I was a noviate. He was an instructor…temporarily.
I could smack myself for this irrational thought. Sure he was technically a sub, but still, he was a legite first. I would be a legite too. Equals with the primary purpose to serve and protect. Romance was for the humans, not us. That’s what we were taught. The lines were blurring again.
I bristled at the thought. I’d never felt angry about my position in the world. For some reason, this made me heat up, and it wasn’t a warming heat. It was uncomfortable. I’d have to speak with him after…whatever happened next.