"You're bundled. Here," he said, loosening the blanket he had tucked in around me and helping me free my arms.
"My shoulder," I marveled, "I can move it."
Another pained expression flashed over his face. "It was dislocated—I set it right while you were out." He gulped air. My tough soldier boy broke. His shoulders heaved and his tears fell into a beautiful rain over my face.
My anger melted and I reached up and lifted his hair back from his eyes. "Shh—shh. I know. I know."
He hovered his head over my stomach, touching it with his forehead. I stroked his hair and closed my eyes.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Abelard catacombs"
I had never heard of it. "I'm really hungry."
He lifted his head. His bloodshot eyes brightened. "I can take care of that." He made his way over to the other side of the room where a small camp stove was lit. "It's only broth with a few noodles," he said as he ladled soup out of the pot and into a cup. "Your stomach will have to work back up to solid food again." He set the cup beside me and helped me sit up against the stone wall. He had softened it with several blankets.
"How long have I been out?"
He blew over the contents of the cup to cool it then handed it to me. "Six days here in the cave and another three to get you here. And Morag had you for three—before I could get to you."
Twelve days, I thought as I sipped my broth. It was good. Really, really good. It coated my throat and eased into my empty belly.
Theron stood back up, combed his fingers through his hair and started pacing again. "I tried to think of a way to tell you—to explain it all so you would understand. But every time I rehearsed it in my head I knew you would just think I was insane." He paused to look at me. "I wanted to tell you everything from the very beginning. I kept thinking if I just waited for the right time—but there was never a right time." He rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "It's no excuse and I'm not trying to justify my waiting—but you knew your mother better than anyone and you were convinced she was crazy." He looked at me with sincerity. "I was so sure if I told you, you would disappear—run off and leave me—and I wouldn't be able to protect you from Morag… " His gaze fell to the floor. "I obviously failed at that anyway." He looked visibly disgusted with himself and started to pace again. "Everything I told you about myself was true —my name, my mother dying, how I grew up and what I was—I just left out the most incriminating parts." He stopped and searched my eyes.
"I'm listening."
He nodded.
"My father did send me to a military camp, only it wasn't on Earth," he continued, searching my eyes.
"Go on," was all I could muster. I allowed the delicious broth to comfort me.
"I come from another solar system called Novia. It's where all the Takers come from."
"So you're a Taker?" I asked slowly.
"No, not exactly," he explained. "I didn't even know about the Takers until that morning at the bookstore. And even then I didn't know for sure that they were Novian. I didn't know that until I checked out the eyes of the guy that Blake killed."
"How could you not have known?" I asked skeptically.
"I was sent personally by Morag to track you and bring you back. I had no idea he was sending others or what their missions were." He paused and considered. "It will make more sense if I explain the Novian galaxy and its politics."
I had nowhere to go.
"Novia has three suns, six moons and twelve planets—four per sun. Each four planet group rotates around its sun like Earth does around your sun."
I nodded, Of course.
"Unlike your solar system, each of our planets support life and they are all home to thriving societies. We resemble Earth's humans with only a few variations and genetic differences; nothing like Earth's crazy alien ideology."
"Like violet eyes?" I asked.
"Yes. All Novians have violet eyes." He let that sink in before continuing. "All of our inhabitants can travel between planets—like you can travel from state to state. And all of the planets have been at peace for over two thousand years except for one—Cathal," he added with a bitter tone. "I was born on Arcacia. Like the other planets it has no pollution, no crime or violence. Diseases have been eradicated and, unless a tragic accident occurs, our bodies can live up to three hundred years. But my father exiled me here to this planet. Cathal is a mess… "
"So, you're saying we are not on Earth, nor are we still even in the Milky Way galaxy, but that we are in fact on some far away planet I have never heard of called Cathal?" I interrupted calmly. I mean, wouldn't any rational person make sure they understood that correctly?
"Yes, Freya. That's what I'm saying. And Cathal is like the worst torn up places on your Earth."
I wished he would stop saying your Earth. It made me feel like my head was swimming again.
"The people of Cathal ravage each other with war and fighting. The planet is polluted and sickness is still deadly and prevalent. The Council of Twelve has been trying to rehabilitate it and promote peace there forever."
"The Council of Twelve?" I inquired.
"Each planet has an emissary—like a president—who helps to make laws, keep friendly relations and promotes peace between the planets. You know the saying, 'All for one and one for all?'"
Oh yeah. I knew the saying. I had never taken drugs before in my life, but I was beginning to wonder what was in that soup. I looked down at the puddle that remained in the bottom of my mug.
"I was raised to learn to fight in the child armies on the streets of Cathal. Everything I told you about my upbringing and training was true."
I remembered. He had compared it to Chechnya, a war torn country on Earth. I had read about it in the papers and heard about it on the news. They would steal children from nearby villages or even hijack school buses. The children were unpaid, abused, neglected and experienced situations that no person should, especially a child.
"I was one of the best. And no one was better at tracking," he said.
I could believe that.
"I was called in by my captain almost a year and a half ago now," he recollected. "He sat me in his office as if I were an actual asset—sat me in a big comfortable chair and gave me a drink with bubbles in it. It wasn't like soda—it tasted bitter and nasty. 'I have someone who wants to meet you.' It was Morag. He was a celebrity—the emissary of Cathal—and he started spouting about what a fine soldier I was. 'The best of the best. That is why your government is calling on you for a special classified mission. How do you like that, Hawk?' It didn't matter what I liked. I said, 'Yes, sir,' and he handed me an envelope. 'Open it up, son,' he said as if he had handed me a gift." Theron paused his pacing and took in a sharp breath. "It was a picture of you, Freya." He watched my expression.
"Of… me?" I stammered.
He nodded. "You must have been about thirteen or fourteen years old. You were wearing a pink ball cap and had shoulder-length light brown hair. You looked—so sad." he said.
I remembered that pink ball cap. I also remembered searching the streets for my mother when I owned it. I hadn't cared about any of her precautions—I had thought she was out of her mind. I had no thought of the satellites or street cameras she had warned me about. I had only cared that I had lost the only thing I had in the whole world that I loved.
Theron continued, "Morag said you were an interplanetary threat; that you had intelligence secrets and had to be recovered at all costs. They didn't even know your name. They had me memorize your face." He got a faraway look in his eyes. It was almost like the look my mother had when she thought about my father. "I would look at the photo and draw your picture and what you would look like from different angles. They condition you to not think for yourself here—but you were all I thought about." He smiled at me. "And I couldn't even begin to imagine how you could have been an interplanetary terrorist." He barked a laugh. "Soon they started me tutoring me about Earth. Each and every day I would sit for hou
rs in front of a darkened glass window with a hidden woman sitting on the other side. It was nothing new. They don't like their soldiers having personal or intimate contact. All of our teachers were these nameless faceless entities on the other side of the glass. Anyway, she taught me everything about Earth: its geography, history and various religions; also, English and its slang and common vernacular." He came and sat down next to me. "She did something really strange and seriously risky."
I leaned in a little, "What?"
"At the close of every lesson she would end it with something about the gods and goddesses of earth. More often than not she would say, 'Remember the story of the goddess Freya. She is in the most danger and all who can must do everything in their power to protect her.' It was no big deal at first. She told all of her religious stories that way—full of drama and expectation—She would say things like 'the Buddha requires this from his followers,' 'the Christians must treat others the way they wish to be treated,' 'Jews must consider the Sabbath holy,' 'be careful not to anger the Hindu Shiva,' 'Muslims must look to the east,' 'one of the Shik's sacred objects is a scroll,' and 'remember what Confucianism stated.' But always—every day, every lesson—she burned the name Freya into my mind. 'The goddess Freya needs your help.' 'The goddess Freya wanders the earth, searching.'"
"That's why when you asked me my name…?"
"Yeah, and you said 'Freya'… "
"And you asked, 'Like the goddess?'"
"Yes, like the goddess." His eyes were hazy as he spoke. "As I was drawing you one afternoon after lessons, I decided I had to find out for myself who you really were." He went on. "I've seen what they do to prisoners here on Cathal. I knew I had to find you and access the truth before I did what they asked. I had to know the truth—because every time I drew your picture I fell more in love with you.
"They sent me through the dangerous and unstable inter-dimensional portal to earth. They say it burns like fire when you travel it—I was given a medication so I was fine." He closed his eyes against his next thought. "They didn't give you the same counteragent when we went through from Sweden and they wouldn't let me anywhere near you to slip one into your mouth." He swallowed and became glossy-eyed. "That was the worst day of my life—having to watch them do that to you—hurt you that way—and not be able to do anything to stop them. If I had protested or showed any sign of emotion they would have suspected me a traitor and executed me on the spot. Then I never would have been able to get back and rescue you."
I remembered his face, set like stone. So that was why, I thought. I swiped a tear that had pooled in the corner of my eye. "How could you tell it was me? I was several years older than in the picture."
"You looked the same, just more mature. I found you in Kentucky. I had been equipped with a DNA meter to verify your identity. Unknown to you, your hand passed over it two weeks before we met—while you were browsing books at the bookstore. One hundred percent match."
"And you didn't turn me in to the Takers or Morag." I formulated the thought, speaking more to myself than to him.
"I was never briefed about the Takers, as you call them—or their mission. But I reasoned that they must have sent me in because the Takers failed to retrieve you so many times. Although that still doesn't explain why they're kidnapping so many humans," he added. "I was supposed to send the information back—from the DNA meter. Instead, I smashed it."
"That's why you told the leader, Morag, that the device was destroyed on transfiguration."
"Yes. I had watched you with Piper and saw the love you showed her. Then I saw how you saved that dazed girl by pulling her into the van, and you warned me about that kid in the road, and you risked yourself to help me to safety. I knew you were good—that you weren't some secret super-terrorist. Whatever Morag's plans, I knew I would never turn you over to him and decided I would stay close to you and protect you from him—and anyone else that tried to hurt you for that matter. For the first time, my life actually made sense. I meant it when I said that if my life and training had allowed me to defend you, then I had a purpose." He searched my eyes for redemption.
"How did we get found out?" I asked softly.
His face hardened. "Mikkelsson. He never tripped. He deliberately fell into you to take a sample of your DNA." He looked down at my arm and so did I. The wounds were no longer infected thanks to Theron's care. They were healing into scars. "All he had to do was snip a strand of your hair or swab your tea cup. He purposely, maliciously hurt you."
Scars so that I would always remember. Scars of betrayal. "Mikkelsson must have betrayed my mom too."
"I've thought about your mother, and I have a strong theory."
"What is it?"
"The woman who tutored me—the one who taught me about the goddess Freya's plight."
"You think she was… "
"Why else would she have risked her life by feeding me a code? She knew your name," he said.
"That means she's here. That they have her," I said, fear and excitement mixing into an unknown emotion.
"Morag has her—and he's fooled all of the worlds into believing he's an ambassador for peace. We were always taught that he was one of the great Twelve to admire. I don't know what he's planning, but it obviously isn't good." He paused for a moment. "Freya, I would have fought them all—but they were just pouring into the room so fast. They would have killed me and you would have had no chance. I knew the only way to save you was to act like I was doing my job. And I'm so sorry you had to wait for so long. I was forced to debrief. The moment they released me, I made my way to you."
"What were they doing with my blood?"
"I don't know what they want with your blood."
"Was it the travel that made me so sick? Or did they do something else to me?"
"They didn't administer the transfiguration medication so they probably didn't vaccinate you for the many diseases on Cathal either. Your immune system has been under serious stress. And without them feeding or hydrating you—Morag was torturing you."
My fingertips grazed my collarbone. "He wants my necklace. Kept calling it Brísingamen. But I lost it when they broke into the hotel."
"I have it," Theron said.
Chapter 25 Novia
"You have what?" I asked sure I had misheard him.
"Your necklace. The Brísingamen!" He hopped up and took my backpack out from underneath a brown cover on the other side of the room.
"My pack!"
Theron unzipped it and removed his thick, warm jacket. "When they first busted in, I slipped it into my knee-high sock without anyone noticing. Then, when I got the chance, I hid it in the inner lining of my coat so they wouldn't find it when they searched our stuff." He set the pack down next to me then retrieved my necklace and placed it in my hand.
My tears dropped onto the amber gems. "I thought you betrayed me and gave them the necklace."
"Of course you would have thought that. How could you have thought anything else—after they—and I… " His voice trailed off.
"Thank you," I whispered, as warm tears of understanding, relief and happiness came. I was still alive. My mother might be right here on this planet. My necklace was in my hands. And Theron was still my Theron. "I forgive you."
"What—did you say?" he asked slowly.
"I forgive you." I looked right into his brown eyes.
His eyebrows furrowed and a look of unfathomable disbelief covered his face. He shook his head slightly. "What I did was unforgivable."
I reached for his hand. The exertion was exhausting, but I tugged him down next to me again. "Theron, it is forgivable—and I forgive you."
He put my hand over his face. "I'm so ashamed."
"Stop. You did what you had to do—when you had to do it. You did everything you could. I understand. No shame. No foul." I smiled a little, trying to get his attention. But he couldn't look at me again. Not yet.
My eyes felt heavy and I yawned, "I'm so sleepy.
Theron still didn't look
me in the eyes, but he helped lower me back down and tucked me underneath the pile of warm blankets. "It's the herbal mixture in the broth—it will help you rest and your body to recover."
"Come lay next to me," I said.
He went several feet away from me and got a couple of blankets that he must have used while I was unconscious. He set them next to mine. "Are you sure?"
I nodded and smiled encouragingly. He lay down, and I put my head on his chest. I felt whole again. "What will we do now?"
"We stay here where it's safe until you're fully better," he said, wrapping his arm around me. The pressure felt like safety.
"What if they find us?"
"They won't. Their radar and satellite systems can't maneuver in these catacombs. Once you're recovered we'll formulate some sort of plan, even though our scenarios are extremely limited. You'll be back to yourself in a couple of weeks."
"Theron?"
"Yes?"
"Are your eyes really chocolate brown?" I fell asleep before I heard his reply.
~
I woke up sometime later with Theron's arm still around me. Since I couldn't see the sun I had no idea what time it was. But I felt—energetic. I stirred, and Theron was immediately awake.
"You okay?"
"Yes. Actually, I feel really good. I'd like to stand up and stretch out my legs—and get my muscles working again."
"All right then." He stood and stretched his arms over his head. "Let's get you to your feet." He placed his hands under my arms for support and carefully hoisted me up. My feeble legs took a few moments before they remembered how to carry my weight. Theron braced me as I took a couple tentative steps forward.
"I should sit back down," I said quickly. My muscles were almost unusable and my head was woozy.
"Maybe just sitting is a better idea," he suggested.
Back to the blankets I went. I wasn't too bad, though. I had managed to stand up (though it may have been a little much), and I was sitting and wiggling with no problem. Improvement.
Theron warmed up some more broth but mixed in some soft foods. The puree looked like vegetables and potatoes. It was delicious.
Hunted (Dark Secrets Book 1) Page 24