Madly & the Jackal (Madly Series, Book 3)

by M. Leighton

As we darted furiously past the second set of alarms, my mind and the rest of my body woke to the knowledge of where we were. I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my lips. I let it shine because we had just experienced our first victory. Jackson and I had made it. We were in Atlas. And we hadn’t triggered the alarms.

  We raced through the warm, calm, crystal clear waters until we began to see other Mer swimming below us. Although we’d known we were bound to pass others, I think neither Jackson nor I had planned for it. Or, more importantly, how to avoid it. If we were detected, the entire mission could be compromised.

  Just as I was able to make out the hazy brightly-colored peaks of the city, Jackson pulled to a stop and came around in front of me. His wide shoulders eclipsed everything behind him.

  “You’re gonna have to use your magic to charm us, Madly. We need to look like…well, I don’t care who we look like, as long as we don’t look like us.”

  I should’ve known Jackson would have a plan. He was a brilliant strategist, always thinking ahead. I smiled at him, partly in approval of his plan, partly in appreciation of the incredible mind that accompanied his incredible face.

  It took very little effort on my part to work the magic. My heritage and my bracelet in conjunction with the copious amounts of water would’ve been enough to begin with. Add to those elements the raw magic that lay within the invisible walls of Atlas, and I could do virtually anything. For the first time since we’d left land, I felt truly optimistic about our chances of pulling off our hare-brained scheme.

  “You’ll have to stay close to me or it’ll wear off,” I warned.

  Personally, I didn’t mind having Jackson by my side 24/7. In fact, I relished the idea. I couldn’t have planned it any better.

  “Oh, damn,” Jackson teased with a wicked grin, sliding his hand around my waist and yanking me roughly against him.

  My pulse tripped up a notch in response to the completely displaced, yet completely welcomed moment of intimate frivolity.

  “I just hate that I won’t get to see this beautiful face for the next little while,” he pouted, brushing my cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  I thrilled at his casual compliment. I was still in awe of how our relationship had changed. I wanted to enjoy our love, our closeness, and our freedom while we could. Although I would never have admitted it to Jackson, I was afraid that my parents might do something drastic when they found out that I had tied to a Sentinel.

  With a shudder, I closed my eyes, pushing the worrisome musings aside. There would be time to tackle all that later. I needed to focus on the situation at hand.

  “Well, lucky for you, Sentinel Hamilton, you and I won’t be able to see what others see. I will still see the real you and you’ll still see the real me.”

  Jackson frowned.

  “Not that I’m complaining, but how will we know it worked?”

  “Trust me,” I said confidently. “It worked.”

  Jackson nodded, but I could tell he was far from convinced.

  “What about your bracelet? Can you, like, camouflage it or something?”

  I paused, adding that detail to the image I was conjuring.

  “Done!” I said with a flourish. “So, brilliant planner, who shall we be? Bonnie and Clyde Matthews? Bill and Calamity Jenkins?”

  Jackson smirked.

  “How about John and Mary Rainns?”

  “John and Mary Rainns,” I repeated, taking the names out for a test drive. “Eh, they’ll do. At least they’re somewhat similar to our real names.”

  Jackson smiled and reached for my hand.

  “You should probably get us some rings,” he suggested, rubbing my empty ring finger with his thumb.

  I knew he was just seeing to the details, but my mouth went completely dry, which is very significant when one is submerged in water.

  “Right,” I said, my voice sounding breathless in the water, even though that wasn’t possible. And yet it did. I heard it with my own ears.

  I smiled awkwardly, suddenly feeling nervous. I held out my hand, palm up, and conjured twin golden circles that appeared in the center of my hand as if they’d been there all along.

  Jackson and I both looked down at them and then back up at each other. For a moment, I felt lost in the endless depths of his clear blue eyes. They seemed to hold infinite answers to the infinite questions that constantly plagued a tiny corner of my mind. They were confident where I was not. They were strong where I felt weak. They were honest when I needed the truth. And, most of all, they were love when I needed it most.

  Jackson’s warm fingertips grazed my palm when he took the larger of the two rings and slipped it on his finger. I was surprised that it fit. I raised my hand to take the second ring, but Jackson stilled it. Instead, he took the ring in one hand and my hand in his other, turning it palm down.

  Without a word, Jackson slid the ring on my finger. I would have sworn my heart stopped beating for a full ten seconds. The sun hung quietly overhead. The earth froze on its axis. Every creature in the sea stilled. Life around us paused, as if the entire universe was as breathless as I was.

  We both stared down at the golden band for what seemed like an eternity before Jackson raised my hand to his lips and kissed the shiny circle that wound around my finger. Our eyes met for an instant and it was magic like nothing I’d ever experienced.

  When Jackson grinned, it was gone.

  “Mrs. Rainns.”

  I smiled, shaken. Despite the carefree tilt of his lips, I knew Jackson was moved by the mystical moment. He’d felt it, too. I supposed rehashing it would be a conversation for another day. And, even then, I had no idea what we’d say about it. Maybe it was one of those things best left undisturbed, unexamined. Whether it was ever mentioned again or not, it was etched onto my heart with a white-hot branding iron.

  “Mr. Rainns,” I finally managed once I’d recovered. “Shall we?” I asked, tipping my head to indicate the sparkling city that lay beneath us.

  “We shall,” Jackson said, turning until we were shoulder to shoulder and offering me his arm.

  I hooked my hand on the crook of his elbow and we drifted weightlessly down through the waters toward Atlas. Toward home.

  From a distance, Atlas appeared to be nothing more than an enormous bed of beautifully brilliant coral. As one descended upon it, there were brightly colored peaks as far as the eye could see. They shone in a dazzling display that could be seen through the cover of haze that floated atop the city.

  The haze itself was nothing more than a collection of minerals that refracted light in such a way as to cleverly conceal Atlas, giving it the appearance of simple coral. It also functioned to confuse humans, discouraging them from stumbling upon the city unawares. But the closer we got, the clearer the picture became.

  Once we passed the protective film, the vibrant colors became the otherworldly, sparkling pastels that were unique to Atlas. Gliding over the city was like flying over a mountain range made of pale, rainbow crystals. In the center of each peak was a round opening, a window into the hidden world below. Each one corresponded to an intersection of streets in Atlas.

  “Where do you want to go in?” I asked Jackson.

  “Let’s go in near the school. We can walk down to Central Square and do some recon around your parents’ house before we make our move.”

  My family’s home was sort of like a Governor’s mansion. It was a compound that occupied a city block right in the center of town. It functioned as the residence of the Warden Major and Warden Queen of course, but it was also a beacon of leadership, security and stability. In the event of a hostile takeover, it would likely have fallen into the hands of the traitors.

  Jackson took my hand, tucked his head and swam with purpose, dropping in so close to the crystalline peaks that I could’ve reached down to touch them as we zoomed by. When we arrived at the familiar lavender peak that marked the school, Jackson dragged me down through the opening.

  As we swam into t
he center of the pale crystal, our bodies were bathed in warm soft light. The beautifully colored, crystalline mountains that served as a sky for Atlas functioned in a manner similar to that of a prism. They captured and refracted the dim light from the surface of the water and channeled it into the city that lay beneath.

  When it seemed we had traveled far enough to have breached the earth’s core, the bright tunnel gave way to a room. There was one such compartment at the bottom of each mountain. They were airlock chambers, sustained by the magic of Atlas.

  As we descended into the area, I could feel the spell of the Mer separating my legs as my tail fin receded to give me feet. In Atlas, everyone lived as a hybrid. We were still covered in our natural scales, but they fit more like leggings, allowing us to walk and move as humans, but without the need for restrictive clothes. Once our legs had separated, if we re-entered the chamber, the webbing of scales between them would reform, as would our fibrous tail fin and we would once again be fit for swimming in the waters of the deep.

  Jackson and I descended the stairs that led to street level, my hand still firmly within his grasp. I paused on the last step, happier than I could describe at being back in my home land. A part of me had wondered if I would ever see the beautiful city again.

  I let my eyes roam the familiar landscape, taking in all the sensory stimulation as if I’d never seen it before.

  The translucent mountains hovered above the city like a ceiling made entirely of stained glass. They shed their soft, glowing light on the pearly streets and the shimmering buildings, and they sparkled in the iridescent scales of every passerby.

  All solid structures in Atlas, from homes to businesses to official buildings, were constructed of the earth’s wealth of minerals and natural elements. They were harvested from the vast canyons and deep mines that dotted the ocean floor, locations humans lacked the technology to reach.

  Silver, gold, quartz, pearl, clam and oyster shells, salt, even rough jewels like rubies, diamonds, emeralds and sapphires, jewels that would be incredibly valuable in the world above—all of them and many more were used in various combinations to construct the unshakable buildings that peppered the lush landscape of Atlas.

  Jackson tugged on my hand and we set off down the street, toward the center of town. As we walked, I admired the small parks that graced every third intersection. They were like squares of dry land, from their thick grass to their crops of various trees. The only things they contained peculiar to Atlas were their selection of exotic flowers.

  At the square up ahead, I could see clumps of Tasanus flowers clinging to the trunk of a maple tree like fluffy yellow puffs of cotton. Standing in elegant twists on either side of the maple were two Plackarra plants—tall spikes of greenery that resembled spiral topiaries, only these dripped with bright orange blooms that dangled like drops of sunshine from every branch.

  Each park was different, but one was just as stunning as the next. Atlas was like utopia, a paradise with all the advantages of dry land yet none of the disadvantages. I enjoyed every square we passed, more enthralled with the beauty and balance than ever before.

  We passed many Mer. They all seemed to be going about their business as if all was well. I began to wonder how much they knew of what was going on. I suspected they weren’t fully informed. Life in Atlas appeared far too normal.

  “Jackson, don’t you—”

  “Ah ah ah!” he cautioned softly. “That’s John to you.”

  He glanced sideways and winked at me, gently reminding me that we had covert identities to maintain if we expected to succeed.

  “Sorry,” I said, grinning sheepishly. “John, do you think the rest of Atlas knows what’s going on? I mean, look at them. They act as if it’s business as usual.”

  “Look closer,” he said, keeping a keen eye on our surroundings. “Where are the royals? When was the last time you could remember looking around town and seeing no royals?”

  My heart sank when I really looked at the Mer that were out and about. Each of them had some shade of black, brown or red hair. There was not one blonde head as far as the eye could see.

  “Ohmigod, Jack—er, John, what is going on?”

  How had some malevolent force managed to get the upper hand on a powerfully magical people such as the Mer? And how could Jackson and I make a difference against such a force? I felt the odds of our success sink to dismal depths.

  “Just exactly what we planned to do from the beginning—we’re going to find your father. He may be the only person we can trust and he’s bound to know more about what’s going on than anyone else. I mean, he’s the one who—”

  Jackson stopped suddenly, his eyes darting quickly toward me and away again.

  “What? He’s the one who what?”

  He didn’t answer right away, which both irritated and concerned me. I had already figured out I didn’t know everything that was going on, but I had assumed they’d told me everything there was to know about my parents.

  I pulled up suddenly, putting my hand on Jackson’s arm to stop him as well.

  “Tell me, Jackson,” I said, not caring about our secret identities at the moment.

  Jackson sighed, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. It was apparent that he hadn’t really wanted to tell me something, but it had to do with my father and I had to know. It was my right.

  “He was the source. He was the one who managed to get out long enough to get communication to Commander Jessup at Transport.”

  “That’s good then, right? I mean, that means he’s alive and that…” I trailed off when I saw Jackson’s lips thin in concern. “What? What am I missing?”

  I felt like so much had happened, I didn’t really have a good grasp on anything as simple as my name, much less things of a remotely complex or emotionally wrought nature.

  “He had to get back in before someone realized he’d managed to get out. If he didn’t or if he was discovered, he felt like they would punish him somehow. Him or his family. And since they have Truly...”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. It was just as bad as I’d originally thought. It was quite possible that if my father had even made it back inside, that he’d been discovered and the traitors had done something to either him or my sister in retribution.

  I felt sick. My stomach clenched and knotted and roiled. My very constitution was rebelling against the idea that something had happened to my family. I closed my eyes briefly, swallowing the bile that had bubbled into my throat to suffocate me.

  Although he couldn’t see me, I was determined to make my father proud. I’d push aside every bit of emotion that I could in order to be the princess, the leader he’d raised me to be.

  I had never fully understood the hefty price of being a royal.

  Until now.

  “Was he able to tell Commander Jessup anything else? Give us any idea of what was going on or who was behind it?”

  “No. Understandably, he was very rushed. That was all the information we were able to get before he had to go.” Jackson turned to face me, rubbing his hands up and down my upper arms soothingly. “Madly, he’s fine. I’ve never met a stronger, more dedicated Mer than your father. You know what he’s like. He’d never let them win. Never!”

  Jackson smiled, trying to encourage me and, though I knew he was probably right, I couldn’t completely vanquish the fear that pressed in on my chest.

  “Well, I guess we’re about to find out,” I declared, taking a shaky breath.

  Jackson slid one hand down and tangled his fingers with mine. Together, we turned toward Central Square. We could just make it out in the distance.

  From that point on, I ceased to notice and appreciate the beauty of Atlas. I was consumed with the effort of discarding all the worst case scenarios that seemed determined to flood my mind. The action of Jackson’s fingers squeezing mine brought me back from a dark swirling pit of hopeless despair.

  I looked up and there, looming ahead was what Jersey called the mini-M
ahal, short for miniature Taj Mahal. It was the Warden’s Mansion. It was my home.

  The vision hit my soul like a sip of water to a parched tongue. Looking at it reminded me of the strong, loving, unstoppable force that was my father. His amazing personality and strong leadership was reflected in every graceful yet sturdy line of the structure.

  Made entirely of snowy white marble, the home of the Warden Major was built thousands of years ago. It was built to last and built to impress.

  The mansion sat atop a small knoll, the only one in all of Atlas. It was visible from nearly any point in the entire city. It provided a graphic reminder that the Warden Major was ever watchful, ensuring the safety of the Mer and always acting in their best interests. If it was possible for a structure—any cold, hard, non-living thing—to accomplish all that, the Warden’s mansion did. It was awe-inspiring and comforting all at the same time.

  Though I’d spent nearly every night of my entire life within the privileged walls of the mini-Mahal, I was still moved by all that it stood for and how those very principles were being tested as I looked on from the street. It was upsetting to say the least, but it also functioned as a great motivator to see that the balance of power in Atlas was restored to those rightfully destined to lead the Mer. And whoever had stolen the bracelet and released the Lore was not such a leader.

  “Alright,” Jackson said quietly. “We’ll go in like any other visitor. When the Sentinel in charge of the gates asks about our appointment, I’m going to give him a code word that only upper level Sentinels and a few select government officials know about, so don’t look surprised.”

  “What is it?”

  Jackson paused. “Marmoset.”

  “Marmoset?”

  “Marmoset.”

  I wasn’t sure if laughter was appropriate, but that’s certainly what I felt like doing—laughing. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was encouraged that I could find humor in the world, humor with the man I loved, even in the worst of times. It was just another reminder that there was much for which to fight.

  “Marmoset it is,” I said, still struggling to keep a straight face.