Madly & the Jackal (Madly Series, Book 3)

by M. Leighton

  Why isn’t he here? With me?

  A deep sense of foreboding filled me, bringing tears to my eyes. I squeezed them shut to keep my distress from Jersey.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

  “The lights are just bright. That’s all.”

  A heavy footfall entering the room had my eyes wide open and expectant. I felt crestfallen when I saw that it was only the doctor.

  Dr. Lance Duffy smiled as he approached the bed. “We have to stop meeting like this, Princess.” I attempted a smile and failed miserably. A frown flickered across his forehead. “Are you in pain?”

  Carefully, I took stock of myself. Although I felt a little stiff and achy, I couldn’t say that I was in any real pain. At least not physically. There was, however, an emotional pain that I couldn’t quite shake.

  “No. I’m just tired. When can I go home?”

  Dr. Duffy studied me closely for several long seconds before he evaded. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Truthfully, it was the shock of seeing Jackson land in the floor in front of me, but I didn’t tell him that. “Something burning my mouth.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “And that’s all?”

  “Yes. Why? What do you think happened to me?”

  “I’m not certain. Could’ve been any number of things, anything from transient aquatic hyperglycemia to marine hypothermia to acute non-fatal anaphylaxis. It’s a bit puzzling, as all your labs are perfect.”

  “So, what do we do then?”

  He was slow to answer. “Since your blood work is all good and your CT shows no head trauma after your fall, our only other option is to run more tests. If you feel up to it, that is.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Well, I’d say we could let you go home if you give me your word to call if you feel any different. At all.”

  “You have my word, Dr. Duffy. Really, I feel fine. I’d just like to leave as soon as possible. There are some very important…Atlas matters I must tend to,” I said meaningfully.

  “Oh, of course, Princess. Quickly then.”

  With that, he made a few notes in my chart, smiled politely and left the room. Thankfully, twenty-five minutes later, I was shooing Jersey out of my room so I could dress.

  Outfitted in the pajamas I’d put on before dinner, I opened the door and exited into the hallway. The two hulking Sentinels stationed on either side startled me when they sprang to attention. A tiny squeal escaped before I could stop it. I was jumpy. Unsettled.

  I looked from one stone-faced guard to the other. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little shaken.”

  Both nodded. Neither said a word. The two simply fell in behind me when I moved toward the end of the hall to join Jersey.

  “Are you gonna be all right to walk home?” Jersey asked as we headed for the elevators.

  “I’m not going home,” I said, stabbing the down button with my index finger.

  “Of course you are. Where else would you go?”

  “Transport,” I answered without looking at her.

  “In the middle of the night? In your pajamas? After spending a few hours in the hospital? I think not.”

  “Jer-sey,” I growled warningly, my teeth gritted tightly.

  “Mad-ly,” she growled back.

  “It will only take a minute. I just need to check in.”

  “Madly, that can wait until—”

  “Jersey!” I snapped. “No, it can’t. Now stop arguing. You can come with me or go home.”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, thought better of it and clamped it shut. When the elevator doors swished open, I climbed in followed by the two Sentinels. Jersey stood looking at me from the hall, defiant. I could almost see the internal debate going on, but, in the true spirit of Jersey’s desire not to miss anything, she caved. With a petulant sigh, she stepped inside the car and punched the button for first floor.

  I reached forward and playfully pinched her arm, not wanting her to be angry with me.

  “Ouch! That hurt, you wicked barracuda!” She gave my hair a pretty hard yank, her eyes flashing with ire and resentment. I yipped, swallowing most of it before it could touch the air. We stared at each other like hostiles for a few seconds before her lips started to quiver. “I hate you sometimes. You know that, right?”

  I didn’t think for one second that Jersey hated me, any more than I hated her. We were family in all the ways that mattered.

  “Yep, just like I hate you.”

  After a few seconds, we grinned at each other and I knew all was well. When she turned to face the front of the elevator car, she took a step back, putting herself in line with me. Once more, my best friend was at my side, literally and figuratively.

  The four of us made our way through the dark, quiet streets of Slumber toward Transport. When another elevator emptied us out into the bustling dry land headquarters, I saw Commander Jessup first thing.

  Does that man ever sleep?

  He turned toward me and bowed his head almost imperceptibly. “Prin—”

  Interrupting him, I asked without preamble, “Where is he?” Jessup made as if to ask who I meant, but I cut him off again. “You know who I mean.”

  He nodded curtly. “He is about official business.”

  “He’s not here?”

  “You’ve just missed him.”

  “Where was he going?”

  “Back to his rooms, I believe.”

  “Why wasn’t he sent to the hospital?”

  Jessup had the decency to look uncomfortable, which made my heart sink. Something was off.

  “He, er, he requested that you be assigned alternative protection.”

  I felt the blood rush from my face. Jackson asked to be replaced?

  “Might I ask why?” I was grateful my voice didn’t give away the devastation I felt.

  “He felt his…attentions would be more beneficial if directed elsewhere until this crisis is over.”

  What a diplomatic answer. Unfortunately, it wasn’t really an answer at all. With a tight smile, I nodded to the commander. “Please keep me informed as to what progress is made. I will continue working on the situation myself.”

  “Do be careful, Princess.”

  “Always,” I assured confidently, turning back toward the elevator, desperate to get away.

  Jersey and my two new guards piled in behind me and the doors closed quietly. I felt claustrophobic, like the same tight, closed, crushing feeling had invaded my chest. It felt as though the world was closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe.

  A soft ding signaled our arrival at ground level. I burst through the doors the instant they opened, needing fresh air and wide open spaces in the worst way.

  Driven, I marched quickly, steadily, quietly back to the dorm, all the while aware of the silence of the trio that trailed me. I wondered what they were thinking. I figured Jersey was far too smart not to realize something was up between Jackson and me. I wondered about lots of things, but I didn’t really care. My focus was singular.

  I ascended the steps to the dorm’s front door and flung it open. A splash of deep red on the floor caught my attention first thing. Lying in front of my door was a single red rose, perfect and beautiful. Its fragrance filled the hallway, washing away all the doubt and worry and insecurity I’d managed to amass over the previous couple hours.

  It had to be from Jackson. He knew how much I loved flowers.

  I walked quickly forward and picked it up, bringing the perfumed blossom to my nose and inhaling deeply. Putting all my effort into concealing my smile, I turned to knock on Jackson’s door. I heard scuffling just before it opened to reveal a fully dressed Jackson, sunglasses and all.

  We stared at each other for several seconds. I looked down at the flower and back up at him. He gave away nothing. My fingers itched to remove the glasses so I could see his eyes.

  “Nice flower, Princess,” he said in his clipped way before dismissing me completely and
turning his attention to the two Sentinels behind me. “Clary, Gere.” He nodded to each of them and then moved past me. “I’ve got some things to attend to. You have your orders.”

  And with that, Jackson was gone. He simply turned and walked away, as though I was nothing more than a responsibility he’d managed to shift onto someone else. A burden. An unwanted albatross.

  A sharp pain in my hand caused me to yelp. I looked down at the broken stem of the rose. In my distress, I’d crushed it and inadvertently impaled my palm upon one long thorn. Clearly the flower wasn’t from Jackson. Clearly, something had changed. Clearly, something was very, very wrong.

  I had a thousand questions. I wanted to say a thousand things. But I couldn’t. This was neither the time nor the place. I wasn’t alone and there were pretenses to be maintained. I would have to wait. Even though every passing moment was tearing my guts out through my sternum, I would have to wait.

  Straightening my spine, I blinked away the tears that burned at the backs of my eyes. I turned toward the trio who stood behind me. I could not allow them to witness Jackson’s blatant disrespect of his wife and the future leader of Atlas. If I paid it no attention, they would have no choice but to ignore it as well.

  I cleared my throat and spoke sternly. “You heard him, gentlemen. Assume your posts. I’m going to bed. It’s been a long night.”

  Without looking at Jersey, I unlocked our door and stepped inside. I heard her behind me. The fact that she said nothing assured me she knew Jackson’s brutal rebuff had affected me more than I was letting on. She was giving me space. It was Jersey’s version of pity.

  Avoiding her eyes, I went about gathering a towel, washcloth and my shower kit as I spoke. “I think we’ve earned a day off from school. I’m going to shower and then get some sleep. You need some, too.”

  I didn’t need another shower, but I did need some space, some privacy. And water always soothed me.

  I had to look at her as I passed on my way to the door. Her eyes were big and sad and helpless. I smiled a brave smile. She smiled a sympathetic one. I moved past her and she reached out and squeezed my hand. I squeezed it back, but kept my eyes trained forward. I knew if I looked at her again or paused for one more second, I would crumble, so I kept going.

  In the bathroom, I readied my things for my shower, finding some comfort in the mindless, mundane, methodical task. I turned on the water and waited for it to heat and fill the small stall with steam. When it was ready, I climbed in. There, under the camouflaging hiss of the spray, behind a white curtain of privacy, I let my grief and confusion pour from me. It flowed like the water from the nozzle, spilling from inside me, bathing me in its bitterness then trickling down the drain.

  I didn’t know how or why or by whom, but in those soul-crushing moments in the shower, I knew Jackson’s love had been taken from me. Stolen like priceless jewels. I needed no more proof than the hollowness in my chest.

  His actions minutes before had been very telling. It was like the wind on my cheeks. I didn’t need the evidence of swaying trees or rippling waters to know the wind was there; I could feel it.

  At some point, my sorrow overwhelmed me, sapping strength from my legs and sweeping them from beneath me. I melted onto my knees and collapsed into one corner of the shower, away from the warmth of the water, away from the warmth of Jackson’s love.

  It was there that they found me.

  Again.

  I was already shivering, but it was as though vapors from dry ice now permeated the room. The chill was undeniable. Goosebumps broke out all over my arms, legs and chest. When I opened my swollen eyes, I was not surprised to see the inky black tendrils seeping into the shower stall from the drain.

  Seers. And this time, there was more than one.

  Darkness oozed into the air and separated into two distinct forms, ever growing as the drain emissions continued. When the Seers were fully formed, they overflowed the tiny cubicle like two hulking, diaphanous beasts. From the center of each cloud came hands, their long, pointed fingers beckoning me toward them. They didn’t ask so nicely last time. I wondered vaguely what had changed.

  Defiantly, I looked up into their gruesome faces, into the ebony pits where eyes should have been, and I shook my head. Again, they curled their fingers, summoning me forward. Jutting my chin out, I shook my head back and forth once, firmly. I knew my eyes flashed. I could feel it. I was daring them to…well, just daring them. I felt as though I had nothing to live for and I would’ve challenged the devil himself had he appeared in the shower with me.

  The Seers didn’t make their request a third time. They simply reached forward and placed their wispy hands on my head, taking me against my will.

  One moment I was in the shower, the next I was with them. Somewhere. Nowhere. It was like being conscious in unconsciousness. Feeling awareness in a coma. Feeling awake, yet asleep. In dark, dead, cold space.

  There was no sight, no sound. Even the ambient noises of the shower had been muted. I soon discovered, however, that I didn’t need my senses. The Seers could make themselves heard in other ways.

  Seeds of ideas were planted, seeds I knew would soon grow into the fruit of knowledge. Crucial knowledge. The Seers were telling me something so important they had come to me a second time without being summoned, without being asked. Ours was a critical time in the history of the Mer, of the world, and the Seers had their part to play. And play it they would.

  I don’t know how long they held me in their chilling grasp. Hours, minutes. A few seconds. I was with them one moment and back in the shower the next. It didn’t appear any time had elapsed, and for all I knew none had. Whether years or the blink of an eye, the Seers had given me a significant gift during that period. I knew it would be fully known and of vital importance when the time was right, whenever that was.

  Suddenly drained, it took all my energy just to finish my shower. “If you’re trying to make me stop bathing, it’ll never happen,” I said aloud, hoping the Seers were somewhere, listening. Actually, I knew why they chose that particular venue for their big revelations—the presence of water and the predictable amount of privacy. I rarely ever showered when the other girls did. It seemed that was as good a time as any to find me alone.

  Quickly, I washed my hair and body, wondering at the seemingly disconnected thoughts the Seers had given me. I hoped that resting would help me to make sense of them, although I knew I would be able to when it was necessary. I wanted that time to be now, though. I desperately needed…something—something to focus on, something to work toward, something to succeed at, something to immerse myself in. Something to help me forget about my anguish over Jackson.

  As if there’s anything on Earth capable of accomplishing that.

  I made my way back to my room on wobbly legs, determined not to let the sight of Jackson’s door bother me. But it did. I crept quietly into my shared room, climbed into bed and wept silently into my pillow until exhaustion claimed me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I was floating through an orchard. It wasn’t familiar to me, but I knew the neatly trimmed trees that lined the straight, even rows were apple trees. Although there was no fruit hanging from their limbs, thousands of red globes littered the grass at the bases of their trunks. They were strewn about as if a hurricane had swept through the grove and flung apples haphazardly, this way and that.

  I looked up at the cloudless sky, only to find it wasn’t a sky at all. It was the ocean above my head. But there are no orchards in Atlas.

  The heavy scent of decaying fruit hung in the air, making my stomach swim with nausea. When I looked back to the orchard scene, I saw someone walking along the row in front of me. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, only that the person had dark, shoulder length hair and was fairly small. The frame wasn’t necessarily feminine. It wasn’t necessarily masculine either, though. Just small.

  The form wore white cotton pants and a long-sleeve white cotton shirt. A wicker basket was looped o
ver one arm and occasionally, he or she would bend as if to pick up an apple.

  I watched as the gender-indeterminate person purposely by-passed the healthier looking fruit and selected the rotten apples instead. It sifted through dozens of partially decayed specimens, picking some up and tossing them down again. I wondered at the selection criteria. It was a mystery to me. Blackened fruit was sometimes chosen, sometimes not. Sometimes, apples with only a few brown spots were picked.

  Why would anyone select only rotten fruit? But not all rotten fruit? What makes one piece different from the others?

  As if willing my body closer, I found myself practically sitting on the shoulder of the gatherer. I watched in fascination as each piece of fruit was rotated carefully between long fingers and examined for…something. It was then I noticed that each apple had a different symbol on it, almost as though someone had carved it out of the peel, revealing the fleshy fruit beneath. I didn’t recognize any of the shapes.

  Looking down into the basket at the apples already reaped, I noticed one that was decorated with what looked like a wolf’s head. As the gatherer selected yet another piece of fruit and deposited it into the wicker basin, the apple with the wolf’s head on it was pushed out the back of the basket. It fell to the ground with a dull thud. There, it burst into flames.

  The shoulder shifted beneath me and the gatherer turned burning neon-green eyes on me. I saw nothing of the face past those eyes. It was as though they held me captive, paralyzed by their blazing irises.

  One word appeared inside my mind. A name.

  Rumpel.

  It settled in as if someone had whispered it to me. Only no one had. I just knew. Somehow, I knew this was Rumpel, the greatest, greediest, most deceptive Lore the world had ever known.

  What is Rumpel doing here?

  That question rang through my head as reality intruded upon my dream. Someone was knocking at the door. Three hard, sharp raps.

  Trying to push off sleep, I pulled my legs from beneath the covers and set my feet on the floor. They were heavy, at least a hundred pounds each, my body still not recovered from whatever had happened to me a few hours before. With gargantuan effort, I stood and fumbled my way, half blind and dragging, to the door to open it.