by C. J. Felver
He tilts his head to the side, as if he’s thinking. “That sounds like a good way to think about it. My parents took off the second I graduated high school. I got used to fending for myself early on. They both traveled a lot for their jobs and probably would’ve split sooner if they could’ve gotten away with leaving me alone as a minor.” He shrugs.
Well, that sounds awful. I couldn’t imagine growing up with parents more interested in their jobs than in me.
“I don’t know what would be worse. Having a parent walk out on you or having a parent mentally absent while they’re physically around?” Honestly, they’re both crappy situations that way too many kids have to deal with.
Wren grunts in agreement. “Go get some rest. You’re exhausted and something tells me you’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”
I push off the couch and his hand captures mine. He leaves a gentle kiss on the back of my hand. My mind is still a storm cloud. I can’t do anything but offer him a small smile before stalking off to my borrowed bedroom. I drop onto the bed and pass right out.
Appearances
I wake up on a concrete slab fitted with a thin mattress. The walls are plain, nothing identifiable about them, but there’s something familiar. Swinging my legs around, my bare feet hit cold concrete. I can’t see the floor. It’s covered in a blanket of thick, hazy fog.
A door appears. Weird. Was that there the whole time? The knob turns easily, leading me into a long corridor. Not a soul around. Every light is on, glaring off the too-white walls. A chilling silence makes the hair on my arms stand on end.
Something about where I am doesn’t feel real. I know this is supposed to be HSI Labs, but there’s no way I could be walking around here without someone attacking me.
I glance around. The only sound is the humming of the lights above me. Behind me, the hallway is dark. So … I’m not going that way. My footsteps echo as I make my way down the corridor. Each door I pass is closed and the lights within the rooms are off. It’s eerie.
It seems like the floor is stretching on forever. An ache settles in my feet and legs. Where is it leading me?
The next instant, the hallway dead ends at a door. It’s so abrupt, I stumble into the wall, leaning against it momentarily for balance. Examining the door, I look for anything suspicious. Nothing seems threatening about it, which makes it so much more frightening.
Reaching out with a shaking hand, I turn the handle and push the door open. I stand in the doorway, taking in the scene before me.
Aulder Harlow is standing on the opposite side of the room, facing a wall of arched windows with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Welcome, Miss Daniels.” Somehow, this guy is always able to sound like a gentleman. It’s unnerving.
I take a tentative step into the room. The door slams shut and the lights go out.
Next thing I know, I’m strapped to a chair in the center of the room. Aulder is standing over me, silhouetted by one light behind him. I feel my nostrils flare as I suck air in rapidly.
“I think we’ll skip the serum today.” His eyes are feral. The blue is so cold that goosebumps break out on my arms. In my chest, my heart is pumping so fast, it feels like it’s one continuous beat.
“You’re not worth the trouble you cause.”
Aulder’s finger’s wrap around my throat. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get my hands free. The edges of my vision blur.
I jolt awake, sitting upright in bed. A sheen of sweat covers my face and neck, making my hair stick to my skin.
Holding my hands up, I stare at them as they tremble. Letting them drop to my lap, I sit here, staring at nothing, trying to chase away the nightmare. I don’t know how long I sit here. Eventually, chatter fills my ears. I push myself off the mattress; my shoes are still on my feet. The bed is made up beneath me, though the blankets are screwed up from where I tossed and turned. I must have been exhausted, flopping down without kicking off my shoes or tucking myself into the comforter.
Not wanting anyone to notice me yet, I sneak into the bathroom. Maybe splashing some cold water on my face will help. In the mirror, the deep purple bruises around my neck mock me. I look at them with disgust. True, Aulder Harlow marked me, but not just physically. He’s been haunting my dreams. Nearly every night, he’s been the main torment keeping me from getting any rest.
Sure, the marks on my neck will go away eventually, but the marks he left on my dad’s soul will never fade. And that hurts worse than anything else.
Leaving the bathroom, I follow the sound of voices to the dining room. My dad stops me in the hallway. He looks a little fraught, but better than earlier.
“Cleo, there’s something you need to know. We need to watch—”
“There you are,” Zander says, stepping out of the dining room. “Come on, let’s eat.” He ushers us into the room. My dad’s expression turns shuttered.
The others are sitting around the table eating. My dad takes a seat in front of an already full plate. There’s an empty plate beside him, so I make my way over to sit there.
I don’t know who cooked, but it smells amazing. Grilled chicken, potato medley, green beans … yeah, I’m officially starving. I don’t waste time filling up my plate and digging in.
“Feeling better?” Wren asks. I don’t miss the way his eyes rake over me, always assessing my condition. Do I look like I’m on the verge of breaking down? That’s how I feel.
Seeing as my mouth is full, I nod. The glass in front of me is full of water, so I take a gulp to wash it down. “Much better, thank you. I hadn’t realized how little sleep I’ve gotten lately.”
“Before you came in, we were talking about Monday,” Lyza tells me around a mouthful of food. “Basically, we’ll go in and keep our eyes open for anything suspicious. Since we only have a rough idea about Doctor D-Bag’s plan, it’s better to just play along with the government’s plan.”
“Makes sense. We can jump if something comes up, but I’d rather not make a fool of myself on a false assumption. We did that once already and now you have a bullet hole in your arm,” I say, nodding to Lyza’s wound.
She barks a laugh. “I wouldn't call it a hole—it was just a graze. And painkillers are my new best friend. But don’t worry about it, girl. We were all in it together. We all thought we would find the serum last night.”
If that isn’t the truth…
“Hey, Dad. What was it you were trying to tell me a minute ago?”
His eyes go round, but he shakes his head, eyebrows pinching together. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He stares at his plate as he eats, never fully relaxing, not that he has entirely relaxed since HSI Labs, anyway. It doesn’t stop me from feeling helpless for not being able to do anything about it.
As I take a few bites and chew them over, I realize something. Not keeping a level head has been a mistake. That’s a surefire way to miss things, big details. From here on out, I plan on doing my best to do better.
The next day, we get a phone call from Reese reminding us that there will be an address on the news today featuring our new favorite person: Aulder Harlow.
Lyza clicks on the television and scrolls through the channels to find the news.
“It should be starting any minute,” Reese says through the phone, which is on speaker. “Supposedly, this address is going to tell us what to expect for tomorrow.”
“Thanks for the heads up on this, Reese.”
“No problem, Cleo. Someone’s got to look out for you,” she says, ending the call. With all of us being preoccupied, Reese has really been a blessing in helping us stay up to date with this new thing the government cooked up.
The five of us are crammed into Zander’s living room as commercials flash across the screen. As Reese predicted, the address begins as soon as the commercials end.
“Today I’m joined by the man responsible for helping Lawrence representatives come to a conclusion in the case of elementals—Doctor Aulder Harlow.” The camera pans in sl
ightly as the screen splits, allowing another feed to pop up beside her. I swallow down the bile rising in my throat at the sight of him. “Welcome, Doctor Harlow. It’s a pleasure having you with us today.”
“Thank you for having me. The pleasure is all mine, Amy.”
The bruises tingle on my neck, reminding me of what he did. How can he look so … so normal? He looks like any other helpful citizen. He hides his crazy with no effort.
“What a schmoozing prick,” Lyza grimaces at the screen. Aulder continues to chat up Amy as she asks him questions. So far, none of them are relevant. Lyza throws both hands up in the air. “It’s no wonder he was able to convince people to do things for him. Just listen to him.”
My thoughts exactly.
“So tell me, Doctor Harlow, what made you decide to help the elementals gain their rights? Is it correct that you are not, in fact, one yourself?”
Who asks that? You can’t just ask that!
“Yes, Amy, that would be correct. I, myself, am merely an ordinary human.” I scoff, “ordinary” isn’t the word I would guess he’d use to describe himself. “My decision to help them achieve their goals was driven out of sympathy. Everyone deserves basic rights, no matter their heritage. Individuals should not be discredited for employment—or any services—simply because something makes them different. We, as people, have evolved past this primitive mindset and should no longer let the fear of the unknown control our actions. I can only hope that the rest of the world will follow our lead.”
Hearing him say these things makes my blood boil. Everything coming out of his mouth is the complete opposite of what he said to me last night. It really makes him feel so much more sinister, knowing he can spit out lies as smoothly as he is.
“Tomorrow, we can expect the process of registration to begin. What can elementals of our city expect to happen?”
“We have sectioned things into alphabetical order to help ensure things run without a hitch. Upon arrival, there will be registration rooms. It is vital for all individuals to speak to our representatives there first before proceeding elsewhere.”
“Of course he wants us to be there first. We’re all going to be screened,” Lyza says. I can’t help but agree with her, but I keep quiet, hoping that Aulder will slip up and give us something useful to figure out his plan.
“From these stations, individuals will be directed to where they need to go next to receive their identity marks. Everyone is expected to have given a blood sample and received an identity mark before departing.”
“I know we have previously discussed the purpose of identity marks—a tattoo, essentially—but could you please remind our viewers what the purpose of this is and what to expect should they refuse the tattoo?”
“Yes, of course, Amy. The purpose of the identity mark is for others to be able to immediately identify an elemental. This will help ensure the safety of everyone—elementals included. Any individual finding themselves refusing the mandatory identity mark will be detained. The Lawrence Police Department has tasked officers with overseeing our event. They will be present to ensure civility ensues.”
Amy begins thanking Aulder again for his presence, but the screen cuts to black as Lyza shuts the television off.
My dad’s lip curls in disgust. “Detaining anyone who refuses to be branded? That makes me sick.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say. “Unfortunately, so many elementals have had it worse than us and don’t mind making that trade. Something about it doesn’t sit right with me though.”
“Will the officers actually be from the police force, or do you think they’ll be AGAS?” Lyza asks, turning to Wren.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll know when I see them. It’s possible for him to have both. Harlow has a few police officers on his payroll.”
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me. Cleo saw someone at HSI who made her suspicious. At the time, I thought she was being paranoid and judgmental, but honestly this makes more sense.”
Not being able to help it, I laugh. I’m pretty sure Lyza thinks I’m paranoid and judgmental about quite a few things, but she’s the exact same way, so it’s ironic.
Zander clears his throat as he stands. “Make yourselves at home however you need to tonight. If you need me, I’ll be in my office for most of the night.”
There’s an air of awkwardness to his demeanor. He’s probably not used to having so many people in his house for the amount of time we’ve been here. I’ll have to find a way to repay him somehow—other than keeping things clean—even though he had said he doesn’t want any money.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of wearing the same thing. I gotta run to our apartment. You want to come with me, girl?”
Lyza hit the nail right on the head. I threw on my last clean outfit this morning. “Yeah, I’ll go.” I turn to my dad, but he stops me before I can speak.
“Stop worrying about me. I’m fine.”
“I know, Dad, but I still like to check in with you. It makes me feel better.”
“I’ll go with you,” Wren announces. “Do you mind if we make a pitstop for me?”
“Not at all, bigshot. You’re driving.” Lyza tosses him her keys. We follow her through the front door and load into her Jeep.
“So, I’m betting you don’t need directions to our place,” Lyza says from the back seat, “am I right?”
“Uh …” Wren hesitates. “No, I don’t. But for the record, I was not directly involved with Frank’s abduction. My job was to assign and oversee, so I never stepped foot into your apartment.”
“That’s not any better, you know that, right?” Lyza points out.
Wren chuckles nervously.
“No, it’s not,” I say in agreement, trying to rescue the poor guy. “He already paid for that, though. Remember?”
Lyza laughs. “Yeah, girl, I guess you could say that.”
Wren glances my way. As his eyes catch mine, he mouths, “Thank you.”
I smile back at him. “Besides, he was only overseeing. I think it’s only fair for him to repay the favor by overseeing the cleanup detail.”
“Cleanup detail?” Wren asks, his nose scrunching up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’ll be in charge of overseeing the details of cleaning up our apartment.”
“Preferably before our landlady throws a fit,” Lyza adds.
“No kidding. She’s nosey, that one.”
“Don’t worry,” Wren assures us. “I’ll do what I can to get it taken care of.”
Pieces
It doesn’t take us long to get back to our apartment. I direct Wren to Lyza’s assigned parking space, next to where my own car is still parked.
“Hey, by the way, Lyza, are you going to have a job to go back to?” Wren asks as he passes her back the keyring.
She shrugs, leading the way up the two flights of stairs. “I don’t know. I was able to get a leave of absence, but I got a weird vibe. I may just quit and try to find something different. What about you, though? What are you going to do now that you’re not with AGAS?”
Wren’s mouth turns up in one corner and he peers at the ceiling, silent for a moment. “I haven’t really thought about it. I feel like we have a lot going on at the moment. If nothing else came out of my time working for Harlow, I was at least able to save up some money. Maybe I’ll try to get into security somewhere.”
“It would suit you, bigshot.”
“Have you ever thought of becoming a police officer yourself? Or joining a branch of the military?” I ask.
He makes a noise of affirmation, “I’ve thought about it once or twice. But … after everything I’ve experienced with AGAS, I don’t think I could walk into something like this again. Security would be quiet, I think.”
“Yeah, I get that.” And I really do. He said before that when he’d joined AGAS, he thought it would be something completely different than what it ended up being. I can imagine he’d be worried about repeating that
again somewhere else, even if not to the same degree.
Reaching the top stair, we round the corner to our apartment entryway and find our door is cracked open, again. I move closer, inspecting it.
“Girl, the door was that way the day they took your dad,” Lyza tells me.
Of course it was. I had forgotten, too preoccupied with worrying about my dad at the time.
Great. Inwardly, I groan. Our landlord has to have noticed that. How could she not?
Lyza nudges the door open with her toe, not bothering with a key. Her shoe skims across two envelopes sitting on the floor. Someone must have shoved them under the door. Written on each envelope in our landlady, Courtnie’s, handwriting is our apartment number. I stoop down and pick them up as Wren enters the apartment.
Lyza gestures to the envelopes, opening her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Wren’s gasp.
“What’s the matter, bigshot? Did you forget how effective your men are when they’re trying to subdue and obtain a target?”
“Former men,” Wren corrects Lyza, his gaze sliding across the messy apartment. “No, I know how effective they are. I’ve just never witnessed it from this perspective before.”
I forgot how unsettling this scene was. The upturned couch cushions, caved in coffee table, the TV—which had been hanging crooked—is now lying broken on the floor. So many things scattered about the space. A shiver creeps up my spine. “And what perspective is that?”
“Seeing the aftermath in the home of someone I care about.”
Wait a minute … what? Am I hearing things, or did Wren just admit to caring for me? I don’t know how we ended up where we are, but I choose to ignore it because there’s no way I can address it right now.
Really, though, I shouldn’t be surprised. Actions speak louder than words and all that.
“I mean, as far as cleanup detail goes, I think the couch is the only thing salvageable here. The rest … not so much. We need a new table and the door needs to be replaced, I’m sure.”