“They haven’t earned the right to be here,” Quinn said. “They’re weak. Useless.”
“You haven’t given them time to earn the right,” I pointed out.
“Humans have no rights, by default,” he said.
“Your bigotry has been noted,” I said. “Though, I doubt half the people here are as capable as they are...and you, well, barely half.”
“Capable!” he scoffed. “At what? Wasting oxygen?”
He hadn’t noticed what I had noticed. Ethan, Sprint and Spider, who had abandoned the shady characters in the corner to join us, all held up things from Quinn’s pockets: a watch with an orange face, a wallet, a black lighter with a snake eating its own tail. Things that looked important to him. The other Watchers in the room laughed, none of them having noticed the kids’ quick hands in the midst of the drama. The laughter embarrassed Quinn. He grabbed his belongings back, his eyes switching into a more scary darkness; it was the darkness of anger.
“Humans don’t belong here. They endanger us all,” he said in a cold voice.
“Reaper doesn’t seem to think so,” I said.
“Reaper doesn’t know everything,” Quinn replied.
“He knows enough,” Alex said.
Quinn’s eyes turned sly. “His word won’t always be the strongest word here,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Quinn shrugged and didn’t answer my question. “When certain other voices are stronger, these flies…these humans, will no longer have a place in the Saints. You would do well to remember that.”
“You realize one of your parents had to have been a human, right?” I asked.
“More like a donkey,” Spider muttered.
Quinn ignored Spider’s insult. “I am stronger. I am better. My birthright has made me rise above, with the change I saw on the birthday that made me a man. I am nothing like the human who abandoned me.”
“That is becoming clearer by the second,” I said.
Alex snickered. The darkness in Quinn’s eyes changed as he lost some of the control he had been managing. His body tensed and he prepared himself to succumb to his anger. I tensed as well, prepared for the fight he was looking for. Before either of us could move, a new voice interrupted the conversation. It was quiet and precise, the sort of voice not easily argued with.
“What is the problem here?”
I turned and saw the woman from the window, the one with red hair and red eyes, staring at us. She was barefoot and wearing a long black dress, which went to her ankles. Her eyes bored into Quinn’s in a way that would have made anyone uncomfortable. The anger in Quinn’s face drained like a cup being turned over, and he blanched. He maintained his bravado for the others in the room, despite his obvious fear.
“These humans are a danger to our home. Anyone can read their thoughts and find out where we are, what we do. They put everything we do at risk.”
“That is not your decision to make. If you wish to counter this decision, I recommend you discuss it with Reaper, instead of in a public forum, which does nothing beyond make you look foolish.”
“Moira…I…” Quinn started to protest.
Moira waved a hand, cutting his protest short. “Do you not have something better to do? There are people out there in need, after all…humans, even. That is why Reaper brought you here off the streets, from where you were barely surviving…that is why he showed mercy when others would have left you to rot, is it not?”
Quinn didn’t like the reminder of Reaper’s aid. His anger started to rise again, but he didn’t argue with her. He backed away from the table, lifting his hands as he retreated in silent defeat. I slid the knife I had pulled half way out of my boot back into its home and watched him leave. I knew his retreat wasn’t the end of it. I would have to keep an eye on the kids. I would keep an eye on Quinn.
“Pathetic…” I heard him mutter as his two bodyguards followed him out the door. The bodyguards snickered.
Alex and I shared a look of concern then I bent down to speak with the kids. “You guys okay?”
“We’re fine…” Sprint said her voice annoyed. “Man, I’d like to teach that ass a thing or two!” she added.
“Don’t go picking fights you can’t win,” I said.
“Who said I’d lose?!” she demanded.
“Everyone at this table,” Spider said.
Spider’s eyes were full of dark fire; a fire I had never seen in his eyes before. More than ever, those eyes reminded me of Daniel. They were eyes that said they would do whatever it took to protect his family. He stared at the door Quinn had left through, as if he were considering following him. I knew where his thoughts had gone – they were the same place mine had gone.
“I think you should probably watch your back, doll. I know something about enemies, and I think you just made one,” Spider added.
“I’ll just go ahead and add him to the list,” I said.
“It’s getting rather big, isn’t it?” Alex muttered.
“Mmm-hmmm,” I agreed.
I turned back to the door, to thank the woman, Moira, for her help, and saw that she had disappeared. I hurried to the door, curious about her for multiple reasons. I wanted to know why I had never seen her among the others; I wanted to understand the pain in her eyes. She was the first Watcher I had seen who didn’t maintain the illusion of openness. She was a mystery, and was content to be that way.
The halls were deserted, though, her disappearance more complete than I had thought. I thought about searching the hall, but I didn’t want to risk Quinn coming back while I was distracted. Alex met me in the hall.
“The kids are going to go upstairs,” she told me.
“That’s probably for the best,” I said.
“Did you find her?” Alex asked.
“No…” I sighed. I would have to find another chance to offer my thanks. My thoughts returned to Quinn. “I didn’t think I would meet someone here who was so…”
“Bigoted?” Alex asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, didn’t you notice before? What were you doing for the past two weeks?” she asked.
It was a foreign concept for her to turn off all the things she noticed on a day-to-day basis. Her blue eyes saw everything. It was easier for me to tune out the world; easier than I had ever thought it could be. I shrugged, not wanting to tell her I had spent the time lost in pain and fear, lost in worry that she and Daniel had died in New Orleans. I didn’t want to tell her that I had focused solely on exercise, so I wouldn’t have to think of the alternatives. It was too hard to explain in words how the fear had ruled me. She seemed to recognize her question was too difficult for me to answer.
“Well, if there ever was a spy…” she added, meaning Quinn.
“I know who just catapulted his way to the top of my list,” I agreed.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Alex promised.
“Me, too,” I agreed.
She looked at her watch. “I gotta go…”
“Where you going?” I asked.
“I’m supposed to meet River. She’s got some things she wants me to help her with…I told you Reaper had some jobs for me to do.”
“Oh, right,” I said, trying to hide how lonely I suddenly felt.
Everyone had missions, things they had to do for the group. While the kids hadn’t been assigned missions yet, I still felt left out. After my two weeks of being good, of doing what I was supposed to do, I was ready for action.
I went to my room, feeling morose, and collapsed on the bed. I stared up at the ceiling for a minute, before deciding the boredom was unbearable. It just had me counting down every second, every minute, Daniel was gone. I sat up and looked around my dark room for a way out of the dark thoughts. It was obvious I needed a distraction, or I would end up doing something stupid. Something that had me stealing a car and searching for trouble…
As I set my feet on the floor, the edge of my grandfather’s book nudged m
e. With the distraction of finding Daniel, and settling in to the Saints, I had forgotten about the book. It was a wonder, after the mystery it had left in my mind.
I picked it up feeling conflicted about what it contained. Here was a story I had thought I never wanted told. It was the story of my family. It was full of darkness and lost love I knew could never be replaced; it was full of Ellen’s sadness. I took a deep breath and opened its elegant pages once again. I had to know.
This time, I started at the beginning of the book. There was an inscription on the front page that read: An Account of the Family Michaels.
I flipped the page and saw the same elegant writing on the second page. This page detailed my more recent family history. My name was nowhere to be seen, but I saw Ellen’s near the bottom. Her name was linked to her father and mother. Ellen’s mother was linked to two sisters; Ellen’s father to a sister and a brother. Below these names were more names as my aunts and uncles had kids. My hand hesitated over their names.
I had cousins? Aunts? Uncles? Why had Ellen never mentioned them? My family might not want to see me – they thought I was degenerate and a sin – but it still would have been nice to know that I had family. Family that was still alive and kicking, apparently. I eyed the names again, trying to come to terms with the idea of so many family members, and one name in particular caught my attention. Ellen’s aunt on her father’s side had three kids. And one of those kids, Ellen’s cousin, had married a man named Gavin Nichols. I looked at his name in shock. Gavin Nichols had tried to kill me and had, in turn, been killed by Sheriff Cobb. He had married into my family? More importantly…Amanda Nichols was my second cousin? After everything that had happened – after I had saved Amanda’s life from a suicide attempt and had found Gavin Nichols dead – how could Ellen forget that detail?
I shut the book and shoved it under my bed. My leg rocked with my questions and my irritation. It felt like a rather large detail for Ellen to overlook. I had always maintained a curiosity about my family, about where I came from. Though I was comfortable knowing I would never be close to my family, the knowledge I had family was important. Had Ellen done it on purpose? Had she lied to protect me?
I wanted answers. I would steal a car and go to Santa Monica, to demand those answers from Ellen. She would tell me about my family. I would get a reason.
I realized how ridiculous I was being the same moment that I realized I knew why she had never mentioned it. She never talked about her years before she had run away; it was too difficult for her. A part of her was doing its best to shut down the pain; to avoid the consequences of feeling it. I understood that motivation. I realized, too, that Ellen not telling me about Amanda, or any of my family for that matter, didn’t change anything. They were there. I was here. We would never be in the same world, at the same time. For them, the world of angels, demons, and creatures somewhere in the middle, like me, was just fairy tale.
Deciding that my distraction had done more harm than good, I left my room and started pacing the corridors. I stayed on the third floor, to keep an ear on the kids – to make sure Quinn didn’t track them down and continue what he had started in the common area.
Without realizing it, my feet led me to the man who had been shot. I passed his door, recognized his face, and doubled back. I pushed the door open slightly to get a better look and peeked inside. He was pale from the blood loss, his eyes closed, but he looked better. The wounds in his chest were slowly starting to knit themselves back together. I stepped inside his room, wondering how bullets, even if they were silver, could inhibit the healing process for a Watcher. More questions I didn’t have the answer to…
As soon as my feet crossed the threshold of the door, the man opened his eyes. My face was the first place they went. His eyes were a strange shade of amber. He looked confused, disoriented, but not so much that his priorities weren’t clear.
“K.J.?” he asked.
“She…um, she didn’t make it,” I said.
“Damn,” he cursed.
He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.
“Do you remember what happened?” I asked him.
“All twenty three seconds of the attack,” he replied.
“Can…can you tell me? If you’re not too tired…” I said.
He opened his eyes to stare at me. A veil of secrecy shrouded his eyes. “I’m not certain I should. I don’t know you, or what you’re doing here.”
“I’m Clare. I’m not sure what I’m doing here either. I understand about not trusting me. Trust is hard. I’ll go…” I started to leave.
He blinked once and shook his head. “No, I remember you now. You’re the one King’s been hanging out with.”
“I’m going to have to do something about that,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Never mind. Do you want to tell me what happened?” I asked.
He took a deep breath. “We were sent to find our way into a building. It’s a building we think they store a lot of valuable stuff. Information…weapons…etc.”
“They?”
“The Seekers,” he said.
“Ah,” I said.
“We climbed on top of a building opposite the building we were interested in, to get a good view. We had already cased the defense – it was light, only three guards. But the second we stepped up on to the roof of the building, all hell broke loose.”
“From the building you were casing out?” I asked.
The man frowned, thinking over the events.
“No,” he said. “Another building. One higher up. Once the shooter started firing, the Seekers started firing. We were caught in the crossfire. K.J. was hit first. She took three in the chest and kept on firing, until she couldn’t anymore... I was next. Elizabeth…man, she went crazy. She traded shots with everyone, dodging all their bullets; pulled our asses off the building, pushed us into the first car she saw, and drove us back here going a hundred.”
“Is it possible someone might have overheard you or K.J. talking about the mission?” I asked. “Maybe you mentioned it to someone, or maybe K.J. did?”
The man shook his head, his eyes defensive. “We might not be one of the ten, but we know what we’re doing. We believe in the Saints, we love our home. The only people who knew we were there were the ones who knew from Reaper’s mouth,” he said.
“Thanks for telling me…” I said.
His words made the task of finding a spy easier and harder, at the same time. There had to be a limited amount of people Reaper would trust with that kind of information. Also, did I dare hold Reaper above suspicion? I knew it was his organization, but people often did strange things for strange reasons. Everyone was a suspect…guilty until proven innocent. K.J.’s death made me determined to do whatever it took to find the people responsible.
“Why did she have to die?” the man asked, his amber eyes full of regret. “Why couldn’t it have been me?”
I looked at him, aware nothing I could say would make him feel better.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I know she would be asking the same question if you had died.”
He nodded, appreciating my honesty, and shut his eyes again.
I left the room, wishing I had something better to say. Maybe I would get Alex to talk to him…she always knew the right things to say.
Distracted by his story – and more determined than ever to find the spy – I tucked my hands into my pants pockets and headed for the common area. I knew the population was always fluid through there; there was always some kind of happening. It was the reason I had avoided it during my initial stay. It would be more than a distraction – it would be homework.
I picked a table in the corner, so I could watch the door and the room, and focused on learning more about the people around me. I witnessed lots of drama, lots of fake fights meant to dispel pent up energy and aggression. I witnessed a couple of real fights, but nothing serious enough to warrant the still-illusive fighting arena. There was a lot
of flirting and talking, usually between the younger Watchers, and more than a lot of bragging and ego-stroking as everyone competed for the ‘Most Awesome Watcher of the Year’ award.
After only a few minutes of watching, it was obvious who was serious about being in the Saints and who was just passing through from one safe haven to the next. The ones passing through were usually loners, content to hole up in a corner and mind their own business. I found myself fascinated by the loners, though I knew the members of the Saints were where I should be focused. They were the most likely to have pulled the trigger.
I sat there, watching the Watchers, until well after midnight. The crowd increased as the night wore on and darker dealings swirled around the room as much as the music. Around two, Daniel came back. People swarmed around Daniel and Reaper as they walked into the common area, clapping and throwing compliments at them for a job ‘well done.’
Behind the pair was a large group of Watchers. Some looked terrified, others grateful. More than a few of the newcomers were curious about the group they had fallen in with. Though the crowd was substantial, I only had eyes for one person. Daniel didn’t notice me at first, the people around him masking me from view. The voices swirled around Daniel and Reaper in a din of noise.
“Ten people!” one man exclaimed over the others voices. “How’d you do it?”
“It was all Daniel,” Reaper said clapping Daniel on the back.
“Tell us!” several voices demanded at once.
“Have Reaper tell you. He’s better at stories,” Daniel said.
“Always modest,” Reaper said.
“If it suits me,” Daniel said with a grin.
The crowd parted as people shifted to get a better position near Reaper, to hear his story, and Daniel finally saw me sitting at the table. I smiled at him, relieved he was okay. He excused himself, giving Reaper the glory of the spotlight, and made his way over to me. People melted out of his way with increased respect, his place in the group sealed in a single night. I was jealous around my happiness. All I was known for was being ‘that girl King hung out with.’
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