“Dad!” Samera shouted.
I didn’t know how to react. Mr. Jensen kept throwing punches at Xander, but the latter only shielded his face with his forearms and waited. A few people walking on the street turned around to look at the scene, but none actually made a move to break the two men apart. I didn’t dare say anything. And even if I’d been more courageous, I wouldn’t have known what to say. My image of Mr. Jensen had always been that he was kind and comprehensive. I’d never known him to be capable of such hatred.
Samera kept shouting at her father, in vain, while she slowly walked to me, barely using her left leg. “Dad, come on! He said Mom asked him to! Dad, leave him alone, please!”
At that, Karl turned around and walked angrily to his daughter. “How do you know he didn’t force her? How naïve you are! This”—he pointed angrily at Xander, who was already recovering from the hits—“is not your friend anymore. You need to realize that he is a monster, a twisted abomination who manipulates the people around him in order to survive. I’ve seen too many of his kind already. I shouldn’t have allowed him to stay at our Headquarters for so long.
“I should have stood up to your mother and sided with John and all the other Protectors who wanted him dead.” He turned to Xander again. “Actually, it’s not too late yet.” He took out a coop-hole from his pocket and started dialing a number. “John will be happy to know of your whereabouts,” he told Xander. “I can’t bring you back myself without going against Michelle’s orders, but she said nothing about contacting other Protectors.”
The realization hit me. Michelle had been right earlier; the Protectors would immediately point the finger at Xander about the explosions and, if he stayed at Headquarters, his chances of ever being released would go up in flames. He couldn’t go back. And now that Karl was going mad, we had no choice but to escape without him. And that meant without Samera. She wouldn’t leave her father alone. Not in this condition, anyway.
“Xander did not hurt your wife,” I told Mr. Jensen, trying to sound confident. I slowly walked next to Xander and held his hand. “Didn’t you notice he could have hurt you when you attacked him just now, but he only protected himself from your blows? Can’t you realize he’s harmless?” Then, when I noticed Karl didn’t want to listen to any of it, I whispered as quickly and silently as I could to Xander, “Grab the map and run.”
And merely a second later, he swiftly and gracefully jumped onto Karl and hooked the Protector’s arm behind his back until he released his hold on the map, and we ran.
I knew Xander could easily outrun a human, but I wasn’t so sure about me. I was speedier than Samera, that was for sure, but running faster than a trained martial arts instructor was a whole other challenge.
Without slowing his pace, Xander looked at the map and made a sudden left, then another left. We almost ran into ten people in total, all more nonchalant than the other, like it was totally normal for two strangers to push them out of their way. Karl, however, never lost sight of us. And he looked furious.
After several blocks, my heartbeat reached its peak and my legs started to quiver.
“How long—before we arrive?” I asked, out of breath.
“You see that entry right there?” Xander pointed to some kind of subway entrance, his voice insolently steady. “Get in there and wait for me. I’ll lead Karl away, and as soon as he loses my trail, I’ll meet you there.” Without another word, he broke away from me and headed down a perpendicular street.
As much as I disliked the idea of splitting up, I did as he bid and was relieved when Sam’s father followed behind Xander without even noticing me.
I arrived at the entrance of the subway and descended the stairs two by two. No one was around and, aside from my steps on the cement, any noise from the street was muted as I got deeper underground. Light was also pretty much non-existent this far down. My heart was still racing with itself and I feared Xander wouldn’t be able to get rid of Karl. After three staircases, I believed no one would see me and I was scared to continue on my own because I couldn’t see further away than my own hands, so I allowed myself to slow down and even sit while I waited for my friend.
And that’s when I noticed a silhouette silently climbing up from the darkness, looking slim and bold. And holding a silver knife.
“Why, we meet again, I suppose,” the man said to me before I heard a cracking sound.
Chapter VII
Ian Cohen
My plan was perfect.
3H6 was a drug based on a powder of peliolite leaves that was created in Yellow by the kids. Three years ago, Protectors had bought a few gallons of 3H6 in order to uncover its secret recipe, but none of our scientists cracked the mystery open. What we were able to find out, however, was that this drug enhances people’s fears.
While visiting his brother at the infirmary, John had stolen some of the substance from the laboratory. At seven this morning, he had gone to the cafeteria and added a few drops of 3H6 into the coffee machine. And at seven-thirty sharp, Protectors, including many jury members, had come into the cafeteria to eat their breakfast as well as drink their morning coffee. And that’s when the plan was to kickoff.
Jury members would be scared of Xander Macfrey and thus condemn him to the death penalty.
Though something I hadn’t anticipated happened.
“You could have at least given me a heads up,” I argued to Meo. I had called him as soon as the explosions had ceased.
It normally takes a few hours for the 3H6 to kick in, but because of the unexpected Rascal attack on our HQ, horrified Protectors were now running in the halls like chickens with their heads cut off, the drug probably making them hallucinate strange monsters invading the earth or something.
“I can’t tell you everything my boss plans,” Meo replied. “Besides, if you’d known, you would have deserted Headquarters with your closest allies and that would have been suspicious.”
“Oh, and staying here and almost getting myself killed was a better option for you, I suppose? Several Protectors are badly injured, you know? Some may be dead.”
As much as I’ve grown to accept Meo’s complete indifference to others’ feelings by now, it still hurts to know how dispensable I am.
“Were you hurt?”
“No, but—”
“Exactly. Thanks to Gareth, we have access to your surveillance camera. We knew where to hit.”
“You could at least let me know when your boss’ plan includes destroying my workplace. What were you here for, anyway?”
There was a long pause before he answered. “Wyatt still wants Miss Priam by his side, and my boss simply proved to the Protectors that they are never safe. Call that a terrorist act if you want. Your people should know that our fight isn’t over. And no matter where they hide, we can find them.” Another pause followed and I wished he would ask for my assistance against the Protectors, but the question never came. After a long sigh, Meo said, “If you don’t have any more questions, I’ll leave you to your mess.”
“Can I help you guys in any way?” I had to ask.
“No. As I said a month ago, you’re in no way useful if you’re not the leader of the Protectors. Enjoy the rest of your day, Ian.” And he hung up, making my veins boil with a sudden rage.
I am useful. I would do anything to work alongside Meo. If only he’d help me take control over the Protectors, then we would be unstoppable. But no! He has much greater things to do! He must find Amya because she is special. Amya. I should have killed her when I had the chance. Maybe then Meo would have realized how important I am for the plan, whatever it is. Because I still have no idea what it is. Because I’m not important enough to him. Because I am a mere human with no power at all! And I’m. Just. Useless!
Without thinking, I threw the coop-hole at the wall next to me with all my strength and kicked my working desk. Again and again, until my toes hurt too badly to continue.
“Dammit,” I muttered.
In the past month,
I had found a rabbi, I’d started eating kosher, I’d joined a synagogue, and I’d even started to learn Hebrew. But there were several more steps to take before I could officially convert to Judaism. And as long as I was considered a Christian, there was no way I could ever become the leader of the Protectors of Amani. Not while Michelle was still in control.
Exhaustion knocked at my door every day that I had to fake enjoying working side-by-side with her and doing all her biddings, while making sure more and more of my colleagues noticed how selfish and incompetent she was. Xander’s trial had been the perfect opportunity to seal that belief since, as I was certain, Michelle would never have agreed to sentence him to death; thus, everyone would have realized how weak she really was.
But that dream had literally been destroyed when the first explosion blasted the main office. Not only was John still in the emergency room due to third-degree burns, but most of his rebel group was also badly injured, unable to help my cause anymore.
All in all, I felt like absolute crap.
Two knocks veered me away from my thoughts.
The door of my office opened, giving place to a ghost I thought I’d gotten rid of weeks ago.
A cold chill down my spine rendered me silent, unable to move.
“Ian,” was the only word that came out of Jonathan Cohen’s mouth, as his bloodshot eyes stared at me like a predator stares at its prey.
He made a quiet step toward me. And another. Then he closed the door behind him.
Remembering the last time I’d seen him, I wanted to run away. He was sick. Since Meo had implanted the memory of killing my former friend, Jim Bianchi, into his head, Jonathan had gone mad. Almost every day, he tried to end his own life and he mutilated his body. I’d even heard that he couldn’t bear to look at his own reflection in a mirror.
Since I had visited him a month ago—since he had told me about his memory transplant—I’d always thought he’d try to kill me were he ever to escape from his cell.
I consider myself a strong man, I thought. Stronger than most because of this rage that forces me to take action every time my life or my reputation is in danger. Every time I feel threatened by someone or something. But this rage is nothing compared to what Jonathan must be feeling.
Facing him right now, without anyone around, I would have given so much just to make myself invisible. I had no chance if he attacked me.
But then my brain thought of the only person I knew who could get out of any situation. Meo.
“Johnny!” I exclaimed, as if speaking to a longtime acquaintance. I even laughed to let out some of my apprehension. “How have you been, man? It’s so good to see you’re doing better…” Even though it was clear, looking at his lacerated skin and crazed eyes, that he’d succumbed to madness a long time ago.
As it turned out, I wasn’t able to fool him. Jonathan didn’t let me finish before he swiftly jumped over my desk and pinned me to the wall.
“Make it stop!” He shouted, spitting angrily on my face, his haunted eyes dilated. He gripped at my neck. I tried to escape him but he was too strong. “Make the pain go away. Make it go away!” Tears emerged from the red corners of his eyes and, for a second, I thought they were blood. “I can’t live with it anymore. You have to make it stop!”
I could have fought back. I could have punched him in the face and knocked him out. But somehow, I knew he’d kill me if I made a brisk move.
“Make what go away?” I asked with the kindest voice I’d ever used. “How can I help you, Johnny?”
I wasn’t sure if it was because his breath smelled like rotten eggs or because I was so scared I could have pissed myself, but I started to feel dizzy. Like I was about to faint.
“The pain!” he cried. “Make the pain go away! I can’t! Do you hear me? I can’t! I tried!” Still one hand around my neck, he peeled the sleeve from his left forearm with his teeth and showed me the bloody scars that marked his skin from the elbow to the wrist. “But they won’t let me! They won’t let me get rid of it!”
I couldn’t understand what he was talking about. Did he mean he wanted me to cut him? Or was it something else? My head spun as I tried to find the words that would calm him, but I couldn’t think of anything. Everything around me became a funny shade of orange… and hazy…
After a moment of shaking his arm in front of me to make me understand his needs, Jonathan gave up and punched the wall only inches from my face.
“Memory implant!” he cried. “I can tell you. I remember I can tell only you,” he repeated. “Memory implant. Make it stop! Take it away!” He unexpectedly dropped on my white carpet and burst into tears. “I can’t—make it stop… take the pain away. It’s killing me.”
Without warning, his right hand reached his left forearm and he started scratching himself. He scraped and picked off his skin. And I was left panting, incapable of finding the words that would sooth his madness. Was I even supposed to stop him? The now black-and-white room rotated and danced in front of my eyes. I had to lean on my desk to keep myself from passing out.
“Jonathan,” I said, trying to grab his attention. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look at me. And at every piece of skin he peeled off his arm, my body threatened to gag. And the room spun. And my head hurt. “Jonathan, wait,” I said, before I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened the drawer next to me, took the envelope opener and, just before I passed out, stabbed it into Jonathan’s chest, taking away his pain forever.
Chapter VIII
Amya Priam
“What are you doing here?” I asked the silhouette in the darkness with a shaky voice. I would have recognized the sound of knuckles cracking everywhere.
Jeffrey Archer stepped out of the shadows and smiled with his bright, shiny teeth. “I see your opinion of me hasn’t changed.” He made a step forward and I instantly got up, ready to flee at any moment. Why was he holding a knife? “We got off on the wrong foot. But don’t worry, you will learn to trust me before you know it.”
I snorted, more out of nervousness than confrontation. “You could start by letting go of your weapon.”
Don’t let him feel your fear, I told myself.
“Oh, but I can’t.” He moved a little closer and I, much further away. “Amya, you will have to trust me on this.” Jeff smiled, his eyes remaining firm. “Michelle’s order.”
“Do you believe me so stupid as to think Mrs. Cohen would want to hurt me?”
His sudden laugh echoed all around and made its way up my neck in a raw shiver. “You silly, silly girl. If I wanted you hurt, you’d already be hurt. And don’t you remember you still own me a favor? You see, you are much more valuable alive and well.”
“Then how do you plan on using this?” I asked, dreading his answer.
I’d never really trusted him. From the first time we’d met, he’d appeared to me like a spoilt teenager who thought he controlled the entire world. Of course, he didn’t have parents and, according to Samera’s boyfriend, Joshua, he actually did control most of the Red Dimension, but that did not excuse his nonchalant, disturbing way of interacting with others. Like he knew everyone’s deepest secrets.
Jeffrey positioned his hands behind his back, cracked his knuckles, and started pacing left and right on the stair. “You see, Michelle called me earlier in a panic, saying that you, Samera, a boy named Xander, and Mr. Karl Jensen would meet me here. She also mentioned that I needed to remove your tracking device as soon as possible, in case the Protectors would come looking for you.” He stopped walking and displayed his knife proudly. “Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough time to buy effective painkillers.” He grabbed something from the inside pocket of his silver suit and threw it at me.
“Acetaminophen. You’re kidding, right? And if you think I’ll allow you to use that thing”—I pointed to his blade—“on me, you’re crazier than I thought.”
Now that I knew he wasn’t here to kill me, I felt more at ease to speak my mind. Still, I regretted calling him crazy as soo
n as the word was out and I stepped back to keep a good distance between us.
Jeff shrugged. “You may keep the tracker, but you won’t be allowed to leave with us. And that is not part of the plan.” He paused. “Speaking of the others, where are they?”
“Xander’s on his way. And there will be no others. Where are you supposed to take us?”
I was curious. Why did Michelle trust this man so much? He was creepy, scary, and his detached attitude just proved he only really cared about one person: himself.
Reluctant, Jeffrey shook his head. “I made a promise to Mrs. Cohen and I intend to keep it. I came here to take four people away from this city, and that is exactly what I’m going to do.”
Determined to see this through, he started up the stairs and, after much consideration, I decided to follow behind. After all, Xander still hadn’t shown up and I was starting to fear that something had happened to him. But before I even made one step, I Sojourned into Jeff’s head to validate his true intentions.
The purple spot quickly transformed into the shadow of a curvy woman wearing a skirt and high heels. The silhouette slowly cleared…
“Amya, are you—what are you doing?” Jeffrey asked, sending me right back into my own body.
Unable to explain myself, I babbled a few words. But I could see from the frown forming on his forehead that he knew what I had just done. I wasn’t used to invading other people’s private thoughts. I’d first hated my ability because of that, but my personal fear had clouded my judgment. Seeing Jeffrey’s insulted and almost hurt expression, I regretted Sojourning without his permission.
“Michelle told me about your special ability,” he said, trying to hide how upset he was. “She promised you had it under control.” He paused, closed his eyes, and seemed to gather his feelings together. When his eyelids raised again, he bore his usual cold, unconcerned attitude. “Tell me what you saw.”
AMANI: Reveal Page 5