“Here we go,” he whispered with a nervous grin.
My stomach was in such a tight knot it almost made me double over. We started toward the door Madeline had indicated and my father opened it for us. The next hallway was better lit, but still dark, the dark color of the walls making the space feel cramped. The door at the end of the hall was open and I could see into the room beyond. There were tables set up as if for a banquet dinner and, while the area of the tables was dimly lit, the front of the room brightly illuminated a small, raised stage with a podium.
My curiosity became equal to my anxiety.
Instead of place settings on the tables, there was a USB resting on top of laptop computers at each seat. No one was sitting yet, but there were groups clustered together, talking as they enjoyed light drinks supplied by the bar in the back corner. The walls were pale, unadorned white, interrupted by the dark brown doors throughout the room and the flags and curtains around the stage.
“Ah! There he is!” a booming voice called. Benjamin Lloyd walked to us with a broad smile. “The man of the hour!”
“Hardly,” my father laughed, shaking the offered hand.
“It’s a good thing you made it here on time. Mr. Christenson is very strict about punctuality.” Mr. Lloyd grinned. “Come, sit with us. We’re generally near the back.”
“There’s no seating arrangement?” my mother asked, looking at the computers.
“Oh, no,” Mr. Lloyd assured. “All the USBs and computers are the same. It’s just the agenda and information for the meeting,” Mr. Lloyd chuckled as we moved to a table. Mr. Lloyd nudged my father in the ribs. “We stay back here so it’s less of a walk to the bar, of course.”
“Ben, there was something that I’ve been meaning to ask you,” my father started. “But, obviously, I couldn’t say anything until now. The invitation says that Mr. Christenson has a gift for us. What should we be expecting? I didn’t expect to receive anything more. The invitation and induction alone is an honor.”
Mr. Lloyd’s face slowly broke into a smile with a devious edge.
“Mr. Christenson gives everyone a gift when they are brought into the Commission,” he said. “And it’s different for everyone, depending on what he feels the family would like and how much he thinks he’s going to like the family.”
“What did you get?” my mother asked curiously.
Mr. Lloyd chuckled.
“Until you see your gift, it would be difficult to explain mine,” he admitted. “There is always a very…special quality to Mr. Christenson’s gifts. After you have had your gift for a little while, I will show you mine.”
“That’s making me very curious…” I could hear the nervousness in my father’s laugh.
“We all are,” Mr. Lloyd said. “No one knows what your gift is, so we’re excited to see what he has for you.”
“Lily?” a familiar voice sounded behind me. I turned to Clark. He was in a button-up shirt and slacks and looked even skinnier than normal. “Hi, I’m glad you made it on time.”
“Ah, Thomas, let me introduce you to Clark Markus,” Mr. Lloyd boomed. “He’s quite the brilliant young man. His mother is advisor to Mr. Christenson.”
“Is that so?” my father asked, turning to Clark. “Markus…oh, right, your mother was the one who sent the invitation letter.”
“Yes, she is in charge of that,” Clark said.
“You two go to school together, then. Do you have any classes together?” my mother pressed.
“No.” I shook my head. “We met at Archangel.”
“Club Archangel is a great way for the kids to relax,” Mr. Lloyd interjected. “I think that it’s good for them to let go and actually be teens sometimes.”
I wanted to tell him that it was nothing like that, particularly for kids in the Commission, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Lily, do you want something to drink?” Clark asked, moving away. I took the silent hint.
When we were far enough away from my parents, I leaned closer. “Everything okay?”
“I should be the one asking you that,” he chuckled weakly. We walked to the bar for iced tea. Clark smiled apologetically. “I’ve seen your gift…” he whispered. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped.
“Are you allowed to do that?”
“Well, granted, I didn’t get a very good look at it. I was walking by,” he admitted. “But I saw enough of it to know that you and I…we are in the same boat.”
“You mean…he’s interested in my family?” I breathed, nodding thanks to the man at the bar as he handed me my drink.
“I’d say…” Clark agreed. “Generally, the more beautiful the gift, the more interest he has in your family. I also should warn you…Mr. Christenson is in one of his moods tonight.”
“…what does that mean?”
“Don’t be surprised if he…well, seems a little…overly-playful.”
“Overly-playful?” I blinked. “What? How old is he?”
“Hell if I know.” Clark shrugged. “But he might seem a little…okay, actually, he’ll probably scare the living hell out of you. Just…be prepared for that, and know that you’re not the only one he scares.”
Clark turned away just as I was about to press further. His eyes moved to the clock above the door.
“We need to sit down. Where are you and your family?”
“Over there,” I motioned to the table.
“I’m one table over. If you need anything, just lean across and ask me.”
“Hey, Clark…” I caught his elbow as he started to leave.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to let you know, I really appreciate you looking out for me,” I told him softly. He smiled shyly.
“You’re welcome…”
We moved to our separate tables as everyone began taking their seats. I sat next to my mother, who was sitting between me and my father. My father was talking amiably with Mr. Lloyd, sitting mechanically as Mr. Lloyd lowered himself to his seat. I saw some other familiar faces of the Commish Kids sitting with their families. Much to my relief, no other Commish Kids sat at our table.
I watched the clock tick down to exactly ten. I noticed that there were only two minutes before the exact start of the meeting and no one was at the podium or trying to get organized.
“Where is Mr. Christenson?” my mother asked before I had a chance. “I thought you said he was all about punctuality.”
Mr. Lloyd barked a laugh.
“When I mean punctual, I mean down to the second. He will be here as soon as the second hand is on the hour.”
I rolled my eyes. That was impossible.
I watched the seconds tick by. At thirty seconds to ten, a woman walked on stage. She was very pretty with short-cut light brown hair and clear green eyes. She stepped to the podium and switched on the microphone, but no one quieted, barely noticing her. I looked back to the clock. Twenty seconds left…
The woman shuffled some papers and also glanced at the clock.
Ten seconds…
Conversation slowly died in the ten seconds and, by one second before ten, the room was silent. When the second hand hit the ten, all open doors slammed shut to close off the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Commission of the People,” the woman at the front of the room started, “I am pleased to call this meeting on the night of September seventh in session. We have much to review tonight with concerns of the division of regions and the security of our nation, as well as a general update and report on the status of our Enterprise experiments and the status of elected officials currently facing charges,” she listed. “However, before we start that, we have an induction ceremony.” She looked around the room, smiling as a tremor of excitement radiated through the room. “Where is Mr. Thomas Sandover and his family?”
“Here,” my father called, raising his hand.
“Ah, there they are. The Commission of the People would like to welcome you and present you with a gift. My name is Danielle Markus,
and I am advisor under Mr. Christenson. If you are in need of anything, please feel free to ask me.”
Speaking of this Mr. Christenson, where is he? I muttered to myself.
“Well, we can’t very well do the ceremony or meeting without our leader, can we? Mr. Christenson,” Mrs. Markus smiled, “the floor is yours.”
Everyone around the room started clapping, but there was no sign of the leader of the Commission. Then again, I had no idea what he looked like—no one outside of the Commission knew.
I waited for him to walk to the stage, but he did not, and no one else thought of this as strange. They still clapped and smiled at one another.
“You must be Little Lily Sandover…” a voice hissed in my ear.
Naturally, I screamed.
Chapter Thirteen
More accurately, I screamed and jumped out of my chair, turning to face the owner of the voice. Everyone started laughing at me—except for my family, who was also startled. As soon as I saw who was standing behind me, everything else in the room disappeared in a millisecond.
The man behind me was tall, very tall, easily close to two meters, wearing an expensive, immaculate three-piece suit. He was younger than I expected. His jaw line was strong and his hair was a deep auburn, but what startled me the most were the sunglasses he was wearing. Inside. In this dark room…
My first thought was that he was blind. However, he leaned down and picked up the chair I had turned over, placing it back at the table without missing a beat.
“Mr. Christenson!” Mr. Lloyd laughed. The man who had snuck up behind me turned. “You shouldn’t sneak up on pretty young ladies like that.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Christenson agreed with a chuckle. He looked at me again and offered his hand, palm up. “I do apologize, Little Lily.”
A shiver ran down my spine from the nickname. There was something in his tone that made it threatening and endearing at the same time. I nervously took his hand, my own shaking uncontrollably. He leaned down, slowly, gracefully, and kissed my knuckles. The action was chivalrous and polite, but there was something extremely dangerous about it. I felt as though I was sticking my hand into the cage of a hungry lion.
He straightened and stared at me from behind his dark glasses. I could do nothing but stare.
He released my hand, his lingering touch leaving cold tingling on my skin.
“Mr. Sandover,” he said, walking to my father and offering his hand. My father shook Mr. Christenson’s hand firmly.
“Mr. Christenson, it is an honor to meet you,” my father nodded. He was also perplexed by the sunglasses, but he did not seem to get the same feeling of danger I did.
“The honor is mine,” Mr. Christenson said. He turned to my mother. “Mrs. Sandover, correct?”
“Yes,” my mother smiled, giving her hand to Mr. Christenson, who bent down and kissed her knuckles before backing away with a perfectly white smile.
“I must say, it is wonderful to have you. The Commission is always looking for fresh blood,” Mr. Christenson laughed as he walked away from our table. We resumed our seats as others from the Commission laughed at Mr. Christenson’s statement, understanding a hidden meaning. Mr. Christenson looked over his shoulder as he approached the stage and smiled that perfectly white smile.
“Mr. Sandover, you and your family will be a very welcome addition to the Commission of the People, and we are all very pleased to have you here.” His voice turned soft and gentle as he reached the stage, standing to the side of the podium. “If the Sandover family would please stand, we will get the ceremony underway and get to the part everyone is waiting for.”
The gift. That was what everyone was waiting for.
Thankfully, Mr. Christenson still frightened and confused me enough from afar to keep the adrenaline running, stopping me from growing weak. My mother and father stood again and I followed suit, turning to face Mr. Christenson.
“Now, then,” he started, clasping his hands in front of him. I saw him fiddling with something in his hand. “Do you fully swear loyalty to the Commission of the People, its cause, and its belief in protecting the basic rights of the American people outlined by the standards set after the Second Revolution?”
His voice was clear, yet it had a slight rasp that it sent a shiver over my body. I could not understand if it was a shiver of fear or if I enjoyed the sound of his voice…
“I do swear,” we whispered.
“And you understand that your words are bound under contract to remain within the confines of the Commission of the People and are never to extend beyond the members of this group?”
“I understand.”
“Excellent…” he whispered. “Well, then, I welcome you, as my colleagues, into the Commission of the People.”
We were surrounded by clapping and cheering. My father and mother smiled as they took their seats. I heavily sat, trying to sort out my fears and see if they were justified. I had a feeling that it was as Clark had said, and I had no idea of the full extent of what I was getting into. But nothing had happened to make me worry, yet.
Well, aside from the secretive invitation, the secretive drive that could only be taught through word of mouth, the non-disclosure agreement, the meeting room near the center of the earth, and the man wearing sunglasses who was the ring-leader of this circus.
“Now,” Mr. Christenson smiled, still fiddling with the thing in his hand. I saw a glint of gold as he dropped the object, the chain wound around his fingers. The pocket watch hung just below his fist as he rapped it around his fingers absent-mindedly, starting to walk to the side of the stage. “Everyone is very curious about your present, so I will ask my men to bring it out now.”
The double doors to the side of the stage opened and a very large, cloth-covered box was rolled onto the stage. The four men pulling the box up the ramp to the stage strained as they pushed and pulled, but they finally rolled it to the center of the creaking stage. Mrs. Markus moved away and one man grabbed the podium, moving it to make room for the box that was larger than the men bringing it on stage.
There was an excited murmur around the room. No one seemed surprised by the size, but they were all curious what was behind the cloth. I had to admit, I was, too. I was very nervous and frightened, but incredibly curious.
“Thank you,” Mr. Christenson nodded to the men who had brought the crate. They bowed their heads and stood to the side of the gift while Mr. Christenson turned to the rest of the room, focusing on us.
“I know that everyone is very curious about this gift and, I must say, that I am a little reluctant to part with this one,” he said, his tone turning sad, but it sounded more like a child’s voice than that of a grown man.
“That means that he thinks you’re something special,” Mr. Lloyd whispered.
“Because this is a very special gift, it will require some upkeep and maintenance, but I will be sure to provide that for you and pay all necessary expenses. However, if it becomes too much for you to handle, I will be willing to negotiate an exchange.”
He looked back at the cloth-covered box and smiled.
“However, I think that you will really enjoy this…” he said. I could feel those eyes settle on me as his voice tumbled over his teeth. I stiffened. It was as if he was speaking directly to me. As if the gift was for me…
“Is the suspense killing you, yet?” Mr. Christenson asked the whole room with a mischievous smile. “Before I reveal it, I must say to the rest of you, I don’t want to hear any complaining about having never heard of this before. It was a one-time test and we happened to be fortunate. It is not something we will be trying again, so no one gripe. I won’t listen.”
Mr. Christenson turned to the gift once more and then nodded to the guards.
The four of them grabbed the cloth and pulled it sharply.
I could not believe my eyes.
There was no way I was really seeing what was on stage. The box that had been covered was not a box at all, but a large, iron cag
e, like the ones used for circus animals. But there was not a lion in this enclosure. Instead, there was a boy. He appeared to be about my age with stunning blonde hair that fell in a wavy disarray about his head and over his eyes. But even through his hair and at our distance, the amazing color of his piercing blue eyes was visible. He did not have a shirt, revealing strong muscles in his shoulders, chest, and arms, though his abdomen was less-defined. He had a drape of white feathers behind him and was wearing simple white pants without shoes.
I was dumbstruck. The others in the room gasped and gawked over the gift, impressed and not at all horrified by the fact that Mr. Christenson’s gift was another human being. I finally managed to look to my parents, but they were staring, just as horrified.
“This is a very generous gift,” Mr. Lloyd hissed urgently. “Thank him!”
“This…is an incredible gift, Mr. Christenson,” my father said, stumbling over his words, forcing his stunned brain to form the sentence.
“I know,” Mr. Christenson smiled. His smile was unnerving. He turned to the cage. “Well, go on. Show them,” he urged.
The boy turned his head to Mr. Christenson, his eyes bright with anger.
The feather drape behind him shifted. I quickly realized—much to my morbid fascination—that it was not a drape at all, but the feathers were two extremely large, white wings. The size of the wings explained the massive cage.
My mother gasped, but her eyes were filled with wonder. My father was also impressed by the wings. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed by the sight. He looked just like an angel, magnificent and powerful, his sharp eyes softened by other gentle features, making him not only powerful but also beautiful. It was obvious that he was no older than eighteen and had a touch of innocence to him.
“I am sure you have questions about him and where he came from, but those are questions that can be answered after the meeting, in private. For now, he will be kept to the side of the room so that everyone can marvel at him because he is quite the specimen,” the leader of the Commission of the People instructed.
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