Forget Me Not

by Stacey Nash

  “You can do that. I’m going to find my dad.” I place my weight on the sore leg and take a step toward the door, fighting to hold my face straight.

  “Mae, you’re the only one of us who’s hurt, and you can barely stand on that leg,” he says.

  A sharp, swallowed laugh sounds behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and Jax sports his telltale smirk. I shoot him a glare and swivel back to Will. “Stop treating me like a child.” I step forward. “Ahh.” A sharp pain shoots up my leg.

  “Carry him,” Jax tells Will as he gestures to Al.

  Will shakes his head, and I can tell he’s biting his tongue.

  “What’s the matter, Dudley, too much for you?”

  With his mouth set in a thin line, Will scoops Al up into his arms like he weighs no more than a small child.

  I hobble out of the dingy torture room and don’t look behind to see if anyone follows. Each step is like a hot poker stabbing at my leg. I hold my head high and keep my posture straight. There’s no way I’m going to let Will see how much this hurts. Three steps out of the room and Jax comes up beside me, offering his arm.

  “I’m fine.” My teeth clench against the pain.

  “Strong as an ox, stubborn as a mule.” He moves on ahead, scouting for danger, no doubt.

  Soft moans come from behind me, but I keep my eyes straight forward. I won’t look at Will.

  “Shut him up,” Jax orders.

  “He’s in a lot of pain,” echoes Lilly’s short reply.

  “He’ll be in more pain if they hear us. Unless….”

  A musical murmur, like soft singing, wafts on the air. It sounds like Bertie. Probably an attempt to settle Al.

  The noises put me on edge too. What if they draw attention? Even so, Jax’s behavior is a little unfair. I glance all around us, but there’s nowhere to hide. My throat constricts. We’re too exposed; we need to get out of here. No one better go looking for those guards, or we’re in trouble. Hiding in the shadows, Jax moves up ahead in the gloomy tunnel. The lights are spaced too far apart, so maybe we can hide in the shadows between them if the need arises.

  I put one foot in front of the other and clench my jaw against the throbbing pain. The tunnel feels much longer than it did coming in. I step out again, and the pain lessens, almost bearable. I reach Jax waiting at the foot of the stairs, exhale a long ragged breath, then swipe my hand across my sweat dampened my forehead. I made it.

  Jax sizes me up with a lazy gaze, but doesn’t say a word. Wise.

  While we wait for the others to reach us, I lean against the wall, panting. Al is silent, his teeth gritted and his eyes squeezed shut. A look which clearly says he must still be in pain. Will takes one look at me with the same ‘you’re hurt, go home’ look and opens his mouth. I shoot him a warning look, and he snaps it closed. Lilly and Bertie bring up the rear with Bertie walking, not appearing injured. The sweetness of relief floods my mouth. They must have only tortured Al, not her.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Will says. “What if we need to fight? They’ll have us all in the time it takes me to put Al down,” he says the last bit through the telcom so Bertie and Al can’t hear.

  “We’ll manage.” Jax picks at the wall with his blade.

  “How can we fight when we have two defenseless people to protect?” Will asks.

  Jax turns and climbs the stairs, ending the conversation. I cling to the wall and pull myself up the stairs one at a time, gritting my teeth. A shaft of light streams down the narrow staircase. We must be getting close to the top. I pull myself up onto the next step and the next, forcing myself to climb the last few stairs.

  Jax pauses at the top of the stairwell, slouching against the maroon, gold, and green wallpapered alcove. “Shh, there are people in the hall,” he says at my approach.

  “No one was making any noise,” I say.

  “Dragging that leg up the stairs isn’t silent.” He raises an eyebrow, and his mouth twitches as he holds in a smile.

  A series of deep, mournful sounds rise up the staircase. Jax glares down at the hulking shadow of Al in Will’s arms.

  “For God’s sake, shut Al up.”

  “You really should port them out of here, Mae.” Will’s voice assaults my mind.

  I draw myself up straighter and shoot him a wicked scowl as he reaches the top.

  “No one wants to leave, so let’s put them in one of those empty rooms, and we can come back for them,” Lilly says. “Or, you know, I can port them home and be right back.”

  “Al needs… I need to see to his wounds. I’m not sure he can port.” Bertie’s whisper shakes as she strokes her husband’s arm.

  Lilly sighs, long and drawn out. “I’ll stay.”

  “But Mae—” Will begins.

  “No, Will. Just no,” I say.

  Won’t he give it up? I’m staying here; I’m not porting Al. I’m finding my dad. The footsteps fade off into the distance, and I glare at Will, who scowls at Jax. Jax leans against the wall without a care in the world, and Lilly smiles to herself as she pats Bertie’s hand.

  Jax detaches himself from the wall and peeks around the corner. He gives us the all-clear with a raised thumb, then leads us back down the hall and to the last empty room we searched. Jax creeps into the room, and we all follow close on his heels. We enter to pitch black darkness. “Lights,” he says in a soft voice.

  The lights overhead flick on. A singsong female voice which sounds like a recording from the subway train chimes, “Welcome to room nineteen.” The room is just like all the others—a massive bed with a fluffy white cover and furniture carved out of rich mahogany.

  Will moves to the bedside. Al hangs limp in his arms, seemingly unconscious. His tilted head hits the bed first as Will sets him down. I shake my head and shoot Will a look of disbelief. Surely he didn’t stun Al.

  “There was no choice, and at least he can’t feel the pain now.” Will takes the stun mace from Lilly’s outstretched hand and shoves it into his back pocket.

  Bertie goes straight to the bathroom. Clatters and soft bangs ensue. After a few minutes, she emerges with a bowl of steaming water and a fluffy white face towel.

  “If something happens and we get split up, we need somewhere to meet,” Will says.

  “Good idea,” I say. “We’ll have to come back for you, Lilly, unless Al’s stable enough to port after you check him out.”

  Jax leans against the door with his foot up on the wall, retying his long boot laces.

  “What about the place in the park where we armed up?” I spin my wrist over and look to my watch. It’s nearing five o’clock. Not much longer and it will be dark outside. Have we been here that long? I glance at my friends. “Eight?”

  Will and Lilly both nod, but Jax remains intent on his laces. Didn’t he hear me speak? Maybe his telcom stopped working.

  “Jax.”

  He raises his head, and his eyes meet mine, crinkling at the corners. He shoots me a crooked smile. “Sure.”

  Hmm, seems it was working. I suck my lip in to brace against the heavy lump sitting in the base of my stomach. I take three steps to the door, reach toward the handle, then turn back and exchange a look with Lilly. Leaving her here protecting two injured people seems like a bad move, but no one else has volunteered to port or stay, and taking them with us is a stupid idea. It just wouldn’t work.

  “We’ll be okay,” she says, but I don’t buy it.

  I push my hand up under the protect-its sleeve and rip off the port bands, tossing them to her. “Just in case.”

  “Thanks.”

  I pull the door closed. Jax and Will creep down the empty hall before me. There’s not much for cover—a large potted plant, an empty room. No pillars, no statues. It’s less painful to move now that we’re on a flat surface, but my leg still throbs with each step. Slowly, we make our way to the section we’ve not yet searched.

  “This place is massive,” I say.

  “We’ve passed at least a dozen rooms just in t
his hall,” Will says.

  The fast shuffle of someone moving down the hall makes me spin. “Someone—”

  A hand closes around my forearm, and I’m pulled into a dark room. My heart whacks my ribs as I stumble, lose my balance, and almost fall. Pain screams in my leg. Steady arms wrap around my waist, holding me upright. A white T-shirt sits snug across a toned chest, the supple leather of his jacket cool against my skin. I look up at Jax, and his gaze rests on my bandage where bright fresh blood seeps through. His widened eyes meet mine.

  I look away. He’ll side with Will. They’ll send me home. No way, I won’t let them.

  Will glares daggers at me from the other side of the door. “She can stand on her own.” He throws each word at Jax like they’re daggers too.

  “She prefers to be held.” Jax smirks. Leaning into my shoulder, he inhales a long, deep breath and shakes with a silent chuckle.

  “Enough. Both of you.” I push him away. This is getting old, and now’s not the time. Will’s right, I can stand on my own. Jax’s right too, the feel of his arms around me is comforting. I can’t admit it, since Will would use it as proof I need to go home, and Jax would use it to taunt Will. Jaw set, I stand alone, tall and rigid.

  The footsteps are now gone, so we step out of the room, tiptoe down the wide hall, and come to a stop at the corner leading to a fourth corridor. They definitely all circle around and meet up to form a huge rectangle. I brace myself on the wall and peer around the corner. Two men stand guard outside a nearby door. They’re so close I could almost reach out and touch them. I yank my head back. My heart beats so loudly, I’m certain they will hear it. “Guards.”

  Will and Jax both direct identical questioning looks at me, like they’re sweating for more information. I hold up two fingers and point around the corner. Dad has to be in there. We’ve checked all the other rooms except those in this hallway. Why else would they guard the door? My heart tries to jump right out of my chest, and my muscles freeze. We’re so close; he’ll be beyond the door for sure. I shake out my arms, attempting to force myself to relax.

  My only family is behind that door. We’ve been through so much together. Dad and I only have each other. In the dark days—after Mom disappeared—being alone frightened me, so he’d let me sleep over in the bed they’d once shared, while he fell asleep in the big armchair in the corner of the bedroom. Being in the same room lessened the hurt. He’d tell me stories until I fell asleep. They all had one thing in common—a happily ever after ending. I swallow against the lump in my throat. I have to save my dad.

  The hallway comes into focus around me, and I blink.

  Will nods toward Jax, then jumps out from the corner and races toward the guards. A sharp gasp comes from deep within me. What the heck is he doing? It’s a crazy move that will get him noticed and, more than likely, hurt. We wanted to work out a distraction.

  “Now, Mae!” Jax chases Will into battle.

  I crouch behind the corner, arms around my knees and my mind frozen. It tries to process what to do next. Grunts and thuds and the screech of metal meeting metal scream down the hallway, but I’m like a movie on pause, unable to move or even think.

  “Mae,” Will says through the telcom, his voice strained and urgent. He sounds like he’s in trouble. Damn. Snap out of it. This is definitely the wrong place for distraction.

  I break out of the daze. Pulling the dagger from its sheath on my arm, I dart around the corner. Will wrestles with a burly agent dressed all in black. He’s bent down, the man gripping his arm, holding it behind his back at a painful-looking angle. The guard swipes at him with a closed fist, attempting to knock the stun-mace out of Will’s grasp. The man’s arms are as huge as tree trunks. Will’s in trouble, and I have to help. He wriggles and squirms, trying to get out of the man’s grip. Will struggles to hold his ground, extending the mace away from the guard with an outstretched arm.

  I run to his aid, vaguely noticing Jax in a blade fight with another agent a short distance away.

  “Go,” Will growls through bared teeth.

  “Go?” It doesn’t make any sense. I’m coming to help him. My dagger-filled hand thrusts at the man, right at the hand holding Will’s arm in a lock. He twists out of the way. Will grunts as he’s spun around by the arm and stumbles.

  I hit only air.

  Will swings his mace-holding hand around toward the man, who growls like a savage dog. The mace touches his arm with a loud zap, and the man is thrust backward.

  “Check out the room,” Jax yells. He turns away from his fight, meeting my gaze, without seeming to struggle at all. He throws me a wicked grin over their clashing blades. He looks like he’s at a fair. He’s loving this.

  A diversion, they’re providing a diversion. I need to search the room while they distract the guards. That’s what they said while I daydreamed. The plan comes back to me. I need to act. Dad must be in that room if it warrants protection, and I have to get him out.

  I pull the door open and hold my breath as I step inside. Rapid blinking helps me make out shapes in the dim lighting. Silence greets me. The air is thick with the smell of an unfamiliar, stale, herbal smoke. Shapes fade into focus, and I shake my head.

  I don’t believe it. This can’t be right. The room’s empty.

  Empty of people, not furniture. It’s different to the other rooms we’ve been in. An antique sofa covered in velvet fabric the color of squashed apricots stands in the center of the room. Dull light reflects off its ornate golden frame, which twirls around the sofa and twists in on itself in Victorian splendor. Two single seats of identical design flank the sofa. A cast-iron candle sconce emits a low glow from its nest on the wall. The light soaks the room. Only two doors mark the walls—the one through which I entered and an ornately carved wooden door, which is closed, on the far side. Muffled voices come from that direction.

  My breath pauses while I push my ear to the door. The voices are both deep baritones. “It’s working well. The girl is a good distraction,” says a voice as rough as sandpaper.

  Someone chuckles maniacally. It might be the man who just spoke.

  “Of course it’s working. The Council is a bunch of imbeciles,” says a deep voice as smooth as silk over daggers.

  “It won’t be long, my liege, and you’ll be in your rightful place,” says the other man.

  “They’re taking the bait. Soon they’ll have no power,” the raspy voice says.

  “No more hiding from the world. No more working in secrecy. We’ll come out, and you’ll be the rightful monarch. People all over the globe will bow down before you.”

  Monarch? The Collective want to be kings? That’s a little odd.

  “When’s dinner? I’m famished,” says a voice as familiar as my own.

  My shoulder slams into the door. The door flies back and hits the wall with a bang. I stumble into the room and sidestep to regain my balance.

  “Bingo,” says the rough voiced man.

  My eyes scan the room. He’s there, standing in the corner next to a tall man with reddish-brown hair and a face as harsh as a hardened criminal. “Dad!”

  He looks at me with an expression as blank as an unpainted canvas, his mouth downturned.

  I run toward him.

  The man’s sharp features twist in a sneer. He grabs Dad’s wrist, and they both blink out of the room.

  “We got you now, little troublemaker,” the burly man says in his rough voice.

  The door slams closed with a banging crash.

  ACT III

  Collective

  Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive.

  ~ C.S Lewis

  Chapter Eighteen

  SOMETHING CRACKS AGAINST MY head, and I fall to the floor as if my legs have been swiped out from under me. No sounds, no sights, no smells, no touch.

  Everything fades to gone.

  * * * *

  My head thuds, and I try to open my eyes, but can’t.
Dank softness nestles against my cheek, consumed by the same stale herbal smoke I’ve smelled once before. I dissolve into the velvety fibers. He was here, in the same room, so close. My own stupid mistake. Overcome with elation at finding him, I ran straight into a trap, and now I’ve lost him.

  Loud beating, like an offbeat drum, thrums in my ear—or maybe it’s at the door.

  “Mae.”

  I blink, pull my eyes open, and stare at the blank wall. It’s bathed in a soft red glow. Weird. Maybe the haze in my mind is coloring my vision.

  The loud bashing continues.

  My eyes slide closed. Dad was here. I could have saved him, but I didn’t. Now I’m here in this room, and he’s not. I’m so alone.

  A loud bang and crash interrupts the persistent thudding. I pry my heavy eyes open, and bits of something fall in a shower around me. My sluggish brain doesn’t want to function. It can’t make out what they are. I bring my knees to my chest, curling into a ball, hoping I don’t get struck.

  Black boots laced up to the ankles stop beside me. “Come on. Get up, Mae.” The voice sounds inside my mind. Strangest thing I’ve ever heard. Maybe it’s my conscience speaking. I ignore it. It’ll go away.

  Just when it stops, something slides under me, the floor falls away, and I’m lifted by an invisible force. I must be dreaming. Foggy red light covers the ceiling. “It’s like the colored lights at school dances.” I’m not sure if I speak aloud or if it’s in my head too.

  “The intruder alarm’s been activated.” The words and tone are soft and calm, almost lulling.

  I roll my head to the side, and I float out of the room. A face which matches the angelic voice looks straight ahead with eyes radiating determination. I’m not floating; I’m being carried. “Hello, sweet angel. Are you my guardian?”

  The corner of his mouth twitches, but he looks straight ahead. His hazelnut hair fall into his stunning face and into his exquisite green eyes, which hold tiny, reddish-brown flecks. His masculine features are chiseled, his jaw line strong, but he still holds the fineness of youth. Will. A contented smile warms me from the inside, but the fog lifts—and that’s not right.