Artificial Light (Evolution of Angels Book 3)

by Wall, Nathan

  “They didn’t see you, did they?” Madame Patricia asked, pulling Athena in close for a hug. She breathed in the scent of Athena’s hair and relaxed. It wasn’t really fair to be angry with her. Since closing the Progeny Lounge to outsiders, Athena had only had Jaden, Harold and Rob to keep her company. “Who’s looking after Jaden?” she asked. “Harold is on a mission.”

  “Rob was more than happy to oblige.” Athena giggled when mentioning the tender hearted Cyclops. “Jaden loves him.”

  “Jaden can run circles around him.” Madame Patricia put a hand on Athena’s shoulder. The young girl Hermes had once brought to her for safekeeping had quickly grown into a beautiful and strong woman—it had only taken her a few thousand Earth years to do so. “It’s very important you listen to me, more so now than ever.” Athena opened her mouth in protest but Madame Patricia quickly put a finger to her lips. “Just trust me. Things have changed. It’s not just the Ourea we’ve recently encountered, nor the events in Moscow—Jaden and his kind are being hunted. He especially needs our protection. Not to mention those who may be looking for you.”

  “And what about those looking to harm you?” she asked.

  Though the notion of someone harming Madame Patricia seemed a silly thought, it wasn’t to Athena. Madame Patricia worked hard to never use her powers to harm anyone. It wasn’t in her nature. For all Athena knew, the woman who’d raised her was a delicate flower just as in need of protection as Jaden.

  “I’m a grown girl. I can handle myself.” She kissed Athena’s forehead. “And so are you, I suppose. It’s time to stretch your wings.” Athena swelled with excitement. “Temper your expectations. We must keep a watchful eye and ear. If my hunch is correct, someone with a stronger claim to Jaden will come looking for him. Keeping them apart will be impossible.”

  “No one can take him from us.” Athena squeezed Madame Patricia’s hands emphatically. “They’ll have to go through me.”

  “I wouldn’t make such statements.” Madame Patricia’s eyes grew large. “There may be one with Jaden’s sister who can do just that. Sooner or later they’ll pop up on the radar, and when they do, I’ll send you and Harold to retrieve them. But stay vigilant.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lian II

  Lian awoke behind the bar of a tavern, lying on a pile of blankets. Her head throbbed. The lights were off but there was enough moonlight pouring in from the windows that she could see. She couldn’t recall how she got off the ship. Flashes of the freighter tossing about and throwing containers into the sea as it ran ashore were superimposed on the back of her mind. They were visions from the ship workers she had mind-melded with while helping Austin track Jarrod. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe, drowning in her own visions. Her heart pounded and she was not able to shake the anxious feeling. Lian clawed at the ground and cabinets, trying to swim. All she could see around her were green waves pulling her under, and then a black void.

  She gasped, sitting straight up.

  “Shit,” Lian groaned, grabbing her back. She felt like an eighteen wheeler had plowed into her.

  “Don’t move,” Claire said, walking up behind Lian. The left side of her face was purple and blue, and a large gash was crusty on her knee. Claire tucked a few brown strands of hair behind her ear and more bruising became visible.

  “Where are we?” Lian asked, reaching for Claire. She lightly touched her friend on the chin and examined the marks. “Is it serious?”

  “We didn’t know when you’d wake up and we wanted to let you rest,” Claire replied, lowering a glass of water with a straw in it for Lian to drink. “It’s a good thing you did wake. This place is crawling with helicopters and soldiers. We don’t know how many of them saw us.”

  “Claire,” Lian said, putting her fingers to her friend’s hand. They connected eyes and Lian took a deep breath. “Where are the boys? The last I saw...”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Really?” Lian frowned in disbelief. What exactly counted as fine? “No more crazy?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Claire peered over the bar and whispered, “But they’re fine.”

  “What about you?” Lian asked. Claire went silent, offering only a quick nonchalant glance. The more she shook the haziness from her eyes, the worse Claire’s face looked. She needed to know what they were dealing with. “Did... Jarrod do this to you?”

  “No, you kidding?” Claire shook her head emphatically. Lian’s mind stole a few of Claire’s thoughts. It was the truth. Jarrod hadn’t laid a finger on her. That didn’t stop Claire from nearly crying over how she now feared him. Lian hopped out of Claire’s head to give her privacy.

  Lian let out a relieved breath. The monster inside Jarrod was still hibernating.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lian pulled herself up and leaned over the bar.

  “What’s going on?” A tear hung in the corner of Claire’s un-swollen eye. “The three of you are so alike. You act like shutting up keeps me safe and strong, but really it just heaps more weight on my shoulders. I don’t have super strength.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lian huffed.

  “You’re all still keeping secrets.” Claire stood and moved around the bar to stand opposite Lian. “Some of us don’t have powers to protect us.”

  “We’ll try harder.” Lian coughed and dug her hand into her right side to mute the sharp burn. “I’ll try harder. I’m an open book.”

  “Starting when? Now?” Claire scoffed. Lian couldn’t help but hear Claire scream ‘yeah right’ in her thoughts. “All I want is to be that person who keeps faith during the storm, but you’ve got me questioning what I’ve got faith in. It doesn’t help that the scariest of you all can’t stand the sight of me.”

  “That’s not what it is…”

  “Sure seems like it,” Claire snapped back. “Heaven forbid I whisper ‘how are you’ his direction or he’s off to the races.”

  “Is this one of those emotional girl moments?” Lian asked, serious and giddy. It may have seemed odd to some, but this was a dream situation for her. All her life she grew up surrounded by adult men who did nothing but bark orders. Something as simple as having girl talk excited her. The only way she could ever experience it before was through a book or watching a movie online.

  “You don’t have to be a bitch.” Claire rolled her eyes, folding a towel in her hands and then throwing it to the ground.

  “No, I’m not.” Lian tugged on Claire’s shirt and pulled her back. “I’ve... I’ve never done the girl talk and confidante thing before. I didn’t mean to sound too excited. This is all very serious.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “These are uncharted waters for all of us.” Lian propped herself up and walked around the bar to sit on a stool next to Claire. “Something you said a second ago is bothering me. Why are you afraid of us? We would never hurt…” Lian stopped mid-sentence and diverted her eyes away from Claire. Her friend was right. Powerless didn’t have to mean helpless, but it could when you didn’t know the whole truth—secrets will rot the strongest oak and corrode the thickest metal. It was as if Sanderson were talking in her ear.

  Lian wanted to reassure Claire, but there was no way she could. Her friend’s thoughts were screaming that loud and clear. Only hearing the comforting sound of Jarrod’s voice could really alleviate the fear festering in Claire’s heart, because he was the source of most of it. “If you feel like you’re losing him, imagine how he feels. He lives every day afraid he’s going to destroy the only people he has left in the world. One of you is not going to get what they want. Frankly, I’d rather that be you.”

  “Really?” Claire flashed a crooked smile.

  “Well, it kind of means you’ll stick around a bit longer to keep me well.” Lian playfully rubbed her hand over Claire’s back.

  “Is that what you saw?”

  “What do you mean?” Lian shook her head, confused.

  “Just something you said in your sleep.” Clair
e shrugged, looking out a window to her right. The moonlight illuminated her face with a pale glow. Lian poked inside her head, but Claire’s mind traveled to another thought. “It’s pretty out.”

  “It is,” Lian whispered, her eyes blankly staring a hole into the wall. What could she have said while asleep?

  “You’re awake,” Austin said cheerfully, rushing to the bar. He leaned next to Claire and spoke to her, pointing at Lian. “Can I take care of her for a bit?”

  Claire smirked at Lian, squeezed her knee and walked away. Austin smiled and ran his fingers along the side of Lian’s face, pulling her in for a kiss. Lian allowed her muscles to go loose as she crawled into his lap.

  “I saw you get knocked over the railing. How did you not break your back?” Lian asked.

  “One of the perks of being scratched and infected by a werewolf is advanced healing.” He lifted his shirt to reveal no bruises, cuts or any other sign of injury. She quite liked looking at his chiseled abs.

  She smiled, rubbing his stomach. “What are the others?”

  “An increased metabolism that lets you guzzle as much beer as you’d like and keep your rock hard eight-pack.” He tilted a glass under the tap and filled it to the brim. He chugged it and repeated the process. “But that’s sort of a double-edged sword, because you don’t feel a thing. Which pretty much means you’re drinking for taste, ruling out Keystone.”

  “That’s a bad thing?” she giggled.

  “It is for your wallet. Good tasting beer is expensive.” They sat in silence for a few minutes just looking each other over to be sure they were OK. His fingers sifted through her hair and his thumb rubbed a sensitive spot on the back of her head. She could tell he wanted to say something.

  “I thought for sure you were... that Jarrod was going to do something to you, too.” Lian struggled to talk, on the verge of breaking down. Her hands pulled tightly on Austin’s shirt. Her arms shook. “I’m not sure if I’m qualified to handle all this. If Sanderson were here, he’d know what to do.”

  “You’ve done a bang up job baby-sitting us so far.” Austin pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest as he took in a deep, controlled breath. “You’re the glue. Don’t un-stick now.”

  “Bang up job?” She laughed. Banged up was more like it.

  “Poor choice of words,” he said. It was like he could read minds too.

  “Me, the leader?” she chuckled, snorting. She covered her face, hoping he didn’t hear it. “All I did was spin the wheel and see where it pointed. You’ve done all the grunt work.”

  “I have.” Austin nodded.

  “Asshole.” Lian reached up into his shirt and pulled on a few chest hairs.

  “What’s next?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.

  “I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along.”

  “We all are.” He breathed against her neck as he held her tightly.

  She didn’t quite agree with that last statement. Not all of them were improvising during this journey. Lian stood and smiled at him, reassuring him that she was stable enough to walk unassisted. He let go and for the first time in a week, since getting sick while on the ship, she stood on her own power.

  She was happy to see something other than the dark cabin they’d all shared on the boat. The pictures on the walls of the tavern were interesting. They chronicled decades of time for the tavern, all the way back before the start of World War One. Her gaze fell on a picture taken nearly ten years prior. A memory flashed in her mind. She stumbled, shaking her head, falling over a table. Austin caught her, but she put her hand up and motioned for him to step away.

  Something about the picture screamed that it was important. She took the picture off the wall and stared at it while sitting on a chair. Her vision became static. The picture moved.

  “Did you see that?” Lian looked over her shoulder at Austin. He shrugged.

  The flash of a camera sent her mind back in time. She sat watching a rugby group gather for a photo as a stranger in the pub took their picture. After the collective smiles had been etched onto film for eternity, the man gave the camera back to the group. It was Sanderson.

  “Thanks, mate. Can we buy you a pint?” One of the tall, brutish looking rugby players drunkenly slung his arm around Sanderson’s shoulders. “C’mon yank, live a little.”

  “Let’s get on with it, you munter.” Another rugby player pulled on his friend’s shirt. “We’re drinking single malt now.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” Sanderson nodded, moving away from the drunken group. He adjusted his dark plaid hat. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “I’m not leavin’ til ya have a glass. So, what’ll it be?” The man swayed in a circular motion, putting his hands to his hips.

  “A Guinness, then,” said Sanderson, shrugging.

  “Fuck that.” The rugby player belched.

  “Excuse me?” said Sanderson. He shook his head and Lian could tell he didn’t know if the man was swearing at something else or if he should be offended.

  “Oh, nothing.” The man burped again. “I thought me fish ’n’ chips was working their way back to the party.”

  The group waddled over to the bar, leaving Sanderson to his own devices. He pulled the sleeve up on his sweater and checked his watch. She’s late, Lian could hear him think. Lian walked around him, looking intently at the lines of his face, in awe at the detail of her vision. He was so young.

  He looked right at Lian but didn’t see her. She turned around to find a skinny blonde woman with curly hair walking with purpose toward Sanderson. Her long, brown fur coat swayed behind her. Sanderson stood up and reached through Lian to shake the woman’s hand. The lady placed her coat over the back of a chair. Lian stepped back to give her vision space to play out.

  “How did you know I was the one coming to see you?” she asked. Her voice was smooth and she had an Irish accent.

  “You had that look about you.” He sat down, seeming a bit more reserved than Lian remembered him to be. “I can tell when someone has seen... things.”

  “Yes, there’s something unmistakable about it,” the woman replied, sliding her lace mittens off. She folded them neatly on the table and crossed one leg over the other. Her long dress nearly hit the floor.

  Lian tried to force her way into Sanderson’s mind to find out who the woman was, but the vision went fuzzy. She stopped trying to snoop, hoping she’d find out soon.

  “It is, indeed, Miss...” Sanderson said, waiting for her to finish his sentence.

  “Those who know me refer to me as Madame Patricia. But you can just call me Patricia.” She held two fingers up, signaling the bar keeper. She prodded Sanderson with her eyes. “So, you have two kids?”

  “W-with me, yes,” Sanderson stammered, looking at the table as he focused. “Well, not with me here. They’re at the hotel, sleeping. And they’re not mine. They’re a colleague’s. I heard you take in their kind.”

  “Descendants, yes. Why do you have a friend’s children?”

  “He’s dead and the people who killed him are after them.” Sanderson paused for a second to regain his composure. “He knew only I could protect them.”

  “He’s talking about me and my brother,” Lian whispered.

  “Yet here you are, seeking me,” Madame Patricia said. “How did you learn of me?”

  “I recreate, let’s just say, remarkable things. I know there’s more out there. Urban legends and all that—they’re true.”

  “Mostly, anyway.” Madame Patricia turned to the side and leaned back into the chair, uncrossing her legs. Her eyes scanned Sanderson. “Those and the ones who follow me try to clean that up. It’s a delicate balance to keep—well, let’s just say ‘the authorities’—out of everyone’s hair. Nothing would be worse than having our kind all over the evening news.”

  “Your name came through the grapevine. I got a few gifted ones to talk.”

  “Really? How?” she asked, leaning forward.

 
“I’m talented like that.” He looked at her with the confident, unrelenting gaze Lian remembered. “I’ve been told that if I need somewhere to hide, I should come to you.”

  “That’s half true.” She took the tea from the waitress and sipped it.

  “Just half?”

  “I don’t take in your kind,” she said, setting the cup on the saucer. “You’ll have to leave the children.”

  “Oh, no.” Sanderson shook his head. “I don’t mean for you take us all in. Just one of them.”

  “You want to separate the siblings?” She squinted, crossing her arms. “I work on my terms only. You won’t dictate to me.”

  “When you meet them, you’ll understand why. They can’t be kept together,” Sanderson whispered, scooting closer to Madame Patricia. “Their father hid something inside each of them that grows stronger and more unstable the longer they’re together. Until they’re old enough to control it, they’ll have to be apart. You’ll see.”

  “Which shall I take?” Madame Patricia turned her head and gave Sanderson a sideways look. “I assume you have one in mind.”

  “I’d like to keep the girl. I think I can hide her.”

  “What is the power?” Lian asked, trying to force herself into Sanderson’s head. The vision flickered. She couldn’t force it to work at her pace.

  Austin put his hands to Lian’s face. The vision waned and quickly disappeared. His forehead pressed against hers.

  “You were mumbling gibberish,” he said. His hands slowly wrapped over hers.

  “Was I?” Lian looked down at the photograph, finding the frame had snapped. Pieces of the glass cut into her palms. “I, uh, don’t recall.”

  “Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You were going full-on undertaker.” He pulled shards of glass from her palms and wrapped a towel around her hands. “We’ll have Claire take a look at this. You need to be more careful, if you can. You were yelling for Sanderson and Madame Patricia. Who is she?”