Occidis: Sophia Moreau, Book 1

by Aisha Tritle

  “Aren’t you the one who just mentioned the limited pool of people in my perfectly boring life?”

  “Come on,” said Saren. “You’re not bad looking, and you’re barely grown. I know what teenagers are like. There must have been somebody.”

  Visions of memories flashed before Sophia’s eyes. She couldn’t talk about him. She couldn’t talk about Colin.

  “I mean, I fooled around,” she said, determined to be flippant. “But there was never anything serious.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Saren was too close. She’d leaned so far over the table that Sophia could feel her breath, and her words were getting too close for comfort.

  Sophia shook her head. “Nope.”

  “There was a boy, wasn’t there?”

  Despite her best efforts, Sophia’s heart seemed to stop. Did Saren know? The woman’s green-eyed gaze was so steady it was unnerving. Sophia shook her head again.

  “There really wasn’t anybody,” she said.

  “There was a boy when you were fifteen.”

  Sophia almost gagged. Saren knew…how did she know?

  “It was nothing,” lied Sophia.

  She shot a glance at Ilya; she could tell he was dying to ask questions. But all that emanated from him was silence.

  “You lie,” said Saren. “It wasn’t nothing.”

  “It was just a fling.”

  Saren’s gaze had turned into a terrifying, unblinking stare. “He was your first, wasn’t he?”

  Chills ran up Sophia’s spine. “How do you know this?”

  Saren sat back with a look of smug satisfaction. “At last, we get some form of admittance,” she said.

  “What do you want?” Fear had crept into Sophia’s voice.

  Confusion met the smugness on Saren’s face. “Just tell us about him.”

  “I can’t,” said Sophia.

  The last person in the world she would ever want to open up to was the woman in front of her.

  “He was Scottish, wasn’t he? A brilliant Scottish boy named Colin.”

  Sophia stayed silent. She didn’t know what to say, or how to react.

  But Saren persisted, “How did that come about?”

  Still, Sophia didn’t speak. Her breathing was stunted. Her head was low. She discreetly clamped her hand between her legs, lest it start to tremble.

  “It looks like Ilya wants to know,” said Saren. “I’m dying to know everything that wasn’t in the file.”

  Sophia looked up. “What file?”

  “Your file. The one that Jonathan sent over,” said Saren innocently. “Didn’t you know?”

  Sophia’s cheeks began to flush with rage. The woman knew perfectly well the file was foreign knowledge to her. So, Jonathan had a file on her. A file filled with all the things she didn’t want people to know.

  Suddenly, Ilya turned to Saren. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

  Saren laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’re just getting to know one another. Aren’t you curious?”

  Ilya pushed her hand off. “No,” he said. “Not if Sophia doesn’t want to tell me.”

  Saren was taken aback. “Well, that’s all well and fine for you, but I want to know.”

  Her frivolous attitude was like sandpaper rubbing Sophia the wrong way. Before she could help herself, Sophia brought her fist down on the table. Both Ilya and Saren jumped at the fearful crash.

  “Colin killed himself,” said Sophia, her voice a low snarl. “Or if you want details—he hanged himself. Because he was too good. He was too good for what they had us do. He was too good for me. And he’s too good for you—even though he’s gone. You don’t deserve to speak his name.”

  An eerie silence fell over the table. It was too much.

  Sophia stood up. Without a word, she stormed out of the room. She could hear Ilya calling after her, but she didn’t stop until she’d reached her room and slammed the door.

  The rooms she and Ilya were staying in were hardly furnished. Half of the room had hardwood floor, with the other half stretching into traditional tatami and ending in an ocean-view patio.

  The room was unnecessarily big and seemed to swallow up the small futon that Sophia sat down on.

  She hugged her knees to her chest and fixed her eyes on the bare wall across from her. She wasn’t crying. Her eyes were dry, but her heart pounded furiously in her chest.

  Sophia didn’t know how long she stayed like that—it could have been a couple of minutes, it could have been an hour. The sound of footsteps outside her door broke through the fog that surrounded her. It was probably Jonathan.

  A loud knock resounded through the room. Sophia got up and crossed to the door. As she opened it, her suspicions were confirmed.

  “Hello, Sophia.”

  The sight of Jonathan was more of a relief than Sophia thought it would be. He was dressed in a pinstripe suit…he was rarely ever out of a suit. He looked pristine. A black duffle bag slung over his shoulder was the only telltale sign of his long journey.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said.

  There was something subdued in his attitude. The cold superficial politeness he’d displayed when they first met had melted away. He stood, hands hanging loosely by his side, eyes full of sincerity.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” said Sophia, almost surprised she meant it.

  “Saren’s put me in the room across from you,” he said. “I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

  No doubt, Saren had briefed him on what had happened at dinner.

  “I’m doing fine,” said Sophia. “How was your flight?”

  A charming laugh escaped from Jonathan. He ran his hand through his dark hair. “I fear most of my life is spent on a plane now,” he said. “But it was good. I put some finishing touches on the plan.”

  “I’m excited to hear about it.”

  Jonathan nodded. “How’s everything been around here? Have Saren and Yasuo made you feel welcome?”

  Sophia hesitated before speaking. “It’s been fine,” she said.

  Jonathan pressed his mouth into a thin line and studied her. “Saren is fiercely loyal to those she keeps close to her. But I know whenever she takes a dislike to somebody she can be…relentless. I’m not fully aware of what happened, but it sounds like there was some tension tonight.”

  Events from dinner replayed in Sophia’s head. Tension? Yes. Because Saren knew things she damn well shouldn’t. “You sent Saren a file,” she said.

  Jonathan nodded. “I did, yes. Robert Ingram had compiled thorough files on you and Ilya. I abridged them and sent them to Saren, so she had some background information on the two of you.”

  Abridged? So maybe Saren had been genuinely curious when pressing for details about Colin. Maybe she hadn’t known…

  But the damage was already done. And Sophia was exhausted. There was no point in talking about it now.

  “I don’t know if that’s caused any trouble,” said Jonathan. “But I’m sorry if it has.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Jonathan stood, looking unsure of what to say next. Sophia wondered why he didn’t just leave.

  “You must be tired,” she said.

  “No, not really,” replied Jonathan. “How’s your training going?”

  It seemed he was determined to stay.

  “It’s going alright.”

  “I sent you here because Saren is the best,” said Jonathan, as if trying to rationalize his decision.

  “I never doubted your intentions.”

  Why didn’t he just leave? Sophia looked back at her futon. They were due to continue weapons training tomorrow, and she needed her sleep.

  This time, Jonathan took the hint. “I know you’ve got quite the day tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll let you go.”

  “Goodnight,” said Sophia.

  “Goodnight.”

  As she shut the door, Sophia breathed a sigh of relief. Peeling off her clothes one by one, she went int
o the adjoining bathroom and began to run a bath. The lighting in the bathroom was annoyingly fluorescent, so she left it off. She’d just gotten into the bath when she heard a quiet knock on the door.

  It was probably Jonathan. Again.

  “Go away,” Sophia muttered under her breath.

  But the person knocked again. This time, a little louder.

  Sophia got out of the bath and slipped on a robe. Frustrated, she walked to the door. With an unintentional touch of dramatic finesse, she flung open the door.

  It was Ilya. The two of them stood in silence, taking each other in.

  “Is this a bad time?” asked Ilya.

  The frustration Sophia had felt vanished in a flash. “No. No, it isn’t a bad time.”

  Ilya’s hands were in his pockets. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “How are you?” he asked.

  “I’m good. How are you?”

  Sophia was finding it hard to breathe and didn’t know why.

  Ilya rubbed his forehead. “Listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I haven’t had your back in the past few days as much as I should—“

  Before she knew what she was doing, Sophia grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room.

  They stood, their gazes locked. Sophia’s heart was beating loud; her cheeks were flushed. Something had come over her. She pulled Ilya close, still not quite sure what she was doing.

  There was little more than an inch between them. Their breath combined. Gently, Sophia pressed her lips into his.

  Stretching his hand out, Ilya closed the door.

  22

  A glimmer of sunlight shone through the window onto Sophia’s face. Her eyes fluttered open. She was bundled up on the futon, not quite sure how she got there.

  She turned her head and saw that Ilya had gone. Over the past few days, he’d made a habit of going for a run on the beach before breakfast. He must have made sure she wouldn’t get cold before he left.

  She rolled over and got up, tightening her robe. The days of intense training had left her sore. With a groan, she stretched her arms. Her interrupted bath the night before had left her feeling sweaty and grimy. But she’d overslept.

  The clock on the wall said 7:55. Breakfast was served at 8:00.

  Sophia jumped in the shower. She’d be a bit late, but she didn’t care.

  As the warm steam enveloped her, her muscles relaxed. For the first time since she’d arrived on Enoshima, she was excited. She was ready to face the day.

  Jonathan was here. And last night had been…

  A smile crossed Sophia’s face as she dried her hair. She chuckled as she remembered the early days, the days when she had resented Ilya, the days when she had been suspicious of him.

  How wrong she had been.

  Sophia slipped on her workout gear and went out the door. It was 8:10.

  Not even the thought of Saren ragging on her for being late would dim Sophia’s spirits. She briskly walked to the dining room, looking forward to seeing the welcoming faces.

  But they weren’t there.

  Saren sat alone; a selection of vegetables, fruit, and meat laid out in front of her. Her green eyes gazed calmly at Sophia as she sipped a cup of tea.

  Sophia froze. Where were Ilya and Jonathan?

  Sophia stood at the entrance to the dining room, her feet glued to the ground.

  “Good morning,” said Saren. She gestured to the seat across from her.

  Sophia still didn’t move. “Good morning.”

  To her surprise, Saren set down her cup of tea and crossed the room. Her usual prickly demeanor was nowhere to be found. The hostility in her eyes had disappeared. She looked different. She looked…repentant.

  “I want to apologize for what I did last night,” said Saren. “That was unacceptable. I didn’t know the outcome of the situation with your friend. And it was unfair of me to ask you about it. Especially in the way that I did.”

  What was happening? Sophia gaped at the woman in front of her. The sudden change of attitude was weird. It probably wasn’t even genuine—or maybe it was. Still, the woman wasn’t to be trusted. Sophia pursed her lips, deliberating her answer. The alienating treatment she’d received ever since she had arrived remained stuck in her mind. She couldn’t forgive that.

  “Apology accepted,” said Sophia. A neutral answer. It didn’t mean she had to like Saren.

  And the woman knew the reply she’d received was half-hearted. Saren bit her lip, her green eyes filled with remorse.

  “There are some things I have to explain to you,” she said. “Why I—“

  Sophia cut her off. “Where’s Ilya? And Jonathan?”

  She didn’t want to hear whatever Saren had to say. The dislike Sophia felt for the woman was so strong that any word out of her mouth hurt Sophia’s ears like badly played music.

  Saren sighed before replying. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “I’m going to go look for them.” Sophia turned around and walked away. Saren could apologize all she wanted. But Sophia wasn’t going to sit and have breakfast alone with the woman.

  She could feel Saren’s eyes on her as she made her way down the hall. Where were Ilya and Jonathan?

  She would check their rooms—Ilya’s room first, of course. He’d been put on the opposite side of the house from Sophia. She quickened her pace. But as she passed the practice room, the sound of raised voices met her ears.

  “It’s none of your business!” yelled Ilya.

  Sophia stopped in her tracks.

  “Yes, it is,” replied Jonathan’s impassioned lilt.

  “I can handle myself. Sophia and I will be fine.”

  Sophia stepped towards the door. She resisted an urge to press her ear against it.

  “You obviously can’t handle yourself,” said Jonathan.

  “You know nothing,” said Ilya. “Stop acting like you’re the only one who cares about her.”

  “If you truly cared about her, you would have told her.”

  Sophia’s heart raced. Told her what?

  “She doesn’t need that right now. I’ll get around to it,” said Ilya.

  “When?”

  “Eventually.”

  “You need to be fair to her.”

  A minute of silence followed.

  “Well?” Jonathan asked expectantly.

  “I’ve had enough of this.”

  “You have to tell her,” commanded Jonathan.

  Ilya laughed. It was unlike anything Sophia had heard from him. There was more than bitterness in his laugh. It was ugly. And it pained her to hear it.

  Then, footsteps. Someone was coming towards her. But Sophia couldn’t move.

  The door swung open. Ilya’s jaw dropped as he looked at Sophia with a mixture of fear and shock.

  Jonathan scoffed and pulled his hand over his face.

  “Sophia,” said Ilya. “Good morning.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Sophia.

  Ilya tried to stammer out an answer. “It’s, uh…it’s. It’s really—“ He gave up. An air of helplessness came over him.

  “Tell her,” said Jonathan. “Stop being a coward. Just do it now.”

  Ilya turned to him. “I can’t do it like this,” he protested.

  The longer she was in suspense, the more Sophia felt a sense of impending doom. She needed to know now. “Just tell me.”

  Ilya’s shoulders rose and fell quickly. He was nervous. Why was he so nervous?

  “About Kristin…” his voice drifted off.

  Sophia crooked an eyebrow. “What about Kristin?”

  Ilya exhaled slowly as if trying to calm himself down. “You know how she’s pregnant?”

  Sophia’s stomach dropped. It couldn’t be…

  “Yeah,” she said.

  Ilya wasn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes kept shifting from side to side. “That’s…”

  “Dammit, Ilya,” said Sophia. “Just say it.”

  “That’s because of me,” blurted Ilya. Sophia’
s heart stopped.

  “You’re the father?”

  Ilya nodded. “Yes,” he replied, his voice hoarse.

  Sophia didn’t move. Every part of her seemed to go numb.

  Jonathan was still on the far side of the room. From the expression on his face, it was as if Ilya had hurt him. Not Sophia.

  “I’m so sorry,” whispered Ilya.

  It all made sense now, why Kristin had snapped and attacked her, Ilya’s attitude on the flight over.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  Ilya took a step towards her, but Sophia backed away.

  “I didn’t know,” he said. “Not until the morning we left.”

  A lump had formed in Sophia’s throat. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to collapse on the floor, scream, yell, cry.

  “I was going to tell you,” said Ilya. “But I didn’t know when. There was never a right time. And then…”

  He shot a nervous glance at Jonathan. “He saw me leave your room this morning.”

  A spark of anger touched Sophia.

  “So the only reason you’re telling me is because Jonathan saw you leave my room this morning?”

  Ilya bit his lip. “Everything with Kristin happened before I knew you…before I really knew you. It wasn’t even a relationship. It was just a…just a—“

  “A fling?” asked Sophia. She knew her friend. Kristin’s liaisons never lasted long.

  Ilya nodded. “It didn’t mean anything, I swear. Please believe me.”

  Flashbacks from when they’d rescued Kristin from BASE filled Sophia’s head. It had obviously meant something to Kristin. Sophia’s hands curled into fists. How could she have been so stupid?

  “You have to believe me, Sophia,” pleaded Ilya.

  She did believe him. But she couldn’t say it. She’d let her guard down for the first time in years, and this had happened. It felt as if someone had driven a knife into her stomach, and everything Ilya said drove it deeper.

  Sophia stifled the urge to throw up. “It’s fine,” she said.

  Ilya’s brow furrowed in confusion. Jonathan’s head snapped around.

  “What do you mean?” asked Ilya.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Sophia—“

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll make it up to you,” said Ilya. “I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes.”