by KD Knight
Boothe soon joined me. We stood side by side looking at an old ceramic pot the underwater team had excavated.
"All I can think about is putting my fist through this wall." Boothe was breathing heavily and rubbing his palms over the thigh of his pants.
I looked into his bloodshot eyes. "Try to focus on something else," I said as I walked to another display.
Boothe followed me. I could feel his heavy breath on the back of my neck. "What are you looking at?"
"Just some artifacts from the earthquake. It's sad that all those lives were lost."
"They were Nephs, Jane. They’re better off dead."
"How could you say something like that?" I was sincerely shocked. I had never heard Boothe speak with such venom and condemnation. "They were people too. Just like us, they couldn't help how they were born. No one should be condemned for things that are beyond their control."
"The next time you see Marcus you can give him a great big hug. Tell him how much you accept him for who he is."
"Marcus chose to attack me. He…"
"That's not how it works." Boothe looked at me through the corner of his eye. "He attacked you because it's his nature. Destruction and evil runs through his veins. He can't escape that no more than you can escape your shoe size."
"Saying that someone can't control their behaviour or their attitude because they were born with it is just an excuse for not wanting to change."
"Whatever." Boothe walked away. "Make sure you enjoy the view from your bubble."
"What's your problem?"
He kept walking.
I hadn't seen the rude side of Boothe since my first run in with him in the hallway of Kingston Academy. I didn't like it then and I definitely didn't like it now.
"A difference of opinion is no reason for you to be rude," I stood in front of him. He looked at me, his grey eyes appeared dark under the dim overhead lighting.
"He said for us to wait," Mark said as he approached. He took a seat opposite Boothe.
Lisa soon joined, sinking herself into the seat beside Mark. Her eyes danced between Boothe and me. She raised her brow questioningly. I shrugged.
"What happens next?" Boothe asked as he continued to rub his hands vigorously against his pants.
"Don't know. He just said to wait. Feels like someone is beating a drum in my head. Anyone have any Tylenol or Advil?" Mark rubbed his temples.
"I don't think it will help," Lisa said, looking around at the group. "I think it's him." She was looking at the reception desk. "Mark, you are jumpier and more agitated than I have ever seen you before. Boothe, you look, well, very angry."
Lisa began rubbing her hands together and rocking herself back and forth. Her grey eyes were bloodshot. "Jane, do you feel any different?"
I did feel a little irritated. But dealing with Boothe could do that to anyone. "I feel okay."
Lisa grabbed her stomach and hunched forward. That sent my pulse racing. "What's going on?"
"He's killing us," Mark said softly. "Slowly and painfully."
I looked to the man behind the desk. His grey eyes were fiercely trained on us. There was a dark hue over his face that grew darker the longer I held his gaze.
"We have to get out of here." I gripped Boothe's arm and attempted to lift him from his seat. He didn't budge. "You're going to have to help me out here," I said between grunts.
Boothe clenched his jaw so tightly that the tendons in his neck bulged. He shook his head. "We've made it this far. I won't let him chase us out of here."
"Getting this information is not as important as you guys are to me."
Just as I finished my sentence, Mark fell from his seat. He was now hunched over on the floor ripping violently at his hair. Lisa dove to his side.
"Lisa, you grab Mark." I swung Boothe's tense arm around my neck. "We are getting them out of here."
Lisa lifted Mark with ease. As much as I tried, I couldn't lift Boothe from his seat. He felt like dead weight.
"You have to work with me, Boothe. We'll stand on three." I counted down. When I reached one, he fell to the floor, pulling me down with him.
"Without the mind, the body is useless," The man said from behind his desk. His eyes were dark, like the sky in a violent storm.
"You have to stop this!" I barked, my lips trembling. "Look at what you are doing to my friends."
The man behind the desk surveyed my face for a few moments. He then leaned forward. "Why are you here?" He asked in a low and even voice.
Lisa let out a piercing shriek. She was lying next to Mark with her hands gripping her hair.
I freed myself from Boothe's grip and ran to Lisa's side. "Stop! You're going to kill them!" I yelled. My hands were trembling and my chest burned with fire.
"Your friend gave me this cock and bull story about being here on a research assignment. If you want them to live you will answer my question. Why are you here? Be careful to answer truthfully."
"We're here to look at the archives." It felt like a hundred pound weight had dropped on my chest. I felt this same way before I fought the Ancient in the market. I took a few deep breaths. I have to remain calm; my friends’ lives depend on it.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"What's your name?" I returned.
"Attitude. Not wise. But I'll answer, as this may be your last moment on earth. They call me Vice because I hold minds in a powerful vice grip. I squeeze until I get what I want."
Lisa screamed. Vice smiled.
"Okay. If I answer will you stop hurting my friends?"
He looked over at them, his lips curled only slightly as if satisfied with his work, and nodded.
"My name is Jane Miller. Now please." I clenched my fists in an effort to steady my hands. "Stop this now!"
He surveyed me carefully. "Or else?"
"I'm not challenging you. I'm asking you," I said in return.
"That's too bad. I enjoy a good challenge." Vice winked. I heard Lisa yell out in pain. Boothe and Mark had stopped moving all together.
As if on instinct, I freed my trembling hands. The vibration moved through my fingers and circled the room. The glass display cases fractured and shattered as the walls began to shake. My eyes were trained on the man behind the desk who had a satisfying smirk on his face. I focused on him. I started with his desk, splitting it in half. The whole room shook. Portions of the white, chalky ceiling fell to the ground around him.
Vice jumped to his feet and raised one hand. Suddenly, a sharp pain travelled through my head. It felt like someone had driven an ice-pick through my scalp. Just like my friends before me, I fell to the ground clutching my head.
He walked over and knelt down beside me. "Don't worry, the effects of my gift don't last long." He held my hand and helped me to my feet.
My vision was blurry and I struggled to remain on my feet. "Why would you do something like that? Good people don't do this."
"I am the first line of defense against trespassers. People are prone to tell the truth when they or their loved ones are in danger."
I pulled my hand from his grasp and staggered back to my friends. Boothe was now sitting back on the chair. Mark sat a few seats over with his head on Lisa's shoulder. I stepped over the broken glass from the shattered display boxes and took a seat in the centre. "You guys okay?" I whispered.
They nodded slightly.
"I think we should leave." I looked at each member of the group.
"Your guide is on the way." Vice said, pointing towards a narrow white door.
I surveyed the room. There was broken glass all over the floor. The ceiling was cracked from one end to the other.
"Let's get out of here." I insisted. I still felt uneasy and wasn’t sure I could make it to the car without falling.
Boothe grabbed my hand. "No. We're staying."
"He's not going to chase us away." Lisa added.
"Boothe's my ride," Mark mumbled.
The narrow white door creaked open. "You've got to be
kidding." Mark threw his hands in the air. "I'd rather take my chances with the lunatic behind the desk."
Millicent leaned casually against the cracked reception desk. "Now play nice," she said with a mischievous grin. "We want to ensure that your visit to Port Royal is a pleasant one."
"There is nothing pleasant about you," Mark said curtly.
"Mark," Boothe cautioned. "Easy."
"I highly suggest you take your friend's advice, Mark." Millicent said as she scanned the room. "Miss Miller, how nice to see you again. I thought we agreed that you would be leaving the Marcus issue to us."
I could feel my face bend into a scowl. "We're here on a research trip for Mark's…"
"Father. Yes, I heard. Naturally, we didn't believe you, so we called Dr. Chung."
I looked over at Mark. His face had lost all its blood and his small eyes had widened.
"We ran your story past him." She looked directly at Mark when she spoke. Mark looked like he was about to faint. Lisa elbowed him and mumbled for him to get himself together and stop acting so guilty.
"Lucky for you all, he confirmed your statement." Millicent said finally. She then paused and looked around the room, staring intently at the glass and cement fragments that dotted the floor. "Vice, I see you had your fun," she said to the man behind the desk.
He gave a one-sided smile. "You know what they say, 'if you don't use it, you lose it'" They both chuckled. "I've called facilities for cleanup," He handed her a clipboard and a set of keys.
Millicent stepped over the debris, passed us, and walked right to the front door. "Let's go children."
She walked ahead of us towards the parking lot where Boothe's car was parked. We walked a good distance behind her. I felt like this was some sort of trap. At any minute we were going to be ambushed and arrested for some ridiculous Council violation.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked aloud. She didn't answer or break stride. "Back there you mentioned Marcus. How's the investigation going?" Again, no reply. "You're not even looking for Aramos are you?" Looking at the back of her head, I could envision the nonchalant expression on her face. "How deep does the relationship with the Neph's go? E.I.s, the Council Guard, the Chairman." My frustration was mounting. Lisa gasped loudly.
Millicent stopped in her tracks then quickly turned to face me. "Keep making comments like that and they'll throw you and your friends in jail for treason. You'll be lucky if you get out before your thirtieth birthday."
"For having an opinion against Council code?" I folded my arms across my chest.
"You call it opinion; they call it treason and insubordination. Now, if you want to continue down this path don't let me stop you. But I'll bet that you didn't risk coming to Port Royal to hand yourself over to the Council Guard so easily."
Millicent resumed her course with us following behind.
"What's a Council Guard?" I whispered to Lisa.
"They're the Council's cleanup crew. They do all the dirty stuff that the Eshkar investigators don't touch. They also guard the headquarters full-time, ready for anything that requires their special brand of attention."
"Why didn't you guys tell me about this Council Guard before we came here?"
"It was in the briefing I gave you at El’s restaurant," Lisa whispered back. "Page four, second paragraph from the bottom."
"No one read that thing," Mark interjected.
Millicent led us into the town. The small fishing village was for the most part vacant. There were pockets of people by the shore reeling in their fishing net. There was a small restaurant where a few dozen Normals and Eshkars sat laughing and talking. She stopped in front of an old two-story building. The paint on the exterior had lost its colour, giving the building the trademark grey hue that seemed to cover most things in this town.
"Welcome." She said, extending her hand to the building.
"This old eyesore is the archives?" Mark stepped onto the veranda. He touched the wooden column and the wood splintered into dust. "The Council is stingy with their money," he mumbled.
"This building is a historical landmark." She opened the wooden door and motioned for us to step inside. "It was an old naval hospital built in 1818."
"If you're setting us up, I will personally deal with you," Boothe hissed as he passed her.
She rolled her eyes in reply.
I was shocked as I stepped inside. The interior of the old naval hospital looked like an industrial warehouse. The space was filled with countless rows of floor to ceiling metal shelves. Each shelf was crowded with file boxes.
"This doesn't look like the archives I remember," Boothe stated as he turned to face Millicent. "You're setting us up."
She crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. "How old were you when you last saw this place, seven maybe eight? We had a few breaches that required us to be a little bit more diligent with security."
"You're concerned about security, so you put your files in a condemned hospital?" Mark ran his finger along a shelf and cringed at the dust that stuck to his finger.
"Does a thief search for a diamond in the shack, or the five thousand square foot house next to it? Besides, this place is protected enough. You've met our first line of protection."
"Mr. Personality at the reception desk?" Mark rolled his eyes.
"The minute you gave your names, a message was sent to Council Guard security desk. Vice, or Mr. Personality as you like to call him, has one job—to give us enough time to search your background and organize the Council Guard if needed. Lucky for you I was on duty when you came in."
"Why are you helping us?" I surveyed Millicent's stern face. I agree with Boothe, something seems off about all of this.
"Because Christopher Coy asked me to."
I had ruled Dr. Coy out as a source of help. But here he was, battling his own demons, yet still helping in his own way. I smiled.
"I don't have the time or the patience to baby sit you kids." Her eyes roamed over us. "Don't make me regret this. I'll be back for you in exactly fifty minutes. Anything you touch you put back where you found it. Do not destroy or remove anything from this room. See you in fifty."
"So you didn't call my father?" Mark asked Millicent as she turned to leave.
She rolled her eyes then pulled the door closed behind her. I heard the click as the locks engaged, sealing us in.
"Alligator woman," Mark mumbled to himself.
Millicent went out on a limb to bring us here. Maybe I misjudged her.
"So, this is the new archives?" Boothe scanned the room. "Definitely a downgrade in terms of looks."
"And comfort," Mark added. "There are no tables or chairs."
"I’m not prepared for this, but that's okay." Lisa eyed the room and pulled a box from a bottom shelf. The front of the box had a chain of numbers and letters scribbled across the front. She opened the box, pulled out one of the white folders and began to read aloud,
Eshkar name Lillian Aaron, born April 17, 1897, died March 21, 1982, endowed with the ability to change the emotional climate of the room with her voice. Last known location: Bog Walk.
The file went on to itemize her life, where she went to school, her children's names and their locations.
"Lillian sounds great, but we don’t need information on other Eshkars." I said, pulling down a random box.
"Neph files are in here. We just have to look. Mark, Lisa, you guys start with boxes down at the opposite end. Jane and I will continue here." Boothe directed.
We're down to forty minutes to find a file on Marcus, Aramos, and the Ancients. There were thousands of boxes to sift through. It would be harder than finding a needle in a haystack. Unless... "Lisa," I called out, "can you decipher the code on the front of the boxes?"
"No problem." She responded from a distance. "It seems to be a simple combination of a year, initials, and maybe some administrative additions.
"Why don't you ever ask me how to decipher anything?" Mark said, feigning hurt. "I know stuff t
oo, you know."
"If you know what the code is, please tell us." I picked up another file. This one was for an Eshkar man, middle aged, who lived in Manchester.
"Well, I'd say the first four digits are most likely the admin information. The second set of numbers is the date of birth, followed by date of death," Lisa informed the group.
Mark cleared his throat loudly. "This code has an E at the end, but this one has an N. I'd say the E is for Eshkar, and the N for Nephilim."
"Wow, I think Mark's right," Lisa said with surprise. "Neph files are mixed in with the Eshkar files." Lisa emerged with two folders. "This one is about a Neph kid in Freetown, and this is an Eshkar in Black River. There is no organization here."
"They don't need organization, Lisa. They need kerosene oil and a match," Mark said grimly. "Every file I've picked up so far spoke of people who lived normal lives. No run-ins with the Council at all. No violations or offenses are mentioned."
"I don't like this," Boothe threw the box he was looking through onto the floor. "I can guarantee that Eshkars don't know the Council has been secretly collecting this information. If they ever found out, they'd probably want to burn this place down, too."
"But why collect this? What benefit do you get from charting someones life like this?” Lisa asked.
"Control," Mark said calmly.
I moved to another box. The first file I picked up was of a young boy, a Nephilim named Claudius Saunders. He was born in 1980 and died of an unknown infectious disease in 1987. His weapon was unknown. His file chronicled his short life and battle with this flesh-eating disease.
It was the first time I had felt sorry for a Neph. He was only a child. I can't say that when I was seven my thoughts and actions were any different from Claudius’s. He didn't go out of his way to hurt anyone. The only suffering I saw in his file was his own.
I finished Claudius's file and had an overwhelming sense of sympathy for the young Nephilim. Until this point, Marcus and Aramos were my only real reference points. I envisioned all of them to be conniving, malicious, and evil.