by Jessica Roe
“You really think a lot of yourself, don't you?” Walker's voice came from somewhere ahead of him. “I wouldn't do unspeakable things to you even if you begged me.”
A dim light flickered on, lighting up Nicky's surroundings. He sighed with relief when he saw that they really were in a wine cellar, and not a torture chamber like he'd sort of feared. Just an ordinary wine cellar. Dark, dank and dusty, shelf after shelf stocked with hundreds of bottles of wine.
He shot a glance over at Charles, stood over by the light switch. “So...this is your headquarters then? It's...fancy. Could do with a dusting, but who am I to judge. And this must be your team.” He held an outstretched hand over towards a bottle of wine. “Nice to meet you.”
“You do make a lot of jokes,” Charles observed. “Did you know that's a defence mechanism?”
“What are you, a shrink?” Nicky really hated when people tried to analyse him. It brought back too many memories of childhood visits to the psychiatrist. Or the 'funny doctor', as his dad had liked to call him, like that would make it seem any less disturbed.
Charles rolled his eyes at the sulky tone in Nicky's voice. All his life Nicky had inspired a whole lot of eye rolling in people. “This way.” Charles led Nicky and Walker down a passageway of shelves. They turned a corner and came to a dead end up against a sandy brick wall.
Nicky glared at the offending wall. “You people are just making this up as you go along, aren't you?”
Ignoring him, Walker bent down and lifted a latch on the floor that Nicky hadn't even noticed; it blended in with the dusty surface perfectly. She opened up a trap door, which revealed more stony steps leading to somewhere even darker and creepier than the wine cellar.
“You're kidding me, right?” he pleaded. Man, he hoped they didn't expect him to go down there.
But Walker stepped in and, as had often happened during Nicky's life, curiosity won out over fear and he followed her down. No wonder he was always getting himself into so much bother. And it only had a very small amount to do with the fact that he couldn't let an eenie bit of a girl like her go somewhere he was too pussy to brave.
Behind him, he heard Charles switch off the wine cellar light and join them, before shutting the trap door over their heads. It was so dark that the steps seemed to disappear from under him, and when Nicky held up his hand in front of his face, he couldn't even see his own fingers.
“Oh shit!” he hissed after misjudging a step and almost falling. He managed to catch himself before doing any damage.
He heard Walker sigh. “Hold on to my shoulder,” she instructed. “This whole thing will have been pointless if you go and break your neck on us now.”
Nicky would have argued with her just to piss the callous bitch off, but he really was worried that he'd fall and break his neck, so he reached out blindly in front of him until he could feel her bony shoulder. “Someone's tense,” he commented.
Wisely, she ignored him.
They reached the bottom of the stone steps and turned a sharp corner. They were in a narrow tunnel, which Nicky could just about see because there was a faint light shining up ahead of them. He let go of Walker's shoulder and followed behind her as she approached it. Up close, he saw that the light was actually a small computer screen built into a set of metal elevator doors.
The computer screen flashed as they approached, like it was taking a picture. “Hello, Charles. Hello, Walker. Hello, newcomer,” came a computerized woman's voice.
Charles and Walker stepped forwards and took turns placing their hands on the screen and it flashed again.
“Thank you. Newcomer has forty five seconds to provide sufficient identification,” said the computer.
Nicky took a nervous step back. “Or what?”
“Override that,” Charles interrupted quickly.
“Override code required.” A keypad appeared on the screen, and Charles tapped in a complicated series of numbers. “Override accepted.”
“This is Jemima,” Charles explained to Nicky. “She's our computer system.”
“You named your computer system Jemima? Really?”
Charles frowned. “I thought it was a nice name.”
“Sure, it's just peachy. And not weird at all...You're kind of lonely, huh?”
“Jemima, please add Nicolas Daniel Pierce to your system,” Charles ordered, pointedly ignoring Nicky's teasing. “He is to be granted full access until further notice.”
“You know my middle name, too? Is there anything you don't know?”
Walker tutted, like she was already tired of him. Although to be fair, she had never seemed all that interested in the first place. “We know much more than your middle name.”
“How?”
“We have sources. Duh.”
“Yeah, 'cause that's not at all annoyingly cryptic.”
“Please place your hands flat on the screen, Nicolas Daniel Pierce,” Jemima commanded.
“Can you make her call me Nicky? No one ever calls me Nicolas. It makes me sound like a posh jerk.” He eyed Charles warily. “No offence.”
“Please place your hands flat on the screen, Nicky.”
“Oh. She heard me. That's...wow. That's super creepy. Do computers have ears?” Feeling uneasy had always caused Nicky to babble. Like an idiot. Like an uncontrollable idiot.
Charles raised an eyebrow, amused. “She's smart.”
“You guys are insane,” Nicky muttered, pressing his hand to the screen as Jemima—the computer—had requested. “So, what now? Does she scan my hand like a thumb print or someth— hey!” A yelp—a very manly yelp—escaped him when the screen flashed again and his palm felt as if it had been attacked by a hundred tiny electric shocks. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded, yanking his hand back and cradling it to his chest.
“I now have your data registered on my system, Nicky.”
“You didn't have to be so mean about it,” he grumbled.
Walker snorted.“Big baby.”
Charles patted Nicky on the back. A comforting gesture, yet Nicky was still on guard. “Don't worry, next time it won't be so bad.”
“What? That's gonna happen again?”
“Oh. Uh...”
Nicky let out a resigned sigh as comprehension dawned. “That's going to happen every time I come in, isn't it?”
“It's an extremely advanced security system. You get used to it eventually.” Charles shrugged, as if it wasn't unusual for him to get zapped by his evil front door every day. Nicky guessed it probably wasn't. “Jemima, open the doors.”
“Please enter the code.”
“At least she's polite,” Nicky commented.
The keypad appeared on the screen again and Charles typed in another long number. “I'll teach you the list of codes,” he threw over his shoulder. “There are more for the computers inside. You'll need to memorize them. Never write them down, obviously, for security reasons.”
“Man, you guys are really secretive, huh? All that lock and key bizz?”
“You have no idea.”
“Code accepted.”
The doors slid open and Nicky trailed inside after Charles, watching as he typed a code on yet another computer screen. With barely a sound, the elevator began moving down.
“How far down does this thing go?” Nicky asked.
“About a thousand feet or so,” Charles answered.
“One thousand and fifty six, to be precise,” Jemima corrected. She almost sounded like she was smiling, and Nicky wondered just how advanced she really was. He'd seen something in a movie once where they'd put a human brain into a computer. It had been sick. Charles didn't look like a crazy ass scientist...
The elevator eventually came to a halt. He heard the sounds of numerous latches undoing and the metal doors slid open, vanishing into the wall. Nicky forgot all about talking computers and crazy scientists and stringy human brains as he followed Charles and Walker out.
HE'D BEEN EXPECTING another dark and dingy room. Maybe a fe
w computers lining the walls, a couple of desks, and perhaps a shady looking computer genius...so maybe he watched too much TV. But the room they'd entered was huge! So huge that his mouth dropped open as he looked around and he barely registered the door sliding back down behind him.
They stood at the top of a set of steps that led down to a vast living area. The walls were painted a bright white, and giant paintings of sunny landscapes covered every surface, as if to make up for the lack of windows. Great blue sofas sat in the middle of the room, gathered around a dark coffee table and a big television. To the side of the room was a kitchen area filled with large, silver appliances and a long dining table. The lighting was generous—so much so that it didn't even feel like they were underground.
“There are bedrooms and bathrooms through there,” Charles explained, pointing towards a door on the opposite side of the room. “And our laboratory, tech room and training and storage rooms are through there.” He pointed to another door. “We have a meetings room, but we usually like to keep things more informal, so we have most of our meetings in here on the sofas. I'll show you around properly shortly.”
Nicky was still gaping like an idiot. The room they were in was huge, but there was more? “How in the hell has nobody noticed this place is down here?”
“We'll explain all of that to you soon,” Charles promised. “It will all make sense.”
“Good. Because I seriously need to know what I signed up for, and fast. As in right now. This place is crazy intense.”
One of the nearby doors opened and three people entered, nudging at each other and laughing.
“We thought we heard voices,” said the only woman of the group. She was the polar opposite of Walker. Her golden brown hair was wavy and wild, and the smile on her face was toothy and all kinds of genuine. Everything about her seemed friendly, right down to the cute smattering of freckles on her nose. She was pretty, though not really Nicky's type. Her clothes were floaty and flowery and she was covered in beads. He nicknamed her Hippy Gal inside his head. “Oh! You brought Nicolas in. That's great!” She hurried forward and shook his hand. “I'm Felicity, it's so nice to meet you.”
“Her name is Queenie,” Walker corrected, a hint of a smile on her face. It surprised Nicky, because up until that point he'd seriously been considering the idea that her face was actually frozen in stuck-up-bitch mode.
Hippy Gal rolled her eyes playfully. “My name is Felicity. Ignore her.”
“But we call her Queenie.”
“Why?”
Queenie dragged him by the hand to the sofas and pushed him down, dropping down next to him and smoothing out her long skirt. “You don't need to know about that.” She was blushing, and Nicky was immediately intrigued. He stored it away and made a mental note to bring it up another time, maybe when they knew each other a little more.
A nerdy looking Chinese guy sat down on the other side of Queenie, and Charles and Walker thumped down onto another couch with the other newcomer; a blonde, surfer wanabee lookalike. Surfer Jerk—he looked like a jerk!—sat back and regarded the room as if he owned it, and Nicky was immediately on edge. He knew guys like that, he'd met them before. Guys who thought they owned the world and looked down on ex cons like him.
“Felicity is a scientist here,” Charles explained to Nicky. “And this is Kain.” He nodded towards the nerdy looking Chinese guy. “He works our computers. He's something of a genius.”
Kain leaned over Queenie to shake Nicky's hand. It was warm, and slightly sweaty. “We've been looking forward to having you here. I hear you have a very unique talent.”
Nicky shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like being around this random group of people who knew so much about him, while he knew next to nothing about them. “I'm guessing you know more about it than I do.”
Kain just waggled his eyebrows and sat back.
Charles gestured towards Surfer Jerk. “And the last member of our little team is Xavier, my son.” At Xavier's tut, Charles corrected, “But he prefers Zay.”
Zay nodded at him in a casual greeting, but didn't reach over to shake his hand. Jerk.
“It's nice to meet you all, I guess.” Nicky was still hesitant. They all seemed like decent people on the surface—Surfer Jerk Zay and Bitchy Walker aside—but he still didn't know why he was there, or what kind of job they wanted him to do. And he still hadn't ruled out the idea that they actually wanted to murder him. Maybe they were serial killers? That would suck major ass.
“I understand your weariness,” Charles said. “And we'll get straight down to business, shall we? Hopefully ease your mind somewhat.”
Nicky nodded, and then something occurred to him that made his heart thud nervously. “Wait. I need to know if you're part of something illegal. Are you? I'm so dumb, I should've asked before. Each to their own and all, but there's no way I want to be involved in anything illegal. I don't want to go back to jail.”
“Does anyone here look like they'd be involved in anything illegal? Seriously?” Walker sounded very offended.
“We're completely legal,” Charles quickly assured Nicky. “As I mentioned earlier, we actually work for the government.”
“Yeah, you said something about being an underground government organization. The whole underground thing is what worries me. What are you really?”
“We're a part of government funded worldwide organization known as the Guardians. When I say underground, I mean that although we technically work for the government, only those at the absolute top know about our very existence because what we do is highly classified.”
“So...when you say the top, you mean like the President?”
“Even higher.”
Nicky frowned. “I didn't even know there was higher than that.”
Charles raised his brow, but said nothing in response.
“What's important is that everything the Guardians do is highly confidential,” Queenie interjected. “Not even the police or the FBI know anything about us. It would be too damaging if it got out to the public.”
“But why? Why is it so secret?” Nicky wanted to know. “What exactly are the Guardians? By the name I'm guessing you protect people, right? Guard them?”
“Technically, yes, that's what we do,” Charles said. “Let me lay it out straight for you. Our main objectives as Guardians are to protect all humans from Outcasts, and in turn protect all Outcasts from humans. We also provide assistance to those Outcasts that chose to live in human society and help them to blend in and remain inconspicuous.”
“Whoa whoa whoa. Back it on up. What the hell is an Outcast? And why would you need to help one...blend?”
“An Outcast is a term used to describe a person or being with a magical ability or background. Some of the most obvious examples would be Witches, Elves, or Dwarves.”
Nicky huffed. “That's funny, man. Now get serious and tell me what's really going on. We're wasting daylight.” He glanced at the windowless walls. “I think.”
“I'm entirely serious, Nicky.”
He stared at Charles for a very long moment, waiting for him to wink or crack out a grin and tell him he was kidding. “Aw, come on. You're shittin' me, right?”
“No. I'm not sh...well, I'm not doing that.”
“You totally are, man! No way do you expect me to believe in magic. That's insane and we all know it.”
“What about your shadow thing?” Zay spoke up for the first time. He had an English accent like his father, though he sounded rougher around the edges and less refined than posh and proper Charles. “That's not exactly part of your every day skill set.”
His words gave Nicky pause. “Well, sure, I guess that makes sense. I've never really thought about it like that before, it's just always been something I can do. But seriously! Witches? Elves?”
Charles sighed, but he didn't look disappointed. “To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to believe us right away. Very few do who haven't already seen it for themselves. I could sit here all day and
run my voice hoarse trying to persuade you of the truth, or I could just show it to you. What do you think? Ready to leap in with both feet?”
Nicky's eyes bugged. Could they possibly be telling the truth? He wasn't about to believe what they were saying without some kind of solid evidence, that was for sure. “Okay. Show me.”
Taking out a cellphone, Charles dialled quickly. “Hello, Terelle, it's Charles...I'm bringing over Nicky, the newest member of our team...Excellent, thank you...Yes, we'll be there shortly.” He flipped the phone shut with a sharp little snap and stood. “Come.”
“Where to?” Nicky demanded, jumping out of his seat. “Who's Terelle?”
“You'll see soon.”
More secrets. Awesome.
WALKER AND ZAY accompanied Charles and Nicky on their journey. He wasn't certain, but Nicky suspected they were the muscle of their little gang, the bodyguards.
They drove for forty minutes in a sleek, black car with tinted windows, before pulling up outside the gates of some old, abandoned circus grounds. The area around the abandoned circus grounds were scattered with run down, empty looking warehouses.
They parked the car and approached the set of large, spiked gates. Nicky peered through the bars; the grounds inside looked just as derelict and uninhabited as the outside. It was a dreary and unforgiving sight, and it made him feel sad in an odd, senseless way.
A strong feeling of uneasiness seemed to sprout up from nowhere inside his chest, stifling him, suffocating him, and it was only through sheer will power that he was able to stop himself from dropping down to his knees and emptying his stomach all over the ground. It was more than the fact that there was nobody else around, that they were alone save a few old buildings. Why had they stopped? Were they trying to scare him for not believing in their crap? He had a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. “I think we should leave.”