[Whispering Woods 01.0] The Waiting Booth
Page 21
After a few moments of gathering the equipment Arizona had brought to the woods, he finally spoke. “She can’t be blamed for her innocence. Not everyone has been trained in the enlightenment of interdimensional existence.”
“Who trained you in this…enlightenment?” I asked Arizona since he was originally from this world. I had a picture in my mind of a military spaceship with recruits standing in a row. Their blue uniforms would have shiny black buttons to match their boots. I laughed when my internal vision panned to Arizona in the line with his surfer blond hair and constant grin.
“The IIA, of course. And I’ve learned a lot from Regulus. He was my mentor for assimilation when I was twelve.” Arizona said the words with a hint of gratitude, and Regulus looked uncomfortable.
I looked to Regulus. “Teach me then.”
Regulus shook his head. “It’s worse with you than it was with Arizona. You argue with everything I say.”
“And he didn’t argue,” I said in understanding.
“No, because we came to an agreement.” Arizona smiled widely as he said it. “Because when I was brought in seven years ago, the IIA placed me in the Vault to live. Regulus slept in the bunk below mine and was assigned to me as a mentor even though we’re the same age.”
Regulus laughed, a low rumble emanating from his chest. “I was not happy with the assignment. Arizona had a difficult time understanding that rules are to be followed.”
“And you follow all the rules, right?” I asked.
“Apparently not.” Arizona grinned at Regulus. “Level A misdemeanor for an agent to engage in romantic activities with a citizen of another dimension he is patrolling.”
“Level A? What does that mean?”
Regulus glared at Arizona. “Nothing really.”
“It has to mean something. Don’t brush off my question. I know that you aren’t supposed to be dating me.” I felt funny calling it dating since all we ever did was hang out with Arizona or my friends. We had very little time alone.
Arizona shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “You should tell her. She has a right to know since she is now one of us.”
“She’s not one of us,” Regulus said.
“Oh, that’s so not all right. I’m either on this team or not.” I couldn’t imagine what could be so bad. I hugged my arms tightly around my body. I followed Regulus and Arizona as they began to hike through the woods, but walking wouldn’t stop my questions.
“The Council would determine the best course of action.” Regulus spoke quietly as if someone might overhear. He stopped to rearrange his backpack before he spoke again. “Most times, Level A for this type of criminal behavior is a reprogram.”
My mouth dropped open at the term criminal behavior. “It’s not criminal. And what do you mean by reprogram?” My voice echoed in the woods. I searched Regulus’s expressionless face before I glanced at Arizona, searching for clues in his features.
“Memory cleanse,” Regulus said in a neutral manner.
“The IIA cleans your memory? You mean that they’d make you forget me?” My voice rose shrilly and ended in a tiny squeak. I grabbed Regulus’s arm, forcing him to stop.
“It is not possible for them to learn of us. If I believed the risk to be too high, I would tell you.” Regulus’s deep blue eyes met mine before he looked away and shrugged dismissively.
I shook my head in disbelief.
“Arizona does this all the time.” Regulus’s remark was so unlike him that I stared from one to the other.
“And you’ve never worried about getting caught?” I asked Arizona. I began to walk again, matching their strides. Maybe I was overreacting after all.
“If they wiped a romantic encounter or a person from my memory, it would be unfortunate, but not fatal.” Arizona laughed at his own joke. On seeing my expression, he added, “I think it’s worth the risk, Mia. The worst that can happen is that you wouldn’t remember those feelings or the person.”
“The worst that could happen…” I kept walking.
* * *
Em sat at my desktop computer while I shoved dirty clothes into a portable hamper. I hated doing laundry more than any other chore. Most kids my age had a mom around to do laundry, producing nicely ironed shirts and replacing missing buttons. I’d been doing my laundry since I was six years old. A few loads of turning all my clothes pink from the red shirt that slipped in, and I’d decided to become a sorting expert. Still, I put off laundry day as long as possible.
Em, who could focus like a brain surgeon, ignored me as I sorted my pieces into two hampers. I marveled at her ability to see the details in a picture. Where’s Waldo had always been a walk in the park for her. As I scooted behind her shoulder to read her notes, I noticed her eyes scanned the picture from left to right as if she were reading though the picture had no text.
“What are you looking for?” I sat on a stool beside her. I couldn’t fathom what a person could learn from the sea of faces I saw on-screen.
“Similarities. Differences. Things that don’t belong.” She blew a wisp of perfect, blonde bangs from her eyes. Her hair was done in a style framing her pretty face but nearly hiding it. I always brushed my hair back in a ponytail so it wouldn't obstruct my view. Practicality always won out over fashion.
“I don’t see anything.” I leaned in as if a closer view would help.
Em clicked to freeze the video frame. She then magnified on a group of people and I saw my face and hers come into view. “Take these two, for instance. The taller girl is looking around for something while her friend is talking to her. Obviously not paying attention to an important conversation.”
I sighed and looked at the two people on the screen, me and Em. Austin stood slightly over to the side. I was a lot taller than Em and dressed my usual T-shirt with jeans. Em wore a short skirt and long matching top that screamed “mall purchase.” Standing side-by-side we illustrated contrast.
“We don’t even look like we came from the same planet. That’s what I see. Two girls who don’t match.” I smiled to take the edge off the words. “You look ready to hit the runway, and I look like I’m on the run.”
“Not hardly.” Em twisted her thumb ring and tilted her head before shaking her head in denial. She turned back to the screen. “Same blonde hair, same age, standing close together. I’m leaning in talking to you, so a person could guess we know each other. Lots of similarities. Differences? I look like I’m having fun and you look unhappy. Maybe not that. You look distracted like you are looking for someone or something. “
“See that guy? He’s the one who was obnoxious in that session on setting up a tournament. I hate gum smackers.” I bobbed my head.
“This guy here is the one you thought was following you.” She touched the computer monitor, resting her finger on his head.
“He was following me, Em.”
“That’s what I meant. Anyway, here’s the one I noticed.” She pointed at a person holding a camera. The man looked through what appeared to be something more than a regular digital camera. The lens was extended for magnification at a distance.
“The camera lens is pointed at Pete over here. See?” Em stared at me to see my reaction.
“Oh.” The implications of this new discovery raced through my mind. “He was looking for Pete.” I sat on the bed and watched Em use a software drawing tool to circle the screen around the man in question.
“Were they looking at Pete because they knew you would be there, or was it the other way around? There are some more people in this video to study. Here’s someone who’s obviously people watching and that would be normal with the flash mob.” Em stopped the video again before continuing. She clicked a still frame of the image and drew another circle.
“How do you know he isn’t someone who was there for the conference?”
“No conference bag. It had lots of goodies from the vendor. We paid enough for it. Can you believe that we got a promo game from Celeron Dreams? I played it last night.”
She smiled. “Sorry. He isn’t carrying a bag, and while it’s possible that he decided he didn’t want to hang onto it, it’s unlikely. Deduction? He’s a bad guy out scanning the crowd for you. Or Pete.”
“I can buy that.”
“The question is why Pete if not you?” Em tilted her head to look over her shoulder.
“He’s on the run from someone. It has to be these people. My instincts tell me that this is still tied to Dr. Bleeker.”
“You can assume that, but we don’t know for sure. Please don’t get mad at me for what I’m about to say.” Em stopped talking and waited for my response.
“Go on.”
“No, promise me that you will consider this without getting all excited.”
“OK. You have my word.” I had no idea what would bring on this degree of concern.
“What if it is someone looking for Pete, someone besides Bleeker…since we thought he would only be looking for you. We know the IIA wanted Pete for their own purposes. What if he is running from them?”
“Regulus and Arizona have nothing to do with the thugs who followed us around at GameCon.” My hackles were up before I could stop my reaction. I saw from Em’s face that she expected as much. “Em, Regulus almost died from the trap that somebody set at my house while I was gone to GameCon. You know that.”
“Right. But could it be possible that Dr. Bleeker set the trap? And the IIA didn’t send Regulus and Arizona, but other agents, to Dallas?” Em waited for me to soak in the possibility before speaking again. “I’m not saying that this is what I think. I think it is a possibility.”
My breath stuck in my throat as I thought about Regulus and his trust for the IIA. I believed with every cell in my body that Regulus was sure he worked for the good guys. “I’m trying to stay open-minded. If Pete is running from the IIA, I’m sure that Regulus doesn’t know.”
Em started the video again and located two other men she circled on-screen with the drawing tool. She clicked on the Stop button and glanced sideways at me. “I’m not saying that I think Regulus knew anything about it. I know you’re in deep.” She leaned back in the chair as far as she could go without falling over.
I flopped belly first on top of my bed and rested my chin on my folded hands. “I’ve never really cared about boyfriends…or lack of.”
“Um-hum.” Em withdrew a bottle of nail polish from her bag and waved it. “You mind?”
“Go ahead.”
“And now you’re worried about boyfriends, now that you have one? Where is this going?”
“I’m torn between wanting to know Regulus better and being scared of knowing him better. He drives me crazy. I think about him all the time. But when we’re together, it gets complicated. Most of the time, he only talks about the IIA and training me.”
“That’s all you do together?” Em grinned because she knew the answer.
“No. We do other things,” I answered hesitantly.
“Your relationship sounds normal to me.”
“If we aren’t talking about the IIA and finding Dr. Bleeker, we’re…you know…kissing.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“There’s so much that I don’t know about him. And he knows everything about me. Too much. They have a file on my entire family.”
“You ever read the file?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know that it’s everything?”
“I don’t. But he knows stuff about my mother.” Silence. The topic was always uncomfortable. Em’s mother was the type who overpowered her life. Mine had conveniently disappeared when I was a toddler. They were both unspoken burdens in our psyches.
“What did he tell you?” Emily asked in a near whisper, her hand poised above the last toenail she was painting. She was holding her breath.
I focused on the brush in her hand. The polish was pink and glittery. “I guess she was a synesthete like me.”
“Is that all he said?”
“No, he knows what she looks like.” I met her eyes. “He said she has a scar on her right cheek. My mother has eyes of two colors—one green and one blue.”
“You didn’t know that?”
“No, I didn’t.” I sounded angry and exasperated. “Sorry. I don’t remember much about her. I’ve seen a few pictures. But when I look at them, I see her face and I think about what she did to us… Leaving her husband and two kids… I never look at her eyes.”
“Why did she leave…if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I really don’t know. I’m sure that dad is better off without her. She put a gun to my head the last time I saw her.”
Em didn’t appreciate my sarcasm. “Did she recognize you? You’ve grown up since then.” She leaned forward and put her hand on my shoulder. “She would have to be a monster if she remembers you and still did what she did.”
“Like I said. Better off.” I shrugged. I picked up a gaming magazine on my nightstand, flipping through the pages.
“What else does Regulus know?”
“That’s the part that scares me. What’s worse…not knowing or knowing what you wish you didn’t?”
* * *
Did you enjoy this preview? Continue the journey in Whisper of Memory (Whispering Woods #2).
Or save money and purchase the entire box set:
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Book Recommendation
RARE FORM by Jen Crane
Genres: Fantasy, Adult Romance, Paranormal Urban
A Secret Past
Fiery redhead Stella Stonewall can't decide between a margarita and a manhattan. The rest of her life? Please. Stella has never really fit in, and her pretty world comes crashing down when she learns it was never her world at all. Rowan Gresham is domineering, brooding, and as sexy as chocolate-dipped sin. When he transports Stella to the magical realm of her parents she recognizes her rightful place immediately. Gresham's motivations are less clear.
A Scorching Chemistry
The enigmatic Gresham aids in Stella's metamorphosis and their chemistry ignites, though a long-time girlfriend and a significant age difference stand in the way.
A Battle for the Rest of Her Life
Stella's life fast-tracks to extraordinary when she enrolls at Radix Citadel for Supernatural Learning, an enchanted college whose students turn furry on the regular. As Stella learns to navigate the magical new world of Thayer she must also find her animal form, a task as elusive as her ancestry. Stella soon faces an even greater challenge: staying alive long enough to learn to manipulate an animal form she never knew she possessed.
Rare Form
-Chapter One
I left the science building when my nine-thirty astronomy class dismissed and tossed my backpack into the passenger seat. The Beast, a not-quite-fully-refurbished but much-loved '67 Mustang, purred to life. It didn’t have power steering or air, but it had style.
The thin black steering wheel groaned under the pressure of my grip as my thoughts turned to an impending college graduation, a lack of plans for the future, and the absence of a career path. You’d think all of that would be settled, but…nope. I was soon to receive a degree for which I had no real-life application from a university for which I felt no real connection. Because going to college was what was expected after high school.
I adjusted my sunglasses in response to the brightening May horizon and chewed my lip as I began obsessing, again, about the twenty-thousand in student debt I’d racked up thanks to the exorbitant and ever-increasing cost of a degree.
Wham!
Thoughts of joining the real world evaporated.
Time suspended, and the scene before me played out in slow motion. In the span of two heartbeats my world became devoid of sound, of rational thought—there was only reaction as a sharp, jarring impact snapped my head to the side and catapulted the car into oncoming traffic.
My beloved Mustang was not only spinning in
a circle, but toppling side over side. As the car thrust down, flipped over, and crashed roughly again onto the pavement I grabbed at handles, braced my legs, and scrabbled for purchase of any solid surface to prevent being tossed around the car like a pinball.
It seemed an eternity before the Mustang bounced a final time and stuttered to a stop. I let out the breath I’d been holding and looked around aimlessly, confused. Air rushed back into my lungs that smelled of burning rubber and the bitter, complex odor of overheated electronics.
Out. I needed to get out of the car. But I wasn’t sitting upright. The left side of my body leaned heavily against the driver’s side door. The only thing visible through the windshield was a bent-up cherry red hood. A shock of pain that weakened my knees shot through my neck as I sought out the skyward-facing passenger door. I ground my teeth, put a hand to my neck, and made an effort not to move so suddenly again.
Unbuckling my seatbelt with one hand, I shimmied around inside the car to kneel upright. The car’s interior was out of proportion and the passenger door had been badly damaged. The door handle above taunted me, guarding the only way out. I pushed the passenger door with all of my strength, but it was so jammed it wouldn’t budge. Short, panicked breaths didn’t provide enough oxygen for my addled brain to function properly, and I kicked and punched at everything in futile effort. I was stuck.
And something was definitely burning.
The car’s interior provided no avenue of escape, hard as I tried. But my search was derailed when the pace of my panicked heart skyrocketed. My chest burned painfully and I rubbed at it to find relief. None came. My heart felt full, hard—like a grossly over-inflated ball . It beat hard—Kathump, Kathump—and flopped over inside my chest as an overwhelming sense of dread nearly drowned me before settling in the pit of my stomach.