by Rach Elle
“So you’re saying you are immortal?”
“No,” Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m saying the good Lord has bigger plans for me.”
“Or maybe it’s the devil,” Bawli mumbled.
“What was that?” Kingsley pinned the large shifter with a deadly glare.
Bawli recoiled only slightly before kicking up his chin, “You said so yourself that you’ll probably do more to hinder us during the war than help. Maybe it’s not God that’s keeping you alive, mate.”
“Watch your tone, boy,” he growled.
“Regardless,” Cooper’s feminine accent cut through the testosterone, “the last thing we need is for you to plan on trying out either theory. This is a very delicate situation and we don’t need you mucking it up.”
Kingsley scowled, “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
The old man looked to Junior, his oldest friend, only to see the shifter staring at the floor; avoiding his gaze. After a moment of silence, Kingsley swallowed his emotional pain. “Fine,” he said to no one in particular. “I’ll stay out of it.”
27
Sunders and Rue sat at a small table next to a large window in a corner bistro. They had planned to take up one of the tables and chairs outside but it had begun to rain moments prior to their arrival. No matter, Sunders thought as he sipped his cuppa and looked out at the dreary weather. This was the perfect place to wait out the small storm. And he didn’t mind his company either.
Sunders looked across the table at Rue. She sat bundled up in a hooded sweatshirt and her long brown hair tied up in a braid that draped over her left shoulder. She held her cup of coffee between her pale palms, trying to warm her hands.
They had had a rocky start this morning. But after Sunders had chased her down in a ridiculous pair of running shorts that he now cursed the saleswoman for, the tension between them seemed to relax quite a bit. They had just spent the early afternoon looking at three different flats; all based on his suggestions. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of their conversations earlier in the day. She had actually listened to him. Like, as if she cared about what he had to say. It was a rare occurrence for him. But then again, he didn’t have very many people to talk to usually.
And to top it off, he didn’t have any trouble being around her, either.
The usual sexual tension he had felt before seemed to be nothing more than a distant memory. Even as he watched her inspect each flat in her typical American way he didn’t feel even a tinge of excitement in his lower region. He had stood at a distance and watched as she bent over to analyze the depth of the crispers in the fridge – because for some reason Americans cared about that stuff – and simply smiled as the landlord rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure why the sensation hadn’t flared during their outing; maybe because he was genuinely beginning to like her as a person? What ever the reason; he didn’t care. It was just nice to feel normal; to have a busy Saturday with a friend; to go out to lunch and sit at a window-side table with someone else just like every other person in the bistro. To all passer-bys Sunders would appear relatively normal at this moment. Little did they know; he scoffed.
His eyes wandered down the length of Rue’s arm to where he knew her tattoo sat beneath her sweater; a small circle with wings stretching upward; a symbol that they were one in the same – and both completely abnormal.
The waitress stopped by their table and set their respective plates of food down in the front of them. She left and Rue looked up at the Scotsman as he began to cut into his burger.
“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Rue began hesitantly as Sunders popped a French fry into his mouth. When she could see she had his attention she asked, “Is there a policy within the Finders about interoffice dating?”
Sunders nearly choked on his chip. He grabbed his glass of water and gulped it a few times to ease the pain. After collecting himself he looked at the woman sitting across from him. “I’m sorry Rue,” he apologized, searching for the right words to let her down. “But I really don’t think it’s a good idea for a superior to date a,” he motioned toward her, hoping to come up with a better word than subordinate.
“Whoa,” Rue exclaimed as she held up her hands and leaned back; as if he had just drawn a gun on her. “I’m not talking about,” she waved her hands back and forth between them, “us,” she continued. “I’m talking about Corey.”
Sunders’ brows popped in surprise – and slight disbelief, “Corey?”
“Yeah,” Rue relaxed her posture, “he asked me out on a date and I said ‘yes’, but I figured I should probably make sure that’s legal in this division first.”
“Oh,” Sunders tried desperately to hide his shock. He never figured Rue would be interested in a boy like Corey. But it did make sense that Corey would be interested in a woman like her. And the fact that he pursued her and not the other way around made the most sense of all. “Um,” Sunders stammered, “I don’t think there is anything in the rule book that says otherwise.”
“Oh,” Rue smiled slightly, “good.”
The two Finders sat in awkward silence for a moment, picking at their grub and sipping their drinks until finally Rue spoke up, “I didn’t mean to make you think I was interested in…”
“Oh, I know; it’s perfectly alright,” Sunders cut her off and forced a grin.
“So how long have you been with the DAA?” She quickly asked, trying to change the topic.
Sunders shrugged, “About thirteen years; how about you?”
“Five.” She thought for a moment, “How’d you get started?”
Sunders winced only slightly at the question. He hadn’t spoken about his pre-DAA life in a very long time. Mostly because he didn’t like remembering how happy he once was – and therefore how happy he currently was not. “I was a professor at university in Scotland. I taught art history, symbolism and mythical warfare. In my spare time I wrote articles and submitted them to literary magazines in hopes of publication. I wanted to write a book one day.”
“And someone in the DAA read your work?”
Sunders nodded softly, “Something like that. I had a student in one of my classes named Sarah. She was very bright and one of the only lasses that actually seemed interested in my lectures. She had missed a couple of classes due to a fieldtrip her language class had taken to Greece. When she came back,” his eyes were distant, “she just wasn’t the same.”
“How?” Rue asked quietly.
“She was reserved and agitated. Her work wasn’t up to her normal standards and when I confronted her about it she seemed overly paranoid; like she was in trouble.”
“Was she?”
He shook his head. “Her group had an accident while in Greece. One of the students was hit by a tour bus and killed. I thought maybe she was having a harder time than the rest of them accepting it so I referred her to the school counselor, but she refused to go. I, admittedly, pried a bit more than I should have. I went to her Greek instructor.
“He told me the accident was horrible, but Sarah seemed hardly fazed by it. She didn’t actually witness it and she didn’t even know the lad that was killed. They had never spoken more than two words to each other.”
“You don’t have to know the victim to be rattled by a tragedy,” Rue chimed in.
“True, but something told me there was more to the story. I began combing over their itineraries for the trip and that led me to researching the weather patterns during their stay.”
Rue furrowed her brow, “Why would it lead you to do that?”
“Because a lot of biblical omens stem from the weather; hale storms, cold spells, etc. Sarah wasn’t acting like herself. Almost as if she were…”
“Possessed.”
Sunders cringed, “Exactly.”
“Was she?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know. I did notice an odd weather pattern that had been building for mon
ths at this point; electrical storms.”
“Which means…” Rue drew out her last syllable.
“Could mean a variety of things, but as someone who had a closet interest in supernatural creatures I knew that some of them could cause that kind of disturbance. Of course at the time I didn’t think any of them could possibly be real.
“Anyway, I called Sarah in for a private discussion and began interrogating her about what happened in Greece.” His face tightened with remorse. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh on her, but she wasn’t readily talking. Finally she broke down crying and told me.”
Rue swallowed a lump in her throat, “Told you what?”
Sunders slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers, “She said the lad that died on their field trip was alive.” He paused for a moment, taking in all of the dark memories that currently flooded his brain. “She said she saw him the next day. She broke away from the group to catch up with him but when she did she could tell he wasn’t the same person. She said his body was possessed.”
“How could she tell?”
“Because,” he exhaled, “he blinked sideways.”
Rue crinkled her nose.
Sunders shook his head, “I didn’t know what that meant either, but she said that afterwards everywhere she went she could see that so many others were possessed too. I asked her if she thought anyone at university was possessed and she said ‘no’, but she was afraid they were after her for knowing their secret.” His shoulders slumped and he looked down at the table. “She killed herself less than a week later.”
“I’m sorry,” Rue said softly.
“I had begun scouring books, the internet; hell, even fictional novels trying to find something that blinked sideways until one day I finally found it.” He looked at the girl sitting across the table from him, “Changelings.”
“Wait,” Rue cut in, suddenly remembering hearing about one of the most infamous battles in Dark Angel Alliance history. “Those were your discovery?”
Sunders nodded, “It all fell into place; the electrical storms, the blinking. What Sarah saw wasn’t a possessed body. She saw an entity morphed into an exact replica of her classmate. Probably from before he died. Legend says that Changelings only need to touch your skin once in order to read and recreate your biological map.”
“So what did you do?”
“What could I do? No one would ever believe me. Instead I wrote about it as if it were a hypothetical. I explained the electrical storms and how they could be a precursor to something much more – assuming the supernatural existed, of course. It was published in a small literary magazine that only circulated in Scotland.”
“But that’s how the DAA got wind of the investigation.”
“Aye; less than a month after the publication, Bill Maines showed up at my doorstep flanked by a couple of other Finders with a proposition. The rest is history.”
“Wow,” Rue breathed. “I knew you aided in finding Sprites about ten years ago but I didn’t know you were behind the Changelings too.”
“Aye,” Sunders tried to suppress the small amount of ego that crept through his veins. “I haven’t found much in my career, but when I did I made it count. I’m really more of a quality over quantity kind of Finder,” he smirked.
He took a bite of his burger and washed it down with a sip of water. “How about you,” he asked. “How did you get started as a Protector?”
Rue shrugged, “I just kind of fell into it.” She looked up to see the Scotsman eying her. “My story isn’t nearly as interesting as yours,” she forced a chuckle.
Sunders raised a brow, “Somehow I doubt that; not too many lasses in that division. I’m sure there was some sort of unique circumstance that led you down that path.”
Rue shook her head, “Nope,” she said flatly, “just affirmative action, I guess.”
The two of them continued to eat in silence. Sunders couldn’t help but notice Rue’s sudden change in demeanor. She was now cold and rigid. She was purposefully omitting information and he had a feeling it had nothing to do with him. What she was refusing to tell was a personal story; one that she clearly didn’t want to share with anyone. He could understand. He had a few stories of his own that swam along the same stream. Still, even though she sat a mere meter in front of him she had never seemed so far away.
28
Awilda Rose sat alone in her darkened bedroom. She hadn’t moved in a couple of hours. The temperature in the castle was normal, yet she was ice cold. The house was filled with people, yet she had never been more alone. Her entire life she had unknowingly been battling an unseen force; and losing. Anyone that stumbled upon her plight had either gone completely mad or turned homicidal; or both. The one prominent aspect of her childhood; the one person that made her feel somewhat normal even when she was holed up in a mental institution was Simon. So why was she so surprised when he revealed himself to be something else entirely? No one was who they seemed; it was a common theme in her life. But for some reason she had never even fathomed that Simon would betray her like the others had. She supposed if Simon were a real person then he wouldn’t have. But he wasn’t real; he was Fazal. Dr. Simon Crispin never existed in the first place. She shook her head. She was such a fool.
Awilda wiped a tear from her cheek. She suddenly had no history to speak of. There weren’t any memories worth having. Her entire life had been a lie.
“Is this your new plan of attack then; sit here and do nothing?”
Awilda rolled her eyes at the sound of Tauggle’s sarcastic voice. She slowly turned her head to see him leaning against the large dresser that sat along the wall.
“Did you know?” She asked quietly.
“About Fazal? Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She tried to suppress more tears.
“Well, I’m not a whistle blower, for one,” Tauggle crooked a brow. “But even more so; I could tell he wasn’t the same Fazal I once knew.”
“What do you mean?”
Tauggle observed the petite woman sitting on the edge of the bed. She had been crying, as evidenced by her rosy red cheeks and lips that looked like they had just been pumped full of collagen. Her brown and gray hair was stringy as it lay flat against her back as she slouched forward, too exhausted for proper posture. He couldn’t stop his chest from aching at the sight of her, which both annoyed and confused him. He didn’t like these emotions that reared their ugly heads inexplicably. “You finished reading The Ultimate War, yes?” He asked. She nodded her head and sniffled. “Did you ever wonder why only one Limrid was ever mentioned by name? Oh sure, there was David the First and then Aaron. But those names were given after pledging their allegiance to Heaven. As for the Limrids…”
“Fazal,” Awilda quietly cut him off.
“Exactly,” Tauggle’s voice was laced with bitterness. “See, Lucifer created us, but not all at once. Just as there was David the First, there was also Fazal – the first Limrid. He was Satan’s first born; teacher’s pet. He could do no wrong in Lucifer’s eyes. And he knew it too,” he shook his head and smiled; as if reminiscing on the old days. “So imagine how shocked he was when Lucifer banned us all from Hell after we lost.” He waited for a response. When none came he continued, “After Satan retreated we were all given names.” His voice flattened, “Right before we were all dumped in different areas of the world as to avoid another revolution.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Awilda asked; her eyes officially dry.
“Because I’m afraid I’ve been taking the credit for something I didn’t do. And since the cat is out of the bag I suppose it’s time I own up to it.” He watched as the girl cocked her head to the side, curious to hear his next words. He lifted his eyebrows and gave a crooked a smile, “I wasn’t the one that saved you.”
Awilda crinkled her nose in confusion, “Saved me from what?”
“Think back to a few weeks ago; to that night in the park. You were on the ground, filthy and crying with the savior hoverin
g over you and staring down the wrong end of a couple of gun barrels.” He watched as she nodded slowly. “Do you remember what happened next? Do you remember what saved the day?”
Awilda thought for a moment before the memory flooded her mind. She could vividly see the two Protectors preparing to kill a shifted Junior. She could remember wrapping her arms around his body and crying into his chest just before… “That sound,” she recalled, “that ear piercing wail.”
Tauggle smirked, “Normally we can localize that sort of thing. I’m sure had he been strong enough only the Protectors would have been affected.”
“Simon did that?”
He nodded, “The ones that claim us are our power sources, as you know. The longer we’re away from them the more our powers dwindle and the more difficult it is to muster the strength to perform even the simplest tasks. I don’t know exactly how long Fazal had been away from BeStone, but judging by the toll that one little trick took on him I’d say it had been quite a while. That’s how I knew he had changed over the centuries; the Fazal I once knew would have never done that for another being.”
“I had just assumed you made the noise,” Awilda looked down at the carpeted floor.
“How could I? I had yet to be claimed. I was completely and utterly useless. Fazal, on the other hand, well, he nearly killed himself for you.”
Awilda’s eyes hardened, “So that’s it then? I’m just supposed to forgive him? For everything?”
“I was only letting you know he saved your life.”
“No,” her voice was sharp and severe, “He destroyed my life. By stringing me along, prescribing pills and tests and letting me think I was losing my mind.”
“Oh yes,” Tauggle matched the severity of her voice as he cut her off, “I’m sure telling you at the age of twelve that you were the prophesized destroyer of the human race would have improved your childhood ever so drastically.”
Awilda crossed her arms in front of her chest in a huff. She turned her head to look away from the Limrid and instead stared at the striped wallpaper, “So you do want me to forgive him.”