by M J Sherlock
We finished untying her and India wandered back into the darkness. The only light came from the globe. Being tied up, gagged and blindfolded must have been terrifying. I shivered with cold and residual shock. Left much longer, Zoe would have died of hypothermia.
Zoe rose and shook out her arms and legs. She clutched the globe in her hands. It emitted pulsating flashes of light. 'I owe you an apology Ellie.' Her head angled down.
'Why?' If anything, it was the other way around.
India returned with a glass of water. She must have eyes like a cat.
Zoe drank gratefully. 'I stopped you going after the Venator. Left your parents in danger too long.'
I blinked. Maybe her overnight stint as a prisoner had softened her. 'If I’d genuinely wanted to leave, I would have.’ I spoiled the effect by yawning. ‘You were right to tell me to wait. What should we do with you now?'
'Pardon?' Zoe’s voice cracked and squeaked. She took another sip of water.
'I’d like to catch them in the act.’ I pulled my hair into a ponytail and tied it back with an elastic from my wrist.
India gathered up the rope and rags. Perhaps as evidence. 'How about we rig up a camera or go to the Council and stake your claim?’
Zoe brushed off her clothes and dust puffed into the air.' I am getting showered and changed first.’
Taine’s mouth twisted. 'All your clothes are missing.’
'They are stashed next door and I have others.'
Taine soon returned with an armful of clothes, which threatened to spill over onto the dirty floor.
'I’ll ask Pierre to search for Wyatt and Morgan,' I said as we creaked back up the wooden stairs.
'I’ll round up the Council and get Alex.' Taine dashed off.
A short while later, Zoe entered the War Room dressed in skin-tight blue battle armour together with a deep blue velvet cloak trimmed with gold thread against a white background. The cloak was pinned together with an egg-sized sapphire and diamond brooch. She still clutched the dazzling globe.
It hurt my eyes to look at her. 'I want that armour.'
'Me too. Kept that quiet about having the globe,' said India.
'Taine knew, but I felt I should keep my mouth shut despite Wyatt’s badgering.'
We moved to stand in front of the huge fireplace, alongside Zoe. Freshly showered, she smelled of bergamot.
India grabbed my arm. 'Did Wyatt sell you and Vashtin out?'
'If he did, I’ll kill him.' I ground my teeth.
'I didn’t take you for a murderer.' India flicked lint off her sweatshirt.
'Vashtin’s death changed things. Right now, I want to kill Wyatt. You chased after the Venator all year. What were you planning to do, tickle them?'
The wider opening of the globe interrupted our whispered conversation. It released glorious and majestic choral music. The exquisite sound trickled down into long forgotten corners of my soul; cleansing me and making me feel whole. Inside the globe was a miniature crown. Mallory picked it up and it grew to fit Zoe’s head. Everyone around us knelt and cried out, 'Long live the Queen. Long live the Queen.' We Guardians beamed while many of the Council cried with joy, struggling to believe the long wait was over.
India nudged me and I jerked. Zoe was speaking.
'-May I express my gratitude to the Guardians. They rescued me from where Wyatt and Morgan had imprisoned me. They returned the jewelled globe, allowing this coronation to take place. Secondly, I would like to thank Mallory for acting as Regent. However, this is a time for action not speeches. We must rescue Ellie-Grace’s parents. Minister of Defence, Arkwright, please brief us.' Zoe inclined her head.
India’s hand found mine and I clutched it.
Arkwright was tall and held himself erect like an Officer inspecting a squadron. ‘Yesterday we identified their London headquarters. We followed the traitor, Wyatt. We put a trace on him as he portalled to within fifty metres of the building...’
Why had Zoe hidden their investigation from me? Wyatt being a confirmed traitor didn’t shock me. Perhaps my first sighting of him as a cat stalking birds coloured my view of him… I cringed too at memories of him scraping the flip board across the polished wooden floor even if I had done the same yesterday.
Arkwright continued speaking. ‘...A trio of our chameleons breached the prison level. Ellie-Grace’s parents are alive, although not well. Our operatives describe them as gaunt, white-faced and red eyed.’
At this, my legs refused to support me. I slid into a crouching position, shaken and fighting back tears.
‘They have been tortured and drugged to make them easier to control. They may never fully recover.' Arkwright cast me a sympathetic look.
Taine said, 'Tell us you can get them out.'
'We can portal close to the building and go in disguised as prisoners. It will be perilous but doable.' Arkwright’s eyes searched the crowd, pausing on certain individuals who each nodded in acceptance of their role.
I rose to my feet with India’s support. 'Who will be taking us as prisoners then?'
Arkwright gave a dismissive shake of his head. 'You’re underage. We don’t want to risk you.’
'No-one is going without me.'
‘Or us.’ My fellow Guardians moved to flank me.
Murmurs spread through the crowd. At a signal from Arkwright, a short, fat man, dressed in a three-piece suit stepped forward, his black polished shoes tapping loudly against the wooden floor. If I ever drew him, it would be as a fox.
'Janero, Minister for Trade and Industry at your service. I am a double agent, recruited by the Venator early in life. I betrayed the location of the Guardians thirteen years ago for money.’
There was a collective gasp. India clutched my hand. Annie's first vision flashed into my mind. You must find what is lost, right a great wrong and reunite our clans. Did Annie mean this traitor or the crown? Three traitors were exposed, yet we were still hurting. What did find what is lost mean? Was it the will, the globe or my parents? Would the coronation be enough to reunite the Cloaken clans? What more was needed to fulfil the prophecy?
‘...young and foolish and had no idea they would slaughter them all. I can only beg your forgiveness. Immediately afterwards, I confessed my involvement to Xavier.'
Xavier, Minister of Justice, spoke. 'I convinced him to keep playing a role. Giving out non-essential information and gaining some viable Intel for us.' His deep voice carried to the furthest corners of the room.
Zoe stiffened. 'Why was I never informed?'
'Need to know only. I apologise.' Xavier inclined his head towards her.
‘Don’t let it happen again.’ Her voice snapped in rebuke.
Xavier bowed. His figure small in the majestic room.
I gazed again at the murals of battles past that graced the ceilings. One day, would the coming battle be immortalised too? Would we live to see it?
'I will smuggle Ellie-Grace and any volunteers into the lair as prisoners,’ said Janero. ‘The tricky thing will be ensuring you carry concealed weapons and gadgets. Arkwright will tend to that.’
'Make it so,’ said Zoe. ‘Grab breakfast. We will leave within two hours.'
I felt hope stirring within me. The time had come to rescue my parents. I would no longer watch frozen in terror while others fought for me as I had with Vashtin. Now I would take the fight to them and win
Chapter 28: Galden
Galden had done what he could to shield his sister's family from the Venator but failed. Why he was so staggered that Orev detained his nephew, he was unsure. He felt betrayed. The Venator were like family and yet… Niall now occupied a white cell, strapped to a chair while colleagues Galden had once trusted experimented on him. Galden rubbed his hand over his hair feeling the short spikes. If Galden tried to break Niall out and failed….
He hit reject as another call came through from his sister. What could he say? Galden retreated to the gym so he could punch something without drawing attention. He knew they were wa
tching. Galden found the hidden cameras in the grating and the lights in his sleeping quarters and knew Orev intended him to, that he was taunting him. He felt betrayed as if waking from a long sleep to find himself bitten by a venomous pet spider. Like he was dying in slow motion. Punching the bag from all directions, he wished again his mentor hadn’t died thirteen years earlier.
Seal rescued him when, aged ten, he was sent to a Group Home. He still slept there, but each weekend Seal took him out and taught him honour, respect, dignity. All the things he had missed with his birth family. His father had been sent to prison for dealing drugs. Social Workers ripped him from his mother when they saw his neglect. X-rays found past injuries, poorly healed. His Mum faced charges until her lawyer proved she was a victim too. An aunt took his sister but spat in his face saying she had no use for filthy boys. Why did that wound hurt twenty-six years on?
Seal helped him heal, letting him feel the sting of the wind out on a sailboat, instead of a brass ring on a fist. They sailed together as Seal showed him the ropes, even leaving him the boat, Freedom, in his will. What would Seal have done if it were Galden trapped in that cell? Moved heaven and earth but subtly, a bending of the rules not a full out assault.
Who would help him now? Ghost? How could he approach anyone without making him or her Orev’s next target? He took each member of his unit out for a performance appraisal. Put them through fitness tests. Made them demonstrate using a bug scanner to ensure they were clean. Fired questions at them outside, out of camera range. Hid his real questions in a myriad of others. It wasn't enough.
Galden learned which cell belonged to Niall. He copied keys to the document centre with its single desk and rows of filing cabinets. Even found the prisoner transfer forms. He filled one in for Vashtin too, hoping it would look more legit as he prepared to send them both off to their base at Hadrian’s Wall. Galden tucked the completed forms away under his t-shirt.
A light flashed from the doorway and a musky scent stung his nostrils. Orev came in and clapped him on the back. ‘Hand over the papers.’
Caught like a fly in a sticky web, Galden brazened it out. ‘Thought they would be safer elsewhere. They’re too close to the Guardians here.’
Expecting to be beaten, tortured even, he was surprised when Orev gave a short laugh. ‘A valiant effort. I would have been disappointed if you had left him to rot. It would mean you had no backbone.’
‘So, you’ll let him go?’ He forced himself to stay motionless despite shocks of adrenaline.
Orev toyed with coins in his pocket, making them clink together. ‘There’s something else you forgot to mention. A thirteen-year-old something.’ The clinking stopped.
There it was. The moment he had dreaded since he laid eyes on Niall, thirteen years earlier. He could not have killed such an innocent. Not when his sister hungered for a baby with every fibre of her being. Infertile despite years of treatment, she asked no questions when he handed the boy to her. Nor had her husband. No, he had done the right thing, even if now he had to pay for it.
Neither spoke nor moved for an eternity. Tick, tock sounded a nearby clock. Each tick brought a fresh nudge of adrenaline. Move. He stayed still, not wanting the slightest vibration to betray him.
‘Nothing to say?’ Orev nodded. ‘Some sense then.’
Was that it?
‘You did us a favour.’ A spider spinning sticky fluid around a fly, preparing to crush its prey.
Galden leaned back against a cabinet. ‘I did?’ He could see shadows outside the door. Orev had not come alone.
‘We tested his blood. He’s no blood relation of yours but he is to Guardians you killed 13 years ago. Megan and Paul. Shall I tell him?’
Galden shook his head, mute.
‘If you want him to live, you will convince him to join us. We’ll turn him and then plant him within the Cloaken.’ Orev gripped his shoulder, his fingers biting into the muscle. ‘We clear?’
‘Clear.’ Galden was confused, unsure who had won. He showered, still feeling dirty after he dried himself off. Shaking his head, he tried to clear it, but old patterns showed through like on an Etch-a-sketch after years of abuse.
He had never known the Guardians’ names, never cared. Now, knowing them, something changed. Megan and Paul, he rolled their names around in his head. Paul was the name of his sister’s husband. It made it real. Galden and Niall had a reprieve. How to make best use of it? Rubbing his neck, Galden’s fingers encountered an old scar, the outline of a ridge. The tracker would need to go. His escape plan grew longer.
Galden remembered Tom, whose only crime had been asking to leave. He had cleared up that bloody mess and his own stomach contents along with it. Some escaped. Rumours existed of someone from France who escaped decades ago. That was the problem. One. Few made it. Dead men told no tales.
‘I’m off to clear my head.’ Galden informed the sentry at the gate before roaring off on his beloved motorbike. It was a black BMW K1600 GTL. Some of his unit teased him saying it was an armchair on wheels, but they had never tried it. Heated leather seats, music blasting out, speed, a smooth ride and great cornering. The only thing to beat it was his boat, Freedom, moored in Brighton. Too far to go on this trip. Ten minutes from base, he parked up and checked his bike and clothes for tracking devices. None. He threw his leg back over the bike and let the engine rip.
Twenty minutes later, Galden pulled up outside an old warehouse. Outer tin sheets and rusty metal concealed an inner core of galvanised steel. Seal had brought him here years ago. He told Galden he owned it under a different name. His now. Galden mooched across the red resin floor and entered an old parts store. It had wooden floors. Reaching behind some pipework, Galden twisted a handle and a floorboard popped open at his feet. Underneath it was a safe containing extra passports and money. Like his mentor before him, he had hidden an encrypted phone here. Pulling out his battery pack, he plugged it in and called his sister.
‘Mary.’
‘Niall’s gone. Someone took him days ago. Why didn’t you answer me?’ His sister’s voice shook.
‘You know why.’ He heard her breath hitch.
‘Do they have him?’ Tendrils of panic bled into Mary’s tone.
‘Orev knows what I did thirteen years ago. I’m sorry.’ He tried to keep his voice slow and calm, but she knew him backwards.
‘You’re not sure you can rescue him, are you?’ Her voice broke.
‘No.’ A minute word for the mountain of raw need that represented family and safety for both of them. He would do anything to spare her.
Mary swore in one long rant. ‘You have to. You owe me. Owe us.’
Despite opposition, they made a pact years earlier that they would look out for each other, no matter what. He had been ten and she only seven. She had been such a scrawny thing, stunted. Hard to grow when half-starved. His aunt had pulled them apart, their puny strength no match for hers. What a witch.
‘It may take a while before I can get him out. If I do, you will have to run. Do you remember where to go?’
‘As if I would forget. Just get him back.’
‘Remember, three rings in three short bursts.’
‘And I run.’
Galden switched off the phone, disconnected the charger and reviewed his options. He had to transfer Niall out of LZ One to somewhere less well fortified if his rescue plan had any hope of success. He needed to pretend to go along with Orev’s plan. Not easy, but with information extracted from Vashtin, doable.
There were rumours of a Cloaken artefact up near Hadrian’s Wall. Galden could plant a story about it and use it to get Niall transferred up there. Then he could rescue Niall and flee to Scotland. Satisfied with his plan, he returned to base and followed orders. When opportunity struck, he would seize it.
Chapter 29: A Rescue Mission
India and I would be in the first wave of prisoners brought in by Janero together with Pierre and François. Titus and Annie would be invisible at the centre of our group.
I should have been terrified instead I felt the kind of relief I had after a dentist’s drill ceased. I could focus again and picture my parents free, bathing in healing springs in a blue-green cavern hidden in the Cloaken capital.
Alex and Taine would go in a second wave with Hope. They were to sneak in and take down the Venator computers, stealing data while we distracted the enemy. Further elite forces and some of the Council would follow. Hope’s inclusion meant we would have medical support provided she remembered whose side she was on.
Zoe produced special grey clothing for each of us, with built-in body-armour. It had an additional coating to deflect electricity away from the suit offering some protection against tasers. The material felt stiff and yet allowed freedom of movement. It had an electronic seal allowing it to shrink or expand to fit. No one but the owner could remove it. I only hoped it would work.
I still failed to understand why the Venator hated the Cloaken and Guardians so much. Still, nothing was more important than rescuing my parents. If all went well, Titus and India would trace my parents. Annie should pre-warn us of anything horrific, although I knew better than most there was no guarantee either of us would foresee anything useful. Titus and Annie’s chameleon abilities improved our odds. We hoped it would be enough. As agreed, Janero warned the Venator of our arrival thirty minutes beforehand. So many elements could go wrong.
When we returned to the War Room, Sofia was back on her feet albeit with stitches and bandages covering her head. She hugged me. I scented fresh oranges ripened by sun. 'Vaya con Dias.' Go with God.
I felt happier when I learned Pierre and François were coming too. How many of us would make it out alive? I slapped myself. With such a negative mind-set, I had no chance. Did the others expect me to give a rousing speech? My thoughts dissolved into mush. I nipped to the toilet while I rolled around grand sounding phrases in my head and returned to find Zoe had beaten me to it.
'...As you go into battle, look to your right and left, this is who you are fighting for. Your families near and far, your compatriots and your species. Without your sacrifice, we would be exterminated without fear or repercussions. Live up to our motto: through fire, nature is reborn whole.’