Things Unseen

by CJ Brightley

  Gabriel loaned her a book, which she read by the light of the electric lantern. It was easy to lose track of time underground, but she felt tired again quickly. Owen was asleep on the floor, pale and motionless, and Niall had curled up next to him like a forlorn puppy, head nestled against his shoulder.

  Aria read the words, but the story was stupid, some crime procedural drivel that meant nothing and didn’t hold her interest. Yet the mindless action of reading one word and then the next was soothing, and she put it away with a feeling of gratitude. She remembered none of it, and that was fine. She lay on her back and stared at the wall of cardboard stretching up to the painted ceiling.

  Owen sighed softly, the first sound she’d heard from him in hours, and moved his head a fraction of an inch. That was a good sign. More like sleeping, rather than lying half-dead.

  She didn’t need to sleep again, and the floor felt hard and uncomfortable. But she didn’t want to go out into the common area. It was probably night, and they would be sleeping. She turned to lie on her side, eyes drifting closed.

  She noticed the movement by the shadow that blocked the lamplight. Owen sat up and put one hand on Niall’s shoulder to speak softly into his ear.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I heard something. A vertril may have been drawn here. I’m going to check.”

  He stood and made his way unsteadily to the door. Niall and Aria followed him down the hall.

  The theater was lit with numerous lanterns, and most people were up and moving about.

  Gabriel waved to them. Owen led the way toward him, and as they approached, Gabriel said, “Something’s out there. Big.”

  Owen nodded. “Give me my swords and I’ll handle it.”

  “You can barely stand. We have guns. Go back to sleep.”

  “It’s a vertril, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Big, wolf-like thing.”

  “Haven’t seen it clearly, but could be. It’s trying to break down the door up from the tunnel. We haven’t gotten any good shots in. Can’t shoot without opening the door. We have a team going around to catch it from the rear.”

  “Give me my swords. You don’t want it to die here. They’re tracked too. IPF will come investigate.”

  Gabriel blinked at him. “What?”

  “They hunt us. They have no interest in you. I’ll draw it away before I kill it.”

  Gabriel gazed at him skeptically. “You up for it? We do have guns, let me remind you.”

  Owen blinked at him slowly. “If you want the IPF on your heads, feel free to handle it yourself. Otherwise, get me my swords.”

  “Do you want a gun then?”

  Aria blinked at the offer. Gabriel had shot Owen less than two days ago, and now he was offering to arm him. That’s trusting.

  “No. Vertril are more vulnerable to Fae blades than bullets. A flaw in the design.”

  Someone came running up. “The door is failing, sir. The team is not yet in position. What defensive measures do you want in here?”

  “Get his swords from my office. Immediately.”

  The man sprinted off.

  Gabriel led the way toward the far wall, where an open service door led down a hallway. Eight men were crouched at the far end in defensive positions, staring at a sturdy metal door. Growling sounded from behind it, interspersed with thunderous crashes as the beast threw itself against the door. The bolts of the hinges were sliding back and forth in their holes as the impact crumbled the concrete doorframe.

  After another moment, Gabriel handed Owen’s sword belt to him. He buckled it on, keeping an eye toward the door. Then he unclasped the scabbard of the larger sword and handed it to Niall with a soft murmur. Niall shook his head, but Owen stared at him a moment and he dropped his eyes.

  “Again, I’m trusting you with them, Gabriel.” Owen skewered him with a look, and Gabriel nodded.

  “Everyone out of the hall except you.” Owen pointed at the man closest to the door. “Open the door when I tell you. Don’t shoot, just keep out of the way. Close it after I exit.”

  Gabriel appeared skeptical but nodded to his men to obey. They filed out and closed the lighter service door, then formed a defensive position behind it.

  There was a pause, then the far door slammed open with a deafening crack that rang above the hideous growling. A snarl, several heavy thuds, and then silence. After a moment, they heard a knock on the service door. The man closest opened it.

  The man on the other side was wide-eyed and slack-jawed. A splatter of blood crossed his face, but he was unharmed. “It’s gone,” he said at last.

  The hallway had two large streaks of blood, and the industrial tile floor was marred by long scratches. The door at the end stood open.

  The men closed it silently. Gabriel sent someone in search of heavy objects to barricade the door, and then turned to Aria and Niall.

  With forced cheerfulness, he said, “Well, that’s solved then. He’ll be back soon, no doubt.”

  Niall stared at him with tight lips before turning and stalking back to their room. Aria licked her lips and gazed down the hallway at the closed door.

  Gabriel considered her. “You know about these vertril? I’ve never seen one.”

  “A little. They’re scary.”

  “Why did he leave his sword with you?”

  He said in case it went badly, I’d need a blade. Niall kept his eyes on the notebook, refusing to look up at her. I think he should have taken it.

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s tough and smart.”

  He’s only fighting because of me. If he hadn’t rescued me, he would have given up. After a long period of thought, he added, I did not expect this success with Gabriel. Perhaps there is hope after all.

  “I think he knew exactly what he was doing.”

  He twisted his mouth in an expression she couldn’t read.

  Hours passed. Finally, even Niall grew tired of their cramped room, and he and Aria wandered out into the theater. Conversations hushed, then slowly resumed. A woman waved to her from a small knot of men and women sitting on the floor near one wall, and Aria led the way toward her.

  It was the fierce looking woman Aria had seen earlier. This time she smiled and seemed friendlier. “I’m Evrial. If you want to eat with us, you’re welcome.”

  “Thanks.” Aria tried to smile. “I’m Aria. This is Niall.”

  “Your friend. He can really handle that thing?” She gazed at Aria with a mixture of skepticism, curiosity, and awe.

  Aria forced herself to nod. “He’s a little worse for wear right now. But I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  Niall frowned more deeply. He carried Owen’s sword with him, unwilling to put it down, and clutched a notebook under one arm.

  “I’m a squad leader for the mission he’s leading next week. Do you know what he’s planning?” She gestured. “This is my squad. Bartok, Levi, Jenison, and Malachi.”

  The men all nodded politely, eyeing Aria and Niall with obvious curiosity.

  “Not really.” She wasn’t sure how much she should share. “I assume it’s a rescue mission.”

  Niall wrote quickly and turned the notebook toward Evrial. We believe Eastborn does not have the advanced sensors to detect our blood. Our chances of success are greater, and if we succeed, it could be important. Also, we have family there.

  Evrial eyed him. “Can you not talk?”

  He shook his head but did not explain.

  “How many are in the Resistance?” Aria looked around. “This is impressive…” Her voice trailed away. “But the Empire seems really powerful.”

  “It is,” Bartok agreed. He was a little younger than the others, perhaps in his early thirties, his light brown hair prematurely sprinkled with gray. Despite his wiry, athletic figure, his eyes seemed kind and gentle. “We have a safe haven outside the city. A few women and children who escaped the trackers are there. We could take you.”

  Evrial smiled gently.
“What he means is, you don’t look like a fighter.”

  Aria frowned, and Evrial waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be offended. I think we’d all prefer to be back in our old jobs. I was Army, but I was logistical corps. I didn’t actually go on ops much.”

  Levi snorted. “You wouldn’t know it. She might have been a drill sergeant in her former life.”

  Aria smiled. “And what were you?”

  “I owned a dry cleaning business.” He grinned. “Not too impressive, huh? Compared to these guys, I mean.” His wave encompassed Evrial.

  “What were you before?” She glanced around the group.

  Jenison answered, “A lawyer.”

  Malachi said, “Management in a small financial firm.”

  Bartok smiled wryly. “A pediatrician.”

  “Really?” She eyed him curiously, then bent to whisper in Niall’s ear, “Would you show him your mouth?”

  Niall shook his head.

  “What about you?” Bartok broke the silence.

  Aria frowned. “I was a grad student. Studying history. Things didn’t line up, and I found a book. It just made me question things.”

  Evrial sighed. “You don’t know how to shoot, do you?”

  Aria shook her head.

  “If you’re going on the mission, you’ll need to practice. Better start now.” She stood purposefully. “You won’t be ready, but if Gabriel says you go, then you go. It’s up to him.”

  The whole squad followed as she led them to the far end of the hall, down a long corridor and into a deeper underground cavern. It had been turned into a training room, with targets stationed at one end backed by thick rolls of carpet scavenged from other areas of the hotel. A jumble of boxes, nets, rolls of carpet, and ropes clogged one corner of the room.

  “What’s that?”

  “An obstacle course. You have to find something in it, or run through it with a piece of chalk and mark all the designated items, or something. Timed. It’s an agility exercise, mostly. We do a lot of hand to hand training too, but really, if it comes to that, you’ve already screwed up.”

  Evrial and Bartok took charge of Aria’s training. They put on sound-dampening earmuffs and found a pair that fit Aria. Bartok brought Niall a pair, too, which the Fae boy examined quizzically before slipping them over his head. He settled in a corner with a notebook and the sword across his lap. Meanwhile, Jenison, Malachi, and Levi meandered over to the obstacle course.

  Aria focused on the process of shooting. The gun felt heavy and unfamiliar in her hands.

  “This is a version of an AR-15. It’s semi-automatic, which means it shoots one bullet at a time every time you pull the trigger until you run out of bullets. Aim like this.” Evrial demonstrated, bringing her own rifle up to her shoulder. “Line up the sights here and here. Then squeeze the trigger. Don’t ‘pull’ it; everyone says ‘pull,’ but you really want to use a squeezing motion instead.”

  Aria went through the motions, putting the gun up to her shoulder and holding the target in her sights. Her arms trembled, and she felt awkward and embarrassed beside Evrial’s smooth competency.

  The first time she squeezed the trigger, she flinched preemptively. The earmuffs deadened the sound, and the kick was strong but not unmanageable. She frowned down the range at the target. The bullet had left a small hole near the bottom of the outer ring.

  “That’s not bad, actually. If this is your first time, I’m impressed.” Evrial smiled at her encouragingly. “Try again. Don’t be afraid of it.”

  She lined up carefully for each shot. The next five were all in the two innermost circles, an uneven scatter pattern of perhaps four inches.

  “That’s better.” Bartok smiled.

  They were patient teachers, and Aria was gratified to find her skill improving. They moved to use a 9mm pistol, which she found more difficult, but Bartok nodded approval at her accuracy.

  After an hour, Bartok left the women and sat against the wall by Niall.

  He said nothing for some minutes, but finally faced Niall and said, “So you’re a Fae, are you?” The sound was barely audible through the earmuffs.

  Niall nodded.

  “Do you know how to use that?” He indicated the sword.

  Not as well as Lord Owen.

  “Care to demonstrate?”

  Niall shrugged but didn’t rise. After a moment, he wrote, For what purpose? Can you teach me?

  Bartok smiled. “I don’t know much about swords. I’m a decent shot but that’s all. Would you like to try shooting?”

  Niall shrugged again, then put the sword and notebook aside and stood. They strode over to the makeshift shooting range. Bartok showed Niall how to check the gun for bullets, how to load it, unload it, sight it, and finally demonstrated how to shoot.

  “Here. Start with a solid stance, like this. Brace yourself. It has quite a kick.”

  Niall sighted down the barrel and squeezed the trigger. Bartok blinked in surprise; the hole was in the dead center of the target.

  “Try a couple more.”

  Niall squeezed off the remaining bullets one after another without pausing. Bartok raised his arm to get Aria and Evrial’s attention, then jogged down the range to examine the target. He shook his head and jogged back.

  “That’s amazing. A half-inch scatter, if not less.” He raised his eyebrows at Evrial. “Can you do that? At this distance?”

  Evrial looked at Niall. “You’ve never shot before?”

  Niall pantomimed using a rifle, then held up ten fingers, lowered them, then held them up again.

  “Twenty times?”

  He shook his head.

  “Twenty what?” They stared at him, baffled.

  Aria guessed. “Twenty years ago?”

  He nodded and gave her an appreciative look.

  Bartok straightened. “What? You’re nine years old! Maybe ten at the most.”

  He shook his head again and jogged toward his notebook.

  Aria said, “Fae age differently. I don’t know much about them yet, but he’s actually 78.”

  They blinked at her incredulously.

  My father said I should know how. He learned with older weapons, where the occasional poor shot was to be expected. He revised his expectations in light of the accuracy of modern guns.

  Bartok blinked at him and let out a soft breath. “I would love to talk to you. I have so many questions.”

  Niall frowned, and Aria guessed that he wished Owen were back.

  She put one hand on his shoulder and said, “He’s had a rough time. The Imperial forces had a lot of questions too, and they weren’t kind about asking them. I think it would be best not to push him.”

  Niall looked up at her and nodded. Then he took a deep breath and wrote, but if my answers can help our mission succeed, I will try.

  Bartok knelt in front of him, and Aria suddenly saw the gentle pediatrician, rather than the soldier. “I don’t mean to upset you. I’m curious, but my curiosity can wait. Unlike many of the others, I don’t believe all the legends. I’m just interested.” He smiled a little, and Niall studied his face for a long moment before giving him a small smile in return. “I’m a doctor, after all. That’s what we do. Research.”

  Niall’s face hardened, and he turned away with an angry jerk. He pulled the earmuffs off and dropped them on the floor, grabbed Owen’s sword, and stalked out the door.

  Bartok stared after him, his face stricken.

  Aria went after him, nearly running to catch up with Niall’s quick steps. “You know he didn’t mean it that way.”

  He did not slow down.

  “Where are you going?”

  He glared over his shoulder at her.

  Niall paused at the far end of the theater, and Aria stopped at his side and faced him. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  His mouth was tight, and he glared at her again before finally yanking the notebook out and scribbling, It has been too long. I am going after Lord Owen.


  “I’m sure he’s fine. He would rather you stay here, in safety.”

  He looked at her scornfully. There is no safety here for us. If he is hurt, he needs me. I am stronger now and I can help him.

  “Are you?” She tried to keep her voice gentle, reaching for his still-bruised wrist with one hand.

  He indicated the sword and raised his chin.

  Bartok came jogging up, standing some distance away. “I’m sorry, Niall. I didn’t know.”

  There was a shout from the entrance, and they all turned to look.

  Gabriel entered, and behind him came Owen. His eyes caught theirs immediately, and he nodded.

  Niall sprinted toward him and stopped suddenly at arm’s length. He knelt, bowed his head, and raised the sword in both hands. Owen took it solemnly and clipped the scabbard back onto his belt. Niall rose and bowed, then flung himself at his uncle, wrapping his arms about him, face pressed hard into Owen’s chest.

  Owen murmured something, and Niall pulled back to grin at him.

  “He did it.” Evrial had come up behind them, unnoticed.

  Aria smiled at Owen too. “I’m glad you’re back. Are you all right?”

  “Tired, but yes. I led it on a merry chase for several hours. I killed it close to IPF quadrant headquarters.”

  Aria noticed now that he had a bloody bandage wrapped around his right thigh. Niall gestured toward it with a questioning look.

  “It’s not bad,” Owen said.

  Niall pantomimed eating, and Owen smiled slightly. “Yes, please.”

  Gabriel sent Eli to get food, and Owen limped slowly to the small conference table. Despite his assertion that he was fine, it was obvious his leg was painful. Bartok and Evrial followed, no doubt curious, and Gabriel didn’t protest. Owen dropped into a chair and stretched out his leg with a soft grunt. He had blood crusted into his hair near one ear, but there was no visible wound. Niall gestured toward the bandage again, and Owen nodded that he could look.

  Bartok also knelt close and turned on an electric lantern. Owen drew his knife and cut the bandage off. Bartok winced in sympathy and started to reach forward to pull the torn fabric of Owen’s pants away from the wound, but Niall struck his hand away and shouldered between them.