Brink of Dawn (A Chosen Novel Book 2)

by Jeff Altabef

They must have planned this together while I was out. I’m jealous for some reason I can’t quite name, but I shove those emotions back into the mental closet where my confusion over the two is locked away—supposed to be, anyway.

  When Connor sits, Stuart tugs at his beard and stares at him with slanted eyes. “Now that the threats are over....” He waves his hand at a plate of pastries and a carafe of coffee in the middle of the table. “Please help yourselves. I assure you the pastries are perfectly fine to eat. Actually, they are delightful, and from the looks of you, the coffee will come in handy to create a little spark. Yes, yes, a spark would be good.”

  I can’t disagree with him. It looks like no one has showered, and everyone’s eyelids hang heavy. I grab the coffee first and it makes the rounds, as does the plate of pastries.

  Troy grabs three.

  Stuart taps on a laptop and the screen from last night jumps to life.

  Two men appear in sharp color, both standing. One towers over the other, and I know instinctively he’s Alphian. Both wear dark blue suits, but the taller one wears his loose, almost as if it’s a size too large. He’s bald, light-skinned with electric blue eyes and a handsome face with fine, perfectly symmetrical features.

  Stuart clears his throat. “The taller man is named Alex Gagarin. Don’t be fooled by the dark blue eyes—a simple trick made by contact lenses. He is the Prime Elector on Earth.”

  He pauses to let us soak in the image of our enemy, and I feel like a cold slushy fluid has replaced my blood and chills my bones. I’m staring at the face of the person we’re supposed to murder.

  He’s not some abstract idea or concept. He is real. He’s flesh and blood with his own spirit and soul.

  Can I seek him out and murder him in cold blood?

  Stuart continues, “He’s the principal of Stellar Capital.”

  “Stellar means star,” says Connor. “So he’s playing bloody games right in front of our noses.”

  “There’s more.” Stuart works the laptop and Stellar Capital’s logo appears on the screen below the photograph. The logo depicts three different interlocking circles. “That, my twisted friends, is the outline of Alpha’s three moons.”

  “What else do we know about this guy?” I lean forward.

  Stuart scratches his beard. “Not much. That photograph is the only one I have been able to find. His company is located in Manhattan, so I think he lives nearby, but he is a reclusive individual and not much is known about him. He publishes a highly regarded investment report at the beginning of each year, and his private equity company is extremely successful. They manage just short of ten billion dollars worth of assets, which is sizable.”

  “If he’s such a big shot, there’s got to be more about him on the Internet. Let me get my computer. Yours is a slug. Mine’s custom-made and has to be three times faster.” Blake jogs out of the room.

  “So you’ve never met him?” Akari shoots Stuart a questioning look.

  “Me?” Stuart points to his chest with a surprised expression on his face, as if he’s just won the lottery. “No, I don’t think that would be very prudent. You see, some of my kind were exiled with the Deltites all those many centuries ago. I am afraid, yes, I am certain he would spot me as an Ugly right away, and that would simply be no good. No good at all. He’d be curious and then....”

  “Right.” Connor rolls his eyes. “You’d be at risk.”

  Blake rejoins us with his laptop in hand. “Well, okay, let’s see. I’m sure Stellar Capital would have to file reports with the SEC if they manage that much money.”

  Akari stands and leans over his shoulder.

  “Yep, they have a number of filings that go back ten years. The most recent one says they use Swiss Bank to hold their accounts.”

  Blake continues to work his laptop. “Stellar is the world’s largest owner of cell towers. That’s interesting.”

  “I’ve never heard of them. Are they like T-Mobile or Virgin?” asks Connor.

  “Well, no,” says Blake. “They own the physical towers, not the networks. Those providers pay them rent.” Blake continues for a few minutes spouting random facts, none of which pique my interest or seems helpful.

  “What about that bloke who’s shaking his hand? Who’s he?” Connor points to the original photo on the screen. “He looks chummy with our guy.”

  Stuart sighs. “Yes, I can see where that information might be helpful. Sadly, I have no idea who he is.”

  “Not to worry,” says Blake. “I’ll run it through a facial recognition program.”

  Just then Troy’s phone buzzes. He checks the message, grumbles, and shows me the screen. Landon’s outside and wants to talk. Either we see him now or he’ll come inside and cause a ruckus.

  “He tried to reach us twice this morning already,” he whispers to me.

  The last thing we need is Landon barging into the Inn, so I stand. “We’ve got to go for a few minutes. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  Connor smirks. “Don’t worry. You know where to find us. We’ll be here watching Blake fiddle around on his laptop.”

  Blake grins. “Everyone leaves a digital footprint these days. It’s impossible not to, even if you are some super evil alien villain. We’ll find out all there is to know about our mysterious Alex Gagarin by the time you get back.”

  I get the feeling it’s not going to be so easy.

  Landon leans against a Con Edison truck with a sour expression on his face.

  The truck looks familiar. I saw it out front this morning and glance around. No workers are in sight.

  Troy walks a step in front of me and greets Landon. “Hey, Cuz, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back.”

  “Right,” says Landon. “We’ve got to talk about the other night. How did you really find out about Lilly, and who helped you take out those thugs?”

  Troy smiles. “I thought we settled that. Some guys on the street—”

  Landon raises his hand. “Don’t start with that crap. It stinks all the way to the spirit world. I’m worried about you two. I know we have a deal and your week isn’t up yet, but you’re still family.” He looks at me. “That includes you, Juliet. I’m worried you’re dealing with some dangerous characters. You have to be careful in this city. Situations can escalate in a heartbeat and turn lethal.”

  “We’re not involved with any criminals,” says Troy.

  I add, “We should be finished by the end of the week and we’ll tell you all about it.”

  Landon rubs his hands over his face in the same way Troy does when he’s frustrated. The similarity between the two makes me grin.

  “You’ll come to me next time before you attack an entire gang?”

  Troy raises his arm. “Scout’s honor.”

  “They wouldn’t have you in the Boy Scouts if I remember correctly.” Landon’s phone rings and he digs it out of one of the pockets in his cargo pants. “What’s up, Amare?”

  I can’t hear what Amare says, but Landon’s back stiffens and his eyes sharpen. “You’re sure it’s the same tall bald guy who you saw around Marble Hill the other night?... Okay... stay right there. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  My instinct perks up like it’s been jolted with a triple shot of espresso. Tall, bald, and creepy sounds like a fair description of a Deltite. I shoot Troy a knowing look and he shrugs in response.

  Landon disconnects the call. “I’ve got to hustle and check this out. Amare has found a guy who I think is trouble.”

  I step toward him. “We’ll go with you.”

  Troy follows my lead. “Yeah, maybe we’ll come in handy.” He beams his most helpful smile.

  Landon looks us over with a sharp intensity in his eyes.

  “We promise to do whatever you say.” I shoot him my most trustworthy face.

  Troy nods enthusiastically next to me.

  “I must be crazy.” Landon rubs his hands over his face again. “If you don’t do exactly what I say, then you’ll tell me what you’re up to. The
whole story?”

  “Deal,” I say, not having any choice. We need a lead, and my intuition tells me this guy is a Deltite. I have to trust my intuition. It’s all I have.

  Landon hails a cab, and we scramble in back as he directs the driver to the Upper East Side.

  “So what’s the deal with this bald guy?” I ask him.

  “He’s been surfing the projects for six months. At first we heard rumors about him and really didn’t believe them—some tall, bald, rich dude hanging around—but the stories kept popping up. And the kids that go with him never return. At least six have disappeared, and I’ll bet there’s a bunch more.”

  “Did you tell the police?” asks Troy.

  Landon shakes his head. “Come on, cousin. These are project kids. They disappear all the time. Most of them run away. Even my NYPD friends won’t take us seriously without some hard evidence.”

  The cab pulls to the curb on 82nd Street and 2nd Avenue. Amare is just up the street, smoking a freshly lit cigarette, crouched behind a beaten-up bike, pretending to secure it to a tree with a chain that doesn’t exist.

  He straightens up and smiles when he sees us. “That was quick, Bear. And I see you’ve brought Little Cub and his friend, Juliet.” He shares a fist bump with us.

  Five-story townhouses line both sides of the block. Most are made from stone with a few brick ones thrown in. They all have garages and look expensive.

  “So which house is he in?” Landon scans the buildings across the street.

  Amare nods toward a stone townhouse with a green door. “The one with the flag.”

  “How’d you find him?” I ask.

  Amare takes a puff from his cigarette and shifts on his feet. “I work as a bike messenger. I saw him stroll down Second Avenue. He went into that building twenty minutes ago, and then he left in a black Mercedes just before you guys showed up.”

  “What’s the deal with the flag?” asks Troy.

  “This neighborhood is full of consulates where diplomats live,” Landon says. “That’s probably one of them.’

  There’s a small brass plaque next to the door. “It belongs to the Island of Guernsey,” I say.

  “You’ve got some sharp eyes. Where the heck is Guernsey?” asks Amare.

  “It’s a small island near the UK.”

  They shoot me a weird look.

  Guernsey was in the encyclopedia I had just finished reading, but they’d really think I’m strange if I told them that I read encyclopedias to waste time, so I roll my eyes and say, “A friend of mine came from there. She used to have a flag in her room.” Even with all the changes taking place in me, I’m still a horrible liar, but no one calls me on it.

  “I don’t think anybody’s home.” Amare flicks a long line of ash from the tip of his cigarette that looks like a pencil eraser on steroids. “We could break inside and do some exploring.”

  Landon checks both sides of the street. No one’s around. “Normally I’d say no way, but if this guy’s taking kids, we need some evidence implicating him, and we don’t have time to wait.” He looks at Troy and me and says, “You guys stay here.”

  I grab his arm. “Why don’t I come with you? Troy can stay here as a lookout. We’ll be able to search the place faster with three of us.”

  “You could get into serious trouble.” Landon frowns at me.

  Amare grins. “I like her, Bear. She’s got spunk. You’re always saying how New Beginnings is a family. Families go all in. Either she comes along or I’m out, and you need me to get inside.”

  Troy’s about to object, but I blast him with a dangerous look that stops him before he complains.

  “You’re both a pain in the butt.” Landon grabs us and digs his fingers into our shoulders. “Okay, we’re a team, but listen to me. If I say run, we take off.” He looks at Troy. “Call us at the first sign of trouble.”

  He leads us across the street at a leisurely pace and pauses at the stoop, where he points at a video camera above the door. “Heads down and don’t look at that camera. Amare, there’s a security keypad on the left side of the door.”

  Amare lifts his hood over his head, tosses his cigarette to the ground, and smiles. “Got it. It’s very expensive, but I’ll have no problem with it. I’ll fix the security system, and you pick the lock. Juliet can stand behind and block us from any nosy people who happen to walk by.”

  We march to the stoop with our heads down.

  Landon rings the doorbell. “Let’s hope no one’s home.” After a few seconds, and when no sounds come from within, he nods at Amare.

  The young man pries off the cover to the security panel and starts to rewire the system. “When I connect the power source directly to the keypad’s blue wire, the entire system freezes. It doesn’t know what to do with the power, but it won’t short out because of a safety feature.” A few seconds later, the light on the keypad turns from red to green. “You’re up, Bear.”

  Landon uses two small tools that look like needles and messes with the lock.

  “How come I get the feeling you guys have done this before?” I whisper from behind them.

  “Only when we’ve had to, and always for a good cause.”

  The lock clicks.

  Landon smiles, turns the doorknob, and we enter the fancy townhouse. The entire break-in takes no more than a minute.

  When he shuts the door, an arctic blast whistles through me. An Alphian lives here. I can sense a residual trace of his energy like a bad aftertaste.

  I reach for my sword and realize it’s back at the Inn.

  I’m an idiot, charging ahead as usual without thinking things through.

  A few pieces of modern furniture decorate the inside of the townhouse. Painted white, the walls contrast with natural maple floors, and metal tables with glass tops. The place feels like a trendy hotel, as if the people who live here expect it to be temporary.

  Amare holds his nose. “What’s that smell? Is it some white person’s thing?”

  “It smells like incense to me. It’s a little sweet,” I say. The Seeker from back home burned incense in his villa and said how he hated the smell on the planet. Another sign that I’m right—at least one Deltite lives here.

  Landon turns toward me. “Here’s the plan. Amare and I will start on the top floor and work our way down. You search here and go up. Let’s be quick before someone comes home. We’re searching for anything that indicates what he’s doing with the kids.”

  They race up the stairs, taking two at a time, leaving me alone to search the main floor.

  A living room appears off to my left with a pass-through kitchen that stretches beyond it. The house is surprisingly narrow, like the deck of a small boat.

  I wander through the living room, not sure what to look for. The limited pieces of furniture have crisp edges and are made from a shiny white material that looks hard and uncomfortable. An out of place, soft, white shaggy rug lies in the middle of the room. Except for a glass cocktail table by the leather couch and a huge flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, it looks like a snowstorm had just blown through the place.

  It reminds me of my room at the Inn.

  The few paintings on the walls feature various geometric shapes, all in different shades of white and cream. There are no earth tones, beiges, or browns. I spin in a circle. Nothing looks natural. The living room is oddly disconnected from the planet.

  I open a drawer to a thin desk in the foyer and find nothing. There’s really nowhere else for me to search in the living room—no hiding places or drawers to rifle through—so I head into the kitchen, which favors the same color scheme and contemporary design.

  At least the major appliances are stainless steel, which breaks up the otherwise plain whiteness of the room. The cabinets have the stuff you’d expect to find: plates, glasses, spices, pots, and pans. The huge double refrigerator is mostly barren except for a wide variety of meat that’s crammed onto three of the shelves. I’m not a vegetarian, but this diet strikes me as extreme.
Then again, who knows what Alphians like to eat?

  I find nothing interesting in any of the cabinets or drawers, so I leave the kitchen and continue my search farther toward the back of the house and find a door that leads toward a courtyard out back. I ignore it and turn left into the last room—an office with a desk, a chair, and a computer. There are no filing cabinets to open and the desk doesn’t have a drawer, but before I turn to leave, the massive painting on the wall catches my interest. It looks oddly out of place as it takes up the entire wall.

  It’s a simple painting of a lavender circle with a golden triangle inside of it, but it steals my breath away. My legs go weak and I fall back onto the desk chair. I’ve seen that symbol in my dreams. That’s the Deltite symbol, the one they rally behind. One more bit of evidence that the Deltites exist and that we’ll have to kill the Prime Elector. I guess there’s always been a small part of me that hoped this situation wasn’t real, that Deltites weren’t threatening our world. That hope is totally gone now.

  A moment later, Landon calls from the staircase, “Juliet, have you found anything?”

  I join him and Amare in the foyer. “Nothing.” My face burns a little because I wasn’t fully truthful with him. Still, I’m not stupid enough to tell him about the painting. He doesn’t need to know about it. It has nothing to do with runaway kids. He’ll ask too many questions that I’ll never be able to answer without giving away my true purpose in the City.

  “At least two people live here,” says Amare. “A man and a woman. They have clothes in different bedrooms and personal items in the bathroom, but other than that, they don’t have any of the things normal people collect, like pictures and stuff. There’s barely any furniture.”

  Landon nods. “The top two floors are completely empty. Have you found the stairs down to the basement yet?”

  I shake my head.

  “All these townhouses have basements.” Landon spins. “They usually run below the road out front.” He opens what looks like a coat closet, but it’s empty. “That’s weird. I’ve never seen an empty coat closet before.”

  “Bear, this whole place gives me the creeps. What’s with all this white?” Amare shudders. “It’s not natural.”