by Jeff Altabef
Troy returns to the Inn two hours later.
I’ve run through countless versions of our conversation in my head. None end well. The last thing I want in this world is to hurt him. He’s my best friend and has always been there for me, but I can’t let him face the Prime Elector with us. Maybe that’s selfish or maybe it’s not. I don’t care anymore. It just is.
Finally, the key enters the lock and Troy stands at the doorway. He shuts the door behind him and strides into the suite. His shoulders sway confidently the way they usually do. “So, how did it go at Swiss Bank?”
“Good. We’ve got a lead on the Prime Elector.” I don’t like to call the Prime Elector by his name, Gagarin. Prime Elector makes him sound more like a robot and less like a real person. “When did Sydney show up?” Even now I can’t keep the frost from my voice when I say her name, and I start to twist the end of my hair.
Troy shrugs. “She was a couple of hours late. It was no big deal.”
“I don’t trust her, Troy. She’s manipulative and acting weird.” We have more important things to talk about than Sydney, but my mouth flaps open and words spew out as if they were a flock of birds heading south for the winter. I can’t stop them.
Troy touches my arm, his hands warm and strong. “Listen, Jules, there’s no reason for you to be jealous of Sydney. You and I are just....” He hesitates.
I want him to say it. On some level I need him to tell me. “Just what, Troy?”
“You know. We’re best friends. I love you like a sister. Always have.”
The word “sister” magically solidifies in the air, turns into a sledgehammer, and hits me in the stomach.
He’s never led me on. He’s always had girlfriends. We’ve never kissed, or even come close to kissing.
I guess I’ve always known that we weren’t meant to be together in a romantic way, yet knowing something and having proof smack you in the face are two different things altogether, and this feels like I’ve flunked out of school. All those fairytales I used to spin about us will need a different ending.
I pull my arm away from him. “Of course, I know that.” My face burns. “I just figured you were too fragile for me to say anything. Besides, you’re completely not my type.”
Troy crosses his arms and grins. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Just about everything. For starters, you eat too much and you have a horrible sense of humor.”
He lifts his hand. “Okay, we don’t need a laundry list.”
“Oh, there’s more. You snore like a truck driver.”
“Hey, that’s going too far. I don’t snore!”
I do my best imitation of Troy snoring, and we both crack up. Just like that, the pain breaks and we’re good again. This is part of growing up. Fairytales with “happily ever after” endings aren’t real. Reality is messy, muddled, filled with gray and red and sometimes brilliant yellows.
“What’s this lead on the Prime Elector?”
His question reminds me what I need to tell him. My stomach twists and my voice sounds detached. “We have something else to talk about.”
He looks right through me. “What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Why do you think something’s wrong?” I turn my back on him and drop on the couch.
“You’ve never been good at hiding your feelings. Not from me. Remember when you failed the math mid-term in sixth grade?” He sits next to me.
I shake my head. “That was a long time ago. My mom got me a tutor the next day.”
“Right, and now you’ve got the same expression on your face, only worse.”
I sigh and tension-filled air blows out of me. “We have a way to get to the Prime Elector. It’ll go down tonight. We have to kill him. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”
He takes my hand. “That’s good news. I knew the Wind Spirit would help guide us. The Prime Elector is a dark spirit who must be dispatched back to the spirit worlds—the sooner the better. It’s the right thing to do. You wouldn’t be asked to complete this journey if you couldn’t handle it. You have the strength. I know it.”
I half smile at him. He reminds me so much of Sicheii, sharing the same belief system. He’s a rock—strong and true to his nature—and so much stronger than me. “I wish I was as sure.”
He squeezes my hand. “Let me do it then. I’ll kill him.”
My chest tightens as if a clamp squeezes my heart. I’d rather jump from the window, land on the concrete, and break every bone in my body than have this conversation. I should never have let him come with me. I should have been stronger. It would have been easier back then. I should....
All these alternatives whip through me in a guilt-ridden tsunami.
“That won’t work. You....” My voice cracks and my eyes flutter to his duffel on the table. I’ve already packed for him.
He follows my gaze and sees the bag. “You don’t want me to come with you? You want me to leave?”
I fight back tears. I can’t cry now. I have to do this one thing right. He can’t fight the Prime Elector with us and be in harm’s way. “You have to go home. I’ll see you when this is over. You’ve done everything you can—more than you should have. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, but now you have to go.”
“This is my choice.” He squeezes my hand a little tighter and his eyes pinch together. “Don’t send me away. I can help.”
I summon all my strength and reach deep inside, deeper than I’ve ever had to reach before. “No, you can’t help.” I steel my eyes and turn my heart to stone.
Troy rubs his hands across his face.
Part of me breaks, but I don’t—I can’t—let those emotions seep into my eyes. I stand because sitting on the couch next to him is no longer an option. He’s too close and I need to put distance between us.
He moves next to me. “It’s just the same as when you went to that private school. You left me and your other friends behind. We barely got to see you, and now you’re doing it again!”
“I hate Bartens! You know that!”
His face reddens. “Part of you hates it, and the other part wants to be accepted by... them. You want to be just like them!” He spits out the word “them” with such venom. A lifetime of unfair treatment has scratched his voice and made it sound harsh, rubbed raw.
“That’s not true.” I can’t look at him and see the pain and confusion, so I turn and face the window.
The back of my throat burns. I wish he was completely wrong, but a kernel of truth hides in his words.
I did separate from my old friends. I told myself the heavy workload at my new school kept me busy, and that we had different stuff going on in our lives, but the materialistic pull from Bartens tugged at me. Even though I never belonged with them, they had everything I was supposed to want. I found myself stuck between two worlds, frozen in place, standing on a lake while the ice cracked around me.
“Now you’re leaving me for the other Chosen—Connor, Blake, Akari, and Stuart. You think you don’t need me, but you’re wrong. This is a big mistake.” His voice has a pleading quality to it. “We’ve come this far together, and we need to finish this together.”
When I turn back to face him, all I want is to hold him, but I grit my teeth instead. I have to be stronger. I have to become the Alpha and think of him first, so my voice comes out hard and loud. “That was never your role. You’ll make it more dangerous for me—for all of us.” I start to tick off the instances and a little of my soul dies each time. “The burglar at the hotel. The fire at the warehouse. The bomb in the church. The car that ran you over by the consulate.”
“I was trying to protect you those times, and you can’t hold the car against me. I did that one on purpose.”
I wrap myself around his shoulders and bury my head into his chest. I won’t look into his eyes and I don’t want him to see the tears rolling down my cheeks, so I talk into his chest. “I don’t hold any of them against you. You get credit for each one
, but if you’re with us, I’ll worry about you and that will—”
“Only make it more dangerous. I get it. I’m really just a liability. I can’t be trusted. You’re better off with Connor and the rest. Except that he can’t be trusted. None of them can be!” He pushes me away, his voice toxic.
I wipe the tears from my eyes before he can see them, and grab the leather straps to his duffel.
“So this is it then? You don’t need me anymore? You’re tossing me out? I’ve risked everything for you and now you’re trading me in?” Fire burns from behind his eyes.
“It’s not like that. I’ll always need you, but with you, I’ll be weaker.”
He spins from me and looks out the window.
Part of me wants him to stay more than ever, but this one time his safety has to come first.
I touch his back. “This is the only way.”
He turns back toward me. “Give me a chance to prove myself. Just one more chance to protect you.”
I can’t speak. I can only shake my head.
He pushes past me, takes the duffel from the table, opens it, pulls out our folder of cash, and flips it on the couch. “Sicheii saved that for you, not me. I don’t want your money.”
“How will you get back home without it? I don’t need it. The others have plenty.”
“I’ll make do. It’s not mine.”
Just when I expect him to storm from the room, he brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. It’s such a loving gesture; I almost lose all my resolve. My legs go weak and my knees wobble.
He sighs. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He turns and stomps from the room, taking with him my last connection to humanity.
I am the Alpha.
Gagarin studies the self-assured smile on Bailey’s face. She is capable, talented even. Perhaps he should invest more time in her, train her, and see how much potential she might possess. Maybe she could evolve into a worthy mate. She’s young still, and could advance beyond a Level Two to a Level One Alphian.
There are so few Level Ones among the Deltities. “You’ve dumped the brainwashing drug in all the aquifers that hold New York City’s drinking water?”
“As you wished.”
“Good, and you project the mortality rate to be 25%.”
She nods. “With a 1% margin of error.”
“Excellent.” He starts pacing. “The drug is harmless until we broadcast the cellular signal, correct?”
“That’s right. The cellular signal activates the drug in the human brain. It will make them compliant with our commands without them knowing it. Twenty-five percent of the time it will create a brain aneurism that causes immediate death.”
“Perfect.” He smiles as he stops in front of her. “They will be at our mercy. How long until the contaminated water seeps into their drinking supply?”
“Areas in the Bronx will be impacted tonight. It will take a full week for the entire drinking supply to be poisoned.”
“That’s ideal. We don’t want everyone dying in one day. That would look suspicious. They need to believe that a plague has fallen on them. Yes, a plague brought down by their God. Panic will grip them and we will hold the key. We will start the Launch Project tonight.”
“They will panic.”
“Yes, at first, but our strength will save them. We will free them from their oppression. They don’t know it, but they need us.”
Her eyebrows arch upward. “They need us?”
He strokes her moist lips with his fingertip. “Of course they do. They need a strong master. All this freedom oppresses them. They don’t know what to do with it. They squander it on base pleasures and ruin their own planet. Without us, they will make Earth uninhabitable. It’s only a matter of time. We will give them a purpose and set them on a path for the higher good. They will be fulfilled and be more content because of it. The Elders will say we are enslaving them, but they don’t understand the natural order of the universe. We free them by dominating them.”
His grip tightens on her lip and he breaks her skin with his fingernail. A trickle of blood winds down her chin, and he smiles.
As I head down the stairs to the lobby, one question blocks my thoughts like a boulder in the middle of a narrow road that can’t be avoided. Circling it, I examine it from all angles.
Is killing the Prime Elector our only option?
I think it is, and Stuart says it is. Reasoning with the Prime Elector seems futile and way too risky—he’ll be too powerful and we’ll lose any chance at surprise.
If there’s some other way to defeat him, we had better think of it soon, because the objective of this mission is simple and direct—murder. In truth I couldn’t have killed the burglar we faced at Roy’s Red Roof Inn, or the greasy-haired guy at the warehouse. A part of me wanted to, but the rest, the part raised by Sicheii, would not have let me. So the current plan fills me with dread and doubt, but I can’t think of another way around the boulder.
The others wait for me by the door.
Blake wears a Polo shirt, khakis, and fancy loafers, as if he’s headed to a country club for a round of golf.
Akari wears a loose-fitting T-shirt and jeans, and the handle of her fishing knife shows where it’s tucked into the back of her pants.
Stuart looks like a shadow in all black.
Connor has the Chelsea jersey he wore when I first met him.
We all wear what makes us comfortable, what fits us.
I touch the wind catcher pendant tucked under my shirt, the only personal item I have to bring with me. Sicheii said it would protect me when I need it, and I’ll certainly need it tonight.
“It looks like the gang’s all here,” says Connor, his voice serious for once.
In an effort to lighten the somber mood a little, I say, “What stinks?” and wrinkle my nose. “It’s the jersey. It smells like beer. You could’ve washed it.”
Connor grins. “It’s my lucky shirt. I never clean it. All the luck would wash away with the suds.”
“Oh, that explains it.” I force a grin.
“We should leave. Yes, yes, I think it’s time.” Stuart solemnly holds the door open for us and glances toward the floor. I try to catch his eye, but his gaze stays downcast. He must know the long odds we face, and doesn’t want me to see his lack of confidence.
I walk past him, into the cool night and toward my destiny. My sword pulses from inside the string bag that’s once again slung over my shoulder. The pulses match my heart rate—fast. The odds are against us, but I don’t care about the odds—not now, anyway.
We get into a car out front.
Stuart drives us to 72nd and 5th Avenue, where he parks in a tow zone. I glance at the sign, and he just shrugs. He’s right: that’s the least of our worries.
When we enter the park, Blake asks, “Do you think he’ll be alone?”
“I doubt he’s got mates with him to play poker,” says Connor
“No,” I say, “but we can’t assume he doesn’t have another Deltite with him either. We know two live in that consulate.”
“Yes, yes,” Stuart says, “but it seems like he wants to meet Smyth alone. That’s what the email said. Either way we must concentrate on Gagarin. He’s the key. The other Deltites are not important.” He leads us toward the lake and the Boathouse.
“Not important so long as they’re not trying to kill us,” Blake mumbles.
I grab his arm and pull him to a stop. “Everyone we find in that Boathouse will try to kill us. It’s them or us. Don’t hesitate to act, because they won’t.” I don’t mean to be harsh, but he‘s got to hear the truth and be prepared, or it will flatten him.
He nods.
We continue to walk, until the slippery moonlight dusts against the lake in the distance, revealing the outline of the Boathouse.
Stuart checks his watch. “12:15. We should hurry.”
I survey the faces around me—good faces, trustworthy, brave. “When we go in, we
use all our abilities—wind, fire, water, telekinetic, whatever. Feel the power surge and it’ll be enough.”
“Do you sense anyone in the Boathouse?” asks Connor.
I quiet my thoughts and switch my mind to hyper-mode. Auras burst and energy flows around me in waves. “At least one Deltite is inside. I can’t get a specific read on how many. It’s not clear, but the energy is intense.”
When I grab the Seeker Slayer, the blade appears and sends a shudder through me. My body feels electric as the blade senses what’s next, as if it has a mind of its own. I get the weird feeling it wants blood.
Connor stands next to me, so close, only a heartbeat away. His eyes pulse and his shaggy hair flips in front of his face in the breeze.
When I sweep his hair back, his eyes lock onto mine and time freezes. He leans into me and presses his lips against mine, soft and eager.
My world spins.
We separate for a second and I reach for him, pushing my lips against his, feeling a heat I’ve never known before. His lips part and we collide. My body is engulfed in flames and every nerve sparks. My insides turn volcanic, but then I push him back. Another second longer and I might not have been able to stop.
We’re both out of breath.
He grins mischievously. “Now I have something worth fighting for.” He winks at me, glances at the others and shouts, “For King and country!”
He bolts forward and we follow him.
I can’t even feel my body. I’m floating on a wave of energy.
Connor hits the doors to the Boathouse first and dashes through them with me close on his heels.
We pause when we enter the high-end restaurant. Picture windows face the lake, and at the end of the main dining room, we find an open door with light flickering from inside. The smell of incense hangs in the air.
Connor surges forward, and in a second we burst into a large round banquet hall ringed by six-foot candles.
We stop a few steps inside, Blake and Akari breathing heavily at our sides.
The Prime Elector sits at a table facing toward us.
A man dressed in a suit has his back to the door—the stranger must be Smyth.