“Sergeant Munroe was assigned to care for you,” Blake told her. “Assigned by the organisation to oversee your growth; it’s likely he was not even your biological father.”
He then fell silent. He saw a change sweep over Katherine. The fiery resolve that had existed, intent to knock him down from his perch, had faded; replaced with futility and despair. She now only gazed back at him through glassy eyes and trembling lips.
“He raised her nonetheless, and he’s the only family Katherine has ever known,” he soon heard his brother say from outside the bedroom door. “Now, calm yourselves, and call off your guardians before they tear one another to pieces.”
Blake glanced at Kulullu; the water spirit stood before him and the gryphon, clutching at a conjured spear of ice. And once Lance emerged through the bedroom doorway, his older brother shot him a dirty and disgruntled look.
She sobbed, collapsing to her knees. “I don’t believe you. This can’t be happening to me.”
“Your father was a senior officer within our ranks,” said Lance, solemnly. “In fact, he taught me everything there was to know in the service of this organisation.”
“My father was just an honest labourer,” she responded, which drew a chuckle from Blake.
“I’ve never met a labourer in possession of, and with such savvy control over such elaborate weaponry,” he scoffed, discarding any and all effort of self-control.
“I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult this must be for you to hear, and I’d rather you learned about this from those more capable within the organisation,” said Lance, as he glared over at Blake with disdain. “We want to take you with us Katherine; it’s no longer safe for you here.”
“Who are you?” Katherine asked. “Why should I trust you?”
“Perhaps your father spoke of me. My name is Lance, and I am an officer of a secret organisation; an organisation better known as Project Indigo.”
“Your name rings a bell,” she replied. “But he used that name when referring to a new labourer working for his firm, not an officer of some secret organisation.”
“He would’ve told you only what seemed necessary at the time,” said Blake, not willing to remain passive throughout their conversation. “He had an obligation to ensure the secrecy of certain information beyond all else, particularly to that which carries any connection to the Project.”
She averted her gaze from Blake, and looked only to Lance. “What is the purpose of this project? And what is an Indigo?”
“All your questions shall be answered in due course,” Lance responded, taking Katherine by the hand. “You will just have to trust us.”
Fat chance of that happening, thought Blake, as he observed Katherine’s blue eyes dart about the room as if she were trapped in a cage, and looking for a means of escape.
Thinking of the many fears which must be racing through her mind, his imagination took hold him. He envisaged her as a lab rat, ready to be examined at the organisation’s leisure and dissected. He’d also grown accustomed to this specific look Katherine expressed throughout the years; with pupils dilated as if she were in a stupor, the biting of her bottom lip that revealed a slight gap in her front teeth, showing this nervous twitching as she sought to comprehend what which was going on about her.
If only it were true, he thought, regarding the prospect of experimentation. Perhaps it would show to me why the organisation values her so highly, because right now I fail to see it.
Attempting to conceal their weapons in holsters to avoid upsetting Katherine any further, he noticed that a couple of his colleagues had surfaced, and now stood there in the doorway.
“It looks like I have little choice,” said Katherine, her gaze on these two additional operatives.
“I’m afraid not,” Lance replied. “My orders were to take both you and your guardian with us.”
Chapter 9
Lance had said I will have to trust them, Katherine remembered, as she was guided by two operatives of this strange organisation down the staircase.
But how can I trust anyone when everything and anything I’ve known to be true might in fact be a lie? This ‘project’ in which they refer to, she thought, might only want me for the sole purpose of conducting some sinister experiment. And yet here I am, allowing myself to be led directly to their evil laboratory.
Is this to be my fate? She questioned. To be the subject of a biological study? To be a specimen placed beneath the microscope? To put my trust in this organisation, how can they expect me to do this knowing that Blake is one of its members? The very suggestion of spending any more time in his presence is enough to make my skin crawl.
Once they made their way into the kitchen, the operatives guided her through the front door, and along the pathway that weaved its way from the porch to the cold, hard pavement outside eleven Delphi Crescent. Parked alongside the footpath were numerous black utilities. They led her toward the back of the one nearest to them, and help her up into its trunk. She found little room inside, and it wasn’t exactly easy to have so many eyes peering at her with morbid fascination from those sharing in such a claustrophobic space. Forced to lean up against what appeared to be an ammunition crate of some kind, and trying to ignore those unfamiliar gazes, she focused her attention on Lance who was kneeling on one knee with a rifle resting at his side.
I can’t help but like this man, she decided, in spite of feeling weary about the casual way he held his weapon. At least he seems somewhat sympathetic of my situation.
Prior to their departure down the stairs, Lance had given her a guideline of sorts that made note of what he could, and could not say. In particular, he had emphasised it wasn’t his prerogative to part with information concerning the organisation. He’d said that, and anything else related, was also best kept for more capable officers than himself. He had his orders, he’d said, and that included keeping his silence about related affairs, regardless of how often she’d ask him questions. Although she found what little he’d actually said useful, his soft and compassionate tone had somehow brought her comfort. For all the others she’d so far encountered were about their mission, concerned with their own agenda, and had taken little time to talk with her following the attack.
But there was something different about Lance, she believed, there was a sincerity that shone from his deep brown eyes, and there was a kindness that carried across from his warm smile. In a sense, it reminded Katherine of her father, and the affection and compassion he’d shown her throughout his life. Even of the times he’d expressed feelings of concern and frustration, she now found herself thinking of with fondness. It was, after all, his way of showing her that he cared. Only, now it had dawned on her that she could no longer hear his voice, or would ever again have him hold her tightly within his strong arms, and whisper calming words of support. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but Lance could only offer her a look of sympathy and appeared unwilling to utter a single word.
With the vehicle having finally set off, she felt the swift jolt of movement about the cabin. She glanced about her surroundings in a vain attempt to look upon eleven Delphi Crescent one last time. But it was still dark out, and there was little visibility through the trucks’ back window. The further the vehicle travelled, deep into what she presumed to be that of the desert, the more she also found it grow significantly colder, and couldn’t keep from shivering or to stop the chattering of her teeth. Upon seeing her suffer with this abrupt drop in temperature, she watched as Lance gathered an old blanket from off a nearby crate and draped it over her shoulders. But once he’d done so, he reclaimed his post and his solemn demeanour. She stared back at him, pondering what she should and could say that might make him engage her with conversation and alleviate her burden, anything which might help distract her from her own thoughts of recent loss.
But she then felt the soft warmth of a furry paw and sturdy frame against her skin, for the gryphon crept up and rubbed her shoulder with his forehead. She looked into hi
s golden eyes, the gryphon seeming to gaze back and analyse her every expression.
It is an odd feeling, she mused, but this creature appears to be hard-pressed in search of something, and that something is somewhere within me.
“What should I call you?” she questioned, although coming to think how ridiculous it must have sounded.
She didn’t exactly have any desire to attract further attention from this organisation, and now they were bound to become more suspicious.
This isn’t some pet cat or dog in need of a name, she realised. Although, I can hardly be sure which species this creature belongs. Best I can tell this creature is a gryphon, the head of an eagle, the imposing wingspan, the fearsome body of a lion; all physical characteristics difficult to miss, and consistent to those of myth.
“His name is Anzu,” said Blake. “Can’t you remember? You learned that in the library.”
Katherine had forgotten that he too was present in the same vehicle amidst their travel, and she immediately questioned whether ceasing the silence was indeed an improvement.
“Actually, I have gone by many names,” said the gryphon. “Anzu was only one name bestowed upon me by a former master. And if it pleases you Ms Munroe, then it will also suffice in the here and now.”
Katherine could instantly feel a sense of awe sweep over her, and she soon after recognised that she wasn’t alone. As she scanned the cabin, each face presented a picture of bewilderment; each with its jaws hanging and eyes wide open.
“Of course, if that is what you want to be called,” she heard herself say, still in shock. “Why have you been following me?”
She thought the gryphon seemed anxious as he looked into her eyes and sought to respond. “The scent of your spiritual energy, it is of the same nature…”
“You are a spirit of the wind if I’m not mistaken,” said Blake, his curiosity piqued. “Then you must have previously served under the sky god Anu.”
“That name sounds familiar,” she replied, examining the gryphon’s wings.
Blake grunted, wriggling forward and appearing frustrated. “This is exactly why you should pay attention in class. He was one of the Naacal leaders at the very beginning.”
“The Naacal,” she questioned, confused and trying to think back upon Ms Hawthorne’s many lectures.
“Blake, that’s enough,” said Lance. “It is not our responsibility to explain such things.”
“We’re related in some way to these Naacal, aren’t we? I mean to say; well…I am able to conjure fire…unintentionally of course, and without any real control. But I’ve never known how I could do so or why.”
Blake sighed, peering back at her as if she were stupid. “You know why. There’s little point in pretending to be ignorant. You spoke of celestial energy when I provided you with a demonstration in the library.”
Remembering what befell her at the library, she thought further back to a time when she’d first set an old sketch pad alight, and at the very moment when her father had decided to train her in the arts of energy control. For so many hours had they toiled away in his makeshift training facility within the garage, pursuing the recognition of her celestial energy, and now she wanted to know more. She scanned the vehicle’s interior; many of the operatives were staring back at her now with their brows raised and their eyes squinted.
Did I say something wrong? She wondered, for none of them seemed entirely sure about how to respond.
She glanced down at her fingertips, those which had caused so many pencils to ignite over the years while sketching. Her father had often pleaded with her not to say anything about it, certainly not to share these experiences with others. But in the same breath he’d brushed off such behaviours as normal. And although she remembered how he’d frequently look to avoid any more in depth discussion on this topic, she was taken aback now with all these operatives looking at her as if she were some kind of witch. The longer they stared, the more apprehensive she became over something she’d never fathomed to be much of a big deal.
Now the hearing of voices and the sight of illusionary beasts, she surmised, those are things that really should make one feel anxious.
“If we are related to the Naacal, then I must be a descendant of Ra?” she questioned. “And Blake, since you have control over ice, which Naacal shares in your element?”
“Under your rationale, I’d be a descendant of the moon god Thoth,” he answered.
Lance glared at Blake, his teeth clenched. “Have you lost all sense? The director will address any and all further questions Katherine may have. It is not our place to answer them in his stead.”
Although she was aware that Lance’s patience had run thin, she couldn’t help herself from inquiring further. She wanted to know more about these guardians, of their place in the world, and why this one in particular had chosen her as his new master.
“If I recall correctly, Ra was the sun god of ancient Egypt,” she said.
Blake gave her a look of sarcasm. “Well done, and this means, assuming what you’ve said you are capable of is true; you are in a sense one of his descendants.”
“Blake,” Lance cried, showing an aggressive tone of voice Katherine had not heard before.
“Who is this director?”
“The director of Project Indigo; a secret organisation of the government,” Lance muttered. “We were constructed to combat any and all alien spirits who threaten our earthen plane.”
Blake laughed, grinning from ear to ear. “Way to be a hypocrite. How about you make sure you practice what you preach.”
Without delay, Lance covered his mouth with open palms, trying to conceal his embarrassment for having disclosed such information.
“A secret organisation assigned the task to fight demons,” she said. “I had often felt that Dad was hiding something from me.”
They all fell silent. That was, until Katherine felt a heavy jerking of the vehicle which sent her sprawling forward.
“We’ve begun our descent,” Lance said, bracing himself against the interior wall.
She gasped, clutching at her side. “Our descent? What do you mean?”
“Now that the convoy has traversed the desert, we’re heading down a winding ramp and into the depths by an underground tunnel.”
“An underground tunnel, but where will it lead us?” She questioned.
Blake frowned. “Where else do you think? This is the project’s only entranceway.”
To Katherine, it seemed an hour had passed before the convoy reached the tunnels end. As she blindly stared out the back window of the truck, she noted a series of flickering lights hanging from high above, illuminating the wide spanning structure of a vehicle bay. Once they came to a halt, the back hatch of each vehicle opened, and the occupants disembarked prior to assembly before a large secure doorway. Thereafter, they heard a voice transmission echo up and about the garage delivering specific orders to each operative. One designated for Lance, and the only one she could fully understand, was for the young operative to show her to her room.
“We shall meet with her come the morning,” said a gruff, and yet articulate voice through the speaker.
She looked to Lance, whom cordially smiled back at her before guiding her and the gryphon over to the secure doorway. Before the door and to its right was a control panel. He strolled over to it, punching in a sequence of codes that registered a string of beeping and whistling noises. Once two large doors of solid steel had parted, he led both her and the gryphon along a plain corridor. Up ahead, she could see numerous officers disperse through an array of different passages. Notably, she also watched as Blake and Kulullu prepared to enter one toward its very end.
“Well I’m going to call it a night,” said Blake with a yawn. “It may be near the weeks end, but I suspect a more arduous training schedule is in store for me within the next couple of hours.”
“I think that is a very wise decision,” Lance replied.
Blake merely raised his nose up at hi
m with displeasure and trudged inside with Kulullu following after him.
Lance continued to lead them, until he motioned toward an adjacent doorway. “Let me show you to your room.”
He had pressed another code into yet another control panel ingrained within the door’s frame, before the door slid open. Inside, she found a bedroom that was both plain and spacious. She felt uneasy with this new setting; the sterile lighting, the drab furnishings, and the barren walls that were devoid of colour.
It is all too similar to an operating room, she thought to herself, doing little to stifle her fears that experimentation would surely follow.
She could see it now as she glanced about the space: the countless scalpels, and numerous x-ray machines, a vast series of syringes, and a plethora of hidden camera’s that would be undoubtedly concealed within the rooms’ four walls. She slowly and cautiously made her way toward a single bed’s end, with the gryphon in tow, and slinked down upon it from exhaustion.
Whatever they choose to do with me, she decided, I hope they do it quickly and not let me suffer.
But she soon noticed that the gryphon was the one who needed to worry; for the creature’s wounds had not yet fully healed. The creature found it profoundly difficult to obtain any source of comfort as he wriggled and writhed about in vain against the bed sheet.
“Will you permit me to take Anzu with me,” asked Lance. “It would be best for him that we tend to his many injuries, and not allow them to fester.”
She remembered that Anzu was the name this creature had agreed to go by, and the more she thought on it, the more she believed it suited him.
“I may be injured,” said Anzu. “But I shall stay by my master’s side so long as she needs me.”
“Anzu, you’re still hurt,” she said, stroking her hand through his matted fur. “Anzu, I want you to go with him.”
The gryphon gazed back at her with judging eyes, but despite his reluctance, eventually he obeyed and headed for the door.
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