by N. R. Larry
I jumped, splashing water out of the sides of the tub. Gripping the edge of the bath, I pulled myself up and peered into the corner. He was there, standing at the edge of the room with his face to the wall as if he were in a time out.
Even though he wasn’t actually looking at me, I used my hands to cover myself. “What the hell are you doing in here?” I pushed a strand of thick, curly hair out of my face.
“Like I said, we need to talk.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re supposed to be waiting for me in one of the guest rooms.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t feel like waiting.”
“How did you find your way here?” I asked.
“I’m good at finding my way around.” He sighed. “Can you get dressed so that I can look at you?”
“No.” I splashed my hand into the water. “Get out. You’re not allowed up here.”
He snorted. “What, is this some kind of prison?”
I gritted my teeth. “You can’t be serious.” I shook my head. “No. Never mind that. Get out.”
“No.”
Forgetting my modesty, I stood up. “Excuse me?”
“I said no.” He sighed. “Can you please put some clothes on.”
Pressing my lips together into a tight line, I jetted my hand out toward my clothes on the bench a few feet away from him. Then I hesitated. It was always hard for me to use magic, even the smallest bit of it, after I let out the Anchor. My hand started to shake.
I swallowed a phantom lump and said, “Stay there.”
He nodded.
Carefully, I climbed out of the tub and shuffled toward the bench. Grabbing a towel and my clothes, I ducked behind the privacy curtain and sighed. “You can turn around now.”
I ran the towel through my hair and pulled on a pair of black pants and a baggy shirt. When I stepped out from behind the curtain, he was sauntering around the room, picking up objects here and there, and then sitting them back down.
“Making yourself comfortable?” I asked, walking up behind him.
He turned, put my brush back on the side of the tub, and looked me up and down. “Okay, so, what the hell was that back there?”
I stared at him.
He smiled. It wasn’t a true smile, but one probably born out of frustration. I tried to ignore that it was sexy as hell. “Please, let’s not play games with each other.” He pointed at me. “You be straight with me, and I’ll be straight with you.”
I raised my chin and then nodded.
“Great.” He clapped. “So, what the hell was that?”
I bit my lip, unsure of how to answer the question. I started to feign like I didn’t know what he was talking about, but that would have been silly. I knew what he was talking about.
Finally, I sighed. “I don’t really know how to discuss that with someone I barely know.”
His eyes darkened. “Try.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Look, I don’t owe you anything. If it wasn’t for me…”
He started in toward me before I could get out the rest of my sentence. His eyes were blazing. Within seconds, I was backed against the wall, my heart pounding loudly in my ears.
“Oh, you think you owe me nothing?” he asked in a scathing tone. “You. Made me. Kill.” His eyes narrowed, and there was no mistaking the anger there. The fear. “I deserve to know how you did that.”
I stared up into those bright, green eyes and sighed. He was almost shaking in anger, but there was something vulnerable in the tone of his voice. Not to mention, he was right. I’d almost forgotten about what I’d made him do.
I placed a shaking hand against his chest and backed him up. “You’re right.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Give me a moment. Please.”
He turned his head, obviously considering my words. Finally, he backed off. “Fine. But keep in mind that patience isn’t one of my gifts.”
I nodded, and then looked at my bare feet. When I raised my head, he was gone.
* * *
I shed my tears, got myself together, and then strolled down the hall and into my room. A fire was already lit, and he was sitting at my table in the corner. I narrowed my eyes, stopped and grabbed my tea service, before joining him.
As I sat down, I said, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you found your way here.” I lifted my clay teapot and poured two cups of white tea.
He stared at me, studying my movements as if I were some new species of woman. “So, what is this place?” he asked, making no move to touch his tea.
I sipped mine slowly, closing my eyes as it trailed down my throat and warmed my insides. Finally, I opened my eyes. “That’s a long story, and I only have enough energy for one long tale tonight, so which one is it going to be?”
He stared at me, and then tapped the side of his cup, his eyes were slightly narrowed. “The rest of your glamour wore off.”
I placed my cup on the table and rested my elbows on the table. “It hadn’t worn off before?”
He tilted his head. “Most of it had, but now I can see all of you.”
I stared at him. He stared back at me.
“Have you figured it out yet?” he asked, finally taking a drink from his cup.
I lifted an eyebrow.
“Where you knew me from?”
I shook my head. “Where?”
He licked his lips, and just like that, it was harder to focus. “So, what are you?” he finally asked.
I took my time drinking the rest of my tea. “A witch,” I said when I was done. I nibbled some of the last nourishment tablets we had. Lucky for us, they lasted a long time, so they were well worth the risk we took getting them.
He shook his head. “No, no I’ve seen witches.” He leaned across the table so that we were only inches apart. “And I’ve never seen anything like that.”
I nodded. “I’m telling you the truth.” I finished my tablet and then pushed my hair back away from my face. “How much do you know about witchcraft?”
He shrugged. “Enough.”
I poured myself another cup. “So, you know that when a witch is born, she is aligned with an element.”
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, um. Earth, air, fire, and water.”
I nodded between sips. “Well, there is a fifth element.”
He stared at me, obviously waiting for me to continue, but it was always hard to explain this part. Hell, it was hard enough understanding myself and I’ve had most of my life to get used to the idea.
“I’ve never heard of a fifth element,” he finally said when I didn’t offer up any more information. “What is it?”
I hesitated again. “It’s known as different things to different people.”
He drummed his fingers against the table. “Can you save the vague speak and simply answer my question?”
I stared at him for a second. “It’s Akasha, or Spirit,” I finally said, staring over his head. “According to my mother, once or twice every few centuries a witch is born aligned with the Spirit element. It’s a terrible power.” I gazed into my now empty tea cup. “She used to tell me all magic came at a price, especially from those working Spirit aligned magic.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I was surprised that I had said so much. I rarely talked about this, and never in so much detail.
He leaned forward. “Okay, the only thing that doesn’t make sense is that one second you were one chick, klutzy, a little airheaded. And then you were that thing.”
I winced at his use of the word ‘thing.’ “You’re one to talk,” I noted.
“Was that the magic?” he asked, ignoring me.
I nodded. “Sort of. That happens when I let it in.”
“Let what in?”
“The Spirit of magic,” I said. “It takes me over. That what makes it so dangerous. It operates without thinking of consequences.” I shuddered. “I couldn’t think of what else to do.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms ov
er his chest. “You talk as if it’s something else. Like, you were possessed by something.”
I nodded. “Well, that’s exactly what it is.” I locked my gaze back onto my cup. My eyelids started to feel heavy.
“If you say so,” he muttered.
I glanced back up at him. “What do you mean by that?”
He shook his head. “So, what is this place?”
I raised my hands and stood up. “That’s enough for tonight.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And if I want to leave?”
I sighed, and then rubbed my temples. My head was pounding behind my eyelids. “You’ll find that impossible to do, tonight. This place is guarded by magic enchantments.”
He huffed. “Convenient.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.” I started toward the door. At that point, I was so tired I had no idea how I was still upright. “Tomorrow, if you wish to leave, I will take you myself.” I opened the door and waited for him to leave.
He didn’t. Not right away. Instead, he stepped closer to me and half smiled. “Have you figured it out yet?” he asked again.
I just sighed and blinked my heavy eyelids at him.
“Where you know me from?”
I took my hand off the doorknob. “No,” I said, a rush of anticipation coursing through me. “Where?”
His smile widened until it was almost full. Reaching out, he tucked a rogue curl back behind my ear. “What fun would that be?” With that, he turned to leave.
I stared after him, blinking. “Wait,” I called when he was almost halfway down the hall.
He stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Are you serious?”
Without another word, he continued his path down the hall and turned the corner.
* * *
I had barely settled into bed when there was a knock on the door. Frowning at the banging, I sank into my sheets and called out, “Come in.”
Aubrey appeared in the doorway, with her always serious expression on. As she moved toward me, she clasped her hands behind her back. “I know you’re tired,” she said as soon as she stopped at my bedside.
I blinked up at her.
“I wanted to let you know, I have three scryers working on their location.”
A lump formed in my throat thinking about Douglass, Katie, and Zed. I glanced down at my fingers. They were wrinkled and I really needed some lotion. “I’m so sorry.”
She sat down. “It wasn’t your fault. You haven’t been to the surface in so long.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Good,” she said, drawing my gaze. “Then you won’t let this happen again.”
I almost smiled. That was why I kept Aubrey close to me.
“You want to tell me about this shifter?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Not much to tell.”
“We haven’t let anyone we don’t know down here since Evan.” Her voice was almost harsh.
I couldn’t even think about Evan without having a near panic attack. He was the witch who turned out to be a witch hunter and almost gave up our location. It was one of the rare times I let out the Anchor.
With a shudder, I said, “He isn’t an Evan.”
“I hope not.”
I stared past her, to the door. “I really should get some sleep.”
She stood up right away. “Very well.” She reached out as if she wanted to offer comfort, only to pull back at the last moment. “Goodnight, Lawrence.”
I nodded, and then stared at her retreating figure as she ducked behind the door. Then I fell into dreamless sleep.
What felt like five minutes later, someone was shaking me back awake.
“No.” I swatted at the unwelcome interruption like it was a fly. “Go, away.”
“Lawrence,” Aubrey muttered, shaking me harder. “Lawrence, you have to wake up.”
Slowly, I blinked my eyes open. Then I sat up, slightly dizzy, darting my gaze around in confusion. She shook me again and I threw my hands up in the air. “Okay.” I tossed my blanket off and focused my blurry vision on her. “I’m up. This better be good.”
Her expression was grave and it twisted something in my gut. “Oh, no,” I whispered. “You found them?”
She stood up straight. “You better come with me.”
I closed my eyes briefly, bracing myself against potential bad news, then got to my feet, pulled on a tattered, orange robe, and followed Aubrey down the hall. Trailing her, I tried to focus only on the feel of rough concrete on my bare feet. I used to run through the dim tunnels of the Underground the first few years I was here. Always barefoot. At first, I did it for the discomfort. The pain in my feet always took my mind off more crippling pain. After that, I always did it because my feet had toughened, and I figured if enough movement could do that for the body, it could do it for the heart as well.
I still haven’t had much luck.
Aubrey turned a corner and I followed her into the Tubman library. She sighed and then went to the table where she picked up a black mirror. I sat in one of the well-worn chairs and frowned.
“Mercy?” I asked.
She nodded. “She hasn’t picked up a communication in a while,” I said, stalling. Mercy was a witch in the Underground aligned with the air element. She was our best source of intel about the outside world. Lately, she had been quiet.
“She was especially motivated.”
Guilt bit into my stomach. “She’s always been so fond of Douglass.”
“Watch it,” she said in a hard voice.
I glanced up, trying not to let the hurt show on my face. I knew she was only trying to keep me focused. I tended to lose myself to feeling. Taking a deep breath, I waved a hand over the mirror. The small amount of magic it took to activate Mercy’s scrying mirror broke me out into a cold sweat. I still hadn’t recovered from letting out the Anchor.
The surface of the mirror rippled, like a lake disturbed from a skipping rock. Then Mercy’s communication emerged in the dark glass.
It was a Purity report.
“The Party has communicated that given the most recent attack from a witch from the alleged Underground, we must remain ever more vigilant. The Party leaders have instituted a state of emergency, allowing the President to operate without council for the next sixty days.”
The picture rippled again and was replaced by a face that was all too familiar. He had a few more wrinkles, and his sun-soaked hair had a few more gray hairs, but there he was―Jackson Stephens, leader of the Party.
“Until we are safe, the former policy in the Purity camps will be in effect, including the extermination policy in Camp D. I want to remind citizens that these people are not human. They are abominations. And if they refuse to work for the common good of our nation, they must be eliminated for the future of our children.”
Then I appeared on the screen. As the Anchor. My face was twisted into some sick delight as I taunted and put down those purity officers. The audio on the mirror faded into the background as my heart pounded in my ears. My mouth watered like I was about to throw up. I waved my hand above the mirror, ending the spell that allowed me to see the visions Mercy stored inside of it.
I blinked at Aubrey, dazed.
She held her head higher. “There was more.”
I blinked again.
“Mercy caught footage taken from the security cameras at Camp D.”
My heart tightened in my chest, like it was becoming smaller with every word she spoke.
“I visually confirmed that Douglass, Katie, and Zed are still alive. They’ve been shipped to Camp D.”
Chapter 6
I had to get out of that room.
What had I done?
Camp D. It was the camp where they exterminated people by the thousands as if they were no better than cockroaches. In the Underground, we called it Camp Death.
My head was swimming. I started to run. My feet wer
e no longer bothered by the rough paths that led through the Underground. I wish they were. I wanted to hurt. Needed to hurt.
Not only had I put three people I loved in danger, I had put thousands, if not millions, of innocent lives in danger. All because I let out the Anchor. Because I gave them a reason to put their fear above everything else.
I crashed into a wall and fell backward. Blinking up at the ceiling, I let the pounding in my head give me a slight punishment. It wasn’t enough. Tears burned in my eyes. For a moment, I simply let them fall. Then I sat up and wiped them roughly away from my skin.
Tears weren’t going to help anyone. I got to my feet and slid down the slight hill that led to the lower levels, and then turned a corner. I started running until I was in the gym. All I wanted was to be alone, so of course he was there.
I stared as he ran up the far wall, planted his feet against the ceiling, and somersaulted to the ground, landing gracefully on his feet. Breathing hard, he turned to me and used his arm to wipe the sweat off his face.
I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you up?” I scanned him up and down. “And why aren’t you ever wearing a shirt?”
He gave me a look. “Bad mood?”
I matched his look and then turned on my heels. Before I could move another inch, he was in front of me, blocking my way. I stumbled back and gritted my teeth. “Whatever you’re about to say, now is not the time.”
“I need to get out of here,” he said with wild eyes.
“Yeah.” I leaned back against the wall and rubbed my temples. “Like I said, not the time.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I asked, “What are you doing here, anyway?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and then he retreated into the corner, where he started wailing on an old heavy bag. I bit my lip in hesitation before pushing out from the wall, and crossing the room to join him. I stared at the sweat forming in beads along his muscular form. The intensity in his green eyes. It was going to drive me crazy. I knew him from somewhere, but when I tried to reach for the memory, it was darkness.
I reached out and held the punching bag in place.