I do as he says, leaning against the wall as he turns back to the cabinet and rummages through. “So, how’d you end up here? Alone in the middle of nowhere, training people like me…”
His voice is muffled as he continues to burrow. “I’ll do anything to help the cause if it gets magic out of this world.”
“Do you really believe it’s evil?” I ask after a moment.
His shoulders tense and he appears, a box in his hands. He strides to the counter and sets it down, then turns back towards me with a small voice. “Yes, I do. My dad was magic. We tried to hide him for years until one day he just lost control, went berserk… My mom tried to protect us and got killed in the process. So, yeah… I was glad to be drafted. It meant that I could do my part to end magic. I’ve seen what it can do.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as he wipes at his eyes, ducking his head. He does look incredibly young, even for the new draft age. When the war occurred, many of the nation’s men died. Each year since, the age of enlistment seems to get younger as Reed gets more desperate for able-bodied soldiers. Markus can’t be more than fourteen, and yet, he’s already so full of hate.
With his back to me, he collects himself enough to let out an angry bark. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get over here.” I do as he says, sensing that right now would not be the time to push Markus any farther than I have already. He folds the tabs of the box shut before I can see what’s inside and sticks it on the floor of the closet.
“What are you doing?” I stick my hands on my hips as naturally, he ignores me, sticking a key inside the lock and jiggling it back and forth. Satisfied, he turns to me with a dour expression. “Before you can know what’s in the box, you need to successfully pick this lock.”
***
FOR TWO DAYS, I SPEND my time watching old videos on mute to try and read their lips, training in basic fight techniques, swearing as I try to pry open locks with bobby pins and learning what information to look for when I get to the camp. Part of my frustration is from Markus and his lackluster training skills. When the soldiers come for me on the last day, I’m feeling only slightly more prepared for what’s to come.
“Now, remember,” Markus reminds me as the car crawls to a stop, “you stay in the shadows. The things that you learned here are only to be used in extreme cases. You don’t fight, you don’t engage unless completely necessary. They need to trust you, and trust is earned. You can’t get in without them letting you in. That’s how the barrier works. They’ll be suspicious so you need to make up some convincing lie about how you found them. Always stay in the public point of view, right where they can see you. The more you fit in, the more you’ll learn. If you cause trouble—”
“I know, I know.” The zipper of my old school bag hisses as I pull it shut. It used to be loaded with notebooks and pens; now it’s filled with a first-aid kit, a water bottle, several ready-to-eat meals, the communicator, an army knife, a jacket, matches and a flashlight. “If I mess up, I’ll be killed. I promise I’ll play it safe. My family’s lives depend on it.”
“Good, because there’s a lot resting on your shoulders. You’ll succeed in bringing these people to justice. We’ll be with you along the way. Now, we’re on a pass called Rabbit Ears, just a few miles from town. You’ll walk the rest of the way, just follow the highway. You have the map, just in case?”
I nod, producing the crinkled old paper from my lap. Markus gives a satisfied nod, “Good. Oh, and a fair warning: the state patrol roams this area quite often. Just because you’re working for Reed doesn’t mean they’ll believe it. You’re now on the National Wizard Registry, so if they find you, they will arrest you.”
“Good to know,” I whisper under my breath, assessing the empty streets around me. It used to be a busy part of town, but with time’s curse and the war’s heavy hand, it’s slowly become less and less population.
“Oh!” Markus reaches underneath the seat and digs out the box I’d rescued from the closet. I never got to see inside it. When I clicked open the lock, Markus, in return, confiscated my treasure and told me that he’d get to it later.
I don’t hesitate as he places it in my hands, ripping the box open like a child on Christmas day. I produce a tiny, ant-sized object and weigh it in my palm, looking to Markus for some sort of explanation.
“It’s the world’s tiniest microphone,” he says with a sly grin, “but don’t let its size fool you. It’s been refined through time into one of the best pieces of technology to exist. It’ll pick up sound from any room, regardless of vocal tone or background noise. When you get to camp, put it on. Keep it out of plain sight—let no one see that you wear it. It should be pretty simple to hide. President Reed and his team have their own which will connect to yours so that they can hear everything you can. You’ll discuss with the President each night during your calls.”
I nod, keeping my mouth in a firm line as I deposit the tiny device carefully in the front pocket of my backpack and zip it up. Reed will be listening, no matter what I say and do. The thought hangs over my head like an ominous cloud.
“I suppose that’s it then,” Markus gives me a final long look before the door opens behind me and Reed’s men are grabbing at my arms. “Goodbye, Kenadee. I trust you won’t disappoint our nation’s leader.”
“Wait!” I call, blinking in the broad daylight as the car doors slam shut. Suddenly, everything feels so overwhelming. I’m doing this, I’m really headed into a camp of rogue criminals. I’m a government spy. I’m not ready. I reach for the door handle as the sleek black car purrs to a start, already pulling away.
I stand in the deserted highway, watching, even long after the car disappears around the bend.
7 MY BOOTS CLUNK OBNOXIOUSLY against the pavement as I walk, feeling the thin mountain air taking its toll on my lungs and cursing the brand-new leather on these shoes as they chafe against my skin. A cool breeze laces its way through the aspen trees, sending them into a whispering flurry. I shiver, tilting my head back to examine the graying sky. Sure enough, a single drop of rain lands on my cheek. Moments later, the soft pattering of rain begins to speckle the pavement.
“C’mon!” I groan, ducking my head and slipping underneath a tree. I rest my bag against and rock and dig inside, looking for my coat. Once I find it, I slip it over my goosebump-ridden arms and reach back into the bag for the map. I’ve been walking for what feels like hours—where is this camp?
The rain crashes down harder and a clap of thunder roars, reverberating loudly through the forest. The map crinkles loudly in my hands, already damp and fading despite my efforts to keep it dry. I shut it with a sigh. It’s no use. The red pen that Markus had used to mark my path now bleeds across the map in a blur of color.
Tucking the map back into the pocket of my bag, I prepare to make my escape. Whether I like it or not, I have to keep moving. Staying and waiting out the storm is not an option—at this rate, everything in my bag is soiled. If Markus were here, he’d have a fit at my lackluster survival skills. I’m about to grab the bag and head on my way when a flash of silver makes my heart drop in my chest.
A state patrol pulls over on the side of the road, just beyond the trees.
“Crap,” I hiss, ducking down. Markus’ words taunt my mind; if I get caught by the police, none of Reed’s promises will matter. I’ll be arrested, sent to die. I’ll never get the chance to save my family.
I look to the forest, then back at the highway patrol. There’s a chance that I’m hidden well enough in the trees that I won’t be seen. I can go deeper and wait for him to leave but—
Another loud crack of thunder ripples through the trees.
If there’s a lightning storm, then surrounded by a bunch of trees is the last place I want to be. Do I dare risk going deeper in the forest?
I kneel down beside the trunk of the tree, narrowing my eyes to try and see the officer inside. He takes a big sip out of a mug, then reaches for something in the seat behind him. I hold my breath as another squad car pulls
up behind him.
I have to make a move. I can’t stay here.
I turn and bolt towards the woods, rushing as fast as I can despite the underbrush threatening to trip me. I don’t see the log until it’s too late—my ankle lets out a sickening crack and I go colliding with a yelp against the muddy forest floor.
“Who’s there?” Comes a man’s yell.
I force myself into a sitting position, biting back the scream as I try to move my foot. Red hot pain flashes in my swimming vision as the shouts grow louder.
No, no, no! I have to get out of here.
The rain pelts against my skin as I look around, trying to calm my racing heart. A tree branch hangs a few feet above me—if I can reach it, I can try and get myself up. Slipping my backpack off my shoulders, I throw it into the air, trying to catch the strap against the branch. It snags on the end, bending underneath the weight, and sends the bag flopping to the ground.
Footsteps crack as both officers appear behind me, guns raised. “Hands in the air where we can see them!” one barks.
This can’t be happening…
My body shakes, a mixture of pain and cold. I raise my trembling hands into the air as they take a few steps forward. A lanky man with a bushy mustache heads for my backpack, while the other, the heftier man that I saw in the first car, kneels beside my injured foot. I let out a sharp cry as he reaches for my boot. He grimaces and reaches for the buzzing radio on his shirt. “We need a 10-52…”
I search the trees desperately for a way out. I have to do something—I won’t just sit here and get arrested. Suddenly, an odd feeling overcomes me; an overwhelming electric sensation, building up—too much to contain. Everything seems to move in slow motion as my body takes complete control.
It’s the strike of a match, the electric shimmer of lightning blazing through the sky.
Suddenly I’m not a terrified teenage girl. I’m fear and fire, death incarnate.
“What the—” The lanky policeman is swept off his feet with a lazy flick of my hand, the backpack flying from his grip and landing somewhere in the distance. I deposit him next to the cowering form of the heftier officer. The power continues to ripple through me and I hope for a moment that it never stops. I’m powerful; I’m dangerous.
They’ve never seen anything like me.
I let out a manic laugh and lift my hands up. Flames rise from the ground, tiny at first, then larger at my command. The rain still falls, the fog still hangs in a thick curtain around us, but the fire continues to dance. It wields itself around them in a circle, trapping the officers within its deadly grasp.
I look from the scene to my hands. My powerful, terrifying hands. They tremble in exhilaration and pain and fear. I draw in a ragged breath, realizing what I’ve just done.
Magic.
I did magic.
But… how?
Everything comes roaring back all at once. My vision swims and my ankle throbs. The rain begins to slow as I look to the cops, now surrounded by a wall of fire.
There’s the sound of footsteps behind me, then a slow clapping. Both cops look up in horror, realization dawning over their features.
A low female voice comes from behind me, sending chills up my spine. “Well don’t stop screaming on my account, gentlemen.”
8 “NOW, NOW, NOT SO FAST. I don’t bite,” the voice says as I raise my hands, trying to summon the magic that had come so easily before. She emerges from behind me, walking slowly as she takes in my pathetic form. I feel my jaw fly open. I know this girl.
Harlow Creston. The one Reed warned me about.
She regards me curiously, her blonde head cocked slightly to the right, her eyes pale and keen, noticing everything. She looks like a wolf, calculating and fierce. There’s something haunting about her, something deadly.
Her voice doesn’t fluctuate from its quiet purr. “You have one chance to tell me what you’re doing in this forest, or I’ll break your other foot and leave you for dead. Your choice.”
I gulp. I hate that I feel so small and terrified in her presence. If she learns the truth, she’ll probably kill me here and now. Words spill out of my mouth in a nervous cluster, “There’s this camp—I was looking for it. It’s for people like me…” I make a show of looking to the cops and lowering my voice, “Magic people.”
In a heartbeat she’s at my side, hands poised as some invisible force wraps itself around my neck. My lungs cry desperately for air.
“What do you know about the camp?” she hisses. When I don’t answer, her hands twist, the magic clenching me tighter. My hands fly to my throat, trying to claw free.
I finally manage to croak out a lie, “Just that it’s for witches and wizards. I’m magic. I wanted to find it—my mom kicked me out!”
She doesn’t say anything, but releases her hold and I’m sent falling backwards. Everything hurts as the world goes momentarily blurry. I fight through the pain, watching as Harlow lets down the wall of fire and talks to the cop in a low voice. After a moment, they just nod then head calmly in the direction of their cars, not looking back.
“What’d you—what’d you do to them?” My voice is jumbled and hoarse. My body hurts…
Harlow crouches beside me, a cruel smile on her lips. “You’re in luck. You get to come back with me.”
Before I can react, her hands do their dance and everything begins to dissolve. She says something that I can’t understand as the world around me fades to ash.
9 MY MIND BUZZES AS THE world comes rushing back at me. My thoughts and memories are next. The woods, the police, the fire. Harlow. Camp.
What did she do to me?
My eyes flutter open and I wince at the too-bright light staring back at me. Ignoring the bile rising in my throat, I force myself up into a sitting position. My heart beats anxiously, the deep tenor of a drum in my chest as I look around.
I’m in a hospital room. I’m lying in an old bed, my wrists shackled, and clothed in a white and blue speckled hospital robe. The gentle beeps of machines are the only sound in the room besides my shaky breathing.
The door clicks open and a dark-haired girl peeks through. She seems around my age, with beautiful dark skin and a long, graceful neck. “Well, good morning, sunshine!”
“Wha—where am I?” My voice is groggy and faint.
The girl ignores me and grabs a chair from the far corner, scooting it next to the bed. She plops down and uses a stethoscope to listen to my heart. “Just breathe normally.”
I do as she says, trying to hold back the million questions I’d like to ask.
Satisfied, she removes the stethoscope and places it on the counter behind her, the chair rolling loudly against the tile. “You had a broken foot. Luckily, it was a clean break, so it was an easy mend. The spell cast on you was the real doozy—knocked you out for a few days.”
Well, that explains it. My mind replays the scene in the forest. Harlow must have knocked me out so that she could bring me back to the camp.
I turn towards the girl, prying further. I have to make sure that this is really it. For all I know, Harlow could have sent me off somewhere and been on her way. “So, where am I, exactly?”
She gives me a small, sad smile. “I don’t think I’m allowed to answer that. You scared lots of people with your arrival here. I think the leaders would like to talk to you first.”
So, it is true. I’m here—I’m at the camp.
The girl chuckles at my wide-eyed gaze, “No worries, you’re not in trouble. They’re just curious mainly. You have to admit that it’s strange that a girl like you was walking through the forest alone. You are looking much better, though. No offense, but when Harlow brought you in, you weren’t looking too hot.”
I play stupid. “Harlow? The one that threatened me back there?”
The girl laughs brightly. “In her defense, she thought you were trouble. She didn’t expect to find someone capable of magic wandering through the woods. What were you thinking?” Using a flashlight, sh
e shines a light into each of my eyes, one hand gently on my forehead.
“I-I don’t really know…” I mumble, wondering how much of the story Harlow told them.
“Well, it was stupid of you! It’s not safe anywhere for us.”
I say nothing, bowing my head like a child as she scolds me.
She scribbles on a clipboard and places it at the end of the bed. “Alright, well, I’m gonna warn you now. The leaders will be stopping by later to chat. They’re not quite convinced of your intentions.” She disposes of her gloves and flings them over her shoulders. I blink in surprise as they disappear in mid-air. The girl doesn’t seem to notice, “I’m Delia by the way. It’s nice to finally meet you! Now that you’re awake, I mean.”
I sigh, leaning back into my pillow, stomach queasy with anxiety as Delia gives me a warm smile and disappears in the hall. So much has happened in the past few days. So much is at stake—I could’ve blown everything. As my mind drifts to Reed, a terrible thought comes over me.
My backpack is still in the woods.
The communicator, the bug… any way I could have communicated with Reed. They’re all gone.
Horror fogs my mind. I can’t get past the overwhelming thought of Reed as he realizes that I’m not around to answer his calls. What does he think right now? My heart races for my mother, left alone at the killer’s home. She’s probably at the White House with the president, being threatened and tortured. And Eli. It’s been years of imprisonment. If he’s alive, my guess is that it won’t be for much longer.
I just ruined everything.
***
A FEW HOURS LATER, A gentle knock comes at my door. Delia pokes her head in again, a happy-go-lucky grin lighting her face. “You have visitors…” she says in a sing-song tone. She opens the door wider to reveal a dark-haired young man with beautiful deep green eyes followed by Harlow.
I barely recognize her after being so disoriented in the woods. She’s cleaned up, blonde hair fastened back by a clip and wearing a collared blouse tucked neatly into her trousers. I can’t help but think that she looks different from the girl in the mugshot. Devoid of dirt, mud, and bruises, she’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. The only signs of her once being a prisoner are the two faint scars, ghost-like on her cheekbones.
The Traitor's Crux (The Dark Powers Book 1) Page 4