He had grown used to the device translating the Feroxian speech in his thoughts. As Grant knelt in the corner, watching, he couldn’t be sure how much he’d truly understood. However, what had been clear was that each of those Alpha leaders had been waiting their entire lives for the news that the prophet brought them.
Their gods had spoken, and they had given the prophet the signs. The unnamed evil—the abomination foreseen to one day threaten their gods’ plan for existence—had been given a name. The war for the promised land was soon to come
Their gods had said that the prophet would bear a son—this son would be the harbinger. He would be the only male born of an Apha in seven generations, and his mother’s womb would not bear another child until the son’s life ended.
The birth of Dams the Gate was the first sign.
The harbinger was to be born with a single purpose—to name the evil. It was through this name that their gods would know the nature of their enemy. Their gods forbade the harbinger from entering the gates. When they felt the disturbance, the touch of the abomination’s evil on reality, their gods had known the time had come for the evil to be named, and thus compelled the harbinger to enter the gate. His sacrifice had given their god’s the name—Brings the Rain.
The sacrifice of Dams the Gate was the second sign.
Their gods needed this evil tested. At their command, the prophet sent a warrior respected by all the tribes. If this warrior did not return with a trophy, then their gods would know the signs were true. The prophet had sent Bleeds the Stone, and the enemy had slain their warrior.
The fall of Bleeds the Stone was the third sign.
When Brings the Rain began to build his army, an abomination of his own kind would betray him. This betrayer would come to them through the gateway of Echoes the Borealis, and would see the wisdom of their gods. Like the Ferox, he would seek to be made into more than an abomination, to become a part of the great plan.
Malkier’s speech as their prophet was too well rehearsed. He had known what would follow—nothing said between him and his brother behind the closed door had changed his plans. Grant had only been exposed to the Ferox beliefs for little over a week, but he understood that he’d been cast as the betraying “abomination” in Malkier’s prophesying—their supposed gods claiming him as their fourth sign. It seemed the Ferox would blindly accept anything their prophet said as the unquestionable truth of their gods, as long as the story was framed as part of their predestined journey to the promised land.
With each of these “signs,” Malkier turned mistakes into the preconceived plan of their gods. A narrative where the prophet had not gone against his own decree that Alphas would not enter the gates, but had only done as he must to bring forth the harbinger. Dams the Gate had not died in an act of rebellion, but in an act of sacrifice. Burns the Flame was not being punished for a slight against their gods, but was a faithful servant. All those males inciting a rebellion, angry for not being allowed access to the gates, they would soon be part of the war—the fight for the promised land itself. The Ferox were all prepared to follow Malkier where he led them.
As they left the tunnels, Grant and Malkier had not encountered any of the Ferox. The prophet had ordered their path to the gateway deserted. The Ferox asked no questions.
Brings the Rain and the woman bonded to him were to be removed from the equation today, and Grant had agreed to carry out the execution. Grant’s understanding was that Malkier did not wish to return in a state of male estrus. Tonight, Malkier had ordered Cede to isolate these gates, manipulating combatants away from their intended destinations. When Grant and Malkier stepped through, they would bypass all other traffic, and Cede would route them to an empty express lane of sorts.
When they reached the gateway, Malkier finally spoke. “This is where you enter,” he said. “I will join you shortly on the other side. Step onto the platform. The gateway will activate when the stone within you comes into proximity.”
Grant nodded, and gave no delay. As he drew near, he heard a hum beginning to resonate from the platform, growing louder the closer he came until the planet’s black dust rippled in waves on the surface. He looked back to Malkier to see if this was normal, and the alien’s face showed no concern.
Grant stepped onto the surface. When his feet were in place, he blinked, and Malkier was gone—already off to enter the woman’s gateway.
A familiar sphere took shape around him, the same strange circle of black and red he’d stepped into the night he trailed Jonathan and the girl back up to the rooftops.
Grant smiled. His entire life had been about this moment, and he, too, was headed for the promised land.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
THURSDAY| OCTOBER 14, 2005 | 6:00 AM | SEATTLE
SO MUCH ANGST, Leah thought.
The hour was still early and Leah sat alone at her kitchen table with an empty envelope that had been disguised as junk mail torn open in front of her.
The translation of Rylee’s journal was troubling. The entries were bi-polar, either reading like the words of a person who had given into self-pity or someone rebelling against that very same pity. Ultimately though, the girl’s thoughts were leaving Leah frustrated—as though she was missing a decoder.
Olivia’s team had experienced the same, going so far as to bring in a second translator. The entries were only Rylee’s reflections on her experiences, but the “experiences” themselves were seldom given an explicit description. Rylee was venting on the pages, not giving a personal account. This forced Leah to infer what had happened from the context, and for the most part, she felt lost in the snapshots of a stranger’s rambling, disconnected thoughts.
There were references to The Mark. She referred to him as Heyer, a name consistent with others The Cell had investigated. Rylee’s feelings toward him were clear, but they were little help as far as giving them something they could use.
…Why does he want me to think I had a choice? I didn’t volunteer, I was drafted. Why does he think I can bear this? I don’t think I can—I don’t want to be the type of person who could. His face, his worthless sympathy, makes me so damn angry. You aren’t human, Heyer! You don’t understand what you took.
I hate speaking to him, makes me feel so damn powerless, but I have to… He needs to learn what a caged animal is capable of…
Rylee had written a lot on the road between Manhattan and Seattle. At first, those entries seemed more hopeful than the rest, but the trip had taken far longer than it should have. Rylee hadn’t been in a hurry—didn’t want to face the fear that she wouldn’t find whatever she’d been looking for. Leah kept waiting for her to drop some clue as to what it was she was after, but Rylee never said anything specific. She only held fast to the belief that once she took “it,” The Mark would have no choice but to negotiate. It wasn’t until Leah neared the end of the entries that she started suspecting that Rylee had only ever had a destination—didn’t know what “it” was herself.
The entries became less frequent once she had arrived in Seattle. Two days in, Rylee was already growing worried that she had driven across the country to stay in a cheap motel room and stare at the ceiling. These entries read like a detective waiting for a clue in a case that had gone cold. It was as though she’d been lost in the woods, and Seattle had been her single breadcrumb. The city gave her a place to start, but now that she was here, she just needed one more crumb to know which direction she was headed.
She hadn’t expected that there would only be one more breadcrumb. That she wouldn’t find a clue but a person. When she made this discovery, she’d lost her way—was no longer certain about anything.
Is the bastard manipulating me? Does he even know I left? He never got in my way—never showed up on the road to turn me around. I hate not knowing who the fool is…. I feel like if I don’t know, then it must be me.
Dammit, the moment my leverage is right there in front of me… I suddenly don’t know what I want? I was trapped in a cage
alone, but I blink, and suddenly realize I have a cellmate… and it’s just a man, a stupid man, and it’s absurd…. But if Jonathan is in this cage with me… I’m not even sure what side of the bars I want be on… I’m more trapped than I ever was.
The dates of her entries were another matter. Some, but not all, didn’t sync with what Leah and The Cell knew. The ones that were out of sync cast doubt over the accuracy of any time line they constructed. Some of the entries seemed like they must have been describing a dream. They spoke of physical intimacy that Leah knew Jonathan could never have actually engaged in. Yet, Leah had been a conflicted mess reading Rylee’s description of their first encounter—what was literal or metaphor was frustratingly indiscernible.
…didn’t know where I ended and he began. I didn’t want to know. I’ve not felt so close to safety until we were stripped of everything. Seeing his vulnerabilities unguarded, I no longer hate my own. Where did we go? Did Jonathan take my hand or did I give it? Did he give me a piece of himself, his soul? I feel it…
That entry, Leah knew without a doubt, was dated before they could have possibly met. Jonathan honestly didn’t seem to know that anything had happened between them. Yet, this was the first time Rylee mentioned his name. Leah couldn’t dismiss this as a mistaken date—the entry that followed described what Leah had witnessed in their driveway far too accurately.
…He didn’t know me. He pitied me like I was confused. Why are you doing this to me? What am I being punished for? I’m not something for you to break. It’s cruel, giving me hope just to tear it away. Did you want me to see what I was planning to hold for ransom? Did you know—what it would do to me? You erased me? Heyer?
Rylee kept talking to The Mark in her entries, though most often, she seemed to be begging him for answers to questions she would never ask.
Leah couldn’t help but feel they would be allies under any other circumstances—that Rylee was a missed opportunity. If The Cell had been able to locate her before she had made contact with Jonathan, turning her against the alien wouldn’t have been a hard sell. Rylee had already been looking for a way to turn the tables, and The Cell, unlike the alien, would have happily let her volunteer. But now? Would Rylee still betray The Mark if she believed she was betraying Jonathan by proxy?
Meanwhile, here Leah was, trying to convince The Cell not to bring Jonathan to harm.
The irony was that both Rylee and herself had come here thinking Jonathan was the weapon they would use to get what they wanted from The Mark. Now, it seemed both had lost that resolve.
Jonathan stood in Mr. Fletcher’s hardware store, staring at a padlock display rack. He wanted to replace the one he’d destroyed with something as substantial. He found his eyes were drawn to a brand called Kryptonite—probably because of his roommates. It was still early enough that he was the only customer in the store. As he plucked the lock off the wall, he heard the footsteps of his old boss behind him.
“It’s a solid brand,” Mr. Fletcher said.
Jonathan turned to him and nodded. “Expensive though,” he said.
“Hey,” the old man winked. “You still get your discount.”
“Thanks, James,” Jonathan said.
Mr. Fletcher grinned and nodded, but a moment later, he pulled off his glasses and his expression become frank as he placed them into his front pocket. “Mr. Donaldson was here yesterday. I asked how you were doing on the crew. He said you were out of town,” Mr. Fletcher said. “For a funeral.”
Jonathan closed his eyes uncomfortably as he was given another reminder of how bad he was at lying. He’d been distracted by what he’d found in that footlocker. Still, he was annoyed with himself. How had it not occurred to him that the one person he should have avoided after lying to his current boss was their one shared acquaintance?”
“I know how it looks,” Jonathan said. “I promise, I’m not blowing off work. I needed time to take care of a friend. I didn’t think the truth would sound as urgent as it is without going into details I didn’t want to share. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell him you saw me here.”
Mr. Fletcher shrugged and his expression relaxed. “Never known you to be a slacker, kid,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
They stepped up to the register, neither really in any hurry.
“So, not that it’s any of my business, but what do you need such a heavy-duty lock for?” the old man asked as he scanned the barcode.
“I found an old box that belonged to my father,” Jonathan said. “I had to cut off the lock to see what was inside. Didn’t expect to find some of his old firearms.”
Mr. Fletcher nodded. “You know anything about guns, kid? Ever used one?”
“No, not really,” Jonathan replied. “Dad took me to a range a few times when I was twelve. Don’t remember much.”
Mr. Fletcher nodded. “Well, it’s smart that you want them safe, but if you plan on keeping a weapon around, make sure you find someone you trust who can teach you how to use it. Until then, I wouldn’t let anyone know you have it.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Honestly, a gun safe is really the better way to go,” Mr. Fletcher said.
“Not something I can afford at the moment.”
Mr. Fletcher gave an understanding nod. “Thing is, a padlock on a box is only safe if the box can’t be stolen. Weapons are a bigger responsibility than most people re—” He trailed off, chuckling at himself as he handed Jonathan his purchase. “You know what, I’ll spare you the lecture. You wouldn’t be here buying a lock if you were a moron.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
WHEN RYLEE WOKE, she showered, dressed, and slipped the pocket watch into her jacket pocket before grabbing her bag and heading down to the garage. She found Jonathan wasn’t home, but knew he had been there when she spotted the chest he’d brought back with him. She stepped down the stairs, saw the broken lock, the stack of old letters, and the picture frame.
Sitting down beside the box, she picked up the frame, a faint smile on her face at seeing Evelyn holding Jonathan in the hospital. When she was done, she placed it back where she’d found it—but when she put her hand on the ground to stand, she felt the cold metal of the lock beneath her palm. Picking it up, she studied where the steel shackle had been severed.
A knock at the side door drew her attention. The door opened a few inches and Leah’s voice entered.
“Tibbs?” Leah said, waiting a few seconds before she pushed the door open and stepped inside. “You here?”
Rylee set down the lock, her face going cold with disgust at the sound of the woman’s voice. She made no effort to respond, only rose to her feet and thumbed the watch in her pocket as she heard Leah pulling the door shut behind her
“Oh, Rylee,” Leah said, startled when she turned around. She recovered and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
Crossing her arms, Rylee gave Leah a contemptuous head to toe once-over with her eyes, but didn’t respond.
“Is he…” Leah frowned, picking up on the cold reception. “Um, is he—”
“Jonathan isn’t home,” Rylee interrupted. “I’ll be sure to let him know you came by.”
Leah pulled back, seeming unsure if the animosity was truly directed at her. “Rylee, is everything alright?”
She narrowed her eyes, a long breath escaping her before she responded, “Fine.”
Silence followed.
Rylee’s face remained an impatient stare. Leah’s eyes, despite feeling uncomfortable, seemed to be calculating. Rylee watched as she doubled down, still seeming to hope she had caught Rylee at a bad moment. She took on a look of sympathy of all things.
“Uh,” Leah said. “I might be reading you all wrong, but if you need to vent, I…”
“Reading,” Rylee spit the word out with an angry chuckle. She leaned forward. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough reading, Leah?”
Rylee saw Leah’s disguise falter, the faintest touch of guilt slipping
past her facade.
“I don’t know what that is supposed—”
“You should leave,” she stopped her.
Leah’s eyes narrowed, anger flaring at being dismissed. “Rylee, please, you don’t understa—”
“I know what you are, and Jonathan’s gonna know as soon as he gets home,” Rylee interrupted. “So now, you’re going to leave or….” She tilted her head to crack the vertebrae in her neck. “Keep talking,” she began, “and I’ll throw you out on your ass.”
The moment stretched out as Rylee stared Leah down. Leah stared back, her expression growing nervous. The tense silence between them was filled suddenly by the sound of an approaching motorcycle. Neither woman blinked. When Leah took a step forward, Rylee couldn’t tell if it was toward her or the door, so she took a step closer—she didn’t want Leah to think for one second that she was bluffing. The engine drew closer. Leah’s eyes closed.
“Rylee, I was scare—”
Rylee’s fist connected before she could finish her sentence, landing hard under her eye.
Leah staggered back, losing her balance momentarily. Her hand went to her cheek once she was able to steady herself. She tried to shake it off, hair dangling over her face before she planted her feet and rose back to her full height. A hot red welt was starting to bloom under her eye.
“Rylee, please listen!”
The second she started speaking, Rylee stepped forward and grabbed her by the collar, reeling back to hit her again.
“I’m pregnant,” Leah whispered.
Rylee flinched, felt uncertainty roll through her. Her voice betrayed her. “What?”
Her fist, cocked to deliver another blow, began to shake.
“No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You’re playing me… you read my diary… you think…”
Leah shook her head slowly, eyes begging for Rylee to understand that she wouldn’t lie, not about this. “I haven’t told him. I was going to, but then you came and I… I had to know what you were to him.”
The Never Paradox (Chronicles Of Jonathan Tibbs Book 2) Page 48