Sentinel

by Emerald Dodge

Each hut had a campfire in front of it, and people were sitting by them, warming their hands or cooking meals in pots. As we passed, they looked up and stared, some with interest, but others with hard disapproval. I recognized several of the people: the Dufresne family, Morgan and Jeffrey Saur, Ella St. James, the Granthams.

  Everyone was bundled in odd assortments of secondhand clothes. Many women and girls wore both dresses and pants, or skirts and pants. Mismatched shoes were the norm, their partners usually having been lost or destroyed. Thick sweaters were more common than proper coats. Ragged scarves and hats completed the winter gear. Everything these people wore had come from the charity truck.

  The path widened and branched off as we reached the edge of a meadow in a small valley. In April and May, it was lush and green, full of tiny flowers of yellow, blue, purple, and white that children braided into elaborate flower crowns.

  Now it was dead and yellow-gray, but the amount of people milling around gave it a distinct cheer that had been missing from our walk through the camp thus far.

  Children of all ages chased each other around and through huts, screaming with abandon as they tagged their friends and played games. None of them wore the gray outfits and sashes of future superheroes, indicating that they possessed powers of no value in combat, such as Mason’s ant telepathy. They would grow up and marry, hoping that perhaps one of their own children would bring honor to the camps as a superhero.

  Men chopped wood on large stumps and stacked the logs in neat rows, while women tended to children, prepared meals, and did various chores.

  A group of women about my age sat around a large fire, all of them nursing infants while gossiping. A teenage boy and girl stood in the shadow of a tree, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. They both wore twine bracelets, and I was pleased to see that theirs was probably a love match. A large stack of stiff cardboard boxes in the center of the meadow bore the logo of a large civilian charity—the charity truck had been by recently.

  “Marco?” A high, sweet voice called my cousin’s name. I didn’t immediately recognize the voice. “Marco! It’s Marco! Mommy, it’s Marco! Adora, get Daddy!”

  All at once, three little girls sprinted toward Marco and tackled him, their thick braids bobbing against their backs. His box of toys went flying and the contents spilled out; several curious children ran over to inspect them.

  The rest of us watched in amusement as Marco struggled to get up from beneath his three youngest sisters. All of them shared Marco’s light brown skin, large eyes, and wide grin.

  The smallest, Melissa, had grown several inches in the year since I’d last seen her. She smothered Marco’s face with kisses and squeezed his neck.

  Adora, the next eldest, sat on his knees. She was tall and thin as a rail, with eyes that sparkled from joy.

  Caroline had started puberty in my absence—her body was taking on a womanly form, and she was already nearing Marco’s height. She was very pretty, and I wondered if some camp boy’s father had made her parents an offer of betrothal.

  The fourth and eldest St. James daughter stood a little distance from the fray and watched with a veiled expression.

  Isabel, now fifteen, was my favorite female cousin. I’d given her my beautiful doll in the yellow dress when I’d turned thirteen and declared myself too old for such childish trinkets. She wore an old pink sweater that I also recognized as a former possession of mine, probably given to her by my mother. Her frizzy black hair was held back in a tight braid and decorated with a large pink bow.

  I placed my boxes to the side and waved.

  Instead of throwing herself on her brother, she walked up to me and gave me a hug. “Welcome home, Jilly.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Bells.”

  She stepped away and looked at her sisters, who were tugging on Marco’s sleeves now, shouting about presents. “You three! Let him go, now!”

  The three girls instantly let go of Marco and attacked his backpack, fishing out the contents. As I suspected, they were knit presents for them: a long pink-and-white scarf, a little knit doll, the blue-and-yellow hat he’d worked on the day before, and a hat and glove set in purples and yellows.

  Marco shrugged and wandered over to Isabel. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, yourself,” Isabel said, but she was smiling.

  Marco and Isabel hugged, and he kissed her forehead. “You been good while I’ve been gone?”

  “Someone had to keep the wild animals in line.”

  As she spoke, Melissa and Adora got into a slap fight over the scarf. Caroline stuffed the hats, gloves, and doll under her shirt and sprinted in the direction of the St. James homestead. Her sisters didn’t notice. Ember, Reid, and Benjamin sat on the ground and watched it all, shaking with silent laughter.

  “How are Mom and Dad?” Marco asked, sober.

  I scanned the meadow for my aunt and uncle but couldn’t see them anywhere.

  Isabel heaved a sigh. “They’re okay, but everyone’s worried about the tribunal. Dad got into a fight with Uncle Johnson.” She glanced at me. “About you. I don’t know the details, but I got the impression that they disagree about how severe your, uh, crime was. Our moms just want everyone to calm down. I’ve been busy keeping the girls away from other kids with big mouths.”

  My heart pounded. “What’s the general consensus?”

  “Hard to say, because there’s about five different versions of events going around. Some people think you killed Elder Campbell’s son and declared yourself queen of the city. Other people think nothing happened, and Elder Campbell is mad at Elder St. James for something. Most people believe something in the middle.”

  “That Elder Campbell is a jerk, but I did something bad.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah, pretty much. I figured that whatever happened, it was your best judgment. You’re not stupid.” She paused, then reached toward my neck. “What’s that?” She pulled out my necklace, a Christmas present from Benjamin.

  It was the first and only Christmas present I’d ever received, having never even heard of Christmas before living in Saint Catherine.

  “That’s, um, a gift from a teammate,” I said, unhooking it so she could inspect it more closely.

  Isabel gazed at the silver J that hung at the end of the delicate silver chain. The swirly J, which Benjamin said was a “cursive” letter, contained a sparkling crystal in the middle.

  It was the most beautiful item in my possession, and I rarely took it off. If I kept it tucked under my uniform, it didn’t pose a threat in battle. I liked to think that if Marco’s blue bracelet gave me luck, then my new necklace protected me.

  Isabel stroked the pendant. “It’s so pretty. You’re courting, aren’t you? Is this a kind of betrothal token? Is it from one of the other men that came with you?”

  I gently took the necklace from her and put it back around my neck. “It’s from my teammate Mercury, but it’s not a betrothal token. We’ll talk about that later. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

  Marco smirked, but Isabel nodded. “I didn’t see anything.” She looked over my shoulder. “But I do see our parents coming.”

  I took a deep breath and turned around.

  Walking toward us through the trees were my parents, Gemma and Toby Johnson, flanked by Marco’s parents, my Uncle Harold and my mother’s sister, Aunt Grace.

  Aunt Grace kept shooting fearful glances at my father, whose fists were clenched. My mother exuded exhaustion with every step. Uncle Harold kept his eyes ahead, no doubt searching for his children.

  Ember tapped Reid and Benjamin on the shoulder. The three of them stood up, alert.

  Uncle Harold and Aunt Grace caught Marco’s eye, rushing toward us. She embraced her son and kissed his head. “Marco. I’m so glad to see you.”

  Uncle Harold shook Marco’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, son.” His words were gruff, but I saw the emotion in his eyes.

  Marco grinned. “I’ve saved all the best stories for you
, just like you asked.”

  Uncle Harold pulled his son into a rough side hug and squeezed his shoulders, then went to collect his other children. As he passed me he tilted his head toward me in greeting, but his eyes contained no mirth.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I squared my shoulders and walked toward my parents. A few feet from them, I bit my lip and waved half-heartedly.

  “Hi, Mom.” There was a bluish bruise on her right cheekbone.

  She lifted her hands as an invitation for a hug. “Hello, sweetheart.”

  Before I could accept her embrace, my father crossed the distance between us.

  The moment seemed to break down to its individual parts: his hand coming toward my face, the sharp sting of his skin on mine, the loud collision of his hand against my cheek, the automatic tears in my eyes, the impact of my body as I fell to the cold ground. My cheek smarted. Stupid, stupid me; I’d fallen because I hadn’t braced for the strike. That was as dumb as not expecting Patrick to hit me with the bottle all those months ago.

  My mother was wringing her hands. “Toby, please don’t do this here.”

  “Shut up, Gemma.”

  My mother pursed her lips and backed away.

  I looked up into my father’s face, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry,” didn’t quite fit, because I wasn’t. “Please don’t kill me,” didn’t work, either, because he couldn’t.

  Benjamin saved me the trouble of having to choose a response. He appeared at my side in an instant and helped me to my feet. After brushing me off, he touched my cheek, which cooled, no doubt sparing me the same bruise my mother had.

  He stepped between my father and me. “I’m Benjamin,” he said to my father. “I’m on your daughter’s team. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  That wasn’t true. I barely ever talked about my mother; I never talked about my father. What was he doing? Wasn’t he afraid of my father, too?

  My father crossed his arms. “Have you now? I’m sure my daughter has told you some highly unlikely stories about—”

  “She’s told me about how understanding you were when she wished to avenge your youngest son’s murder. I’ve always admired how mild you were when you sat down with her and discussed how unwise it is to sneak away in the middle of the night to go after dangerous people. I’m sure you took into consideration her youth and grief.”

  I’d never told Benjamin how I’d received the scars on my back. The only person who knew the full details was Marco, and maybe Ember, if she’d overheard my thoughts.

  I glared at them, and they were suddenly absorbed in conversation.

  “What are you talking about?” my father asked.

  “Exactly,” Benjamin snapped. He put his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go, Jillian.”

  My father’s jaw dropped. “Who are you to lecture me about how I discipline my children?”

  Benjamin pulled me away, his jaw hard.

  We’d walked nearly two hundred feet into the trees before he stopped and faced me. “You’re shaking.”

  I was. I was trembling all over, nauseated, and drenched in cold sweat that made me shiver in the winter air. The other three joined us and formed a small circle around Benjamin and me.

  “I’m going to be sick,” I groaned, before falling on all fours and throwing up.

  Everyone jumped back, but then kneeled near me and put their hands on my back while I retched.

  I’d been doing so well. John’s enthusiastic welcome, Stephen’s smile, and the cheering children had given me hope that my time here wouldn’t be so bad. With Isabel and my team near me, I’d let my guard down, allowing my father a chance to strike.

  All desire I had to talk to people at camp had vanished, replaced by the primal need to curl up in a cave. I hadn’t felt that desire since Patrick had broken the bottle across my head.

  “Reid,” I gasped. My stomach was still in painful spasms.

  Reid rubbed my back. “Don’t talk right now. It can wait.”

  I pushed some of my loose hairs out of my face. “Build a shelter for us. Away from everyone. Please.”

  Reid stood up. “I can do that. Where would you like it?”

  Marco pointed up at Fort Mountain. “How about at the old lookout? Nobody lives up there. We’ll have lots of privacy. Can you fly us up?”

  Reid nodded. The ground rumbled, and then we were flying up the side of the mountain to a stony outcrop near the summit. Marco gave directions, explaining where to land.

  We landed with a rocky whumph, all but Reid tumbling off the rock into dead leaves. Benjamin helped me to my feet.

  I was now clammy and shivering from the vomiting. “Marco, get kindling for a fire.”

  Reid walked to a clear spot and examined the rocks sticking out of the mountain’s face. “This is good,” he murmured. “Lots to work with. Okay, guys, stand back.” His eyes glowed white, and then the thick stones began to shift. Rocks flew here and there, forming a small structure built into the mountain’s face that would be cramped, but livable. Reid squinted and flexed his fingers, and loose dirt in the structure compacted with a muffled sound.

  The glow faded from his eyes and he gave the ground a little stomp. “Did you know that there’s a small cave system beneath the mountain? I can feel it.”

  “You’re not allowed to alter the terrain. Tarps only.”

  The deep, masculine voice came from the trees. I knew the speaker.

  We all spun around.

  Time slowed as I took in the sight of Elder St. James coming toward us on the path, tall and stern. My stomach, which had just settled, began to quake again. Why was he here? Was he going to punish me right now? Did he know that Benjamin wasn’t from Corsaro, but Trent?

  I worked to keep my breathing even. “Um, we’ll break it down in a minute, Elder.”

  I needed to keep this man happy above all other people, even my team. I was sure they could handle some mid-December camping. Elder St. James studied me. I felt tiny.

  The wind shifted, blowing his scent toward me. I knew that scent well.

  Too well.

  “Damn it, Matthew! Get out of here!”

  Elder St. James’s middle-aged face melted away into the smug features of Matthew Dumont.

  He burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “You should’ve seen your face when you saw me, Jill,” he said, giving me a vicious smile. “It’s good to know you can still feel fear.” He walked up to me and brushed my cheek with his finger. “And boy, do you have reasons to be afraid.”

  7

  I kneed Matthew in the groin.

  He fell to the ground, tears pooling in his muddy brown eyes. “You’re a devil woman,” he moaned, before spitting at my feet.

  Benjamin took a step toward us, but Marco held him back.

  “I wanna watch this,” Marco whispered. “Jill always does something funny when he’s around.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “That was for tricking me, Dumont. And for touching my face. We’ve had this conversation before: you do not touch me without my permission, got it?”

  Matthew scowled and climbed to his feet. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I just came to see if you’re still psychotic. I’m not disappointed.”

  I tossed my hair. “Now that your curiosity has been satisfied, get your skinny ass out of my campsite.”

  “What are you going to do, make me?”

  “You’re awfully cocky tonight, Matt. You’ve obviously forgotten the last time you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

  “You’re oversensitive. You didn’t need to break my hand.”

  “You groped me, idiot.”

  “Who cares? We were engaged.”

  “We were not engaged. We were courting.”

  “We were engaged, and that’s practically married. I didn’t need your permission.”

  “Did our dads ever shake on it? No. We weren’t engaged, and you’re delusional.”

  “And you’re a nasty little—”

  Reid clear
ed his throat.

  Matthew turned to look at my teammates, who all shook their heads. The men had their arms crossed, exposing their impressive biceps. Ember’s fingers danced on the handle of her knife.

  The color drained from his face, and then he looked at me again. “See you around.” He hurried off down the path, toward the main camp.

  Benjamin cracked his knuckles. “Don’t tell me that was the big, bad Matthew Dumont. I can definitely beat that guy up. I think I’d be doing a lot of women a favor.”

  Marco and Reid clapped Benjamin on the back and went to check out the newly built shelter.

  Before following, Benjamin came to my side. “Are you okay? You told me he was nasty, but I didn’t know he was that nasty.”

  I pecked him on the cheek. “I’m fine. Go with the guys. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  After one last hard look in Matthew’s direction, Benjamin joined them.

  Ember walked up to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you get some rest? We’ve all had a long day. You’ll be better able to handle everything with some sleep.”

  Matthew’s jibe about the groping incident was the latest in a long line of unpleasant trips down memory lane.

  He’d tried to feel me up, I’d yelled at him and broken his hand, and we’d gotten into a screaming match. He’d spilled everything: how his parents had made him court me to make me feel better, that he hated how headstrong I was, and that he hoped someone would beat some sense into me one day.

  I put my hand on hers, still staring after Matthew. “I hate this place, Em. I want to go home.”

  Ember turned me around to face her and gazed into my eyes, taking my hands in hers. “I don’t know if everything is going to be the same, but we all want you to know that we’re here for you. Since we got the summons, I’ve heard you go from your usual self to, well, someone who’s afraid all the time. I want to see the Jill who stepped between Patrick and me and said he couldn’t harass me anymore.”

  “I was so angry then,” I said, closing my eyes. “I don’t want that.”

  “Better righteous fury than fear.”

  “Em, the tribunal—”