The Chronicler and Mr Smith

by Angie Martin

  “Did you have them when you first got here?”

  “I think it’s impossible not to. I still get them, too. The things we fight out there… it’s too much sometimes. You’ve been in that library over twelve hours a day for two days in a row, reading about horrific creatures. I’d worry about you if you didn’t have nightmares.”

  Still, something about my nightmare seemed different than the ones she had talked about. “Were yours really graphic and detailed?”

  She paused, and her normally cheerful expression sobered. “There was this one dream that I had right after Garrett and I got together. We weren’t married yet, but we already knew we would be one day.”

  I interrupted with a random question. “How long have you been married?”

  “Three years now, so this nightmare was about a year before our wedding. I still remember every part of it today, though. I dreamt that I was a blood seeker, and I killed Garrett.”

  “Oh…” My fingers retreated to my mouth. It had been hard enough watching Liz die and… and the stuff with her blood that I didn’t want to admit to or think about. But, Keira had dreamt about killing the love of her life. “That must have been awful.”

  “It still is,” she said. “I never told him. I never told anyone until now.”

  I laid my hand on hers in a reassuring manner. “I won’t say a word.”

  “Thanks, Mads. So, what was your dream about?”

  I leaned back and said, “About the same thing. Just involved Liz instead of… you know, a boyfriend or a future husband.”

  The return of her infectious laughter was a welcome sound. “Yeah, of course. Would be weird if you dreamt about…” Her eyes widened, and she stuttered over her next words. “Well, about someone you know but… you weren’t dating… yet, or… or maybe ever.”

  “What?” It was my turn to laugh. “I think the thoughts of chocolate are overwhelming you, which is easy enough when we’re both starved for oxygen from all that working out.”

  “If you think I’m tough, wait until Spence gets hold of you.”

  I groaned and fell backward onto the mat. Staring at the ceiling, I said, “Why can’t I just work out with you?”

  “He’s in charge of all the training in the complex.”

  “I think he thinks he’s in charge of everything here.” I lifted my head to look at her and rolled my eyes. “God help me.”

  “You’ll get used to him.”

  “What if I don’t want to get used to him?”

  She smirked, as if she held back a secret. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

  “Don’t I?” I crunched my abdominal muscles to sit back up. “There’s always a choice. How does one get used to Mr. Smith anyway? Every time he speaks, I cringe inside. That stupid, arrogant smile of his, like he knows everything.”

  Keira let out a restrained laugh, but I ignored it to continue my verbal rampage.

  “Superiority, that’s what it is. He thinks he’s better than me because I just got into this life and I wasn’t born into it, like him. The constant criticism, too. I’m not doing this right, or I should do this different. He doesn’t even stop to think about my circumstances or that maybe this thing doesn’t come easy for everyone. I just want to… punch him. Really hard.”

  She cleared her throat. “I get all that, I do. But, there’s one other thing he is, too. He’s really stealthy.”

  “Stealth… what?” Then, it hit me. The presence behind me. How long had it been there? I glared at Keira. “Why didn’t you shut me up?”

  “Probably because no one could get a word in,” Mr. Smith said, walking to the side of the mat. “Did you even take a breath?”

  I stifled my anger, but didn’t back down. “Oh, I took a breath. If you would like me to resume without taking one, I’ll be more than glad to demonstrate.”

  “No, I think we all got the gist. It’s because I said I didn’t like romance novels, isn’t it?”

  I couldn’t believe he would chalk everything up to something so immaterial. “Oh, Mr. Smith. You really do have a limited world view, don’t you?”

  “I could say the same thing about you,” he said. “It’s all subjective.”

  Though his words rang true, I wanted to throttle the man. My fists balled up beside me, and I encouraged my lungs to only take deep, cleansing breaths.

  “Get to your feet,” he said.

  “What?”

  He gestured for me to stand up. “Up, now.”

  “I think I’m good,” I said.

  “Gotta see what Keira’s been teaching you.”

  “We’ve only done running and cardio,” Keira said.

  “And, my limbs are ready to fall off,” I said. “I think I’d rather go to the library now, if I can manage to pick up a book.”

  Mr. Smith stood over me, arms folded. “Researching will come naturally to you. This won’t. I need you in better condition for this upcoming mission.”

  Him somehow being always right forced me to rebel even more. “I have a choice, you know. There’s always a choice, and I choose the library.”

  “Actually, you don’t have a choice,” he said, “seeing how I’m in charge of the complex.”

  My jaw dropped, and my head whipped around to look at Keira for confirmation.

  She nodded to my unasked question, that amused smile lingering on her face. “He’s the senior night stalker for our complex, so he runs the place.”

  “I think we’ll add that to the list of things that you should have told me sooner,” I told her. My aching muscles begged for mercy as I stood and faced Mr. Smith. “What elaborate torture do you have in mind for me today?”

  “For starters, stand up straight and round your shoulders. You can’t fight slumped over.”

  I followed his directions and lifted my balled-up fists to my chest.

  “I’ll get some pads,” Keira said.

  “No padding,” Mr. Smith said. “She’ll do better if she fears getting hit.”

  My eyes widened. “You’d really hit a girl?” I knew my words set women back several years, but didn’t care. This was one arena where I didn’t care for having “equal rights.”

  “As tempting as it is,” he said, “I’ll try to restrain myself. Hit me here.” He patted next to his left shoulder. “As hard as you can.”

  Tightening my limp arm muscles, I lashed out my fist. It bounced off the meat to the right of his shoulder. Weakly. The impact jarred my wrist, and I shook out my hand.

  Mr. Smith seemed unfazed. “Again.”

  After another limp punch, he directed me to try again with my left fist to his right shoulder, which ended up an even bigger failure.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting me on these missions?” I asked. “Why do I need to do any of this?”

  “Yeah, my job is to protect you, but if it gets chaotic and I lose track of you, I need you to be able to defend yourself.”

  “I have no strength left,” I said. “This isn’t doing an ounce of good.”

  “You’ll get there,” he said. “How are your reflexes?”

  “What are those?” When he didn’t smile at my joke, I said, “They’re as nonexistent as my muscles.”

  His fist smashed into my right shoulder.

  I jumped away from him just after the impact. “Ow!” I grabbed my shoulder and stepped back until I reached the edge of the mat.

  “You’re right,” he said. “You have no reflexes at all. We’ll work on that.”

  “You hit me!” I rubbed my sore skin. “I think you dislocated it.”

  His disbelieving eyes warned me he’d probably do it again if he could get away with it. “It’s not dislocated.”

  I looked at Keira for some sort of intervention.

  “He did restrain himself,” she said.

  I turned my anger toward Mr. Smith and repeated my argument. “Your job is to protect me. I shouldn’t have to learn any of this.”

  “As I just told you, I will do my best
to protect you, but if you can’t run, you’re going to be dead within minutes of walking into a blood seeker nest. If you can run but can’t protect yourself, you might make it through one mission before you’re food for them.”

  Keira grimaced. “Sorry, Mads. I have to go with Spence on this one. This isn’t an easy job and training is a big part of it.”

  “We only have six days before the next mission,” Mr. Smith said. “That’s not a lot of time to get you in shape.”

  “Well, then maybe the mark should only choose people who can survive this life,” I said. “I’m exhausted and overwhelmed and have been running and doing cardio for the past four hours. I just want to go back to the library.”

  He huffed out the air in his lungs and studied me for a moment. Moving toward me, he extended his hand and placed it on my upper arm. “I’ll do everything I can to help you learn this. In a couple months, you’ll be in the best shape of your life. But, until then, you need to work with me.”

  My guard dropped, and regret consumed all other emotions. I didn’t understand why, but Mr. Smith pushed me to the brink of insanity every time I saw him. Yet, he was doing his job – protecting me by giving me tools I needed to survive. I also had to remind myself that he was not only driven by his life as a night stalker, but by needing revenge for his brother’s death. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if someone had murdered my brother, Miller. I’d probably be just as brash and focused as Mr. Smith.

  “I’m sorry I give you such a hard time,” I said just loud enough so he could hear. “I’ll work with you however I need to.”

  “Thank you,” he said, letting go of my arm. “Why don’t you clean up and spend some time in the library? We can do this again before dinner, then let you rest up for the night.”

  I averted my gaze. His eyes peeled back too much of that rough exterior for me to look into them for long. I turned to Keira and thanked her for her help before leaving the gym.

  Chapter Eighteen

  T he discolored, blemished pages from the journal of a fifteenth-century chronicler blurred the longer I stared at them. More than five hours into my study session and I had only made it through one book. What I really wanted to read eluded me, no matter how many times I spoke the words to the library: Blood seekers in dreams.

  Despite Keira putting me at ease when she revealed she had also dreamt about blood seekers, as soon as I entered the library, something nagged at the back of my brain. Something that told me the dream had been too real. Yet, the chronicles seemingly held no answers.

  They did lead me to something else, though. Something I had been wondering since learning about blood seekers. What did they look like? The ones who had broken into my hotel suite appeared normal in the darkness, but they were only silhouettes. One held a gun, so I knew they had hands. But, decaying from the inside out could not be attractive, if they even rotted on the outside. From what I had learned, the blood kept them from complete deterioration, but that smell. The odor of death. I couldn’t imagine ever getting used to it.

  I flipped the pages in the journal before me, seeking out what I knew had to be in there. I stopped about halfway through the book when I ran across it: a sketch of a blood seeker. I skimmed the few paragraphs above the drawing and learned it was a creature the chronicler had encountered and beheaded that very night. As if to prove his words, a light smear of blood graced the bottom of the page. I stared at it for a moment with my heart beating irregularly, contemplating that it belonged to a blood seeker who had been dead for centuries.

  The first sketch on the blood-stained page was the profile of a normal man with nondescript features. Since drawn in pencil with various shades of black and the yellowed page acting as the contrasting white, I couldn’t tell his color of eyes or hair. Both appeared to be dark from the heaviness of the lead in those sections. His nose, pointed sharply toward his thin lips, had a hump in the middle, lending to a crooked appearance, one that could have belonged to any face from that era.

  On the opposite page, another sketch of the man, facing toward the reader, portrayed him with an open yet unsmiling mouth. His teeth all appeared to be in order, though slightly rotted in some areas, as indicated by shading. Circles underneath his eyes dragged his lids down to gaunt cheeks, and deep wrinkles penetrated his forehead. Still, nothing abnormal.

  My breath shuddered in my throat at the next page. The chronicler had again drawn the same blood seeker, but the new picture showed him with his head tilted back. The missing lower jawbone gave full visibility to the roof of his mouth. There were several small slashes drawn in behind his normal teeth – three rows of them, each row with a smaller number of slits. In front of his teeth, there were three more. The chronicler had placed arrows pointing to the openings, with a note written in block letters and a double underline punctuating the words: “BLOOD TEETH.”

  The picture on the right page demonstrated what he meant. He had drawn the blood seeker at a different angle, but still without the lower jaw. Where the slashes had been, jagged, pointed teeth had filled in the spaces. Some grew at crooked angles, making the creature even more fearsome.

  While the need for the teeth made sense, given their lust for blood to stem their own decay, I thought back to my dream and how the blood seekers had torn apart Liz’s body. The teeth alone wouldn’t have provided the capability for them to crush her into nothing while accessing her blood. The strength of their bite – possibly matching that of a crocodile – would have to be formidable to tear through bone.

  But, I didn’t know any of that before the dream. That the teeth in the pictures seemed to match those of the blood seekers in my dream terrified me even more. That damned dream.

  After putting the book away and locking up the library, I headed to the elevator and rode up to the third floor. I wandered down the halls until I found Jia Chen’s office, our Information Coordinator. Since she had contact with other complexes, she could possibly learn more about blood seekers and dreams for me.

  Her back greeted me when I walked through the open office door. I second-guessed saying anything as she looked intent on whatever she wrote on the paper on her desk, but I needed to find some answers. My dreams were far too realistic to attribute them to my subconscious speaking out in the night, especially when it included details I had no way of knowing.

  “Excuse me, Jia?” My timid, apologetic voice emerged just loud enough for her to swivel in her chair.

  “Mads!” She jumped to her feet and rushed over to me. Embracing me in a hug, she said, “I’m glad you came for a visit.”

  I chuckled uneasily. I would eventually get used to all the warmth of the team, but I had never been a huggy-lovey person. Still, her arms reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this.

  After she released me, I returned her large smile. “I’m hoping you can help me out.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” she said. “Did Keira or Spencer tell you what I do?”

  “Just that you’re the Information Coordinator, and you communicate with other complexes.”

  “That’s me. Have you already gotten so far in the chronicles that you have info for another complex or The Order?”

  “No, nothing like that.” I moved over to a second desk that formed an “L” shape with hers and leaned against it. “I actually have a question. Something that I can’t seem to find in the chronicles here. Would anyone else be able to help?”

  “Sure,” she said, “depending on if they have information on it. Our chronicles have some reproductions of books from other libraries, but most of the books are different from library to library. They can easily contain information we don’t have.” She sat in her chair and picked up a pen and pad of paper from her desk. Poised to take notes, she asked, “What did you want to know?”

  “I was curious about dreams and blood seekers.”

  She tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “Dreams?”

  “Yeah, like are there any stories about blood seekers in dreams?”

>   “That’s a new one for me,” she said. “I’ve heard about people having dreams about blood seekers and other creatures, you know, as a result of all the work we do, but I have a feeling you’re not talking about that.”

  Pausing, I considered my response. I hadn’t been honest with Keira about my nightmare, even though the revelation about her own dreams eased my concerns a little. I had just met Jia officially, so it seemed odd to tell her first instead of Keira, but I had the feeling the people at the complex tended to share more than others in the outside world. I was never one to confide in others. Liz had been the only person I entrusted with my secrets, and now I couldn’t consult her.

  I opted for a vague explanation. “I had a weird dream last night about blood seekers,” I said, “but Keira says she has them, too. It just freaked me out, that’s all.”

  “Of course, it did. You’ve not seen one before, have you?”

  “At my hotel two broke into my suite, but it was dark, so I couldn’t see them. Mr. Smi…” I stopped myself, remembering only I called him that. “Uh, Spencer killed them before I got a good look. I did find some sketches in a journal, though.”

  She laid the pad of paper on her lap and leaned over in a conspiratorial manner. “Did you see the teeth? Those scare me the most. Thankfully, I’ve only seen a couple in real life. I’ll take working in my office over being a night stalker any day.”

  I couldn’t disagree. “How did you come to the complex? Or, were you and Jiong born into it?”

  “Long family history in the life. My grandmother was a night stalker. I used to listen to her stories as a kid and pray that God never put me in that role. When our marks came in, both Jiong and I were called to be part of The Order, which is where most of our family is called. We’ve only had three night stalkers in our family over the generations.”

  “The Order – tell me again. Is that the main group that are neither night stalkers nor chroniclers?”

  “Yup,” she said. “Since my family has been part of this for so long, I knew a lot of people from other complexes, so it seemed natural for me to coordinate information. Plus, my dad is seated on the high council for The Order. It’s a bit bureaucratic, but what isn’t?”