by Maira Dawn
Uncle Devon patted her head as he gave her a sidelong look. "Yes, well, if that's all it is, I'm sure you'll get past it. It will take a bit of time, Sunny."
Tears welled in Sonora's eyes. Unknown to her uncle, she told herself those same words every day. And they echoed what her grandfather said to her just this morning.
Sonora and her grandfather often accompanied each other for a morning walk on the beach. Since returning from Atlantis, it turned into a daily occurrence. Her grandfather was always there for the family and now, keeping true to his nature, he was there for her.
Sometimes Sonora and Blake chatted, and sometimes they just walked, his quiet strength filling her with every step they took. Occasionally, Sonora wondered if her grandfather knew something more than what she told him. More often than not, she was sure he suspected.
This morning it had been foggier than usual as though more salt hung in the air. After staring at her, Grandpa had put his arm around Sonora and said, "You'll be fine, girlie. I know you will."
Sonora nodded as she raised her arm to his waist and returned his hug.
"You know, Sunny, you've always been the most like me, even more than my own children. More than the blonde hair and blue eyes. Funny how it sometimes turns out like that. You and I, we feel things deeply, don't we? I know you’re hurting, but you'll mend. Healing takes a little bit longer for you and me."
Grandpa smiled down at her, and Sonora saw something in his eyes, something ancient and tragic. She wondered if he meant when he lost grandma. The question was on her lips when one of his friends walked up to them.
"Blake Karras, as I live and breathe, it certainly has been a while!"
Sonora smiled and shook the man's hand when her grandfather had proudly introduced her. As the old men reminisced, her gaze drifted out to the sea.
Lessons
Chapter Thirty-four
That evening, Devon sat in the living room with the rest of his wife's family. Blake had made dinner for everyone, grilling up an all-American meal of hot dogs and hamburgers. A serving of apple pie with a dollop of vanilla ice cream completed the meal. Devon patted his toned stomach, he'd eaten more than he should have.
He flashed a glanced at his father-in-law. Blake told some story about his girls when they were small. Devon made a show of looking at his watch, but no one took the hint. He supposed he was in for at least another hour of this.
He winced when he looked at the dirty dessert plates littering the coffee table. Devon couldn't stand to see the dishes sitting around. He carried them into the kitchen, rinsed them, and set them in the dishwasher. Over the clacking of the plates, Devon heard Sonora as she came into the kitchen with more dishes.
"Hey, Uncle Devon, I thought you might like some help."
"Ah, dear. Yes, I could."
For a few minutes, they worked in silence, until a spray of water hit a plate the wrong way and bounced back at Sonora, causing them to burst into laughter.
"So, how are you feeling this evening, Sunny?" Devon carefully watched her. "Any better?"
Sonora focused on the dish she washed. "Yes, much. I was just overdramatic earlier. What's done is done. I need to move on now and quit dwelling in the past."
"Very wise, Sunny. Moving on is usually the best course of action. You have a lot to keep you busy."
After a quick glance up at her uncle, Sonora scrubbed the plate harder. "Yeah, I sure do. Believe it or not, I got my job back. I was sure after I walked out, Bob would fire me. But he said I was too good a worker to let go and wants me to pick up as many shifts as I can. He even put up this big sign at the restaurant that says, ‘Touch a Server, You get Served... by the Cops.’”
"Good for him! Always knew I liked that man. I'm glad he is sticking up for our little girl."
Sonora giggled. "I'm not so little anymore, Uncle Devon."
"Yeah, well, you always will be to us." Dishwasher filled, Devon started to hand-wash the pans. "Why don't you listen to your grandpa's stories. I can finish up in here."
"You sure?" Sonora asked. When Devon nodded, she went back to her seat on the couch.
That girl was hiding something. Devon's heart thumped as he worried about what it might be. But to think she somehow found out about Atlantians and continued acting like everything was normal was too incredible. Still, what if... No, it was probably what Claire thought, she has a crush on that Ian character.
Done with the dishes, Devon walked back into the living room and sat on the arm of the dark-brown puffy chair his wife sat in. He hated puffy chairs, but it seemed like every man over forty felt they needed to have one.
Devon put an arm around his wife and pulled her close. She tried to draw away, as she always did. He ignored her behavior and tugged harder. She'd started this shortly after their marriage—it was just her way. She was an independent woman, and he sometimes had to use a firm hand. Devon smiled down at his wife, other than her little quirks, they'd always had an excellent marriage.
"Are you ready to go, my dear?" he whispered close to her ear. Claire nodded. He loved how thoughtful she was, always anxious to please him. "I have to go into the lab tonight." Claire's face paled, and Ian continued, "No worries. You will stay at home. You could use the rest." Claire once again nodded, this time more enthusiastically.
Devon and Claire said their goodbyes to the family, and after he dropped his wife off at home, Devon drove to his lab. His secret one.
They’d brought a new specimen in today. From his pocket, Devon pulled a paper containing a long, detailed list of the experiments he wanted to perform this week. He chided himself for being so excited, but this was practical. He would complete this first experiment by morning and have a head start.
Devon whistled a peppy tune as he marched through the glass doors into the all-white lab. The aroma of fresh hay and wood shavings filled the room from the cages of his small laboratory animals.
He flipped the light switch on. All the lights came to life, but one. It blinked twice, then lingered somewhere between light and nothing for a moment before powering up. Devon made a mental note to have the defective bulb replaced.
When Devon peered at the cages and tanks containing the small animals, they scurried around their pens seeking shelter. But Devon always made sure there was no shelter, no sanctuary for any specimen in this room. No sense in making it harder for himself when he needed to use them. He tapped on the glass of one agitated rat. "Don't worry. Not your turn today."
Devon picked up the cattle prod sitting on the countertop and banged it against the metal table on his left. He wanted it to know what was coming. Devon's employees had said this one was a fighter. The audacity of the thing.
The closer Devon got, the more he smelled its stink. Sea salt and dankness.
He brought the cattle prod close to the Atlantian's bruised face and pushed the 'on' button. It sizzled and sparked. The Atlantian jerked away from it, and Devon laughed. The thing knew what it could do.
Devon crouched down to get a closer look. The blonde male was so like a human and yet not one at all. It was so large, it barely fit in the barred enclosure.
The abomination glanced at Devon with apprehension, if not outright fear. Its eyes glazed with pain and drugs, the only things keeping it under control. Devon smiled at the defiant light the Atlantian still had. They never gave up the fight, never recognized when he conquered them. But he did.
Devon put a finger on its tattoo, tracing one symbol and wondering what it meant. The thing tried to move away but was too confined. It shook the small cage and growled words Devon didn't understand.
Devon chuckled. "It always starts with the growling and ends with a moan. The night is young."
It shook the cage harder.
"There is only one acceptable thing about you people. It is the good you can do for humankind. I will take you apart piece by piece. I will bleed anything beneficial from you and yours and use it to help me and mine. If it's the last thing I do. And I'll take the gr
eatest pleasure in doing it."
The caged man stilled and stared at Devon.
Devon flushed with excitement. “You know who I am don’t you?”
The thing looked at the floor and shuddered.
Devon leaned toward him and whispered, “I’m going to send you home in pieces too.”
He watched the man from the water pull at the bars. “You can’t get out. I’ve made them special. So give up. Tonight is about learning. I will take the time to teach you what you are and what I am. This beating you've had is clearly not enough. I've had you drugged enough to be compliant, but not enough to miss out on this important lesson. You need to recognize who is in charge. I use electricity to teach that. It seems to have more of an effect on your people."
Devon waited for it and wasn't disappointed. The first whine of dread. He tapped the cattle prod to the cage to give the thing a preview of what was to come, then held it there. When the Atlantian's eyes rolled back, and he passed out, Devon stared at him. Then he stood and whistled as he prepared for the next lesson.
Broke
Chapter Thirty-five
Two years to the day after Sunny left him, Ian sat in a car his eyes glued on a building across the street. It had taken him a long time to get to a place where he could trust himself to walk on land and not scour the earth for her. Ian recalled the months it took before he cared to live, to eat, or breathe. He raised a hand to rub the middle of his chest. He still wasn't sure his heart ever beat.
Ian remembered every detail of the day he took Sonora back as if it were happening this moment. Her silky blonde hair shadowing her face as she bowed her head. Her tears, his pain.
The pain was still there, like a thousand blades slicing at his heart. It never stopped. And it never would. Even being on land tricked him, Ian was sure he could sense Sunny’s presence. He crushed the thought, unable to believe it could be true.
Though Ian tried to control it, his mind wandered back to that day, as if in punishment, as if to give him one moment of peace was too much. He'd watched every slow step Sonora took through the water, willing her to turn around, to fly back into his arms. But she didn't.
She walked into her family's arms as Ian watched, unable or unwilling to break his last sight of her. He knew what it would mean for him. His happiness walked with her.
Ian ached as he saw her turn and look for him. Drank in the fact that she tried but stayed hidden. Another goodbye was not in him.
When Sonora's car turned from the parking lot, and his connection to her faded to emptiness, Ian broke. It was quiet, just a small snap somewhere inside him. He supposed it wasn't really audible. The feel of it just made it seem as though there was a sound.
After that, a black hole sat where his heart used to be. Sonora carried his heart. It took all he had not to let that black hole grow, to overtake him, or what was left of him, anyway.
For the first time, Ian understood the infamous Argos. The man's name was whispered in their halls instead of spoken, if it was said at all. A man who fell so deep into grief he'd lost the man he once was and become a monster.
Argos let that blackness grow until hate and destruction filled him. That is what Ian fought.
When Ian returned home that day, he'd entered his house, locked all the doors, and buried himself in the quiet darkness. At first, it seemed to soothe him.
His mother and father knocked then pounded at the door in their concern. It was unusual for a door to be locked to the rest of them. Ian knew it fueled their worry, but he had no desire or will to move.
Finally, on his father's shouted threats that he would send a few burly cousins to bust down the door, Ian opened it to them. But his family's pity was too much. It was bad enough before he found his Jata Ara, but now to have found and lost her, it was beyond bearing.
So Ian turned away visitors, once again locking his doors and embracing darkness. It was then the dark began whispering its evil thoughts.
He was a tracker. It would be a small thing to find her and drag her down here.
If her family died, she would have nowhere to go. It was a simple act to kill a human. If her family was gone… A quick twist of the neck and this would be her only home.
She would get used to it, the voice whispered. She would be here. It would be enough.
The gloom overtook Ian until all he almost could not see. Until he worried that soon he would not want to see. He shook it off long enough to seek out the ones who would most understand.
The widowers.
Though very rare for an Atlantian to lose a mate while young, older widowers whose mates had left them too early did exist. The darkness must also dwell within them.
They were his real source of comfort. The ones who suffered the edge of the blade piercing their soul every waking moment, the ones who carried a black hole instead of a heart, the ones who ignored the whispers that spoke of death.
Ian listened to their wise words and drowned out the whispers. He found every widower had their own way of pushing the dark away, but there was one common thread. Keep the hours filled with something, anything.
At the start, Ian's puny efforts often failed. He would end up lying on the couch, staring at nothing in particular until the whispers started again. Sometimes, he would sleep, finding unconsciousness the only way he could make it through the day.
But as time went on, Ian found he could make it through most of the hours as if he were some semblance of an Atlantian. More importantly, he became skilled at keeping the blackness at bay. Most of the time.
This was the best it would be, the way it would always be, the widowers told him. There would never be an ease to the grief, as sometimes seemed to be the case for humans. For Atlantians, it stayed as fresh as the moment it happened.
The emotion in the old men's eyes held a warning and a hope out to him. None could change their own situation, yet each knew Ian could reach out and take Sonora, and end his own suffering. It was clear that some would have done so.
Ian's hand gripped the car console until it cracked. Even now, the thought of taking her never left his mind. He had less control of his emotions than the day she left. It had been all he could do to get her home. He'd almost turned around a hundred times. And Ian knew if Sonora stood before him now, he would drag her back, kicking and screaming.
Ian uttered a sad little chuckle. And she would kick and scream. But if he saw her…
He shook his head. What was it that lingered in Atlantians? They controlled themselves better than humans, but still, this darkness lay within them.
Ian's gaze narrowed as a movement at the building he watched caught his eye. He sighed. He'd come up here to continue his mission to find the traitor. Others had tried and failed. At least, it was a way he could help his people. He needed to put away his thoughts of Sunny and focus on that.
The Artifact
Chapter Thirty-six
Ian scanned the street and the building he planned on visiting. Unlike many pawnshops, this one boasted a clean, attractive appearance. Part pawnshop, part beach rentals, the building had colorful surf and bodyboards lined up against its outer wall. Built with a rusty-colored brick, the pawnshop sat along the sidewalk on Main Street, bright blue awnings shaded the windows. It's small-town charm matched the appeal of the other buildings on the street.
There was no bad side to this sleepy little town called Seaside. And although each structure exhibited its own design, it seemed as though the city council decided, some time ago, the buildings of the city should appear unified. The blue awnings which hung at most of the windows, and the planters bursting with multi-colored flowers sitting on each side of the main doors seemed to do the trick.
Besides the pawnshop, this street housed a music store, a shoe store, and a men's clothing store. Further down the road stood a few restaurants, most of which Ian had tried at one time or another. And at the corner, the busiest place on the street, a coffee shop.
A couple leaving the pawnshop caught Ian's
eye. Now was the time to go into the shop, if he wanted the owner's undivided attention. It tended to stray if he had other customers inside the store. Ian hopped out of his car and ran across the street. He reached the front door just as Rick turned the sign from OPEN to CLOSE.
Had he been sitting there that long? He wasn't doing as well as he'd hoped.
Ian's eyebrow jerked up when Rick hesitated. He slapped a hand-drawn picture of the Artifact to the glass, reminding the man of the importance of this visit. It was clear Ian's size, if nothing else, intimidated him.
Rick nodded and unlocked the door. "Hey, sorry, dude. I gotta night planned so I don't have a lotta time." He slowly drew out his words, enunciating them in such a way there was no doubt he was born by the beach. Rick pushed back his sun-bleached hair with a well-tanned hand while eyeing Ian.
Ian scoffed. ”We all have plans." From the looks of Rick, his plans included a bottle and maybe something more.
Rick swallowed. "Yeah, sure, of course. Lookin a little rough today? Gnarly night?"
Ian ignored him and walked to the counter.
"Dude, let me guess. babe trouble? Let me tell ya—" Rick seemed about to launch into a story about his own woman trouble. Ian didn't want to hear it.
"Stop. That's not what I am here for," Ian practically growled.
Rick threw his arms up. "Hey, sorry! Didn't mean to upset ya."
One glance at Rick's surprised and almost hurt face, and Ian told himself to calm down. The last time he was here had been before—before her. The man Ian had been then was friendly and charming. That man had gotten Rick's help, barely. Acting like this would not help him get anything from the pawnshop owner.
"No, I apologize." Ian shook his head. "Your right, it's that. I just can't talk about it."
"Too fresh. I get it, dude. I get it."