03 Saints (7 page)

“So…you’re crazy people?” I asked to clarify.

“Yes,” he replied. “But my words are the truth.”

“I’m not saying I believe you, but there were others. I managed to get them out of their cells. Did you pick them up, too? If you really protect the weak, you’ll have seen them to safety…right?”

“We managed to save around fifteen. I’m not sure what became of the others,” he said. “The fight was chaos. We did our best. You can talk to them, if you wish.”

“Oh…” I said.

I thought about his unusual appearance in my room and the way he was being so honest. Why was he being so honest with me? Why bother to tell me the truth? He could have healed me and sent me on my way. Telling me he was a freedom fighter felt planned. It was as if he had thought that knowledge would appeal to me. It did, but I didn’t understand how he had known it would. That made me suspicious again.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “It’s obvious you want something, or you wouldn’t bother talking to me at all.”

He smiled again, but this time it was from respect. I sensed he hadn’t thought I would catch on so quickly.

“I have a feeling you’re not like the others we rescued,” he admitted.

“A feeling?” I asked.

“Well, you are the only one who managed to free the others – the only one who even bothered. You also managed to ride a Nightstalker to safety, according to my sources, and then jump into the ocean to escape Lorian’s people. That’s quite a feat,” he said.

“And what now?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a curious person by nature,” Reaper said. “I just want to know your story…Speaking of that, I think it’s your turn.”

He wanted to know my story? He didn’t know the trouble he was searching for.

“My name is Clare. My past is full of bad luck. My future is full of uncertainty. My present is full of unknown. And you seriously don’t want to be caught up in any of it.”

“May I have a real answer?” he asked in a politely demanding voice.

“You may be quick to trust me, but I am not so quick to trust you back. I’ve spent the past month and a half locked in a room being beaten and convinced that the next moment was going to be my last. Everything I have ever loved has been taken from me. So, you’ll forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical about the goodness of people right now.”

“I understand…” he said quietly. He eyed me carefully. I must have looked as bad as I felt, because he nodded at the bed. “Perhaps, you should sit. You’ve been shot, tortured, and forced to endure my name, I’m not sure standing is such a good thing just now.”

I eyed the bed, knowing that sitting would give him the advantage. My knees trembled in exhaustion in contrast to the thought. Who was I kidding? He was a Watcher – his advantage over me was astronomical. My uncertainty showed on my face. He was aware of it before I was.

“You can keep your knife, and I promise not to get close enough to hurt you,” he said.

I hesitated for another moment. Then, I made the choice to trust him as far as I could trust anyone under the circumstances. If he had wanted me dead, he would have killed me already.

“All right,” I said.

I sat down on the bed, keeping a firm hold on my knife just in case. I winced as my shoulder pulsed with a sharp pain at the movement. The last time I had gotten shot, I had been healed by Eli. I had only dealt with the pain for a matter of minutes. Dealing with it long term hurt more than I had expected.

“We tried to patch you up as best we could. River has a bunch of medical text books, but we don’t have an actual healer. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to heal yourself as best you can,” Reaper said.

“Yeah, I’m used to it…Listen, I’m still not sure if this is trap, but on the crapshoot this isn’t, thanks for all this,” I said.

I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for what they had done. Not trusting him didn’t change the fact that he had saved my life. I would worry about trust later.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

He started to leave, understanding that my story would have to wait for another time. It would have to wait for trust. He paused at the door and turned to me again, his face obscured by the darkness again.

“Can you tell me one thing?” he asked.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You are a human, right?” he asked.

I smiled at the question. “We all are, Reaper. I’m just a little more than you are.”

Though I couldn’t see his face, I sensed he liked my answer. He wasn’t annoyed by the fact that I hadn’t answered him with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no;’ he was more curious than ever. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to satisfy his curiosity…not until I knew for certain he wasn’t the enemy.

“Let me know if you need anything…or you find yourself ready to talk. I’m three doors down. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you would like. I would just prefer to know if you’re going to leave us. It’s a security thing. If you do decide to leave, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Also, feel free to wander around the grounds…My house is your house.”

I nodded and didn’t reply. He left, humming an old song that sounded familiar to me, and I was left alone again with the moonlight, my knife and the odd feeling that I had finally escaped my prison cell.

My mind whirled with possibilities as I tried to catch up with the situation. Was he for real? Had I really escaped? Was I free? It had felt as if I would never breathe free air again.

I lay back on the bed, on the side that wasn’t hurt, and stared at the moonlight streaming in through the large window. It was my first real look at the moon since New Orleans. I had missed it. The moon’s light spoke to me softly; it urged me to relax, to welcome its light back into my heart.

I cradled the knife close to my chest, and felt my brain trying to come out of the emotional protection I had forced on to it. I had kept the pain locked away behind a barrier. But not now. Not here. Feeling was dangerous. I couldn’t do it yet. It was too early to allow hope. I would decide what to do tomorrow.

I shut my eyes, deciding the morning would be a better time for decisions.

Chapter 4

When I woke the following morning, the first thing I was aware of was the birds chirping a greeting to the dawn. I listened to the sound of the birds for a long time. It was the best music I had heard in over a month. Even the pain in my shoulder dulled at the soothing sound of their caroling. I felt a small smile form on my lips as I listened. Their song told me it was okay to feel what I was feeling; it was okay to hope that my freedom was real.

Deciding I wanted to see what the birds saw, I pushed away the blankets that had somehow found their way over me as I slept and stood. The knife had fallen to the bed during my time in dream-land. I grabbed it again, unwilling to go far without my only form of protection, and went to the window.

As I looked out, I realized I was on top of a mountain. Large trees decorated the mountain I was on top of; they were the sort of trees I had grown to love on the west coast. Rough underbrush spread out along the hills under the massive trees. The underbrush was untamed and threatened to take over the dirt driveway with its sharp foliage. I sensed it was done on purpose, to hide the path from anyone curious enough to follow it.

I craned my neck, to look straight down, and saw that I was up high, on the second or third level of a very large, brick building. To my left, there was another large structure that looked like a barn. What I saw through the barn’s open doors suggested it had been turned into a garage. Cars were overflowing the large structure; some of the cars were what I would have expected, but others were fancy and way out of my price range. On my right, I saw the ocean and a large cargo ship on the horizon. I figured the ship to be the one they had picked me up in.

People were everywhere on the outside of the property. Some were sitting and enjoying the sunrise, some read books, and others were hanging out in groups of Watchers. Still others paced the property, their eyes alert for threats. I knew they were the sentries. I was surprised at the number of people wandering around. My mind had put a lesser number to the people in the Saints when Reaper had told me of his group. I couldn’t see how so many people would actually agree to fight the war against Lorian and Darian. Most of the Watchers I had met were too concerned about survival to be so idealistic. I was impressed and slightly skeptical at the same time.

“You’re awake!” a voice said from behind me.

I spun at the voice, my heart racing at the unexpected voice. I hadn’t heard anyone walking in the hall; I had been too preoccupied. The voice belonged to the same girl I had seen between waking and dreaming. Her black hair was still streaked with purple, her clothes as dark as Reaper’s. I wondered if black was some sort of uniform. Her eyes were a brilliant blue and full of kindness as she looked at me.

“Oh! Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” she added. She eyed the knife but didn’t make mention of it. She held up some clothes. “I brought you something to wear. They’re mine, so they might not fit right, but it’s all I had. I hope you don’t mind black…”

“No…I don’t mind.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” she said with a smile. “Would you like to take a shower?”

I hesitated, still feeling suspicious, but her face was so full of kindness, I couldn’t help but relax.

“Do I smell that bad?” I joked.

“Well, now that you mention it…” she teased gently.

“A shower would be great,” I admitted. I couldn’t name the last time I had a real shower.

“Follow me, then.”

“Okay...”

We walked out into the hall. It was broad and full of light from the rows of windows lining it on the opposite side from the door. The windows ran from the floor to the ceiling. On my side of the hall, there was a long row of doors. As we walked past, I saw room after room mirroring mine. Many of the rooms were empty of people but showed off posters of girls, cars and movie stars, and junk accumulated from the person who claimed the room as their own. Other doors were shut, retaining privacy from curious onlookers. Most of the rooms held two beds per room; mine had only held one.

“I’m River,” the girl introduced herself.

“Clare,” I replied.

“This place use to be a school for delinquent boys,” River told me as I looked around in curiosity. “Reaper bought it from the previous owner a couple years ago. It’s been the closest thing to a home many of us have ever had.”

“It’s massive…” I said as the corridor stretched out in front of us in a seemingly unending line.

“There used to be a lot of trouble-making boys, I guess,” she said. “King actually went here when he was little…”

“So, you’re part of this…group?” I shied away from the word ‘gang’ feeling it would be offensive, though it felt close to what they were.

“Yep. Reaper, um, freed me about three years ago. I’ve been part of the Saints ever since.”

“I see,” I said, letting her keep her story to herself. I didn’t feel it was right to pry when I definitely didn’t want anyone prying into mine.

River seemed to appreciate me not asking about her history. She continued with her explanation.

“We can be a rambunctious, crazy bunch, but we’re all agreed on one thing…this war, Marcus’ Seekers, everything, needs to stop before it destroys us all.”

She said it with the fervor of one who truly believed what they were saying. I wasn’t sure if Reaper had sent her to try and sway me to their way of thinking, or if she thought it was important for me know. Her words made sense, though, more sense than I wanted them to.

“I can agree to that,” I said reluctantly.

“It’s strange how many can’t. They’re scared, afraid of what will happen to them if they are found…so they give up. They join Marcus or the brothers, just to feel safe again. They don’t realize that joining them lowers their life expectancy,” she said.

“That just means the other groups have a lot of scared, uncommitted people on the opposite side of the fence.”

“There are also a lot of determined, smart, people as well,” River said.

She pushed through a heavy set of doors, and we walked down three sets of stairs. On the first floor of the large school, she took me down another long hallway lined with doors. These doors were universally open. Chairs and desks were scattered about the rooms, blackboards filled with obscenities and pictures were in every room. I could tell the rooms weren’t used for much beyond the occasional get together of party-seeking Watchers. The only door that was shut was the last door in the hall. I was naturally, immediately curious.

“What’s in there?” I asked.

“That leads down to arena. It’s where we go to hash out our problems, without bringing the whole building down.”

“Oh,” I said, wondering how often that happened.

“Through here,” she said, ignoring my unspoken question.

She led me through a large gym and into a locker room. She set the clothes down on a bench and pointed out where everything was.

“The showers are through there. Soap and shampoo are kept in that end locker there. Take whatever you need,” she said.