Unhidden (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1) (31 page)

“So, you’re a romantic at heart.”

“I suppose you can call me that, which is why I am rooting for you.”

“What makes you think I’m the underdog in this scenario?”

Nathan barked a short, harsh laugh. “Miss Hayes, in about twenty-four hours, you will be going up against the might of the United States government and their mutated super soldiers; the evil leader of an alternate universe and his army of supernatural creatures; and a supremely powerful mage. And what do you have? Your military skills, a handful of nature-loving elves, and a weakened magic user. Yes, I would definitely say the odds are against you.”

“How the hell do you know all of that?” I asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the shock from showing on my face.

“One does not make it to my level without the help of many, many friends. But don’t trouble yourself with my extensive contact list right now. It seems you have much more important issues to deal with.”

His apparent knowledge of the entire situation made me squirm with distrust. How long had he known about the government’s plans? What else did he know that he wasn’t telling me? However, he was also right. I would have to worry about how he had come by his information later, as long as he gave me what I needed.

“So, what can you do for me to help even out the odds?”

“Why should I do anything? Maybe I want the entertainment value of seeing whether you can get yourself out of this one on your own. If I help you, it might be evening out the odds too much, and where is the fun in that?”

“Call me crazy, but I don’t think you’re in this for the laughs. I’m willing to bet you stand to benefit on the outcome. And, if you intend to back me, that means you need me to come out on top. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He smiled at me and leaned back in his chair. Holding his arms wide, he said, “Take what you need, that’s all I can offer.” He was giving me my choice from his weapons collection. “But none of these things will help you win this battle.”

“I have to find a way, and heavy firepower is one of the best ways I can think of.”

“This battle is to retrieve Sharur. In order to do that, you will need tools not currently at your disposal. Haven’t you heard the saying that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?”

Was he telling me there was some technology out there that could help me fight those who wielded magic? “How would I get access to such technology?”

“Why, from someone in a position to
procure
very well-protected secrets,” he answered. “All I need to do is make a phone call.”

I nodded. “Tell him to meet me at my favorite place. He’ll know where it is. In the meantime, I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

After adding some of Nathan’s more deadly collectibles to the van, we drove downtown to Raines. It served the dual purpose of keeping us safely in a public place with sufficient privacy while also allowing me to have a desperately needed drink.

We parked the van in a well-lit section of a heavily trafficked street to deter any would-be car thieves and then made our way into the bar. As always, they sat Jason and I promptly in our usual booth. It made me wonder if they actually kicked patrons out of the booth to accommodate us. I ordered a dirty martini with Grey Goose and extra olives, while Jason kept it simple with a Sam Adams.

We waited for almost two hours before Benjamin Hayes arrived. It was close to three a.m., though Raines was still bustling and would remain open for at least another hour. Benjamin slipped through the black curtain and took a seat beside me, giving me a hug that lasted a few seconds longer than usual. I gave him a squeeze of reassurance before we broke apart.

Jason left the privacy of the booth to stand sentry nearby. It was a smart move, but I also appreciated his effort to give me some privacy with Ben.

“So, you knew about me all along,” I said, making it more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Emma. I never wanted to lie to you, but I did it to protect you. When you arrived, I was asked to procure a secure space and medical equipment for you. I was informed of your manner of arrival, and for the next year, I stayed abreast of your situation because I had to approve the purchases related to your care. Those purchases included high doses of narcotics typically used for keeping people in artificially-induced comas, imaging equipment, surgical supplies, restraints, medical staff and security personnel. I finally decided to stop approving the purchases unless I knew what they were for, so the team responsible for you invited me to participate in their briefings.

“I learned that they weren’t making any progress with you. When they would bring you out of the coma, you were either violent and uncooperative or not lucid enough to talk. They were getting no answers about who you were, what you wanted, or where you had come from. So discussion turned to the next steps. Options on the table ranged from harsher methods of interrogation to euthanasia and autopsy to at least learn how you might be different from us. That’s when I finally stepped in.”

I thought back to the lab on North Brother Island and how close I had come to being picked apart and placed piece by piece into glass jars. I shuddered.

“After everything I experienced this past week, I can’t say I’m surprised at what was done to me, but I will make them regret it. How did you manage to keep me off the butcher’s block?”

“I told them I would find you a foster home with someone in the inner circle, in the hopes you would grow to trust that family and reveal your secrets to them and thereby to us. It wasn’t a well-received plan, but since I held the purse strings, they didn’t have a lot of options. Even if they voted against me, they would need to come back to me for budgeting favors in the future, and I wouldn’t be quite as willing to allocate the funding for their pet projects. So they grudgingly allowed it on two conditions. First, someone was to keep an eye on you at all times and immediately report back if anything … unusual ever happened. Second, if you didn’t reveal yourself, they would go in to retrieve you to explore alternate approaches. It looks like, after ten years, they have finally run out of patience, and I have failed you.”

“None of this is your fault, Ben. Believe me, if I had remembered anything, I would have told you. As it happens, my memories were forcibly walled off and remain inaccessible.” As much as I cared for Benjamin, I wasn’t ready to tell him the wall was crumbling. “But I have learned enough to know the government is on the wrong side on this one. They can’t force open a rift between worlds. They will be allowing horrible, deadly creatures into ours, and it could mean the end of humanity. You have to see that,” I said, grabbing his hands tightly.

“I do see that, which is why I have been protecting you. It’s also why I brought you this.” When he placed his briefcase on the seat between us, I noticed that it was made of thick steel, painted to look like a simple leather case when seen from a distance. The lock was not standard, either.

Benjamin placed his thumb to a flat plate where a lock would have normally been. The plate briefly glowed a dim green then several soft clicks indicated the locks had disengaged. “I coded the case to your fingerprint, as well, so you are the only one who will be able to access it.”

He lifted the lid to reveal black foam that was cut to snuggly house the object lying inside. It was a round object, about the size of a softball and made of a metal that looked unusual. I reached out a tentative hand to touch its surface lightly. It was surprisingly very warm, as if it had a small furnace burning inside of it.

“What is it?” I breathed.

“It’s called a High Density Field Generator, but the boys in R&D just call it the Blackhole. The casing is made of Tungsten Tetraboride wrapped in an atomic layer of Graphene. This makes the casing strong enough to contain a massively dense sub-atomic particle yet brittle enough to shatter upon impact. Its design is based on a theoretical concept of how to collapse a stable wormhole between worlds. It has never been tested, so I have no idea whether it will work. But, just in case they break through, this is our only hope of destroying the threat.”

“I never thought about what it took to close a stable rift. All everyone keeps talking about is how to get one opened.”

“That’s why we have the best minds in the world on this project.” He smiled at me wanly as he latched the lid closed, leaving the briefcase on the seat. “My true goal in all of this was to show you the best parts of humanity—love, friendship, day-to-day life on Earth—so when this time came, you would choose to save us, even from ourselves if need be. But that didn’t happen. I was outmaneuvered, and you were placed in that sorry excuse for a foster home that only taught you violence, pain, manipulation, and distrust. However, I still have faith that you will choose to side with humanity when war comes.” He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my cheek before he slipped out of the booth and was gone.

I took a deep swallow of my martini, hoping the vodka would burn away the lump stuck in my throat. Jason moved into the booth and sat down next to me, noticing the briefcase. “Is that whatever he thinks is going to help?”

“Yes. We had better get it out of here and back to the safety of the compound. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

T
he next day was spent inventorying weapons and teaching the elves how to use them. They weren’t natural marksmen by any means, but I figured that, if they could point and shoot, they might hit something eventually, and hopefully before someone hit them.

It was a little after noon when my stomach drove me from the make-shift shooting range back to the kitchen in search of food. I could hear the heated voices even before I stepped into the house yet was unable to make out the words.

Following those harsh tones, I made my way to the kitchen where I found Alex standing next to a grizzled old man. He had coarse, gray stubble on his chin and a wicked scar that cut down the right side of his face. It began on his forehead and ended at the jaw, running over his now blinded and white eyeball. He wore a heavy black cloak of rough spun wool and held a staff that was almost as tall as his six-foot frame. Looking as serious as death, I could tell he was someone I didn’t want to cross.

Therran was standing over the maps spread out on the table, both hands flat on the weathered wood. If he was a cartoon character, smoke would be billowing out of his ears. He glared daggers in the direction of the high-backed chair in front of me. At first, I thought it was empty; however, when I walked around the table, I saw it was in fact occupied by a little girl.

Not having spent much time around kids, I could only guess she was somewhere between six and ten years old. She was a cute little thing with blond curls, creamy skin, and a button nose. She was all sweet innocence except for her eyes. They were deep pools of ink that swallowed brightness and sunshine. This was undoubtedly one kid who didn’t dream about rainbows and butterflies.

She was holding Therran’s gaze steadily, looking unconcerned in the face of his rage, her arms folded across her small body.

The old man, whose voice I had heard from outside, leaned toward Lilly’s father and said, “You need us, Therran, and that is our price for helping you. You know this mission will fail without the Council.”

“I know no such thing,” Therran said between clenched teeth. “All I can say with certainty is that the past ten years have been the same as the past one hundred. The mages are still pompous, self-important tyrants.”

Fire flashed in the eyes of the old man as he screwed up his face to spew what I knew was going to be an equally vicious retort when the little girl interrupted. “And here I thought I was the only one in the room who still had temper tantrums. Ronin, sit down,” she calmly commanded the old man, and to my surprise, he obeyed without hesitation. “I don’t expect we have time today to settle a grudge between our people that is older than I am, so let us stay focused on the matter at hand.”

She had the voice of a small child, but she certainly didn’t have the language or demeanor of one. Somehow, she was far older than the age she appeared to be.