Forget Me Not (26 page)

“She prefers to be held.”
Jax smirks. Leaning into my shoulder, he inhales a long, deep breath and shakes with a silent chuckle.

“Enough. Both of you.”
I push him away. This is getting old, and now’s not the time. Will’s right, I can stand on my own. Jax’s right too, the feel of his arms around me is comforting. I can’t admit it, since Will would use it as proof I need to go home, and Jax would use it to taunt Will. Jaw set, I stand alone, tall and rigid.

The footsteps are now gone, so we step out of the room, tiptoe down the wide hall, and come to a stop at the corner leading to a fourth corridor. They definitely all circle around and meet up to form a huge rectangle. I brace myself on the wall and peer around the corner. Two men stand guard outside a nearby door. They’re so close I could almost reach out and touch them. I yank my head back. My heart beats so loudly, I’m certain they will hear it.
“Guards.”

Will and Jax both direct identical questioning looks at me, like they’re sweating for more information. I hold up two fingers and point around the corner. Dad has to be in there. We’ve checked all the other rooms except those in this hallway. Why else would they guard the door? My heart tries to jump right out of my chest, and my muscles freeze. We’re so close; he’ll be beyond the door for sure. I shake out my arms, attempting to force myself to relax.

My only family is behind that door. We’ve been through so much together. Dad and I only have each other. In the dark days—after Mom disappeared—being alone frightened me, so he’d let me sleep over in the bed they’d once shared, while he fell asleep in the big armchair in the corner of the bedroom. Being in the same room lessened the hurt.  He’d tell me stories until I fell asleep. They all had one thing in common—a happily ever after ending. I swallow against the lump in my throat. I have to save my dad.

The hallway comes into focus around me, and I blink.

Will nods toward Jax, then jumps out from the corner and races toward the guards. A sharp gasp comes from deep within me. What the heck is he doing? It’s a crazy move that will get him noticed and, more than likely, hurt. We wanted to work out a distraction.

“Now, Mae!”
Jax chases Will into battle.

I crouch behind the corner, arms around my knees and my mind frozen. It tries to process what to do next. Grunts and thuds and the screech of metal meeting metal scream down the hallway, but I’m like a movie on pause, unable to move or even think.

“Mae,”
Will says through the telcom, his voice strained and urgent. He sounds like he’s in trouble. Damn. Snap out of it. This is definitely the wrong place for distraction.

I break out of the daze. Pulling the dagger from its sheath on my arm, I dart around the corner. Will wrestles with a burly agent dressed all in black. He’s bent down, the man gripping his arm, holding it behind his back at a painful-looking angle. The guard swipes at him with a closed fist, attempting to knock the stun-mace out of Will’s grasp. The man’s arms are as huge as tree trunks. Will’s in trouble, and I have to help. He wriggles and squirms, trying to get out of the man’s grip. Will struggles to hold his ground, extending the mace away from the guard with an outstretched arm.

I run to his aid, vaguely noticing Jax in a blade fight with another agent a short distance away.

“Go,” Will growls through bared teeth.

“Go?” It doesn’t make any sense. I’m coming to help him. My dagger-filled hand thrusts at the man, right at the hand holding Will’s arm in a lock. He twists out of the way. Will grunts as he’s spun around by the arm and stumbles.

I hit only air.

Will swings his mace-holding hand around toward the man, who growls like a savage dog. The mace touches his arm with a loud zap, and the man is thrust backward.

“Check out the room,” Jax yells. He turns away from his fight, meeting my gaze, without seeming to struggle at all. He throws me a wicked grin over their clashing blades. He looks like he’s at a fair. He’s loving this.

A diversion, they’re providing a diversion. I need to search the room while they distract the guards. That’s what they said while I daydreamed. The plan comes back to me. I need to act. Dad must be in that room if it warrants protection, and I have to get him out.

I pull the door open and hold my breath as I step inside. Rapid blinking helps me make out shapes in the dim lighting. Silence greets me. The air is thick with the smell of an unfamiliar, stale, herbal smoke. Shapes fade into focus, and I shake my head.

I don’t believe it. This can’t be right. The room’s empty.

Empty of people, not furniture. It’s different to the other rooms we’ve been in. An antique sofa covered in velvet fabric the color of squashed apricots stands in the center of the room. Dull light reflects off its ornate golden frame, which twirls around the sofa and twists in on itself in Victorian splendor. Two single seats of identical design flank the sofa.  A cast-iron candle sconce emits a low glow from its nest on the wall. The light soaks the room. Only two doors mark the walls
—the one through which I entered and an ornately carved wooden door, which is closed, on the far side. Muffled voices come from that direction.

My breath pauses while I push my ear to the door. The voices are both deep baritones. “It’s working well. The girl is a good distraction,” says a voice as rough as sandpaper.

Someone chuckles maniacally. It might be the man who just spoke.

“Of course it’s working. The Council is a bunch of imbeciles,” says a deep voice as smooth as silk over daggers.

“It won’t be long, my liege, and you’ll be in your rightful place,” says the other man.

“They’re taking the bait. Soon they’ll have no power,” the raspy voice says.

“No more hiding from the world. No more working in secrecy. We’ll come out, and you’ll be the rightful monarch. People all over the globe will bow down before you.”

Monarch?  The Collective want to be kings? That’s a little odd.

“When’s dinner? I’m famished,” says a voice as familiar as my own.

My shoulder slams into the door. The door flies back and hits the wall with a bang. I stumble into the room and sidestep to regain my balance.

“Bingo,” says the rough voiced man.

My eyes scan the room. He’s there, standing in the corner next to a tall man with reddish-brown hair and a face as harsh as a hardened criminal. “Dad!”

He looks at me with an expression as blank as an unpainted canvas, his mouth downturned.

I run toward him.

The man’s sharp features twist in a sneer. He grabs Dad’s wrist, and they both blink out of the room.

“We got you now, little troublemaker,” the burly man says in his rough voice.

The door slams closed with a banging crash.

Collective

Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive.

~ C.S Lewis

Something cracks against my
head, and I fall to the floor as if my legs have been swiped out from under me. No sounds, no sights, no smells, no touch.

Everything fades to gone.

* * * *

My head thuds, and I try to open my eyes, but can’t. Dank softness nestles against my cheek, consumed by the same stale herbal smoke I’ve smelled once before. I dissolve into the velvety fibers. He was here, in the same room, so close. My own stupid mistake. Overcome with elation at finding him, I ran straight into a trap, and now I’ve lost him.

Loud beating, like an offbeat drum, thrums in my ear—or maybe it’s at the door.

“Mae.”

I blink, pull my eyes open, and stare at the blank wall. It’s bathed in a soft red glow. Weird. Maybe the haze in my mind is coloring my vision.

The loud bashing continues.

My eyes slide closed. Dad was here. I could have saved him, but I didn’t. Now I’m here in this room, and he’s not. I’m so alone.

A loud bang and crash interrupts the persistent thudding. I pry my heavy eyes open, and bits of something fall in a shower around me. My sluggish brain doesn’t want to function. It can’t make out what they are. I bring my knees to my chest, curling into a ball, hoping I don’t get struck.

Black boots laced up to the ankles stop beside me.
“Come on. Get up, Mae.”
The voice sounds inside my mind. Strangest thing I’ve ever heard. Maybe it’s my conscience speaking. I ignore it. It’ll go away.

Just when it stops, something slides under me, the floor falls away, and I’m lifted by an invisible force. I must be dreaming. Foggy red light covers the ceiling.
“It’s like the colored lights at school dances.”
I’m not sure if I speak aloud or if it’s in my head too.

“The intruder alarm’s been activated.”
The words and tone are soft and calm, almost lulling.

I roll my head to the side, and I float out of the room. A face which matches the angelic voice looks straight ahead with eyes radiating determination. I’m not floating; I’m being carried.
“Hello, sweet angel. Are you my guardian?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but he looks straight ahead. His hazelnut hair fall into his stunning face and into his exquisite green eyes, which hold tiny, reddish-brown flecks. His masculine features are chiseled, his jaw line strong, but he still holds the fineness of youth. Will. A contented smile warms me from the inside, but the fog lifts
—and that’s not right.

My mind soars out of the haze.
“Put me down.”

Jax sets me on my feet with a small smile. We’re in the hallway. A man sprawled on the floor looks to be unconscious. The sound of footsteps beat toward us from both directions.

I peer down the hallway from one side to other so fast my head threatens to spin.
“Where’s Will?”

Jax shrugs and turns up his bottom lip.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Loud noises fill the air
—doors slamming closed, a multitude of footsteps marching closer, and commanding voices yelling. We’ve got to get out of here, and fast.

“Where’s Will? He can’t have just disappeared.”

Jax doesn’t hear me. He pulls out his blade and holds up a gun in his other hand, preparing to fight. Darkly dressed agents rush around the far corner like a swarm of wasps. Jax takes aim and fires the revolver. An agent falls to the ground. Jax pushes me behind him and backs toward the corner. Bullets fly. They zoom past us and ricochet off the walls, floor, and ceiling.

We reach the corner, and noises echo down the hall like they’re coming from behind us as well. He swivels, trying to shoot both ways at once. His erratic shots aren’t successful; only one in three finds its mark. The people move ever closer. My breaths come in desperate gulps, my chest pains, my stomach turns to rock. There’s no way he can hold off so many of them. I pull my dagger out, but it won’t help in a fight of two against twenty. We need another way.

I close my arms around his waist, contort myself into an awkward half-bend, and rub my thumb over both parts of the cover-up. A shiver slithers down my spine. The indication we’re invisible makes my breathing slow despite the shouts and yells of surprise from agents.

He tugs me along, up against the wall, shuffling together down the hall. Bullets ping off every surface in quick succession, but now they’re way off target. Voices rise and fall in angry waves.

“We’re outta here,”
Jax says.

“We have to go back for Lilly. And what about Will?”
Fear grips my throat, but hope reasons with it. Hope he’s waiting with her.

Jax doesn’t answer as we continue moving. It could be because he doesn’t know, or because he doesn’t care. Maybe he’s just concentrating on keeping us safe from the hall teeming with agents. They move around us in every direction, creating a sea of black. The only difference in their uniforms are small badges sewn onto their wide collars; stars of red, blue, green, yellow, and small numbers which seem to be unique to each individual. Every single one of them carry weapons: guns or blades or maces or batons.

I have to suck my stomach in to edge around a woman with two foot-long wooden sticks joined together by a chain. We dodge and swerve amongst them, weaving our way through to emerge out the other side.

A shaky sigh of relief wheezes out of me.
“This is it.”

We stop outside a door, neither moving, both waiting. Jax must be having the same thought as me. How are we going to do this without them seeing the door open? It’d be a dead giveaway.

We can’t just stand here because agents continue moving through the hallway. The group we passed through, now halfway up the hall, is meeting the ones coming from the other direction. Neither group stops; they weave between one another and continue out the other side. The second group, bathed in the eerie red glow, comes toward us. I glance from them, to the door, and back to them again. Each step closer makes my heart beat a little louder. They’re coming too quickly we can’t… we can’t get away. Jax opens the door and drags me into a dark room. The door swings closed.