Unveiled: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Novel (The Dark Skies Trilogy Book One) (12 page)

Now it makes sense. The bundle that looked like a dead body he was carrying last night in the canyon was a Grail.

"The Grail are trackers, bounty hunting, mercenary scum who work for the Draconians,” he says darkly. “Now that they know you’re here, they won’t stop until they catch you."

"They sound impossible to defeat."

"No. Kill the prime," he says, handing me a short, thick kali stick. “And you kill the hive. The Grail are shifters and splitters. From their prime, they divide into exact replicas. Whatever form the prime takes, the second follows and so on. Destroy the prime and you kill all the clones."

"How can you tell which is the prime?"

"Did you see a mark?" he asks. "Like a living tattoo?"

"On the neck," I say, realizing I know exactly what he’s talking about. "The salesgirl and the Chads had a swirly tattoo thing on their neck."

"The prime does not carry the mark." He gestures to his neck. "The mark on the neck is what connects her to her clones.”

"How many clones can one prime make?" I ask as we head toward the studio.

"Potentially hundreds. But each new one saps a little strength from the prime. And each new clone weakens the whole group."

The gloom of the moonless night hangs heavy over the town as we approach the dark karate studio. It's almost 6 p.m. Something seems to crackle in the air like a weird living energy, and it's making me nervous.

As we hurry toward the studio, a beefy figure approaches in the shadows. I’m ready to turn around and run away, but my uncle recognizes the figure and smiles. "Hey, Jonas. You get everything locked up?"

"Yes, sir," Jonas, the assistant teacher, replies as he passes us. "Cleaned the mats and washed the windows too."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. He’s such a kiss up.

"Excellent. Have a great night." My uncle nods and gives him a wave. I'm amazed at how calm and cool he's being.

Jonas rounds the corner heading toward his car. "See you tomorrow, sir."

Except, probably not Jonas. Little do you know, but this is likely the last time you'll ever lay eyes on us.

As we arrive at the front door of the studio, I ask, "So those things will be coming back?"

"Right now, we're one step ahead of the Grail." My uncle pulls keys from his pocket and unlocks the door. "Which is why you must find your father's weapon."

Moving into the studio, he shuts and relocks the door, pulling the shade down. "Only when both you and the sword are present, can you go to the oracle who will then be able to give you the key to the Stargate. open to take us home."

"Okay, so which one is it?" I ask, looking impatiently at the far wall where there’s a tiered display of six multi-colored samurai swords. It has to be one of these. There’s nothing else.

"The weapon is cloaked," he says. "It will only take its true form when you command it."

“What do you mean?” I frown. “Like it’s in disguise?”

"I can not tell you where the sword lies or what form it has taken."

“What?” I look back up at the katana swords. Even though they're elaborately painted and have Japanese inscriptions on their carbon steel blades, they're still just $70 replicas. "So then it's not one of these?"

He remains silent.

"You've got to be kidding me? How exactly am I supposed to find some magical sword that I've never seen or heard of that somehow isn't currently in the form of a sword?"

"You must feel its presence."

"I beg your pardon?" I say, with a raised eyebrow. "This is a joke, right? You want me to feel the presence of a mysterious, inanimate object?"

He sighs and drops his head. "Astrid, a sister of light is bound to her sword. You were paired at birth. It is one of the things that defines who you are destined to become."

I’m sixteen years old, and this is the first I’ve ever heard of this sword, yet somehow it will define who I am. Okay, this is getting crazier and crazier by the second.

"Except, the thing is, Uncle Conrad, I don't feel bound to anything." Truer words I've never spoken.

My uncle guides me into the center of the mat. He takes a step away from me. His expression is grave. "Find your father’s weapon or we are both surely doomed."

"
P
lease
. Just try." He pleads with me. "Close your eyes and call out to the sword with your thoughts."

I sigh. Even though I feel like a complete and utter tool, I close my eyes and attempt to concentrate. “Okay. I’ll try.”

"Very good," he says calmly next to me. "Reach out to the sword in your mind."

If I were a sword, where would I be? That's when I start to giggle.

"Astrid!" he barks, trying to remain calm, but there’s an edge in his voice. "This isn't funny. We must find the sword before the Grail returns."

Even though this is totally nuts, for some reason, I don't want to disappoint him. "Do I silently call out to this sword and see if it answers? Do I try to form an image of it? Is that what it's supposed to do?"

"You will know the sword when it appears."

I squeeze my eyes shut and clear my mind, trying to conjure up an image of some sort of royal sword. Whatever that looks like.

Even though I feel completely ridiculous, I'm a little surprised when the kernel of an image slowly takes shape in my mind. Of course, I've been surrounded with martial arts swords for my entire life, so maybe it isn't such a big deal.

Except, the sword that’s forming in my mind's eye is different. Unfamiliar.

It's forged from a gleaming metal that almost sings out to me. I see a sturdy hilt wrapped with delicately carved vines.

"Do you feel anything," he asks.

"Maybe," I say, focusing on the image in my mind. I reach up and touch the scar on my arm.

He gasps. "Do you see a form? A shape of some kind?"

"I see a seven-sided star with a bright center at the base of the blade," I describe what I’m seeing as a little jolt of recognition goes through me. "Just like my scar."

"Yes!"

"Is it ornately carved, yet also like liquid? Does it have a hint of white sunlight?"

"Good!" he says. "It glimmers like the pure white light of our home stars. What is the name of the sword?"

My eyes pop open. “It has a name?”

“Every great sword has a name, my child.” He takes a step back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. This is what he does when he's trying to remain calm. "I want you to concentrate. Focus your thoughts. Say the very first thing that comes into your mind."

The oddest name instantly forms on my tongue. "BrightSky."

He smiles, a tear glistens in his eye. "Yes."

My eyes flutter closed as I continue, "The sword is named BrightSky."

But it’s more like a single breath than a name. Not two words, but one thought. BrightSky.

Yet, the harder I concentrate, the more the image seems to fade as if it's floating away from me. I focus even harder, but I can't bring it back. It’s sailing over the treetops, up the canyon. I open my eyes to the expectant face of my uncle.

"Well?" he asks.

"I lost it."

“Lost it?”

“It floated off.”

"I don't think you understand how important this is," he says, "You can't lose it. Without the sword, the Stargate will not open. And passage through the Stargate is our only hope of getting off this planet before the Crimson Lord can find you."

"Uncle Conrad, I hate to disappoint you," I say, in a quiet voice. "I don't think I'm the girl you think I am. I'm not some lost alien princess. I don't have a mystical connection with a sword made out of stardust. I'm just a girl. Just a regular teenage girl."

"I know who you are, Princess," he says confidently, gently placing his big hands on my shoulders. "I have raised you from a baby. I know what you are made of. Do not tell me you don't know you're different. You're special."

I gape at him. I've never felt special. I've only felt different and weird. But it’s clear, he truly believes every crazy word coming from his mouth.

"I thought I could see it," I begin feeling foolish. "I heard the sword singing? But then it drifted away... Up the hill."

"Which direction?" he asks.

This seems like a very strange question. I point toward the back. "Um, it went that way."

"To the north." His eyes go wide as something seems to cross his mind. Then he jerks around, stalking around the edge of the mat looking at all the random equipment stored in the studio.

He moves down the line, walking faster and faster, examining every weapon, until he's jogging and searching through the whole building.

"You're scaring me, Uncle Conrad."

"Have you taken any of the practice staffs or kali sticks home?"

"Uh, yeah..." I say, ready for him to kill me. "I grabbed one. A couple of weeks ago."

"Which one did you take?" he asks.

"Just an old practice staff," I reply, thinking back. "I forgot my regular bow staff at school, so I just grabbed one out of that bin that day you said I had to practice at home." I point to a big plastic bin across the studio filled with a bunch of wooden sticks that resemble broom handles way more than any magical swords.

"Where is it now?"

"I don't know. At home. Maybe at school. But there was nothing special about it. It was just one of the beat up old wooden staffs."

Before he can reply, someone pounds on the front door, and we both jump.

My uncle puts a finger to his lip indicating quiet. He grabs one of the real katanas off the wall, then like a prowling tiger, the big man stalks toward the door with the sword held firmly in one arm.

I would not like to be the person on the other end of his sword.

"Who's there?" my uncle's voice booms.

"Hey man, it's Jax." There's a pause, then he continues. "I came to get my check. You said you'd pay me today."

"Come back later," my uncle replies.

"Yeah, that's not going to work for two reasons," Jax calls through the door, his voice urgent. "First, I'm leaving town right after you give me my check. And second, there's a cluster of scum sucking iguanas, including the very ugly prime, gathering on the edge of your parking lot."

"Iguanas?" I ask.

My uncle answers me in a low voice. "That's slang for the Grail."

"How does the deadbeat painter know what they are?" I ask.

"C'mon man!" Jax calls out, pounding on the door. "Don't leave me hanging out here."

"He's an exile from the Arcturian star system."

“The loser handyman is an alien, too?”

“I hired him as a favor to an old friend,” my uncle replies. Then adds, “Which I am now regretting. Also, we don’t like the word “alien.” Sort of implies little green men. Instead, those of us not from this world prefer the term visitor.”

“Oh. Okay.” I nod. Who would have thought the UFO folks were all politically correct?

“Hello!?” Jax tries again, his voice thick with desperation.

My uncle hesitates like maybe he's going to leave Jax out there, but then reluctantly unlocks the front door allowing him to slip quickly inside. The instant he's across the threshold, the door slams and gets relocked.

"Hey man, thanks." Jax’s tense body relaxes. “I owe you one.”

My uncle responds by grabbing Jax by the throat and powerfully tossing him down on the mat. His eyes flare with rage, "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Jax defensively raises his hands, flat on his back.

My uncle points the tip of his long katana blade under Jax's chin. "The Sword of Stardust rightfully belongs to this child. You have no right taking it."

Sword of...! Are you crazy?" Jax's eyes go wide. "I don't have a Sword of Stardust. And, brother, neither do you. Those seven swords only exist in fairytales, dude."

"Oh, I assure you," my uncle says, partially lowering the blade so Jax can get to his feet. "They are quite real."

But before more can be said, a – kaboom – like a small explosion, echoes from the back room.

"The Grail." my uncle mutters, turning toward the sound. “She’s inside.”

"I heard something. A rumor..." Jax continues, his gaze lingers on me for a moment. "A rumor that a pair of Iguanas just got here.”

“There were… two?” My uncle sounds surprised as his hands ball into fists. He shakes his head. “No. They always work alone.”

“I know.” Jax can only shrug. “I guess that’s why people were talking about it.”

“I only killed one. I didn’t know…”

“Great job. So you killed the male, and now the female wants to kill you,” Jax says, getting to his feet.

"What else did you hear?" my uncle demands.

"They’re hunting a big bounty. Like BIG." Something flickers behind Jax's eyes. "That’s all I know."

Suddenly, the entire back part of the studio is blown wide open as half a dozen identical beefy teenage boys spill inside. Their face is familiar.

"Jonas!" my uncle cries out with anguish. The Grail has cloned the assistant teacher. "Not Jonas."

“Does that mean he’s dead?” I ask my uncle.

“No.”

“But highly likely,” Jax says darkly. He turns to my uncle, "Are they after you?"

Instead of answering, my uncle throws a pair of hard teak kali sticks, like a police officer's batons, toward Jax. "Fight. Or die at their hands. Your choice.”

“Oh, I get it.” Jax reacts to my uncle’s tone. “They’re after the girl. But, why?”

“I am sworn only to protect the child. Nothing and no one else."

Uncle takes on the first “Jonas” that comes crashing forward, swinging his bow staff with wicked precision. The Jonas goes down either dead or out cold. My uncle steps forward, hovering about him then slams the sharpened edge of his sword into the heart of the creature. The thing explodes into a cloud of green ash.

The cluster of clones shrinks back now knowing that she's facing a terrifying opponent.

Ten feet away, Jax holds the hard kali sticks at his side, and I can't tell if he doesn't know what to do with them, or he's just hesitant to fight. He's eyeing the side door.

It only takes another second to get an answer to this question.

As one of the clones advances toward him, Jax raises the sticks in what at first appears to be a defensive posture, but then he's suddenly in motion, moving faster than humanly possible.

I rub my eyes. Jax is a blur of movement. There's no way any human could move that fast.

In less than 30 seconds, three Jonas' have vanished in a puff of green ash that spreads across the studio floor.

Uncle turns to Jax, "I thought you didn't fight?"

"I'm not fighting for either of you," he says, "I just hate the stinkin' Iguanas."

More Jonas' appear. Five in total.

"We have to kill her," my uncle explains. "Or they'll just keep coming."

"Which one is the prime again?" I ask.

"The one without the mark on her neck," he reminds me. "She probably isn't here. But she has to be hiding nearby… like the coward she is."

"These are all females?" I say, looking up at the monstrous Jonas predators slowly converging on us.

“Yep.” Jax nods gravely, "You should see the males."

The five fresh Grail spread out, hissing and clicking at each other in a super creepy reptilian way. They’re forming a battle plan.

Uncle and Jax prepare to fight again. There are five of them and only three of us. Uncle steps forward, ready for battle.

In unison, the cluster of Jonas clones lunges at the two men.

I watch as the two men battle the creatures. It's mesmerizing to see my uncle move.

Looking at him I suddenly see, that more than anything else, he is a soldier. It’s no surprise he was once a general.

He's like a gladiator on the battlefield, afraid of nothing and prepared for everything. He swings his sword with the ease and deadly force of a master warrior. A warrior, whose sole job, for the last decade, has been to protect me.

And now, at last, I finally understand why he’s always been so overly protective. It was all to keep me safe.

Jax, too, fights well, but with a totally different style. He's crazy fast. A blur, almost too fast for the eye to follow, he moves out of the way before the creatures can strike him.

But, it isn’t long before one of the Grail learns to anticipate his movements and counters what Jax is about to do. Now it's a fair fight.

With both men occupied, one of the creatures sees that I am alone. She stalks toward me, slipping around the men. I realize this one doesn’t have the swirling mark. This is the prime.

“Uh, hello?” I call to my uncle. Watching the monster bear down on me, I feel my body freeze up.

This was her strategy – to separate me from the other two. Gripped with fear in the corner, I'm completely cut off from my uncle and Jax.

From across the studio, my uncle calls to me, "Astrid. Remember your training. I have tried to prepare you. Now is the time to call upon all that you have learned."

Right. My training. My training. I would have paid way more attention in class if I'd known that massive shapeshifting alien bounty hunters would one day come for me.

I grab a practice staff from the barrel in the corner, but it feels strange and awkward in my hands.

The Jonas has stopped a few feet in front of me. She looks at me with those creepy glowing red eyes.

"Calm your mind, Astrid," Uncle calls. "Focus on your strength."

I raise the bow staff, ready to fight when the Jonas monster morphs into a perfect copy of my uncle.