Chapter 7

Anna stared, helpless as Jacob rushed out the door of the small, simple office they sat in. She was lost in what had just happened, or why she was even there. She felt like she had just witnessed something she shouldn’t have seen, the empty, haunted look that had encompassed Jacob’s face, a contrast to the impish smirk he had sported in the week she had known him.

When Mrs. Harris had approached her about accompanying him, she had warned her that it was going to be sensitive. She couldn’t help wondering on their whole way to the office, with Jacob glaring at the floor the entire journey, why he had wanted her to come with him. He had only known her for a week, which was hardly the level of trust she felt was needed for seeing such an event.

Now, she sat speechless, perched on the edge of her chair as Ms. Carter replaced the phone on the receiver. The bang of the main office door to the hall lurched her out of her thoughts. Her eyes met Ms. Carter’s for a split second before pushing herself to her feet and ignoring all her instincts to pretend she hadn’t just seen someone’s world destroyed, she followed him.

When she reached the freshly empty halls, he was out of sight. Not questioning how she knew it, she turned left, heading to the stairway in the front corner of the building that she noted as the one she used the least. There were no windows in the space, but an emergency exit door allowed the afternoon light to filter in. The stairs up and down were split to allow the door room, meaning that she had to look to her right to see where Jacob had curled himself in the shadows at the base of the stairs that led to the upper floor.

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, what she was supposed to say, or whether she should turn away like she hadn’t followed him in the first place. Before she could do anything though, he raised his face just enough to allow his golden eyes to peek through the strands of dark hair that fell in his face.

A few seconds of silence passed as they just locked gazes, and oddly, neither seemed pushed to say anything. She could feel his pain, the loss that had stabbed a knife through his heart the moment his sister had started speaking. She could feel her own eyes begin to sting from the level of emotion that was pouring out of him, unlike anything she had felt before. She hadn’t had the opportunity to know her mother, but she knew that if she had lost her, her despair would crush her just as much as it was doing to him right now.

He raised his head, the glistening on his skin revealing the silent tears that covered his cheeks. His arms were wrapped around himself, one raised to what looked like a dark scar at the base of his neck. He was very still; as if he was paused in time while the tears continued to flow.

Slowly, she walked over to crouch in front of where he sat, only his eyes following her movement with an absent glaze that was impossible to read. His gaze finally dipped, staring at the plain concrete floor under his feet.

They sat in silence, Anna conscious of the fact that they shouldn’t be in the hall during class like this; but considering the circumstances, she didn’t care. A few minutes passed before a long shaky breath from him caught her attention.

“You know,” his voice was weaker than she could have imagined him speaking. “I haven’t seen any of my family in six months,” a choked laugh that held no humour escaped his lips. “I didn’t think that when I said goodbye to my mom, I’d never see her again.”

She felt her heart crack; opening her mouth but was unable to find any words that would mean anything.

His fingers tightened into a fist above his chest, his eyes squeezing so tightly shut that his face scrunched up in pain. “They say she’s missing,” he met her eyes once again, a spark of rage hidden in the depths of his sorrow. “They say she’s missing as if there’s any chance that it doesn’t mean she’s dead.”

She scrambled for something to say, but she didn’t know enough about Jacob to find the words of comfort he needed. All she could determine from what she had observed over the last week, was that his home life was chaotic and complicated.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he grumbled like he knew what she was thinking. The gold in his eyes was more vivid in their bloodshot state, catching what little light was reaching them to make them seem like they were glowing. “What is there to say?”

She wanted to say he was wrong, that there was plenty to say, but what was there to say to a boy whose mum had probably been murdered? It did stand out as a little strange that his first response to hearing she was missing was to automatically assume that she was dead and that his family was doing the same. It might have been more common where he was from, but even so, she couldn’t imagine giving up so quickly; to not even try to hold out hope that she was still alive.

He let out a heavy sigh, moving his hand to run through his already disheveled hair before propping up his head on his knee. She jumped as a loud laugh escaped him, hysteria bursting out at his seams. She stared, mouth agape at the outburst.

“I suppose this is the way that fate would get back to me,” his voice shook with unstable laughter, intermixed with chokes from the tears that still fought to see light. He buried his face into his hands, obviously trying to regain control.

“Jacob,” Anna turned to see Ms. Carter cautiously approaching them, her brown eyes filled with concern. “Why don’t you come with me and we can see if someone can come to pick you up, okay?”

Jacob nodded wordlessly, pushing himself effortlessly from the floor. He stood still for a moment, closing his eyes as he sucked in a deep breath. Anna watched as his posture changed, the broken boy covered quickly before her eyes. When he reopened his eyes a few seconds later, the tears were gone, replaced with a hardened look that spoke more pain than their age should know. He stood to his full height, the only reminder that he was in distress being the drying tear tracks on his cheeks.

After a moment, Anna realised that Ms. Carter was holding a hall pass out to her. She took the paper, giving a nod of thanks before slowly moving away from the stairwell, casting glances back at Jacob.

She still didn’t know how she got into this situation, nor how she was supposed to respond to any of it. She didn’t have friends, and the one that she did have had probably forgotten all about her by now. She had no experience with any situation outside of greetings and talking to her father. Even so, she felt like walking away was wrong when Jacob was obviously in need of support.

It didn’t matter why he had wanted her to go with him, but that she was there for this. He was an odd person, though she could tell he was genuine in his actions over the last week.

The events of the last fifteen minutes replayed in her mind as she made her way back down the hall to Mrs. Harris’s classroom. Surprised at the sorrow building in her being for a person that she had never met. She had always wanted her mother’s presence in her life and had dreamt of meeting her more times than she could remember. She couldn’t help but be grateful at that moment though, that she had been spared the memory of her leaving them.

She didn’t have to feel the pain of having her turn her back on her and her father, instead, being left with that void where she was supposed to be. Now Jacob was facing that emptiness, but in such a different way that she was unsure if they could be compared at all.

She had watched her father slip in and out of the darkness of grief, for not only her mother and sister but for those he had yet to speak to her about. She could only hope that Jacob could process the loss without losing himself as her father did.

____________________________

Jol flexed his clawed feet in the ashy soil of his homeworld, the towering spires of the fortress casting a shadow from behind where he stood. The dual suns had just risen above the elevated horizon of the mountains and plateaus surrounding them, their light contributing to the already burning heat of the volcanic surface.

He had distant memories of when his planet had been more alive, before the attack. They had been at peace, their society flourishing against the odds. There used to be more colors than red, gray, and black. The sky had been a light golden shade, now turned to a dark red with dust and never-ending smoke. Most of the plants had died off, with many creatures following in their path. All that was left of his home was what could fight to stay alive.

He surveyed the cliffs around him, embracing the peace he received when he ventured outside the fortress walls, yet still close enough that he wasn’t actively being hunted by the beasts that roamed this region.

In the distance, the glow of a large lava fall lent an eerily majestic feel to the canyon. It was almost beautiful if it wasn’t for the fact that much of the soil was mixed with the remains of his people.

His claws clenched into the rock he sat on, scraping against its hard surface. His jaw clenched, his fangs scraping painfully against each other, but he didn’t care. It had been nearly twenty cycles since the attack, and he had thought about it every day since.

There was a slight whistling sound as the wind rushed between the stone and over the cracked, shifting, lurid surface. It only added to the haunting feel the landscape already provided.

He could feel someone’s eyes on him, arising amid his inner turmoil. He felt his hunches tighten, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the cliffs above him. His mind traveled back to the conversation he had overheard between the queen and her advisor. Could this be the imposter that had been pushing past their borders?

A slight movement caught his attention to the south, a silhouetted form crouching near the crest of one of the lower plateaus. Details were impossible to see from this distance, however, he could already tell that whoever they were, they were wearing the traditional black garb of the Hecathian army.

His claws dug further into the rock beneath him, his wings spreading in preparation for the inevitable fight that was about to take place. His red eyes followed their movement as they leaped off the ledge, sliding down the rough rock like it was nothing but a small nuisance.

As the figure approached, now slower, Jol could distinguish the larger form of a male. A mask covered his face beside a small strip that revealed his darker skin and evergreen eyes that appeared nearly black in the reddened light. While still moving, the man crossed his arms to reveal the dual bronze daggers that were hidden in the arm sheaths that coated the lower half of his arms. The black material swam with the swallowed shadows of the world around them, making the illusion that the form-fitting surface moved on its own.

“You alert the others,” his voice was a low rumble of a growl. “And I will plant one of these between your eyes.”

Jol felt the rumble in his chest, furious at the man’s arrogance to threaten him on his own soil. He bunched his muscles and launched at his enemy, claws, and fangs outstretched.  had expected this, however, dodging to hit him out of the air, twisting to wrap his legs around Jol’s inhuman form, and pulling him down. Jol slammed to the ground,  pressing him down into the ash with a dagger pressed roughly against his throat.

“Now, you will listen to me,” the man hissed, his dark eyes flashing. “I’m here to make a deal, and you are going to help me.”

Jol stared defiantly up at him, rage turning his vision red. “I’m not helping your mikolak ul.” He spat, attempting to throw the man off. He only pressed him down further, the blade biting into his tough skin further than he would have liked.

“You will behave,” the man’s voice lilted in a tone that mocked him. “I have information that you and your precious leader want.”

Jol let out a long growl, confused by his motives. “What information?”

“If you’re interested,” the man’s eyes narrowed in victory. “I’m willing to make a deal.”

“What do you want?” Jol gritted out, baring his teeth.

“I want to speak with Rinoas.”

Jol felt a chill race down his spine at the beast’s name. No one went to see Rinoas unless they were ready to give up part of their soul. He was known to give unnatural gifts and had high prices for such exchanges. Few dared to speak his name; only the queen and her close associates even knew where to find him.

“And if I arrange for this?” He swallowed as much as he could.

“Then you will have this information, along with my gratitude.” his voice spoke nothing of gratitude. “I might even do something in return if you are timely in my request.”

“How do I know if you’re going to give us any information?” Jol questioned, still unsure of the man’s intentions.

“Tell your queen,” his eyes glinted with glee. “If she wants to know the whereabouts of Allenesaia Ophelie, along with insider information from the Hecathian’s academy, you’ll get back to me when I return to this spot before the next sunrise. Otherwise, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Jol’s eyes widened at the offer, the spoken name being one that he vaguely recognized, though couldn’t identify.

“Now run along, daemon,” the man’s emphasis on the insult they spoke to those of other species sent a spike of anger through him. The man stood, releasing Jol, but keeping his daggers raised and ready to strike. “I will return, and you will be there.”

He was tempted to refuse the offer from the consistent disrespect he had been shown, however, such information would prove invaluable. “Before I make these arrangements,” He pushed himself off the ground, brushing himself off indignantly. “You will give me a piece of information valuable enough that I can trust your word.”

The man looked at him for a moment, considering the request. “For a daemon, you’re a bit smarter than most I’ve encountered.” The comment made Jol bristle, but he said nothing. “Allenesaia Ophelie,” he continued slowly. “She, along with three other vulnerable recruits are outside the academy borders under guard from a lone, young warrior. As for her location, that will have to wait.”

Jol ruminated over this new information, glancing back at the fortress, already deciding how he was going to bring this forward to the queen. He looked up at the blur of motion that launched away, scaling a nearby cliff in seconds before disappearing over the edge. Jol turned, anger still raging through his veins, to make his way back to the fortress.

____________________________

Anna sighed as she poured steaming water into her mug, covering the sachet in the bottom. She breathed in the comforting aroma of mint tea before stirring in the little bit of honey she had gotten in the habit of adding to her tea.

Her father sat in his usual chair at their small dining table, his rarely worn reading glasses perched on his nose as he inspected a stack of papers that had been delivered to the postbox earlier that day. His frown and occasional mutter at the contents led to her casting glances at him. His half-finished dinner sat before him, most likely going to be left untouched until they stored it for the next day.

It was so strangely mundane after the events that had taken place at school. The familiar presence Jacob brought to her experience in classes and interacting with Rachel and the others had left an unusual silence in comparison. Their normally quick and fun conversations during lunch had been diminished to Rachel and Asher talking blandly about maths homework.

Anna hadn’t told them why he was gone, after all, it wasn’t her place to do so, but they had already identified that something was wrong since they had seen him earlier in the day. She hadn’t been able to shake what she had seen, Jacob reduced to a state she hadn’t seen anyone fall to. She couldn’t help but worry for him, hoping that he had someone to talk to about his feelings; but knowing that if he had blurted some out to her in the middle of the stairs, it wasn’t likely. Even beyond that, she had questions that could perhaps only be answered by Jacob; but how in the world was she supposed to do that with the risk of looking like a complete idiot, or insane?

Watching Jacob crumble before her was sobering, as all the trivial matters of her everyday woes were swept aside for a glimpse of the depth of reality. There was so much that she didn't understand, and so much that she couldn't. Somehow, Jacob's life was now twisted into her paranoid and borderline crazy line of questioning. Where did he fit into this puzzle? Guilt pooled in her stomach at the thought; how self-absorbed she must be for thinking about that right now. Her issues were hardly of the same importance compared to his.

She took a sip of her tea, her tongue tingling at the heat as she continued to not learn to allow it to cool a bit more before drinking it. She felt Isa brush against her leg, a soft chirp casting her gaze to drop to the black cat. She swallowed quickly, setting the mug back down on the counter with a soft clack before lowering herself to sit on the floor, reaching to scratch under Isa’s chin. The cold tiles against the bare skin of her lower legs sent a chill through her body as she ran her hand along Isa’s spine.

She had found herself thinking about Jacob’s mother several times throughout the day. Was she kind, like she held hopes that her mother would be like? Was she like Jacob, impulsive and living life without care for judgment? Or was she the calm and wise type whom one could go to for any kind of advice? She would never know, but part of her wanted to.

“What are you thinking so hard about over there?” Her father’s deep voice made her look up, realising that she had been unintentionally glaring at the wall across from where she sat.

“Just stuff from school,” she offered a weak smile.

He set his papers on the table, pulling his glasses off while furrowing his brows in concern. “Something wrong?”

“One of my…” She debated on what word to use. “Friends,” she internally winced at how unsure she made the word sound. “Is having a hard time.”

“Is that so,” her father sat up straighter in his chair, his mouth twisting into a frown. “Which friend is this?”

“Jacob,” she prayed for him not to push anything.

Instead of the jokes she had expected, his face only hardened. “What kind of a hard time?”

She opened her mouth to answer, unsure if she should or not. Contemplating, she gathered her hair to swoop it over one shoulder, playing with the ends. “He just heard that his mum went missing,” she met her father’s eyes.

Troubled violet eyes stared back at her, an open hand falling to hit the tabletop with a muffled smack. He sat there like the information had sent a knife into his heart. “Raiya idhalan, mair slaien.” He murmured, closing his eyes. “Ruon kai esa mulsu.”

Anna bit her lip, biting back the urge to ask what that language was, the question had been in her mind since she had heard it spoken the week before. “You knew Jacob’s parents?” She asked instead, recalling something that had been said that night they had gone to dinner at Joseph’s.

“I did,” her father opened his eyes, releasing a sigh. “A long time ago,” a sad smile crossed his face.

“How did you know them?” She propped her knees up to her chest, one arm wrapping down and around her ankles, while her other remained free to stroke Isa as she flopped down to roll on the floor.

His eyes went distant, seeing things unknown to her. “Mai-Michael,” he stuttered out with an odd look on his face. “Was one of my closest friends.” He left it at that, but she could tell there was much more to the story.

“When did you stop talking?” She asked carefully, unsure of what the answer would be like. Anna’s hand had frozen on Isa’s head, the cat meowing in protest before shaking her off and getting up to walk away. It hadn’t been nearly as long as she had imagined. “Do I know him?” She narrowed her eyes, trying to think of someone this ‘Michael’ could be.

Her father let out another humourless laugh. “No. No, you wouldn’t,” his lips tightened, his hands folding in his lap as his face dropped to look to the floor.

“What happened?” She couldn’t help but ask, her father was being more forthcoming than he ever had been. Now was her opportunity to hear and learn more, she wasn’t about to question why he was suddenly talking.

“We had a… disagreement,” her father looked up, but she could tell his mind was lost in the past. “He cut off contact, and made sure to insult every choice I’ve made on his way out.”

“Oh,” she winced.

“I didn’t-” he stopped, looking conflicted. “I lost contact with Margaret earlier. She usually stayed home with their kids while Michael and I would travel for work.” He fiddled with his folded fingers, his face solemn. “I think of her as a young woman,” he shook his head. “It’s mad how long ago that really was.”

“So, you knew them from before I was born?” Anna blinked at the realisation. The coincidence that she would know Jacob years later, was inconceivable to her. It also explained the odd interactions between Jacob and her father during dinner if Jacob was aware of the connection.

“We bordered being childhood friends,” Her father shrugged noncommittally. “We weren’t quite kids, but we might as well have been. I was with him when I met your mother.”

“Wow,” Anna shook her head in disbelief, twisting her hair in her hands. “But what was the disagreement about? If you were friends for so long, how did it end so badly?”

Her father let out a heavy sigh, dropping his head again. “We weren’t as close as I had hoped, and life changed both of us in very different ways. The disagreement had been building for a long time at that point, and it was big enough that it stood out above everything to both of us. After that, we didn’t have a choice but to part ways.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna frowned, faint whispers of her father's pained memories of the events he spoke of.

“I’ve moved past it,” he said the words, but everything else screamed otherwise to her. “I had you to take care of, and it was around the same time life just got more complicated in general.”

She remembered. It was the year that they had left London, making their first major move. She was too young to understand, but she could recall her father being more stressed than she had seen him before or since. Though with the amount of stress her father carried, she was surprised that he didn’t have to dye his hair back to its natural mahogany brown.

“Did they know Joseph too?” She cocked her head to the side, thinking about how it explained part of why he was staying at her uncle’s house while away from his true home.

Her father nodded, a grim look taking over his face. “Yes,” he separated his hands from their folded position, one reaching to place his glasses back on his face while the other went for the papers once again.

Anna knew this was his signal to end the conversation, but she still had so many questions. She sat on the floor for a moment longer, watching her father go back to reading through whatever was written on the pages. She stood slowly with a barely audible sigh, reflecting on what she had just learnt. While it was only a puzzle piece to add to the picture she was attempting to build, it was one of the few things she had, which made it valuable.

Grabbing her mug of tea, she moved out of the kitchen to go sit in the living room. She settled in the chair facing toward the front window, the one her father usually sat in now being occupied by Isa, taking her habitual pre-nap bath in the small beam of evening light that came in the front window.

She was unreasonably happy about her father talking about something from his past, however, was unsure of whether it quelled or added to the frustration that had been building from the vague or nonexistent answers that had been given prior. Her mind scrambled to piece together the tidbits she had gotten through the years, along with her father’s obvious displeasure with certain areas that she would ask after. She was nowhere near the actual story, but she was patient enough to wait until one day, he would be comfortable enough to talk about it. She just hoped it didn’t take too long either, since she had been fishing for answers for almost four years already.

She pulled her legs up onto the cushion, taking a sip of tea. A warm rush encompassed her like a blanket had been wrapped around her shoulders. She swallowed, closing her eyes in her state of comfort.

In her head, she checked off each of the things she had been supposed to do earlier, relieved to find that there wasn’t anything left until morning. She had a feeling that the next few days would have the same aura of wrongness to them as this one, though truthfully, there had been something off since she had started going to school again.

       She opened her eyes, her hands tightening on the mug as she raised it for another sip. She narrowed her gaze, staring noncommittally out the front window. The strange events of the last week had been living rent-free in her mind since they had each happened.

There was something strange happening, and she was determined to find out what it was. There was, however, the problem that she had no idea what it was. It wasn’t like a dagger came flying into everyone’s hands, nor thoughts and conversations happening elsewhere invading their thoughts.

Her mind went back to when she held the silver dagger in her hand, the metal cool and balanced. She had felt something then, a presence of some kind in the room with her while her father slept. She hadn’t realized it until later after the shock of it all had passed.

Her hand curved around the handle of the mug as if it were the hilt of her blade, the ceramic surface curving almost painfully into her palm at the unwelcome pressure. She didn’t know how to explain that she had felt like she was holding someone in her hand until that dagger was out of her possession. She honestly didn’t want to think about it either. A possessed dagger was the last thing she needed on top of every other unexplained event that plagued her mind.

Every time she went near the laundry room door in the kitchen, she could feel the pull to reenter. Even in her room, she could still feel the urge to go back to investigate further. Whether it was whatever was calling her in the first place, or her raging curiosity, a large part of her wanted to go back to look at what was in that box. The question was: should she?

Her father had obviously wanted to hide the contents from her, as he had kept it away from her during every move they had made. Never unpacking the contents, even in their old home, so long ago now, she couldn’t identify anything that would have been placed in such a box, as most of their belongings were sold for convenience.

She was looking at scattered puzzle pieces, a hundred or more, trying to figure out what the picture would show, or even what each puzzle piece was. So far, was her mother’s absence, her sister’s death, her father’s withdrawn nature, the vague answers, and these strange abilities that she could hardly comprehend…

She couldn't begin to explain how holding that dagger had felt right; like it belonged in her hand.

She took a big gulp of her tea, stifling a cough as some tried to go down the wrong pipe. She slowly evened out her breathing, taking a deep breath as she lowered the mug to balance in the cramped position between her legs and the arm of the chair so it wouldn’t spill.

She sighed quietly, as to avoid the question from her father about what was bothering her. Her mind was buzzing in circles, making no progress. She could feel the frustration beginning to build in her stomach, a week of questions building up one at a time.

It would only be a matter of time until she either found the answers to everything, whether they were those she wanted or not, or she would most likely implode from the growing chagrin from being left in the dark for however long it took until she got to that point. She hoped it would be the first option.