Scepter (The Last Scribe Prequels) Page 5

  My brother did this. He hurt and humiliated her, not only to test her loyalty, but to see what I would do. A war rages inside of me--a murderous storm that causes me to tremble uncontrollably. If I go after Sam for this, he'll know she's a spy and the sacrifices she's made will be for nothing. Any action on my part, or Riley's, will end in catastrophe.

  Riley stands suddenly and the officers step back, unsure about how to proceed. He turns to me and indicates his bike with a lift of the chin and I know what he wants. In the blink of an eye he disappears with Peach and I start his Harley from a roll, maneuvering it through the crowd on the sidewalk. It takes a good twenty seconds before pandemonium breaks out, the officers shouting to each other as they scramble to figure out what just happened.

  Riley's bike roars like a living dragon as I race to meet them at Peach's apartment.

  ~12~

  “You knew?” Riley hisses incredulously, his face inches from mine. Peach is in the bathroom behind a locked door, refusing to let either of us in. Fortunately, her roommate Fiona was called in to work just before we got here.

  “Only what she told me. She said he'd been rough a few times, but it was nothing. I tried to talk her out of going back but she refused. You know how she is.”

  “There are laws about harming another Irin. Even a sadistic son of a--”

  “Since when do Irin rules apply to Sam? You know as well as I do he has no qualms about using violence, especially to show domination.”

  “This is Peach we're talking about, not some groupie off the street. She's--”

  “She's fine,” Peach interrupts, appearing in the bedroom doorway. Rushing to her side, Riley leads her to the couch and she collapses onto it, a pained expression on her clean, but battered face. A loose pair of pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt cover most of the other damage. Only her forearms and feet are bare and already the marks are fading. By morning all that will remain is a few bruises, thanks to Irin healing properties. Lifting her chin to examine her face, Riley gently brushes back her tangled hair. He leans forward to gently kiss her forehead. She closes her eyes for a moment, then pushes him away.

  “Enough. Both of you. All this bickering is giving me a headache.”

  “He's gone too far this time,” Riley says, looking pointedly at me. “What are we going to do about it?”

  “Nothing,” Peach interjects, her tone sharp. “I mean it, Riley. That's what he wants and why I didn't want you to know. If either of you respond whatsoever, you might as well hang a traitor sign around my neck.”

  “What difference does it make?” Riley says, his expression turning hard. “You're not going back there.”

  “Don't be stupid,” Peach replies, waiving his words away. “I knew what I was up against when I went to Sam. There's no way I'm backing out now.”

  “No,” Riley says, crossing his arms over his chest. An electric charge pulses from him, the air in the room heavy with threat.

  Struggling to a standing position, Peach trembles, but holds her ground. “Who do you think you are?” She rails at him, pointing a finger in his chest. “We all have a job to do and time is running out. You have no say in what I can or cannot do and your big fat ego is a liability, not only to me but everyone else.”

  “Is that right?” Riley mutters through gritted teeth, his face turning purple.

  Rolling her eyes, Peach collapses back onto the couch. “Just go, Riley. Do your job and let me do mine.”

  Stunned, Riley clenches his jaw, glaring at her then me. “So that's it? We're just supposed to pretend like nothing happened?”

  Closing her eyes, Peach leans her head back on the couch. “Exactly.”

  Livid, Riley gives me a pointed stare then stalks to the front door, slamming it behind him. We both stare at it for a moment, listening to his angry steps retreating.

  “That went well,” Peach says, sighing.

  “What did you expect?”

  She shrugs. “He just needs some time to cool off.” She pats the couch next to her. “Sit with me.”

  Frowning, I stare at the front door, debating whether I should go after Riley.

  “Please,” she continues. “He could come back any second and I need to talk to you.”

  Conflicted, nevertheless I seat myself gently beside her. After a moment I reach over and carefully take her pale hand. “What happened?”

  Smiling sadly, she takes a deep breath. “What always happens with Sam. He heard a rumor, or so he said, that you were in town. He used that as an excuse to test my loyalty. He wanted shock value and I had no choice but to let him.”

  “So this is my fault.” It takes every last ounce of self control I have not to go after him – to annihilate everyone and everything that has to do with my brother.

  “No, this is my game. I knew what I was signing up for.” She turns her face to me, the traumatized expression in her eyes making me wince.

  “What can I do?” I whisper. “Anything, at all. Just tell me what you want.”

  “I need some time away,” she says, glancing briefly toward the front door. “Alone. To get my head straight. Fiona's taking that job in L.A. She leaves tomorrow and I want to go with her. I'll be back before Hope comes. I promise.”

  I stare into her pale green eyes, absorbing her request. “I take it you don't want Riley to know where you are.”

  She closes her eyes again. “Look, I know I was hard on him--”

  “Brutal,” I interject.

  “Whatever. I just think it would be a good idea for us to have some distance. A few weeks is all I'm asking.”

  I take a deep breath and stare at the front door. This isn't the first time Peach has needed a break from Riley. While they have a relationship unique amongst the Irin, they also tend to get on each other's nerves. Considering the gravity of what lies ahead of us in the near future, a short break sounds reasonable.

  “Fine. On one condition.”

  She raises an eyebrow, but doesn't open her eyes.

  “I'm going with you. Just until you settle in. When I'm sure you're okay, then I'll leave you alone.”

  “But tomorrow's her birthday--” she says, opening her eyes.

  “I'm not going.”

  “But--”

  “That's the deal. I'm not leaving you, Peach. Not until I know you're alright and today isn't that day. Besides, Hope will be with her family for another month still, so it's not like I can really talk to her anyway. I've waited thirteen years. I can wait awhile longer.”

  We both stare at the closed door now.

  “So, have you decided?” she asks, laying a cool hand on my arm.

  “On what?”

  She runs her hand over the new tattoos. “What sort of image you'll present to her. Let me see it,” she says, squeezing my hand.

  “Now?”

  “Why not? I need a distraction.”

  Unable to refuse, reluctantly, I take a deep breath and close my eyes, envisioning the girl who once shared my heartbeat. I picture her as an infant, her pink fingers splayed in the sunlight. I see her face on the day I left her and the intense young woman who sat with me in the church nursery only days ago. I see the unflinching hazel eyes that miss nothing, and her curious smile. When I open my eyes Peach is staring at me, wide eyed.

  “Bravo,” she murmurs, turning her torso slightly so she can take it all in. “Modern and mysterious, yet entirely non-threatening. It works. Except for the hair.”

  “What's wrong with the hair?”

  “Please. No one has hair that long anymore.”

  “Fine. Anything else?”

  She narrows her eyes, thinking. “Not that I can think of at the moment.”

  “Think later. Right now you should rest,” I say, rising from the couch. “Want something to eat? We could order something.”

  “I'm okay,” she sighs, stretching out on the couch. “Maybe you should go check on Riley.”

  “Later,” I say, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the sofa. Unfoldi
ng it, I lay it gently over her. When I hear her breathing slow, I walk into the kitchen, taking out my phone. Dialing the number I have memorized, I listen as it rings, staring out the kitchen window.

  “Temple residence,” Adam answers, his cheerful voice a welcome respite.

  “It's me. Look, something's come up. I'm not going to make it tomorrow.”

  There's a brief pause while he clears his throat. His voice is quieter when he responds. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. It's just. . . there are some things I need to take care of first.”

  A sparrow lands on a leafy branch by the window ledge, flitting back and forth. I watch it for a moment, the ache in my chest threatening to choke me.

  “How is she?” I ask, hating the desperation in my voice. “Coping. She and her ma are coming out to the farm for her birthday tomorrow. Everyone else is tied up with church business.”

  Frowning, I sigh inwardly. The Matthews are obviously unhappy with the recent diary fiasco and are distancing themselves from her.

  “Perhaps it's just as well,” I say. “In the long run, I mean.”

  “Perhaps,” Adam agrees. “Doesn't make it any easier on her, though.”

  “I'll let you know when I can get away,” I say, changing the subject before I change my mind. “Give me a few more days. Oh, and keep an eye on Simon.”

  ~ 13~

  “You said a week,” Peach grumbles, handing me another piece of bread. We're sitting on the beach in Santa Monica, California, watching the seagulls fight over crumbs we toss up in the air. “Seriously, you can go now.”

  The marks are all but gone and she seems more herself, but I've known her long enough to see she's still hurting. Unable to sit still for longer than a few minutes, in the few days we've been here she's already found a job and sublet an apartment. We spent the morning buying her a red bicycle to get around on while she's here.

  Neither of us have heard from Riley.

  “Know what I think?” she continues, staring out over the sun tipped waves of the Pacific Ocean. “You're scared.”

  “Of what? I scoff, nudging her with my shoulder. “My brother? You know better than that.”

  “Not of Sam. Hope,” she says turning to look at me, her pale green eyes squinting in the sunlight. “You're scared of your feelings for her.”

  “Feelings are irrelevant,” I mumble, breaking from her penetrating gaze. “Keeping her alive and away from Sam is all that matters.”

  Rolling her eyes, she snorts. “You've been in love with that girl since the day she was born. We both know if things were different--”

  “But they're not and never will be. So drop it,” I snap, growing increasingly uncomfortable. “Besides, I'm not the only one with feelings they don't want to talk about.”

  She looks back out at the water, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “Yeah, but do you ever wonder what it'd be like?” she says softly. “To be finite. To live and die with the one you love and not be punished for it?”

  Swallowing a lump in my throat, I stare at her profile. “Is that what you want?” I whisper. “Are you thinking of--”

  “Of course not,” she says, cutting me off. “I was just asking if you'd ever thought about it.”

  Taking a deep breath, I toss another piece of bread up in the air and watch the birds race to catch it. “Of course I have. But a fish loving a bird doesn't change anything. The two were never meant to go together and wishing for things you can't have only makes you miserable.”

  “But if you could. . . and there were no consequences--would you?”

  “Be a bird?” I pause to stare out at the water, imagining a human life. With Hope. “Maybe. I don't know,” I say, standing. Dusting off my pants, I offer a hand to pull her up. “Anyway, it doesn't matter.”

  Accepting my hand, Peach rises, crumpling the empty bread bag. We both shake the sand from our clothes then walk toward the bike path.

  “Think I'll head out this evening,” I say, earning a half-hearted smile from her. I need to locate Riley and finish getting things ready for Hope's arrival in Portland. Plus, there's a salesman at Ikea I promised to do business with and I never break a promise. “Unless you want me to stay longer.”

  “Perish the thought,” she says, feigning mortification. We walk a few paces farther and she stops to face me. “Thank you. I won't forget the sacrifice you made, missing her birthday and all.”

  “It's been hell, but I'll survive.”

  Punching me in the arm she grins and I see the old Peach again. “Always the charmer. Get out of here before I hurl.”

  Leaning down to touch my forehead to hers, I smile back. “See you in Portland.”

  ~14~

  Standing on the steps of the now finished New Generation high rise building, I watch the sun peeking over the horizon. A golden haze gradually illuminates the breathtaking trees that tower throughout the city of Portland.

  A white SUV quietly motors up the street, the windows tinted black. Coming to a stop in front of the building, I wait patiently for the passenger door to open. Exiting the vehicle, I watch as my brother directs the woman driving to leave him there. He waits at the curb, watching her pull away while I remain where I am, my arms crossed over my chest.

  “A little early for a visit,” he says over his shoulder. He wears a black military uniform with a red circular insignia on the pocket.

  “Long overdue, actually.”

  Shaking his head, he turns around. “You'll pardon me if I don't invite you in. I have a very busy schedule today, so let's hear it.”

  “Hear what?”

  Rolling his eyes, he starts toward me, walking up the steps. “We're far too old to play games, you and I. You came to tell me something and I admit, I'm curious to know what the great Scepter could possibly deem so important to risk being seen on my property.”

  I watch as he continues toward me, his posture deceptively calm. When he's but a few steps below, he stops. Squinting against the increased sunlight, he puts his hands in his expensive pants pockets.

  “Nice look, by the way,” he says. “You'll fit right in with the homeless crowd.”

  “I see you're still as vain as ever,” I reply, motioning to the building and his uniform.

  “Ah, well, we all have our vices,” he says with a shrug. “So let's have it. What do you want?”

  “Nothing. I just came to deliver a message.”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “From who?”

  Pulling a folded piece of paper from my back pocket, I present it to him. He looks at it, but doesn't touch it. The golden symbol of the Irin Council glints in the morning sun. I shake it briefly, encouraging him to take it. “C'mon. You know you're dying to know what it says.”

  Pausing for another moment to consider it, he finally takes it from my hand. A jolt of power passes through the paper, knocking him down the steps. Landing flat on his back on the pavement, he struggles to rise but can't. Walking toward him, I shake my head. “Sorry, couldn't help myself.”

  Continuing down the stairs I pick up the paper he dropped and when I reach his prostrate form I slam it onto his heaving chest. “In case you've forgotten, brother, I can still kick your ass. So before you do something you'll regret, I suggest you read that message and think long and hard about what it says.” Leaning down until I'm mere inches from his face, I whisper. “You're nothing but a lackey to the Powers and that paper says I've officially stepped down as the Irin leader. From this moment forward I have only one goal. I may not be able to kill you myself, but we both know who can and I will spend the rest of eternity doing everything in my power to see that not only are you defeated, but even your memory is wiped from this planet. As of this moment, there are no rules, no laws or treaty to protect you. Consider yourself warned.”

  “You've gone Rogue?” he croaks, his face contorted with pain.

  Chuckling, I stand. “You wish. No, I'm afraid where I'm going there's no name for yet. But don't worry, br
other. You'll be seeing me again soon enough.”

  I see a group of white clad New Generation followers come around the corner, chatting over their morning cups of coffee. I take a deep breath and start across the street and hear their anxious shouts as they discover their fallen leader. Smiling to myself, I disappear into the city, refusing to look back.

  “You and I

  have floated here on the stream that springs from the fount.

  At the heart of time, love of one for another.

  We have played alongside millions of lovers,

  Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,

  the distressful tears of farewell,

  Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

  Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you

  The love of all man's days both past and forever: Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.

  The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours—

  And the songs of every poet past and forever.”

  From Unending Love by Rabindranath Tagore

  ~15~

  The sun rises over a secluded bench in the Peninsula Park rose garden of Portland, Oregon, where Hope lies curled on her side. The hazy morning light reveals her tear stained face is mottled pink and purple, her eyes swollen shut from weeping. She mumbles in her sleep, emitting a plaintive cry. The utter anguish in her voice, even in sleep, makes me tremble.

  Five days ago her aunt Paula was brutally murdered in the storage room of the Omega Alliance facility. Fearing for her own life, Hope fled from Rochester and is now wanted for questioning by the authorities. Thanks to an inside tip from Peach, we scrambled to intercept her at the bus station, but a close call with my brother sent her running through the streets of Portland. I now stand guard over her unconscious form, alone with her for the first time.

  While relieved at finally being near her, this is not the way I imagined our reunion. I pore over her exhausted features aching to wipe away her tears, but unable to do more than simply watch.