Knowledge: The Fifth Division Saga: Book 1 (5 page)

I gulped, but did my best to retort as forcefully as possible, “Understand what?”

He leaned down towards my face. We were now mere inches apart. I could see the drops of sweat that dotted his skin and hear each and every raspy breath he took. I wanted to gag. “Understand why I just can’t help myself.”

That was it; I thrashed with all my might. I screamed and pulled and did everything in my power to get away from Hank. But it was no use. But the most I managed was a scratch on his arm that hardly broke skin. He came scarily close to me, his face next to mine. He leaned in with his hands gripping me tighter than before and then…

He stopped.

I had closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself to forget and block out anything I needed to but when he stopped approaching me I peeked out of one squinted eye in curiosity. Hank stood in the same spot, looming over me, but his hands loosened around my waist and he stuttered backwards a step. An expression of shocked horror painted across his face. I felt my nose twist in confusion before my eyes flitted down to where his hands clawed confusedly at his chest.

I gasped in terror. His meaty hands clutched at his heart desperately and he sputtered incoherently. My gaze fixed on his chest as a dark red flower of blood bloomed across his white shirt from the spot where a dagger had struck directly through his heart. A small stream of blood fell from the corner of his mouth as Hank fell clumsily to his knees and then onto his back. The tip of the dagger jutted out of the front of his chest, indicating that he had been assaulted from behind. Hank gave one last spasm and a dying groan before falling utterly still. Pushing back the bile that tried to fight its way up my throat, I lifted my head to look into the shadows behind the place where Hank had been standing. I caught a stirring in the darkness and then the crackle of footsteps on damp grass. Two figures of the night emerged from just around the porch, their faces shrouded by darkness. They stepped closer until their features were bathed in the yellow light of the house, their arms out defensively to their sides as if prepared for battle.

I blinked at the sight of brown hair and blue eyes: Rezza and Wiley.

Rezza smiled brightly at me before skipping over to Hank’s crumpled form and promptly yanking the bloodstained dagger out of his back. She barely glanced at the sadistic weapon before wiping the red fluid onto her black pants, leaving menacing streaks of crimson along her thighs. Wiley joined her on the porch and the two of them focused on me, not sparing even a second glance at Hank.

They may have forgotten him, but I sure hadn’t, “You killed him.”

“Yeah?” Rezza grinned happily, as if she hadn’t just murdered a teenage boy. She looked at me like I was the crazy one, “We were told to bring you back unharmed.” I glanced down at Hank unintentionally, thinking of those terrifying moments before he toppled over, when I thought for sure I wouldn’t be able to escape his tight hold. I thought of the way his breath smelled like bitter mint as he leaned towards me, as I flailed helplessly…

I shuddered and looked away from the body, “What are you talking about? You’re…you’re psychotic!”

Wiley shrugged, “Just doing our job.”

“Now,” Rezza continued her brother’s thought and she smirked at me, “just come with us and no one else gets hurt, alright?”

Chapter 3

Parties had never really been Caspian’s scene.

In fact, he pretty much hated them. All of the noise and people jammed into a tight space made for too much interaction and
way
too much physical contact with other people. Despite that fact, Caspian had to admit that Mira had done an amazing job on this one. She kept trying to give him credit, but no matter how she worded it, Caspian knew that the truth of the matter was that she had done almost all of the work by herself. Sure, he had done some shopping and had supplied the height when needed, but his sister owned the visionary talent and made tonight happen. She had a way with things like this.

Caspian had always been awed by the way Mira so entirely differed from himself. Where he was shy, she was friendly and outgoing. While he preferred to be behind the scenes, she worked the spotlight. It sort of made sense when he thought about it, them being complete opposites even though they were twins, but it still never failed to dumbfound him.

A sharp pain stabbed his head, a piercing discomfort that knocked the wind out of him and almost caused him to double over. He closed his eyes tight and breathed in and out, in and out deeply until the migraine was brought back under control. Caspian couldn’t remember the last time he
didn’t
have to deal with a headache. It was more a matter of whether the throbbing stayed merely a dull pain or the short bursts of excruciating torture.

“You alright?” A small voice questioned. He tilted his head down and to the right in order to see the speaker. A short spunky girl who bounced as she stared up at him, watched him with a concerned gaze. Caspian racked his brain, trying to remember her name and failed. “I thought you were going to pass out, which would have been awkward and, I mean, I could have tried to catch you but who knows how that would have gone and…”

Danny suddenly appeared at Caspian’s elbow, clearly holding in a snicker, “I’ll take it from here Carly.” The obvious dismissal caused the girl to slump away, visibly sniffling. Caspian felt bad and geared up to chastise Danny on his rudeness when a flicker of brilliant scarlet hair distracted him. Caspian watched as Mira stood innocently in the foyer, seeming to stare out the window at nothing in particular. Her expression indicated that her mind had taken one of it’s common detours to MiraLand. He prepared to turn back to his friend when a big figure approached Mira and nudged her out the front door: Hank.

Caspian’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. He knew he walked the border of being overprotective of his sister, but with the way guys at school treated Mira who could blame him? There seemed to be no shame when it came to Mira and it drove Caspian to the edge of his patience. He thought back to earlier that day and the way Hank had checked her out like she was some piece of meat he planned to buy at the grocery store; it made Caspian sick just to think about it. Not to mention, Mira barely qualified as a normal sized person with hardly enough upper body strength to do a push up. Caspian hated to admit it to himself, but if someone felt so inclined, they could overpower her without any difficulty. So he felt that it was his job to make sure nothing like that ever happened to Mira or Iris once she grew older.

It was cold outside at this time of night, meaning that nobody else would be out on the porch anymore. The idea of Hank and his sister being out there alone didn’t sit well. Better not risk it…

“Hey man,” Danny’s voice cut into Caspian’s train of thought, true worry showing on his face, “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, totally fine. Hey I’ll be right back alright?”

Caspian didn’t even wait for Danny to respond before taking off to the front door.

*

Rezza crept closer to me, her tattooed arm outstretched.

“I think you two should go home,” I said through clenched teeth, but neither of them seemed to register that I had spoken. Rezza, now only feet away, edged towards me as if I might flee at any moment, and maybe I should have. She glided with strange graceful silence, strategically easing her way to me without making even the tiniest sound. I wanted to run, but my legs refused to move. Instead, I remained frozen, too shell-shocked to move. Rezza’s blue eyes burned with a triumphant glee and her blood red lips curled into a devilish grin.

Wiley stayed back, his hand to his chin, observing Hank’s dead form as if it were a bug he pinned to a board and was trying to decide what species he managed to capture, curiosity being his only clear expression. “I don’t think so. We have things to do and people to see. So if you would be so kind as to come quietly...” I started to protest as Rezza’s hand latched on to mine but Wiley just laid a hand on his lips as if to shush me, “Either way, my sister and I are going to take you to our benefactor, it’s just a matter of whether you will come easily or not. So it is not only in
our
best interest if you come nicely, but yours as well.”

This isn’t happening
, I thought,
I have to get out of this
.

Rezza’s grasp cut off my circulation, and before I could even begin to try and pull away, she tensed and stopped moving altogether. Her grip abruptly loosened and she collapsed at my feet in an unnatural heap. I distantly heard the sound of Wiley calling out her name. My hearing muffled by the horror-induced throbbing in my head. Rezza’s eyes were made of glass, unblinking and unseeing, their bright blue irises slowing dimming and glistening with one final tear.  A small twig-like knife had struck her from behind, slicing straight through her throat with deadly accuracy. Blood rushed from the gaping wound. It reminded me of those bad scary movies I sometimes watched with Kelsey, only this was very real and right in front of me and the special effects extremely high budget. I looked away to keep from throwing up. I knew she was dead, I could practically see the life drain away from her body in a cloud of black fog. A dark mist came over her, indicating the absence of life.

“Mira!” Caspian ran out to the porch, his face twisted with confusion and shock. He dashed in front of me protectively and stared down at the two bodies that littered our deck. I saw him gulp and quickly shift his gaze. I forgot how to breathe as I searched the lawn for Rezza’s killer.

Wiley’s face contorted into a menacing snarl as he too scoured the yard with piercing eyes, “How noble of you to stab the enemy while they are unprepared! Goes to show how valiant our neighboring country is.”

“It’s not my fault she didn’t have her guard up,” a familiar voice responded from the shadows, “or that she was trying to take my daughter without permission.” I felt my eyes widen as Bram stepped into the light, his green eyes ablaze with what can only be described as fury. His tone sounded light but the way he clenched the twig knife, identical to the weapon that killed Rezza, I could tell he was far from pleased. “Now back away from my kids, and nobody else gets hurt.” Bram raised one strong arm, knife poised and ready to be launched.

Wiley, ignoring my stepdad, bent down and scooped up his sister, cradling her in his arms. He spared only a quick glance at her dead body before raising his electric gaze back to Bram with a murderous glare, “You’re dead.” he spat, “I will have my revenge on you, filthy Elemental. I swear to it.” He lunged forward and snatched my hand, a vicious snarl crossing his face. His desperate hands clasped around my wrist with fingers like iron. I tried to yank my arm away, giving a small yelp as I did so, but he already pulled me down the porch steps. Bram chucked the wooden knife he held at Wiley, but missed my attacker’s head by less than an inch. Bram unsheathed a second knife but a second too late. Muttering unintelligible words under his breath, Wiley’s tattoo glowed, identical to Rezza’s, a blue matching his eyes and an electric sort of energy enveloped his hands until they became blinding. Bram and Caspian were forced to cover their eyes and call out in pain. Wiley shoved Caspian aside without much effort. He pushed past Bram without loosening his grip and dashed across the lawn before either Caspian or Bram could so much as protest.

We raced down the street against my will, his grip far surpassing me in strength. Rezza had been tossed over Wiley’s shoulder, flopping around like a rag doll with every bouncing step he took. My mind still tried to process what I had just seen. Not much progress could be made. What had Bram been doing? How did he know how to throw a knife like that? And most importantly,
what was going on
? Wiley was strong and my attempts at breaking his hold were feeble at best. But I could still scream. “Let go of me!” I screeched at the top of my lungs, praying that someone would hear me. But crime in Lincoln City is so uncommon that the chances of anyone actually thinking my screams were legitimate were unlikely. Most people would probably just put in ear plugs in annoyance towards “those rowdy teenagers”. But I had to try. “What do you want from me you?” He pulled me along for almost a mile until we reached the edge of town. I could still faintly hear the rolling and crashing of the ocean’s waves. The night air stayed too silent as I continued to yell, “Let me GO!”

“Gladly.” He released my wrist and harshly shoved me away, causing me to stumble backwards and land on my butt. I winced at the fall and rubbed my raw red wrist. My tailbone ached and I knew a sizeable bruise would be there in the morning. A look of utter contempt glared down at me.

“It’s about time.” I spat. “I was starting to think we were training for a marathon.”

His hands flew to his head, clutching at his messy brown hair, “For the love of…do you ever shut up?”

“Only when asked nicely.” I threw as much sarcasm into my voice as possible. “Where are you taking me?”

He smiled down at where I sat on the gravelly asphalt road, an evil gleam in his eyes, “You’ll see soon enough.” I started to reply but he put a hand up, denying any response, “I don’t think I can handle another couple of hours of your whining. Sweet dreams.”

“What…?”

His tattoos illuminated softly, dim rays of light amongst the thick darkness, and his eyes shone like bright blue beacons, “
Dormire
.”

A black fog shielded my vision until I lost consciousness completely.

*

I sputtered awake, unsure of where I was or when I had arrived there. I splayed out upon a large and rather comfortable bed with several plush pillows and cozy blankets made of wool. I had been placed in a small room decorated as a decent living space complete with the bed I cuddled up in, a mini fridge, and a small table in the far corner. White paint coated the walls with no breaks for windows, allowing no sunlight to stream into the gloomy space. Lamps hung on the walls, providing dim and flickering light to the room. Only one door, positioned by the mini fridge with no handles from the inside, proved any exit from the room. Clearly, whoever placed me in this room did not intend for me to leave. A small digital clock loomed over the table. I squinted to read the time: 9:47pm.

I refused to move for a moment, purely confused. I savored those few minutes lost in blissful ignorance. And then everything rushed back into my memory. Hank leaning towards me, the siblings with glowing tattoos, Bram killing Rezza, and Wiley kidnapping me. And then everything going black. A panic set over me as I sat quiet and trapped in the room. I needed to escape. Although it seemed impossible, I knew what I had seen. It had been no trick of the light when I witnessed Rezza and Wiley light up like glow sticks or when I saw Bram go all gladiator on them. Absolutely nothing made any sense. My gaze raked the room, searching for any way to get out. I ran to the smooth door and shoved, already knowing the outcome. Didn’t budge.

I sulked back to the bed, exhaustion overcoming me despite the fact that I had only just awoken from hours of sleep. I only just reached the welcoming mountain of blankets when a soft knock came from the door. I froze, one leg out of the covers and one underneath. Without waiting for a response, the visitor entered the room.

“Hello there, Mirabelle,” the person entering the room wore a long, emerald robe with a hood pulled over his head, shading his face in impenetrable blackness. His voice a smooth drawl, rich as honey with a bit of an Irish-like lilt to it, similar to Rezza and Wiley’s accents. “I do hope the bed was to your liking. We tried to accommodate you as best as we could.” I did not answer. “You are probably wondering what you are doing here, am I correct?” I found the ability to nod my head, the muscles in my neck groaning and stiff. “Yes, well, unfortunately, a full explanation will have to come later.”

My vocal cords finally agreed to cooperate, “That’s rather vague.”

The hooded man chuckled lightly, “Indeed.”

I thought back to the outskirts of town and Wiley glaring down at me with those piercing eyes, “Where’s Wiley?”

“Oh, he is off running another errand. You needn’t worry about him.” I wanted to inform him that no cell in my body was worried about Wiley but he continued, “But for now,” His hand disappeared into his cloak. It emerged holding a sadistic syringe between the nimble fingers of the beholder, “I just need a sample.”

I gulped, my eyes never leaving the sharp tip of the needle, “A sample?”

“Of your blood. I just need to verify something, if you don’t mind.” He drew closer.
I do mind! I do mind!
I wanted to scream, but I lost my voice again and I could only retreat deeper into the bed. The grim reaper approached, hungry for my soul. The mysterious man, who now stood right beside the bed, briskly picked up my arm and drove the needle into my soft skin. The seamless skin pierced, an angry splotch dotting the surrounding area. I bit back the exclamation climbing up my throat.