Matt Archer: Redemption (12 page)

“Come on, Sis.” I took her arm and guided her into the gray hallway. “Let’s take you home.”

Chapter Thirteen

Mamie and I spent the rest of the morning and all of lunchtime talking to Aunt Julie about Ann’s promise that the covens had stopped producing monsters.

“Well, the chatter hasn’t increased in the last twenty-four hours and we haven’t had any new requests for assistance, either,” Julie was saying. “Maybe she was telling the truth.”

“I think she was.” Mamie pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “What we need to do now is closely monitor anything new that pops up. That could lead us to the Dark Master’s proxy.”

The Shadow Man. Strange that the thing in my nightmares wasn’t even the real boss. I hoped I found him before anyone else did. Finding—and killing—him was the only way I could ensure that Mamie wouldn’t be taken at some point.

“I’ll keep you updated on everything. Davis said he created a secure connection, both network and phone, for you to patch in to our operations center from home,” Julie told her. “You’ll have access to our database. Essentially, everything the intelligence team sees, you’ll see.”

A knock sounded at the door and Major Ramirez stuck his head in. “Oh, good. I was hoping you were here.”

“Me or the captain?” I asked.

“Neither.” He flashed a rare smile. “I was looking for our shaman.”

“Oh.” Mamie perked up. “You have something to give me.”

“Uh, yes. How did you—no, never mind.” His laugh sounded a little awkward as he set a messenger bag on the conference table. “I’ve been carrying this around for months, wondering who I should give it to, then woke up this morning realizing it should go to you.”

He reached into the bag and pulled out a large, leather-bound notebook. A notebook that was all too familiar.

“That’s Zenka’s journal,” I said. “But I thought it’d been destroyed. Where did you get it?”

“Technically, it was her husband’s, but her people gave it to me before I left Africa. She must’ve had a feeling something was going to happen, because she gave it to people she trusted before she was killed. They said she told them if anything happened to her, I needed to take it to the one who can read it.”

Mamie had already slid the heavy book over and opened to the front page, frowning at the vaguely head-shaped sketch. “False start.”

In more ways than one. Zenka’s husband had dreamt of the wielders, then had drawn what he’d seen. Brandt’s face never became clear to him—which made sense after he died and Will took his place. Will’s picture was in there, too.

As was mine.

“You’re in color,” Mamie told me. “You and Will. The others are in pencil.”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting.” She flipped past Will’s sketch, the last page I’d ever seen, then stopped. “
She’s
in pencil.”

We all leaned over the page Mamie was pointing out. “She” was Aunt Julie, sitting in a loose crouch with a smirk on her face and Parker’s knife in her hand.

I glanced up at Ramirez. “Did you ever see this page?”

He was staring at it with his mouth open. “I swear on my dead abuelo’s grave that this wasn’t there before.”

“Very interesting.” Mamie’s smile was mysterious. “If you want the truth, it was blank, completely blank, until I touched it. Then Aunt Julie’s portrait filled in.”

Tink chuckled in my head.
I knew that Zenka was more than she let on. Her husband, too.

“That’s not disturbing or anything,” I told her.

Magic exists. Get over it.

She had a point. “What else is in there? Any other pages mystically appear?”

Mamie flipped through the rest of the book, touching each page. “No. Just some writing in the back.”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you about. It’s not any language I recognize,” Ramirez said, his large brown eyes wide. Even after everything we’d been through, someone’s “too much” ticket could still get punched now and then. “I showed it to the general and Colonel Tannen, and they thought it was some kind of encrypted message.”

Aunt Julie leaned over Mamie’s shoulder. She was pale—the portrait must have troubled her, too—but her voice was calm and steady when she said, “It looks like Greek?”

“It’s all Greek to me,” I muttered.

Mamie shot me a perturbed glance. “I think it’s Latin. I took four years of Latin in high school and another two semesters in college and that’s what it looks like to me. But you’re right, Major Ramirez, it’s all jumbled, like it’s encrypted.”

“That’s why I brought it to you,” he said. “To see if you could decode it.”

My sister’s forehead wrinkled. “I’ll try. May I make a copy or take a picture of the page?”

“We’re giving you the book,” Ramirez said. “There was an inscription in the front, in their tribal language. One of the villagers told me it said ‘for the one who Sees.’ We think that means you.”

Mamie closed the journal and stroked the leather cover. “I’m honored to receive it.”

Odd way of putting it, but then again, a gift from two shamans to another was kind of a big deal. “Keep us posted on what you find out,” I said.

“I will.” She stood, hugging the book to her chest. “Do you need me for anything else? I’d like to go back to the hotel to pack.”

I bit back a smile. Transparent as always—she really wanted to pore over the pages alone. “I’m sure Captain Johnson can give you a ride. I have more to do here, but I’ll see you before you go.”

Mamie was already halfway out the door, and she gave me a little wave over her shoulder before bumping into the wall because she was trying to read and walk at the same time. I laughed. No matter what shamanistic weirdness she showed from time to time, she was still totally herself, pigtails and all.

* * *

I met Mom, Brent and Mamie downstairs before they left for the airport and I left for Andrews. Brent was ready to go, judging by how he kept inching toward the door. Mamie and Mom were a little more reluctant.

Mom crushed me with a hug. “Be careful.”

“I will,” I wheezed, more for effect than her grip. It made her smile, and that’s what I wanted. “I don’t know how long I’ll be out but Uncle Mike has furloughs planned every few months. Given the explosion of problems, burnout could be an issue.”

“Ann really screwed us over before her change of heart, huh?” Mamie said. “Still, I’m sorry she died. She seemed to be seeking absolution before the end, to redeem herself.”

Absolution. Was that something Ann Smythe, executioner of children, would’ve ever found? In a way, I kind of hoped so. I’d killed a child myself. Even though the circumstances were totally different, the thought of that little girl still made my chest ache. If redemption was out there, I planned to work hard to find it.

“Can you
See
anything about my trip?” I asked Mamie. “You know, in case I’m about to buy it as snake food.”

Mom groaned. “Please don’t say things like that. My nerves can’t take it.”

“Sorry,” I said. Sometimes I forgot that gallows humor didn’t always play well outside my team.

“I don’t See anything like that.” Mamie’s smile was mischievous. “All that keeps coming through is a vision of a sewer.”

“Wow, now we’re talking.” I made a face. “This mission’s going to rock hard.”

She laughed. “I imagine it’ll be interesting. There’s something in Marrakech, something you need to see. I don’t know what it is, but I’m the one who told Aunt Julie to send you there.”

I was going off to fight giant snakes in sewers because Mamie had a hunch I needed to go to Marrakech? “Sounds fun.”

“It’ll be worth it.” She kissed my cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

“You, too.” I nodded to Brent. “Make sure to watch her close on campus. She’s been a little wobbly lately.”

Mamie winced, and I thought it was because of the wobbly comment, but Brent turned to face me square on. “We dropped out. There’s too much going on. Mamie wants to do fulltime research for the mission, and I need time to rehab after my injury. Taking the semester off will be good for both of us.”

Mom stood to one side, looking unhappy. I gathered my sibs made this decision without her. Still, I could understand why, even though the thought of Mamie taking off time from school was so foreign I almost couldn’t believe it. Truly, the only thing that would make her consider dropping out was helping our team. I hoped she didn’t regret it later, and that we finished this soon enough for her to enroll in the spring.

“Archer! You coming?” Lanningham called from the lobby door. “Ride’s here.”

I stared at my family, memorizing their faces—Mom’s short hair in need of a trim. The healing scar on Brent’s collarbone from his football injury. Mamie’s big eyes, magnified by her glasses. My family.

“I better go,” I said, turning away before I went mushy on everyone. “Safe flight.”

“You too, honey,” Mom said to my back.

I managed to escape outside before breaking down.

Barely.

When I met him at the curb, Lanningham gave me a bracing pat on the shoulder. Given that he was a giant guy, the force of that pat sent me stumbling into the car door.

“Thank you, sir, I needed that.”

He smiled. “I could tell. You good now?”

I climbed into the SUV and slid over to the far seat to let him in. “Better anyway.”

Blakeney waved from the driver’s seat. “You ready for an adventure?”

“It’s snakes, Sergeant. Not sure I’d call that an adventure.”

“Hell, anywhere that’s not central Texas is an adventure for me.”

“If you say so.” I buckled my seatbelt, making it click loudly. “I’d settle for arriving for our final briefing at the Pentagon safely.”

“Are you still bustin’ on my driving?” Blakeney turned all the way around to give me the stink eye. He looked like Popeye, what with the blond hair, strong chin and the squint—Popeye with a Texas twang.

“Only out of habit,” I said. “Let’s get this party started.”

* * *

“I think that’s it,” General Richardson said. He checked his watch. “Be ready to roll in one hour.”

Most of the team shuffled out of the auditorium to head to the cafeteria or to call their families one last time. I followed Will toward the door, hoping there was something decent for lunch.

“Chief,” Uncle Mike called. “Hang back a second.”

I nodded for Will to go on ahead. “Save me some meatloaf.”

“Dude, no,” he said, laughing. “Friends don’t let friends eat meatloaf.”

“Then save me a brownie.”

“Deal.”

I took the auditorium stairs two at a time. Uncle Mike was packing up his laptop, while Aunt Julie stuffed files into her bag. She gave me a quick smile and Mike got a quicker kiss on the cheek before she disappeared out a side door.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I, uh, wanted to talk to you about your team,” he said.

I was wondering when he’d get to that. I was a man down after Australia and we needed a replacement. “Who’d you pick to replace Greene?”

“That’s just it.” He sighed. “It’s going to be the four of you.”

“Four?” Wait, I was supposed to have six—all wielder teams did. Lanningham, Dorland and Blakeney were a lock. So was Uncle Mike.

Oh, man.

“You’re not going with me, are you?” I said. “You’re going with Julie.”

“No and no.” He kept stacking and restacking his papers, not meeting my eye. “I’m program commander now. I have to stay here and direct operations with the general.”

From his tone, I knew he wished he could go with one of us, if not both by assigning Julie and me together. “I’ve been on missions alone. I’ll be okay.”

Mike gave me a lopsided smile. I must not have sounded very convincing. “I’m going to keep a close eye on your reports while you’re gone. If anything happens … ”

“I’ll be fine.” I stared at my boots. The toes were scuffed; they’d seen action, and they would again. “Does that mean Lanningham is C.O. of my wielder team?”

“Only on paper.”

I raised my head to meet his gaze. “What does that mean?”

“That
you
are C.O. of your wielder team. To keep the Army happy, Lanningham is on point, but he and I had a long conversation about what your team’s responsibilities were. They have only two orders. One, do whatever you say. Two, keep you safe at the expense of their own lives. He was fine with that.”

I was the C.O.? I didn’t know whether to be scared witless or really proud of Mike’s faith in me. Both, probably. “What about Will? I mean, obviously Captain Tannen and Major Ramirez will command their own teams, and if I heard right, Jorge is going to Budapest alone. So, does Will get to command his team?”

Uncle Mike shook his head. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him about this conversation. Captain Johnson is leading Will’s team, like always. You have more battle experience and a good, strong team at your back. And I trust you.”

After the last week, those words had more punch than usual. Still, doing this without him, in a country I’d never been to, was going to be hard. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“I know.” He finished packing up his bag. “Now, I heard something about brownies earlier.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” I followed him up the stairs. “Maybe there’ll be meatloaf, too.”

“I hate meatloaf.”

So did I, but when we got to the cafeteria I ate some anyway, just to spite everyone.

Chapter Fourteen

The flight to London was quiet. We flew business class—courtesy of the airline, given our newfound fame as world-saving badasses. Maybe this hero thing wasn’t so bad.

I stretched in my seat, trying to get comfortable and trying
not
to think about Will and Ramirez flying in the opposite direction on the way to their missions. Or about Ella’s smile that last morning. Or about my family landing in Billings and going home to a dark house.

“You seem restless,” Jorge said. He’d claimed the seat next to mine and had been so quiet since lights out, I’d assumed he’d fallen asleep.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

He chuckled. “I don’t ever sleep much. And never on airplanes. Too much static up here.”