Pack of Secrets, page 19
The boy tried to peek over his shoulder, but the woman flicked his ear.
“Ow! Mom,” he whined.
“Do as you’re told,” she snapped.
The oak door creaked open again. The woman grabbed her son’s arm and towed him up the step, their little bodies wobbling as they made the climb. They disappeared into the building and the doors closed with a thud. Unable to control my excitement, I grinned at Mackiel. “We’re next.”
When it was our turn, the four of us entered the building together, stepping into a spacious foyer. An armed guard pointed us toward a knee-high conveyor belt that ran along the wall, stretching as far as I could see. My father led the way. An automated voice came out of the overhead speakers as he approached the belt.
“You have entered a neutral zone,” the disembodied voice said. “By declaration of the Peace Council, no fighting is allowed on the premises. Violators will be eliminated or contained by the Wardens for prosecution and sentencing by the Peace Council. Deposit all weapons, bags, and belongings onto the belt.”
The alpha did as he was instructed.
A machine next to the conveyer belt whirred to life and a yellow paper ticket popped out.
“Take your ticket,” the voice continued. “The ticket will be required to retrieve your gear at your destination. Please proceed to the automatic walkway.”
Dad pocketed the ticket and stepped onto a conveyer belt for people. It carried him between two giant metal bars. The belt stopped. A soft beeping noise came from the metal bars, then a green light flashed as the belt started moving again.
Mackiel went next, and the recording started over.
I lingered beside Rust. “Wardens are bounty hunters for the Peace Council, right?” I asked.
“Sure are.”
I eyed the wardens in question. “Doesn’t it seem odd to you that a group formed to keep peace employs bounty hunters? Kind of off message, isn’t it?”
My mentor shrugged. “Peace is a fickle bitch. We’ve courted her since the beginnin’ of time, but she plays hard to get. This last time she really worked us over.”
Sometimes I got lost in Rust’s metaphors, but I found my way through that one easily enough. “You mean the war?” I asked.
“Not the war itself, but the cause.”
I’d learned about that in school, so I said, “The end of the cloaking.”
The cloaking was a spell that disguised the Tricari to appear Mondeine. Nobody knew when it started, but one day the spell shattered, and the Mondeine came face to face with creatures of myths, fairytales, and nightmares. The two factions had coexisted peacefully for millennia, but with knowledge of one another came war.
He nodded. “Someone sure as hell didn’t want peace.”
I stared at him, gob-smacked. “You think someone intentionally removed the cloaking?” Over half the population—both Mondeine and Tricari—had died in The Eradication. Nobody knew why the cloaking had ended, but it couldn’t have been intentional. Nobody could be that evil.
“I been around long enough to know when bad shit happens, there’s usually a shitstain of a person responsible. The wardens are scary sons-of-bitches, and sometimes that’s just what you need to keep the peace. You’re up, kid.” He gestured for me to approach the conveyor belt.
My mind whirring, I ambled forward, removing the daggers from my thigh sheaths, and storing them in my backpack before setting it and my bedroll on the belt. My ticket popped out, and I saw a barcode imprinted on the paper. Stuffing it into my pocket, I stepped onto the automatic walkway and took in my surroundings. The foyer opened to a giant room. Massive white pillars supported a high wood-raftered ceiling, and stained-glass windows let in the gloomy daylight.
The conveyer belt with our gear ran parallel to the automatic walkway, bisecting the room. Another conveyer belt and automatic walkway ran in the opposite direction on the other side. That must have been the Mondeine side. Curious, I watched for people but didn’t see anyone.
My ride came to an end, depositing me beside Mackiel. My father stood in front of a computer a few feet away, selecting options on a touchscreen monitor. He slipped a thin gold bar and a handful of bills into a slot beneath the monitor.
Rust joined us, and I leaned toward my mentor. “What’s the alpha doing?” I asked.
“Payin’ for our tickets. Well, part of ’em, anyway. You’ll have to pay for the other half on your own.”
Confident I must have misheard him, I cocked an eyebrow at Rust. “I don’t have anything of value on me.” Looking at Mackiel, I asked, “Do you?”
He shook his head.
“You have the payment in you,” Rust said. “The alpha’s payin’ for the technology, but the magic will also require its due.”
“Energy?” I asked.
Rust nodded. “Yep. Yemen is a long way away. Probably around thirteen thousand kilometers.”
“In miles?” being born and raised in Seattle, I had no idea how far a kilometer was. All the signs were in miles, and the mile markers along the road helped me understand how far that distance was, but I’d never seen such a measurement for kilometers. I didn’t know how it compared.
Rust shook his head at my American ignorance. “More than eight thousand miles. A direct flight would take around twenty hours, but even when planes were flyin’, you couldn’t have gotten a direct flight. There’d be plane changes and layovers and shit. I believe Yemen’s eleven hours ahead of Seattle.” He glanced at his watch, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Let’s see how smart the two of you are. It’s about nine-thirty here, so what time do you think it is in Yemen?”
“Twenty-thirty?” Mackiel asked.
Changing his calculations to am/pm, I said, “Eight-thirty… tonight? How is that possible? What happens to the eleven hours we lose?”
“Just the way time zones work.”
“Because the earth is round,” Mackiel added. “And spinning on an axis as it orbits the sun. So different sections of the planet have direct sunlight at different times.”
“Good,” Rust sounded surprised. “Glad to know they’re teachin’ somethin’ in that school.”
“The alpha dictates the school curriculum,” I reminded my mentor with a smile. “He could improve upon what we’re taught at any time.”
Rust’s frown carried a whole heap of disappointment. Like I was the one holding our education system back. “Anyway, you’d be pure shit if you had to fly twenty hours only to land thirty-one hours ahead of the time you left. It’d leave ya so damn confused you wouldn’t know day from night. Used to call that jet lag. Now, the travel time is instant, but magic still zaps that energy from your body to transport you. Once we teleport, you’ll feel like shit for a while, but it’ll pass.”
“So, if the fatigue that comes from jets is called jet lag, is this… portal lag?” I asked.
Rust’s lips quirked up into a half-smile. “I think people just call it travel fatigue, but that’s a fittin’ name.”
“How long will it last?” Mackiel asked.
Rust shrugged and then nodded toward my father. “Looks like you’re about to find out. The alpha needs you to go accept the charges with a fingerprint.”
Mackiel joined my father, and I moved closer to overhear the two.
“Go ahead and put your index finger right there,” Dad said.
Without even taking a moment to read the screen, Mackiel did as he was told and then joined us.
“How long will the fatigue last?” I asked.
He shrugged. “The alpha didn’t say.”
His answer made me want to bash my head against the wall. “Why didn’t you read the screen?”
Another shrug. “Won’t change anything. I still would have agreed to the terms.”
“It would be nice to know what to expect.” Couldn’t he see that some questions were necessary?
“Grace,” the alpha said, gesturing me over. “You’re up.”
I joined him at the computer but, unlike my friend, I quickly scanned the screen. ‘Traveler agrees to the charge of approximately twenty-six hours of fatigue. Uninterrupted sleep will cut the duration in half. If traveler chooses not to sleep during fatigue, we recommend practicing extreme caution when participating in any and all physical activity and—’
“Grace,” the alpha growled, packing a world of frustration into the word. “You’re holding us up. Don’t you trust your alpha?”
Not wanting to push him, I pressed my index finger against the box and accepted the charge. Once Rust added his fingerprint, the four of us stepped onto another belt.
“But I don’t wanna go poof!” A young male voice shouted ahead.
Stepping to the side, I angled myself to take in the scene. Two giant, round platforms stood side by side. One held the bag of the small blond boy I’d seen earlier. The child stood on the other platform clutching his mother’s dress as she methodically pried each of his fingers free. One hand popped off, but before she could start on the other, he tangled his now free fingers in her dress once again.
“Stop it!” she shouted. “You’re being ridiculous. I told you, you won’t go poof. You pop out of this spot and pop up at the portal by Nana’s house. It’s… it’s like a game.”
“Nana don’t like it when I poof. That’s a bad game.”
The woman’s gaze snagged on us, and her posture stiffened. “I’m so sorry for the delay. I’m… I’m trying.”
“I can restrain him if you’d like,” the silver-haired man standing beside the portal said.
A look of horror flickered across the woman’s face before she schooled her features. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. Can I… Am I allowed to port with him?”
“We recommend one person per portal.”
“I understand, but is it possible?”
The man acted like she’d asked him to pluck the moon from the sky and hand it to her. Settling his hands on his hips, his shoulders spasmed with an erratic shrug as he gave her a dramatic eye roll. “Yes, I can do it. This one time. Do not let him make a habit of teleporting with you. I will do this as a kindness, but other mages will not allow such a breach of protocol.”
Nothing about his tone sounded kind, and I wondered what the big deal was. The mother and child together didn’t make up the body mass of my father. Surely the mage could teleport them together.
“Thank you,” she said. Her relief was almost palpable as she picked up the child and settled him on her hip before moving toward the center of the portal.
The boy hid his face in his mother’s chest as an emerald-skinned female with small tusks protruding from either side of her upper lip joined them. She used a handheld device to scan the mother’s tag, causing the luggage conveyer belt to jerk forward, and another bag was deposited onto the second portal. The tusked female stepped off the transport pad, and the mage moved to the computer. He pushed a button and then waved his hand in the air, muttering a spell. Blue light shot up from both portals as a faint whirring sound grew louder.
“No!” the child shouted, panicking as he must have realized what was really happening. “I don’t wanna poof!”
His mother tightened her hold around him, and then just like that, the two disappeared. The blue light faded, and both portals stood empty.
As excited as I’d previously been to travel, I suddenly didn’t want to poof, either.
Arioch
Fifty-seven hours had passed since Grace had stolen the chalice, and I felt every minute of it as I watched her step onto a portal platform and prepare to teleport. “Where the hell is Socotra?” I asked, my patience waning as the buzzing in the back of my head continued to intensify.
After my mother’s death, Catori and Tyrin shared the responsibility for my education. Catori was an expert in science, math, and language, but bound to her tree as she was, she knew nothing about the outside world. Tyrin had handled subjects like geography, world history, and government. The mention of Yemen sparked memories of his teachings, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything, much less old lessons of places I had no hope of ever visiting.
Catori unrolled a world map across my desk. Using books to secure the edges, she zeroed in on the country south of Saudi Arabia with her fingertip. “There is Yemen.” Her fingertip hovered over the sea as she leaned closer to the map. She stabbed a speck of land east of Somalia. “There. That is Socotra.”
The orb went black. A heartbeat later, Grace reappeared on a different portal platform. She staggered once, twice, and then collapsed.
Like before, watching her crumple had an odd effect on me. I felt restless and angry as I eyed her chest, making sure it rose and fell with breath. Good. Still alive. “What happened to her?” I asked.
“Poor thing must be exhausted,” Catori replied. “She expended a lot of magic last night, and traveling so soon afterward must have sapped the last of her strength.”
The shifter journal I had read made it sound like an alpha’s number one priority was to protect his pack, but Grace’s alpha—her father—seemed to have no trouble putting her in danger. Instead of voicing my concerns about her mistreatment, I said, “Kindly refrain from referring to my sworn enemy as ‘poor thing.’ I find it… unsettling.”
Catori did not respond. Mackiel appeared on the platform, scooping up the woman like he had the last time she had passed out. This time, he struggled under her weight. Travel fatigue was affecting him, too. Interesting.
“There. What does that sign say?” Catori asked, pointing at the orb where a prominent welcome sign hung on the wall. “Al Mukalla. That is where you must go. I will have Fred pack your bag.” Catori’s eyes darkened as she communicated with my housekeeper telepathically.
I retrieved a sheathed dagger from the bottom drawer of my desk and strapped it around my ankle. Tugging at the sheath that crossed my torso, I found comfort in the weight of my sword against my back.
Mackiel carried Grace down a hallway. Bright red arrows led past advertisements for local food, clothing, and fishing tours. Warnings were also tacked onto the walls. Mackiel slowed to study a drawing of a man wearing a long white dress. The left half of the drawing’s body looked normal, but the right was a skeleton. Beneath the illustration was the word ‘Nesna.’ Next to the Nesna was another drawing, a snake so massive it looped over the page multiple times without showing a tail. The name beneath the snake was ‘Falak.’ There were additional warnings for something that looked like a zombie and a giant bird with a ridiculously long neck.
“Are those creatures real?” I asked Catori.
She studied the flyers. “I do not know, but there have been horrors in these woods I would not have believed had I not seen them with my own eyes. You must be cautious.”
“What sort of horrors?” I asked, wondering why this was the first time I was hearing about them.
“The kind you do not need to concern yourself with. I am perfectly capable of protecting my forest.”
I would never dream of questioning her abilities; I merely wanted the opportunity to test my own. It had been years since my last trainer had left, and sparring with the gargoyles provided no challenge whatsoever.
“What happened to her?” the alpha asked Mackiel, his tone more annoyed than concerned.
“She passed out.”
“Didn’t she eat breakfast?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Chaz frowned.
Rust joined the trio. They exchanged tickets for their gear and exited the building into darkness. The alpha stopped beside the building, setting his leather duffle bag on a bench. Grace stirred, and Mackiel lowered her to sit beside the bag. Her eyes popped open, and she glanced around, confused.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Al Mukalla,” the alpha said.
Rust’s attention snapped to the alpha. “East or west side of the channel?”
“East. West side is Terra Victa now.” The alpha rifled through the contents of his bag. “We need to travel south to get to the shore. Grace, put on your daggers.”
Catori studied the map. “According to the key, Socotra is about five hundred kilometers from Al Mukalla.”
Unlike Grace, I had been trained in both the metric and imperial measurement systems and could convert kilometers to miles. The practical application of the distance was another story since I had never been able to travel far from home. “How long do you think it will take me to fly the distance?”
“You have never stretched your wings in such a way, but dragons can easily cover five hundred kilometers within a day. My concern lies with the portal fatigue they mentioned. You do not know how it will affect you.”
“But I am a dragon,” I reminded her. “Unlike shifters, it does not tire me to take my true form. And like you and your tree, I can pull energy from sunshine.”
“Yes. I have faith you will be fine.” Catori steepled her long, narrow fingers, and her gaze grew distant. “Your mother could fly across the Pacific Ocean without rest. She found it peaceful and refreshing and would often escape to the sky when she fought with her father.”
Catori rarely spoke about my mother, so I leaned in and gave her my full attention.
Sadness flickered in her eyes, and her attention settled back on the orb. “Fly high and catch the wind currents. Soar as often as possible to preserve your strength.”
Disappointed she had not shared more, I followed her gaze. In the orb, Grace slid her daggers into thigh sheaths. Chaz removed a bundle from his bag and passed it to her.
She unwrapped a shoulder harness, pistol, and a box of ammo, setting each on her lap. “You think guns are necessary?” she asked.
The alpha’s expression hardened. It appeared he did not appreciate being questioned. “We won’t be able to safely shift until the fatigue wears off. Rust tells me you’ve been keeping up on your target practice and prefer the Glock.”
She nodded. “Yes, Alpha. Thank you.” She slid the shoulder harness on over her T-shirt and holstered the gun before removing a light jacket from her bag.
