02 Seekers (11 page)

gasping for breath. My back and neck throbbed with my sudden departure from standing up

right.

“Keep a firm grip on the sword and keep your knees bent,” he said calmly, as he helped me back up.

I was too busy gasping for breath to be able to answer. Alex had fled the room and had the laptop in front of her for protection. Her eyes were focused on the screen, and she purposefully didn’t look our way. I saw her hoping Jackson would forget about her momentary desire to learn

fencing. Jackson didn’t seem to notice her departure; he was too busy focusing on me. I got into position again, facing Jackson. A second later, I was on my back again.

“Better. Again,” Jackson commanded.

Hours later, totally exhausted from Jackson’s fencing lesson, and working out, I was sprawled out on my large bed. Exhaustion was urging me down in to dark slumber, but I resisted the urge.

My dreams had turned strange. Perhaps, it had been the hit to the skull, but every night I wandered to strange locations with even stranger people; people I had never seen but felt like I knew. Again and again, I found myself in the company of the white-haired man…when I wasn’t dreaming of Daniel dying in some back alley in New Orleans. Worry and fear were doing a

backwards Tango in my head as I stared at the ceiling. I contemplated calling Ellen, knowing it was a bad idea even as I thought of ways of getting away with it.

My door squeaked open and Alex’s whispered voice floated through my dark room. “Clare…are

you asleep?”

I blinked rapidly to clear away a vision of Daniel in a different dark room full of torture, and rolled over to look at my friend. “No. What’s the matter?”

She tiptoed across the floor to stand at the bottom of the bed. “It’s thundering outside.”

I looked out my window and saw streaks of lightning pepper the night. As she spoke, a roll of thunder shook the building with harsh sound. The rain increased with the sound, pouring in sideways against my window.

“Yeah, it is,” I said in surprise.

She hit the end of the bed with her knee in thoughtful nervousness. “Margaret left. She got a call and took off. You don’t think…” She gestured to the storm.

“I’m sure they’re okay,” I said. “Maybe Margaret’s monthly bill came early or something.”

“You don’t think that,” Alex said.

Another roll of thunder shook the building. “They’re fine…if they weren’t, we wouldn’t be

hearing the storm at all,” I said.

She hesitated at the foot of the bed, playing with the hem of her shirt. Her eyes cut over to the storm.

“You want to sleep in here?” I asked her.

“Can I?”

I threw back the covers, and she crawled in. “You’re not scared of storms, are you?” I asked.

“No, I’m scared of thunder,” she admitted.

“Thunder is just a sound,” I said.

“And clowns are just people wearing makeup,” she replied.

“Point taken,” I said.

We listened to roll after roll of the fierce sound, Alex flinching with each new sound. Jackson had said he and Margaret would be taking alternating shifts watching us after our adventure on the town, so I knew Margaret wouldn’t just leave without reason. The last time I’d heard her get mad enough for this caliber of storm, Daniel had been abducted and we had been searching for a school friend of mine named Amanda. It was the night everything had changed for me. I started fidgeting in the bed. Maybe, we were just overreacting and it was a regular summer storm. New Orleans had enough of them. ‘Maybe’ didn’t account for the uneasy feeling in my gut.

“So…fencing,” Alex said after a moment.

“Yeah…you totally wimped out on me,” I accused her.

“I like my skin un-bruised,” she said primly.

“It’s not so bad. Once your whole body is hurting, you stop feeling the pain so much,” I said.

“That sounds so enticing…” Another roll of thunder shook the window panes and lightning laced the sky in malevolent blues and whites. Alex jumped, and pulled the covers over her head.

“Did you hear where she was going?” I asked pulling the covers off her face.

“No. She was talking too fast,” Alex said, pulling the covers back over her head.

“If this is her, she must not be far,” I mused thoughtfully.

“No,” she said, her voice muffled. “We’re not sneaking out again.”

I sat up and stared out the window. I frowned, concentrating on my desire to know what was going on. My head swirled with noise then cleared, and I heard distinct, heavy steps on the balcony outside. They slapped against the wood and the rain in strong purposefulness. They stopped just outside my window. I waited with baited breath for the footsteps to move on. The lack of thought meeting my mind was as telling as the thunder outside. It was a Watcher.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

I rolled out of the bed at the sound and grabbed the first thing in reach – a shoe. Alex jumped again and rolled off the bed after me, fighting to clear away the blankets from her body. She found the other shoe and hoisted it. I tiptoed to the window and cautiously pushed back the drape. Jackson’s annoyed face looked at me through the glass. He gestured for me to let him in. I fumbled with the latch at the window and shoved it open. He climbed through gracefully then shut out the rain again. He dripped cold rain on the pretty floor for a long second.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I think we might be compromised,” he admitted.

“Compromised?”

“A man was following me. I thought, at first, he might just be a wayward Watcher searching for a challenging kill, but I was shown otherwise. He was smart and slick – not your usual training for a Watcher. He definitely had a mission.”

“Was it a Seeker?” I asked.

“He didn’t have a nametag,” Jackson said.

“But-”

Another round of thunder drowned out my words.

“Margaret isn’t happy,” he said. “She’s looking for him, but I don’t think she’ll have any luck.

He was too good.”

“What does this mean?” I asked. “Should we switch hotels? We could stay in one a little less noticeable.”

“He didn’t follow me from here. He followed me from the business district,” Jackson said.

“Why aren’t you helping Margaret?” I asked. “If he’s so good-”

“I had to make sure you two were safe,” he said in a low growl, obviously unhappy with the state of things.

“Oh,” I said.

He prowled off through my room and into his. I followed him to ask him more questions, but he shut the bathroom door in my face. He locked it, and I heard the water run through the old pipes.

I took it as a sign he was done talking. I met Alex back in my room, annoyed Jackson wasn’t Daniel. Daniel would tell me what was happening. He would tell me the truth. He always did when it mattered.

“The hunters become the hunted,” Alex said in an attempt to cheer me up.

“The seekers become the seeked,” I said.

“The spy becomes the spied,” she replied.

“That one doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“Sure it does.” She bit her lip and looked toward the sounds of the shower running. “The only thing that makes sense is that it’s Marcus. He’s the only one that knows they know you and Daniel.”

“I know,” I said. “That poses a more important question: do they know about Daniel’s mission?”

Her blue eyes met mine, and I saw her fear and her lack of answers. She shrugged helplessly, and I realized I didn’t want her to answer as much as she didn’t want to.

To wait for the storm to pass, and for the return of Margaret and answers to our questions, Alex switched on the television. I picked up a book I had packed and tried to read it. On the second page I threw it on the nightstand and stared at the television, not seeing any more of the program than when I had left it off.

It was just after dawn when Margaret stormed through the door in a mood only properly

described as high dudgeon. Alex was fast asleep, dreaming of happy things like shopping and organizing the world. I hadn’t slept at all, despite my exhaustion. I wanted to know the minute Margaret came back; I wanted to be sure she was safe.

I knew better than to try and intercept Margaret when I saw her face, though I couldn’t help feeling glad she was back. Her sour mood couldn’t deter the relief. She slammed through the main room and into her shared room with Jackson as I lay in my bed. I shut my eyes and tried to overhear her conversation with Jackson. Dim words floated through the space, but they were disjointed and hard to follow.

“escaped…trap…Clare….no…”

Margaret’s throaty voice lowered even further as I shifted on the bed and it creaked in protest. I heard their door shut with a low click as they blocked me out. I gave a discontented grunt and went back to staring at the ceiling. Alex snorted at my grunt and rolled over in her sleep, elbowing me in the face. I grabbed my nose with a painful ‘ow!’, and she jerked awake.

“What’d you do?” she asked groggily.

“You hit me with your elbow.” I said, pushing her so she fell out of the bed.

She rolled and hit the ground with a funny grunt, taking all the blankets with her. She popped back up, her hair sticking at odd angles. “I’m sure you’ll earn it eventually,” she told me. “Is there breakfast yet?”

“I dunno.”

“You’re useless,” she told me. “Totally useless.”

“Don’t I know it,” I grumbled.

My back and shoulders ached in protest as I sat up. The workout from yesterday made me feel ninety, and the night spent in worry made me feel even older. Grunting and groaning, I followed Alex through the door as she went in search for food. When we didn’t see any food waiting for us I went to Jackson’s door. I knocked and waited, knowing better than to just go in. Walking in on Jackson in his birthday suit was only funny the first time.

“Yeah, yeah…What?” Jackson asked. He was dry now, his blond hair spilling over his shoulders.

Beyond him, Margaret rested on their small couch reading the morning paper. She ignored us, though I sensed her tension.

“Did you find him?” I asked Margaret. “The guy who was following Jackson?”

“No,” Jackson replied for her. “The food should be here in a minute. You should eat before our lesson.”

My joints creaked in protest at his words, and I made a face I hoped didn’t make me appear as if I were about to throw up. From Jackson’s look, I was certain he knew about the sick feeling in my gut.

What made this morning’s fencing lesson worse was that Margaret didn’t leave. I wasn’t sure if she was lying low after her tantrum last night, or she was feeling vindictive about how I snuck out: all I knew was that I paid for her presence. Halfway through Jackson’s lesson she decided to take a more active role in my learning. Alex was hiding behind her laptop again, safely shut away in my room, but she peeked around the door when Margaret started talking.

“You’re stance is all wrong.” Margaret used her foot to move mine then adjusted my knee by hitting it with her knee. My knee buckled, but I kept my footing. “Keep your hips parallel.” She took Jackson’s foil – Jackson grinned evilly at me as she did – and started forward. “Don’t flinch back when I come at you. Meet the attack head on.”

The sword flashed toward my face. I parried out of instinct, with only inches to spare. She nodded approvingly and came at me again. She swung low, and I moved to follow her

movement. She used my distraction to hit me solidly in the chest with her free hand.

“Pay attention to distractions,” Jackson said. “Just because the sword is all pointy, doesn’t mean the person’s unarmed hand isn’t dangerous.”

“I’ll remember that,” I said as I clambered to my feet again, feeling a fresh bruise on my chest.

“Learn to anticipate,” Jackson added. “Watch her movements, and try to figure out what she’s about to do before she does it.”

Margaret shifted slightly. Her body told me she was about to attack from the right, but something in her eyes told me she was bluffing. My foil met hers in midair as she came at me from the left.

I smiled in happy satisfaction. Her violet eyes flashed in surprise when our swords met, but she quickly recovered. She spun the foil out of my hand and pointed hers at my throat.

“Remember my grip…” I said, before they could, as I held my hands up in surrender.

Jackson and Margaret stayed inside the hotel all that day and the following. I got lots of sword practice and Jackson even sparred with me a little in karate. It definitely kept me occupied and my mind away from dangerous things, like tracking Daniel down just to make sure my

nightmares weren’t based in reality. Jackson went out again on the eve of the second night, leaving Alex and me in the care of Margaret – such as that was. I was sore and exhausted, my body still adapting to their intense exercise regime. Alex sat next to me on the sofa, which moonlighted as her bed, watching TV. Sitting with her, my body unable to move from the

soreness, was actually sort of peaceful. My brain was simply too exhausted to do much beyond watch the people on television blow stuff up in the name of science.

As I sat in thoughtless peace, just starting to unwind, a sound pierced my ears. First, there was the low buzzing I had experienced at Daniel’s house, then a roar of sound. It was foreign and extremely loud. It sounded as if the hotel was falling down. I jumped off the sofa, my exhaustion replaced for the moment by adrenaline.

“What?!” Alex demanded as I stared around the room in panic.

“That noise! Don’t you hear it?!”

“No…”

My eyes darted around the room in expectant fear. Were we about to be attacked? Over the roar of sound, I heard other sounds. Voices, cars, a buzzing whine that could have been something electric. It all merged together, torturing me.

Margaret came to her door and stared at me in calm neutrality. “What does it sound like?”

“A roar.”

“That’s the air conditioning. Have you had any other experiences beyond the one at Beatrice’s?”

“No.”

“Sit down,” she commanded.

I sat and stared at her suspiciously. She knelt in front of me and put her hand up. I hesitated, uncomfortable with letting her into my thoughts. It wasn’t just because it was Margaret – letting other Watchers into your mind was sort of like asking an avalanche to crush you, except for Daniel, who always kept the pressure contained. I knew, though, it was the way Margaret