03 Saints (10 page)

I went over to a leg lift machine, figuring my legs would be an easier place to start than my arms. My arm throbbed in pain every time I even thought about moving it; I would have to take it easy. As I pumped my legs on the machine, I was surprised at how glad I was for King’s visit. He was the first person to offer me a way to escape drowning in my thoughts. Perhaps, he had known this all along; it was why he had come to visit me.

I worked out until I was exhausted – which didn’t take very long. I knew it would take time until I was back to full strength, but I enjoyed the work more than I had ever enjoyed work before. It was another new beginning for my new self. It was a step to build up the rebirth of my body. King stayed with me for the entre workout, his words and his presence a steady comfort to the mission I had placed on my body.

Our exercise time would become a ritual. It was the only thing that kept me from submitting to the idea that no matter the amount of planning I did, it wouldn’t stop the fact that Daniel and the others were dead.

It was the only thing that kept the two weeks of waiting manageable. It was the light that shone in the darkest of places.

It was my hope.

Chapter 5

King was like clockwork.

Every morning, just as dawn was breaking, he came and got me to exercise. There were no excuses to be made. I came with him, or else.

He stayed in the workout room with me, until I was too tired to workout anymore. He did a lot of talking during our time together, more talking than I did. Every day, his words taught me a little more about the Saints and how they operated. I learned other things as well, things I couldn’t help but notice.

It was obvious that night was the group’s busiest time of day. Daylight saw to a packed house at the school; it bustled with people going about their lives, planning missions, working out, getting in some quality reading time, various activities that kept them occupied. But night was different. People always left at sunset, the barn’s cars emptying and refilling again as the night wore on. The peace of the day was replaced by purpose of the dark. I often sat in my room and watched the people as they came and went, allowing myself the curiosity of distance but never allowing myself the chance to really commit to their world.

King didn’t go out like the others did. He confessed that Reaper was making him lie low for a while; Lorian’s people were looking for him. Reaper couldn’t take the chance of letting him be found.

King also explained during our numerous workout sessions how the Saints earned their keep. It wasn’t just saving people from dungeons or spying on the enemy. They were also criminals; proud criminals who took pride in their work. They stole cars, robbed places; did anything that would help finance their operation. They were careful to only steal from places that could afford it, or places that had ties to bad Watchers. They were the Robin Hoods of our kind, but instead of giving to the poor, they kept the money for themselves to finance their fight for freedom.

King was passionate about the fight, whenever he brought it up. His words tried to persuade me of their vision. I knew that passion wasn’t the same thing as ‘good,’ but I listened to his words with more interest each day.

Slowly, very slowly, I started to find my strength again. My arm would take a long time to heal properly, but I started to develop muscles in my body again, strength I had lost during my imprisonment. It felt good, as if I were doing something rather than just waiting around for a deadline. At the end of the first week I started running again, wanting to push my body as hard as was prudent.

My first run I did alone – aware King could probably outrun me and then some – but the second one I went on, he and River both joined me. From the way they let me run in front, I felt as if I were the president on a jog around the White House. I knew the second we started running, even if they didn’t want me to know, that they were keeping an eye on me. I wasn’t sure if was Reaper’s orders, or River’s concern I would try and attack my foot again, but it was obvious.

It wasn’t until I was halfway through my two weeks that King learned I could fight. We were in the weight room again. Two men were sparring in the center area, while we lifted weights. King watched the pair, calling out occasional insults to both as they fought. The pair took his abuse with good grace, calling insults back to him familiarly. Their jibes were something I enjoyed about the weight room. There was no ego…just people enjoying their workouts as much as the company of the other people around them. It was ‘retraining’ in a whole different way. It was a reminder that not everything was a mission or a plan. Not everything had to have a purpose.

As the pair fought, I watched with a critical eye.

“That guy in the red is about to be hit in the face,” I told King.

The guy in question was knocked off his feet as his opponent punched him hard in the jaw. He groaned as he hit the floor then started laughing as the first man helped him to his feet. There was no ego-stroking, and the man who had hit the floor seemed to appreciate his opponent’s skill.

“How’d you know?” King asked.

“He left his guard wide open. Plus, the other guy was as obvious as a Democrat in Texas.”

“So you can fight, huh?” King asked, looking at me as if I had purposefully not told him.

“Uh…no?”

“Liar! Come on…practice bout. I’ll go easy on you,” he offered.

“I’m handicapped, remember?” I pointed at my shoulder.

“Oh…scared, huh? It’s cool, I get it,” he said.

My lips pursed; a dangerous sign.

“Just don’t come crying to me when your ass is kicked so hard, you think it’s your face,” I said.

“Big words, big words!” he said.

I followed him to the sparring mat, cracking my knuckles in anticipation. I measured him up as we walked. I knew he would underestimate me. He would think me weak and go for the easy hit. I intended to use that to my advantage.

We took the other side of the mat, far enough from the other pair to matter. The guys eyed us in amusement, and they stopped fighting to watch. It was obvious they doubted my skill, but were curious to see what King was up to. King smiled at me, and started swirling his hands around in a dramatic attempt to imitate bad Kung-fu movies. I waited for him to stop with a bemused expression on my face.

Finally, he moved forward and tried to grab me around the shoulders. When he got close enough, I used my good arm to deflect his hand, used the deflection to bring him in closer to my body, and took him to the ground, using a pressure point on his hand. The entire encounter took about five seconds.

“Would you like to try again?” I asked standing over him.

The others in the room were laughing and clapping in appreciation; they sent insults in King’s direction and approval in mine.

King’s expression was a lot different than the one he’d had at the beginning of our match. His eyes were wide and surprised, and his face showed his embarrassment. He laughed at my words, however, and I held a hand out to help him out.

“No heckling the human, got it,” he said.

“That’s right,” I agreed.

He laughed again, taking the defeat with dignity. He insisted I show him the move until he had learned it, his face eager to learn. It was a small moment, but it was one that helped the others look at me in a different light. I wasn’t just another human. I was someone with skills. I was someone valuable.

I didn’t see Reaper again for the majority of my stay, though his offer for me to talk was a standing one. It was an offer I ignored. I didn’t want to talk about my past, and the past would inevitably come up, should I talk with him. I heard him sometimes, though; talking with the others, planning rescue missions, organizing the group, so they could effectively steal, and otherwise doing things that only leaders had to do.

At the end of two weeks, Reaper was the one who found me. King and I were in the weight room again. King was talking, I was listening, and the gym was full of people exercising; a typical day in the world I had built up. When Reaper entered, the room went quiet. It was a different kind of quiet than what I had first experienced; it was silence born out of respect. He made a face at the stares – one I thought I’d probably worn once or twice – and came over to me.

“I believe it’s been two weeks,” he said to me.

“See, now you’re just trying to get rid of me,” I said. “I wish you’d make up your mind.”

“Is this your work, King?” Reaper joked. “You make her all sarcastic?”

“Not me, boss,” King said. He was the only one not looking at Reaper as if he were a superstar.

“Did you want to talk about my promise?” Reaper asked me.

“Yes,” I agreed.

He was actually serious. He wanted to take me to find the truth. I had thought I would be the one to have to remind him.

“All right. Let’s talk,” Reaper said.

He left the room, expecting I would follow. He nodded at the Watchers brave enough to meet his eyes and spoke brief words of encouragement to those closest to him as he left. The act felt familiar. It was something I had seen Daniel do at school any number of occasions. Where had Reaper learned to play the role of diplomat so well?

I hurried after him. King watched me with curious eyes as I all but ran from the room.

Reaper didn’t go to the third floor where his room was. Instead, we went to the first floor. He opened the mystery door that was normally kept shut – the one River told me led to the arena. There was a classroom behind the door and a large rug in the middle of the floor. The normalcy of the room was not what I had been expecting.

A half smile on Reaper’s face – from the look of confusion on mine – he threw back the rug to reveal a set of metal stairs leading underground. He stepped down them with cool confidence and disappeared into the darkness below. After a short beat of hesitation, I followed.

Below was a short tunnel that branched off in two directions. One branch of the tunnel disappeared into the darkness, but the other branch of the tunnel was shorter and was blocked by a heavy silver door. He opened the door and went in. A light flicked on inside, illuminating the room. I was left with the choice of the underground hall or the silver door that brought back memories of having my head stuffed in a mask of silence. My desire to see Daniel again was the only thing that made me step inside the room.

“What is with Watchers and being underground?” I asked irritably as he shut the door behind us.

“It is closed off, a lot of powers don’t work underground…physical powers at least, it’s hard to locate, and a better way to hide,” he answered promptly.

“Well, there’s that,” I said, even more irritated he had a logical answer.

“Yep.” He sat on a small desk that was placed in the center of the room and looked at me seriously. “You said you wanted to go home to start your search.”

“Yes.”

“Where’s that, and how can I help?” he asked.

“North Carolina…and you can help by buying me a bus ticket or a plane ticket or giving me a car…I know you have a lot of them. Anything that will get me across the country will do,” I said.

“Still guarded, I see,” he said.

“Slow to trust…sorry,” I apologized.

“A trait we share,” he said.

“Mmmhhhh,” I agreed, doubting he meant it.

“What if I told you I could get you to North Carolina today without buying you a plane ticket, would you be interested?”

“Yes. But then I would wonder what the catch is…heck, I’m still wondering why you are being so darned helpful,” I said.

He was casual as he admitted the truth.

“Truth is: you are different. It’s pretty obvious. I’m hoping that if I help you, you’ll see I’m not such a bad fellow. I need all the help I can get, and I think you would be a lot of help to the cause,” he said.

“I haven’t even changed. I’m nobody,” I told him, wondering how he knew I was different.

“For somebody who is nobody, you seem to know an awful lot, are confident of what’s going on around, and don’t ask the stupid questions so many young ones ask. That’s a pretty good start in my opinion,” he replied.

“I feel like you’re playing me. Manipulating me into something,” I told him.

He started laughing at my words. He wasn’t embarrassed I had caught him.

“That’s another reason. You’ve got sharp eyes, Clare, and you’re not afraid to call it like you see it. Two traits I value,” he said.

“Which means you are manipulating me?” I asked to be sure.

He didn’t answer directly. “I have a bad habit of being curious. You won’t tell me your story, so I thought if I went along with your journey, I would get the truth. I think your truth means something more than the average person’s.”

I eyed him suspiciously, finally understanding.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” I asked.

He blinked at me in surprise, not having thought I would make that particular leap of logic.

“You had King in Lorian’s house…do you have someone in Marcus’ organization as well? Did they tell you about me?” I asked. “Or did you just hear it through the Watcher grape vine?”