Altruist (The Altruist Series Book 1) (6 page)

“Go inside before your parents wonder what we’re doing out here.” Abel smiles and I am knocked out of my daze.

“Okay…” My words linger, I am not ready to leave. “Tonight was…awful and still really great somehow.” I swallow hard as if to contain myself from saying more than I should.

“Can I see you sometime this weekend?” His eyebrows pull up and he bites his lips, those lips, and I feel a sudden source of yearning.

“Yeah. Goodnight Abel, thanks again…for everything.”

He smiles and his eyes light up, “Goodnight Cate.”

I walk up to door, partially skipping, and prepare myself for the conversation that waits inside.

###

Abel walks through his front door and into the living room, Eliath and Shoshanna are sitting, reading in matching white leather chairs facing the fireplace. Noticing his son’s disheveled appearance, Eliath stands, “What happened? Shoshanna, grab the first aid kit.”

“I’m fine, nothing more than superficial scrapes.” Abel stares at them and clenches his jaw. “There was another assassination attempt tonight, in public this time. They’re getting desperate.”

Chapter 6 — Abel

My eyes open and blink sleep away. A ceiling fan whirls above me. I feel a breeze travel across my bedroom from an open window and my skin cools at its touch. I love Sundays. Rolling over onto my side I immediately reach for my phone. In two weeks of knowing Cate, this has become my routine. Illuminating the screen, I see her picture stare back at me, but no texts; she must still be sleeping. Stretching my legs over the side of the bed, I stand and throw on a green t-shirt and black basketball shorts and glance at the gold currency pin that sits on my desk.
What an idiotic concept
. I refuse to wear it unless I have to so I leave it behind and make my way out of my room and down the hall into the kitchen.

“Abel, you’re up early.” My mother’s eyes meet mine.

“Yeah, I smelled you burning something down here and thought I might need to come check it out.” Dad laughs from behind a newspaper.

“Ha ha, very funny, you know those cooking classes I took back in Berlin are actually paying off quite a bit young man.” I roll my eyes and sit down to the table slowly, my muscles burn from the previous night’s events and Dad undoubtedly notices.

Peering from the corner of his paper, Dad says, “Are you alright?” His remark comes off smug.

“Yeah, I’m fine, how’s your shoulder?” I smirk.

“Just because you’ve mastered an arm lock or two doesn’t mean anything.” He reaches up and rubs his shoulder. “Egos aside, are you okay?” Mom sets plate of pancakes on the table and I reach to grab a few.

“Yeah, I guess I’m out of practice. Training didn’t use to take so much out of me.”

“We’ve been too relaxed recently…” he glances at Mom. “It’s important we keep up a strict regiment, especially with the close calls we’ve had lately. We’re close this time, closer than we’ve ever been, wouldn’t want to lose it all just because our hand-to-hand combat wasn’t up to par.” He smiles at me and though I hate to admit it, he’s right. I’ve been slacking.

Mom sits and pours me a glass of orange juice, “Any plans today? Seeing Cate?”

“We’re supposed to check out some book store in town,” I manage to say through bites.

“Have you been able to assess her any further?” Dad interjects.

“She’s brilliant, I mean the way her mind works, and it’s more than I was initially prepared for. I didn’t expect her to advance so quickly.”

“We’re in her life now,” Mom chimes in. “And with other tools in play, quicker advancement is to be expected. How’s her strength?”

“I’m not sure, it’s not like I can bring up a rock throwing contest in casual conversation and not come off as a freak.”

“No, I know, you’re right,” Dad continues. “But try to find reasons to get her moving, situations in which her physicality might show itself naturally. It’s been quiet, but all that means is that they’re reorganizing, planning. We have time, but let’s err on the side of safety and assume it’s not much time.”

My phone vibrates across the table and I reach to grab it.

             Morning! What’s the plan? Am I meeting you at the book store?

“Is that her?” Mom asks.

“Yeah she wants to know if I’m going to pick her up or if we should meet there.” Dad pulls the paper up again and his sudden disinterest makes it pretty clear that he’s testing me, seeing how I’ll respond, seeing if I’ve forgotten our purpose and am simply assimilating into a normal teenage life.

              No…how far is it from your house?

             
About 6 miles, why?

              Let’s run.

             
Seriously?

I set the phone down and gulp the rest of the OJ in my glass. Standing up, I walk to the front closet and grab a hoody. “Keys are on my desk in the study Abel,” Dad echoes from the kitchen. My phone vibrates once more and I reach into my pocket to grab it.

             
I’ll meet you at the end of Vestry Street, halfway between our houses. Ready to run
.

I smile and slide the phone back into my pocket, “Don’t need them Dad…” I step into the center of the foyer so that I can see his face. “We’re going to run there.” He smiles and nods in approval.

My father might think that I’m getting caught up in the idea of this suburban life, that I am unaware of my purpose, that I have somehow forgotten why I am here, but he is wrong. I think of nothing else.

The air outside is crisp today, something about the way the wind flows through the mountains makes each inhale line my lungs with energy. The temperature is cool but the lack of clouds makes the suns presence so much more intense; it’s perfect running weather. I take a path that stays within the sector so that I won’t have to come into contact with any checkpoints and be harassed about my lack of currency class identification. I round the corner and step onto Vestry Street and I see her smiling at the other end of the street. My heart beats so quickly that I feel as though my chest is struggling to contain it. I have dreamt of a time when she and I could truly be, when things would be simple, and though they’re not, if I allow myself to forget the past and what may come of the future, the present seems beautiful. She is beautiful, and I will make the conscious decision to enjoy this beautiful day with her.

“There you are!” She throws her arms around my neck and pulls me close, her lips grazing mine. I grin.

“Ready?” I ask then grab her hand and take off down the street. At first she falls a few steps behind, clearly unready for my abrupt takeoff.

“Abel!” she screams, laughing, but it isn’t long before her pace is even with mine. I love the burst of energy I gain when I’m near her. She makes me feel invincible. I slowly begin to gain speed and though I expect her to begin falling behind again, she doesn’t.

My life, for the most part, has followed a specific routine, specific events in a reoccurring pattern. But this moment, right now, is new and I realize that between strides. We are creating something together, a memory. I feel her form by my side begin to reach past mine.
Is she passing me? How?
My mind is snapped back into reality as I strain to find whatever energy I have stored up, and begin to close the gap again. We continue this cycle, down the side streets and alleys, her edging ahead and then me countering until we reach the book store. I cannot remember the last time I pushed myself that hard, leaning over against the brick building I gasp for air.

“Are you okay old man?” Cate smiles, I look up to see her ready to run another 6 miles and out of habit I reach up and place my hand over her heart, its even beat pulsing through her body. She moves backwards, “What are you doing?” laughing through squinted eyes.

“Sorry, I just…”

“You just what? Expected I couldn’t handle your 6 mile sprint?” I stand there, leaning up against the wall.
No, I didn’t expect that
, I think and I laugh. She grabs my hand and directs me inside, “Come on old man, there’s a tropper novel I’ve wanted to get ahold of.”

I follow closely behind and the next 30 minutes are comprised of her grabbing book after book, each more engrossing than the last, and me, captivated by her. We eventually land onto facing, overstuffed chairs and she pulls her legs up to her chest and sits there, perusing through her possible purchases completely content. Even though I have a stack of books of my own to skim through, my eyes are continually drawn to her. Sun breaking through the windows and cascading down upon her face, I wish I could keep her this way forever, happy, and in love, and safe.

I force myself to take another book from the stack to my right and glace at the cover but my mind is still focused on Cate, my Cate. Just as I flip to the title page I hear a voice; its creaks only cease to be interrupted by raspiness. I know this voice.

“That’s a great book,” a woman says, leaning over Cate’s chair pointing.

“Oh, is it? Yeah I’ve been looking for some casual reads, do you really recommend it?” Cate asks, unknowing of the evil that stands before her.

“Absolutely,” the woman remarks and walks away, never so much as glancing at me in the process. I can feel Cate’s eyes on me, my face twisted with contempt. Pricilla Thynn is a 2
nd
tier scout, tall and muscular, jet black hair reaching past her shoulders, and a scar inching across her collarbone, one that she wears as a badge, so proud that she faced one of us and lived to tell the tale. I know why she is here. It is not by coincidence that she decided on this moment to make a brief appearance into Cate’s life, that she stood 3 feet away from me, so brazen in this public location.

“Abel?” Cate whispers, reaching her hand across and rests it upon my leg. “Is everything alright? What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine.” My even tone clearly stating that everything is not fine. She picks up on my tension and stands then grabs my hand and asks, “Can we go back to your house?”

Thoughts race through my mind; they have made a statement. Regardless of how subtle it may have seemed, it was forceful to me. They are here. They are coming for her, and I promise that the next time Pricilla Thynn enters my view she will not walk away with a scar and a story.

I look back at Cate and hold onto her hand so tightly, as if to keep anyone from separating us. “Absolutely.”

Chapter 7 — Cate

“What was that about? Do you know her or something?” I hold onto to Abel’s hand and lean against him.

“No, I thought she looked like someone I used to know, but it wasn’t her.” His voice is firm, and though I can tell how hard he’s trying to hide it, something is very wrong. It seems so obvious that he must have known her, but how? He just moved here, it’s a little soon to start making enemies.

We walk in silence for most of the way back to his house, the sun is warm against my skin and if it weren’t for Abel’s sudden mood swing, this day would be perfect. I find myself constantly holding onto him. I cannot describe the feeling when he is near, all I know is that it is something I never want to lose. As we round the corner to his street he stops suddenly. I turn and look back at him, his face has shifted into so much sadness.