Creators (10 page)

Stephanie shook her head. “I don’t want anything to do with you people. And I sure as hell don’t need you to walk me back. You’re just like them,” she charged, her voice broken with emotion.

As she turned to storm out of the room, Stephanie’s hair flew to the side of her shoulder. Two faded branding marks glared at me from the back of her neck. Instinctively, I reached up and felt my own slash marks. These marks were the way the council kept track of the transgressions of girls. I had received my first mark as a result of my sister, Emma, getting pregnant. My second mark came when I spoke out for Henry’s girlfriend, Julia, during her trial for treason. George gave me my third, claiming I would need it to help him bring down the council.

“How do you have those marks? You said you never lived in a compound,” I asked, pointing a finger toward her.

Stephanie furrowed her brow. “Your father made me get them years ago. In case…” Her voice trailed off.

“In case what?” Eric asked.

We were almost there.

Glaring at Eric, Stephanie pushed past Henry and stumbled out of the room. Henry turned to me and clenched his jaw. “Great party, Tess,” he said dryly.

“Things didn’t exactly go as I planned,” I admitted.

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Really? What exactly did you plan to happen here tonight?”

I didn’t like his tone. I couldn’t stand how he stood judging me after everything he heard. “I planned on getting Stephanie to tell me exactly what my father is doing here in the community and what he’s hiding.”

“You planned on attacking her! She’s not your enemy.”

“Maybe she’s not my enemy, but she’s certainly not on our side,” I countered.

“Our side? What makes you think I agree with you? Just because it’s the side you picked? I think we both know those days are gone,” he said, his voice carrying a tiredness that I wondered would ever leave.

I lifted my head to meet his eyes. “Not my side. The side that puts people before the cause. That’s the side you belong on.”

Henry shook his head and took a step away from me. “You don’t get to tell me what side I belong on anymore.”

And then he left.

The streets of the community were eerily quiet the following morning, but I could still hear the angry words thrown about the previous night banging inside of my head. I hadn’t meant to hurt Stephanie. I had intended to convince her we could be friends, so she would feel comfortable enough to let the effects of the alcohol take control. Then she was supposed to tell us everything. In the pale light of morning, it was hard to see my actions as noble.

My stomach tightened when I thought of the way Eric had bragged about killing Stephanie’s sister. He wasn’t a bad man; not that she would ever know that by the way he had acted last night. He was just fiercely protective of those he cared about. It was our common ground.

The whole night was one colossal mess. Despite his terrible tactics, Eric was right. We needed to protect the people of the community. Maybe they hadn’t always welcomed me with open arms, but they had offered me safety. Twice. I couldn’t forget that.

I sighed and pushed my feet faster toward the infirmary. Louisa had been moved there due to her failing health. The closer she got to her due date, the worse she became. Cramping. Shortness of breath. Loss of color. Despite being only a few months along, she didn’t look like she was a survivor; she looked like she was losing the battle. When I had returned there last night to relieve Sharon, she took one look at me and told me to turn around, go back to my room, and get some rest. She left no room for arguments.

The night before, I’d slept curled up on a chair, checking every so often to make sure Lockwood was still breathing. When I finally pulled myself from my restless slumber, I was excited to spend the morning with Louisa. She had started to talk more and more with both Lockwood and myself, and I was really loving our moments together. We still weren’t close by any means, but our relationship was going. It was a start.

I was lost in the memories of the night before and dreams of my sister’s future, when the sounds of footsteps running behind me broke my trance. They pounded heavily against the morning silence, fighting for control with the breaking dawn. I turned around to see a man sprinting down the dirt road toward me.

He was covered in blood.

A thousand different scenarios ran through my mind. Maybe he was one of Al’s men finally exacting his revenge on me because of my father’s actions. Maybe he was some spy from the council. Maybe he was another one of my father’s crazed men, putting into action some plan I wasn’t made privy to.

Hadn’t we all argued about that last night? Desperation was man’s greatest ally and darkest villain.

I looked wildly around me for a sign of anyone or anything to aid me. No one but the bloodied man and me were to be found. Considering the speed at which the man ran toward me, there was no hope of outrunning him. I would have to face him straight on.

I gritted my teeth and braced myself for his attack. His eyes were large, scared, frenzied. He was getting closer and closer. The blood he wore covered almost every inch of his tan cotton shirt. It splattered and marked his face like war paint from the books my father used to read about the Native Americans who once ruled these lands; men desperate enough to do just about anything to protect their own.

The man running right at me was definitely a man of war.

I inhaled and clenched my fists. The bloodied man looked right past me. He narrowed his eyes and stared straight toward the infirmary. The place that was protecting my sister. I couldn’t let him get there.

Logically, he could have been one of my father’s men. I hadn’t met all of them, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. But being one of my father’s men didn’t hold the same sense of security as it once did. I didn’t entirely trust my father anymore and that distrust extended to his crew. I’d rather be wrong than dead. I’d rather be wrong than something happen to those I loved.

I planted my feet firmly on the ground. I bent slightly at the knees, knowing from my training that if I tensed my body too much I could do some damage to myself on impact. I took a deep breath and then I was off. I sprinted toward the man, throwing my body onto his, bringing us both to the ground.

Slightly disoriented, the man cursed and yelled, throwing me off him as if I weighed nothing. He must have used his last bit of strength to push me because he struggled to pull himself to his feet. My father always told me victory would only come if I could pinpoint my opponent’s weakness. This particular enemy was near exhaustion.

I mustered everything I had left inside of me and scrambled to my feet. With a grunt, I threw myself onto the assailant’s back, wrapping my arms around his neck. Once I had a good grip, I let my body go limp, using my weight to put pressure on his windpipe. I would hold onto him as long as it took.

I had to.

“Let him go!” a voice pleaded with me, but I didn’t budge. “Tess, I said let him ago!” It was only the second time that I recognized Sharon’s voice. Hearing her urgency, I loosened my grip and stumbled backward away from the man. Once he was free, the man bolted toward the infirmary.

All the air I kept trapped inside rushed from me. I slumped forward and placed my hands on my knees, trying to regain control.

Louisa.

He had run into the infirmary where Louisa was. Even if Sharon told me it was safe to let him go, I had to see for myself that my sister was safe. I spun around, running as fast as I could.

Sharon met me at the doorway and held up her hands. “Tess, I’m gonna need you to stay here with Louisa,” she said calmly. She was standing next to the wild man. He sat in a chair near my sister’s bed trying to catch his breath.

My eyes darted from the man to Louisa to Sharon. Louisa’s eyes were wide with shock, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. Sharon walked over to me and patted me on the back. “She’s not in danger. I need to go help Sam,” she said, nodding to the man.

I returned her nod, trying to stop my body from trembling. A mixture of unused adrenaline and overwhelming relief. As I stared at the man, I noticed something. With the exception of being a bit winded, he didn’t appear to be hurt. “That blood isn’t his, is it?” I asked Sharon.

She smiled tightly.

“Whose blood is it?” I asked, my voice turning cold.

“I can’t answer that,” she replied, bending down and pulling a variety of medical supplies from a trunk kept at the foot of my sister’s bed. “I’ll be back to check on Louisa later. I promise.”

Sharon handed the man the supplies and gave him a curt nod. With a sigh, he pulled himself to his feet and left. Sharon turned to me, opened her mouth, and then closed it. I took a step toward her and grabbed her hand, pulling her out into the hallway. “What is it? I know you want to tell me.”

Sharon looked behind her to make sure the man was gone. “It’s not my secret to tell. You should really talk to your father.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve tried talking to him. He says I already know everything I need to know.” I paused, taking a moment to note the worry in Sharon’s eyes. “But I do need to know. Don’t I?”

“Ask him again,” Sharon said. “He’s your family.”

“You and I both know that doesn’t always mean something.” I swallowed. The doubt had been growing inside of me like a parasite, slowly taking over, destroying me from the inside. What was my father’s end game? What was he willing to do to achieve it? As much as I wanted to know, there was a part of me that couldn’t trust him. At least not entirely. “I’m closer to you and Lockwood than that man who calls himself my father, so if he’s putting us in danger, I need to know about it. Now why was that man covered in blood? Does it have something to do with what my father’s hiding?”

Sharon pressed her lips together. I clutched harder onto her hand. “Please,” I said. “Help me protect our family. Blood doesn’t always make family.”

“You don’t think I know that?” she replied, placing a hand against my cheek.

I opened my mouth to entreat her help once again when a loud ringing cut me off. It was the loudest bell I had ever heard. I unhooked my hand from Sharon’s and placed both of my hands over my ears.

“What is that?” I screamed.

Sharon paled, and she looked over my head toward the infirmary. I turned around to see my sister shaking, clutching the blankets to her chin. Sharon grabbed my elbow and pulled me close.

“We’re being attacked,” she yelled into my ear.

Tess,

It has been so long since I’ve written you. I am ashamed that I have tried not to think about you. In my defense, it has not been entirely for selfish reasons. The torture the council put me under worked. Every time I reach for your image or a memory, my body is taken over by pain. They mean to burn you straight out of my mind.

My greatest fear is that they are quite close to succeeding at their mission. Even as I write you this letter, I am overcome with sweats and shakes. Even though I’m on the verge of another episode, I must write to you.

I will write to you. I need to explain.

I realized that the men who tortured me had almost forced you out of my mind entirely, so I hid you. I shoved your presence deep inside my head where neither they nor I can find it. If I don’t think of you, if I choose not to think of you, then they can’t burn you out of me. That’s what the pain is like, Tess—fire. It burns and burns, and then I heal only to burn again.

So, I have forced you away. Not forever but long enough to make them forget. Make them think I have fully given myself to their whims. It has already started to work. They have assigned me back to the family. I now live in the estate on which the council headquarters sits. This place… If you thought Templeton was all pomp and circumstance, it is shambles compared to this place.

I spend my days getting to know my assigned creator, Harper. The hope is I will bond with him and be able to protect him. He is important. Though I am yet to be informed as to why.

That is why I am writing to you. Thinking of you. Aching for you.

Our bond.

Tonight, I woke up with only you running through my mind, and I knew you were in danger. Only twice before in my life have I been filled with such dread. I must admit that there is a small part of me that is comforted that I had a premonition concerning you. It means that our connection, despite the work of the council, is still as strong as ever.

But then what I saw keeps playing over and over in my mind, and I have no way of stopping it. There are guards always outside my door. So, I write you like some useless man who can’t do anything else. I write, because if I am correct, I will see you soon. Because leaving here won’t stop what I saw happening to you. I will make sure you get these letters. You’ll need them. You’ll need to know what you’re in for.

You’re in danger, Tess. Even though I will not be able to stop the first of what appears to be a long line of chain reactions that lead you to the moment that torments me worse than any torture ever exacted on me, I write to you.

I see you here. You work in the headquarters in the service of the council you hate. I don’t know much about the women here, but I will make it my duty to find out. They are rarely seen in the main labs. They, like us chosen ones, are assigned to families. While I don’t hear much about them, what I saw concerning you—I can barely write it.

I keep thinking of the third mark on the back of your neck—the third branding that George gave you back in the woods. I can’t help but wonder if this is what he planned all along. I will search him out in the morning. I don’t know if I can trust him. I don’t know that I can trust anyone.

Three marks. That is the first image that came to me in my vision. The back of your neck. Your hair was tied up into a bun. I couldn’t see your face, but I knew it was you. You were trembling. You stood in a room fancier than anything I have seen yet.

There was a noise behind you and you crouched down. You crawled across the floor and hid behind a curtain. But the darkness did nothing to protect you. He found you. I couldn’t see his face, but he grabbed you and pulled you from your hiding space.

The last thing, the final moment of my vision, was you screaming.

So, I write to you now. I’ll have to find someone to trust. My only hope is that these letters can get to you. Because without a doubt, I know one thing is for sure. You’re coming here.

~James