The Beast Within (14 page)

“Hey, I wasn’t done with that,” Lu replied, wide eyed and still hungry.

Connor took the bone from Morrigan. It was a foot long and an inch thick. He felt pretty confident about his odds. Grabbing it at both ends, he was stopped in his tracks.

“Break it with one hand, Connor.”

“One hand? You want me to crush it?”

“You can do it. You just have to concentrate,” Laren encouraged him.

“That’s impossible.”

Without a word, Lu grabbed a sterling silver dinner knife handle in his left palm and squeezed. His hand shook ever so slightly under the pressure. He furrowed his brow in concentration. At first it looked as though nothing was happening, but then he released his grip and handed the knife over. Connor was amazed to see indentions where Lu’s hand had held the knife. Four grooves marked the place where Lu’s fingers warped the silver.

Connor, shaking his head, readjusted his grip. This time he grabbed the bone around the middle with his right hand. He zoned in on his target and concentrated as hard as he could. Tightening his grip, he released every ounce of strength he had. He could feel his face turn red, and his arm and hand began to shake under the pressure.

“I can’t. It’s too strong.”

Before anyone could offer advice there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Morrigan invited.

In strode one of the FBI-looking guards. He explained flatly, “The Council is requesting Mr. Moore’s presence.”

“Very well, we’ll be right there.”

“Only Mr. Moore is required.”

Connor stood up from the table and gave his companions a reassuring nod. “I’m sure I’ll be back soon.”

“Be confident and honest, Connor,” Laren warned him. “That’s the only way any of this is going to work.”

Connor followed the guard.

“He’ll be fine,” Morrigan said, looking at Laren.

“I think the kid will be more than fine.” Lu walked around the table and picked up the bone Connor had tried to break. He offered it for examination. Almost hidden to the naked eye were thin fractures in the bone.

Chapter 12

C
onnor followed the stoic guard.
His companion’s countenance was far from comforting. Since leaving the room, the stranger hadn’t offered so much as a smile. The guard was walking rapidly, making Connor half run at times, to a section of the castle he was unfamiliar with. Instead of rooms and multiple doors on either side of long halls, this section had stone flooring and suits of armor, long past their prime, lining the walls.

This part of the castle seemed older. Connor licked his lips, the air was damp. Soon the hall came to an end, opening into the biggest banquet room Connor had ever seen. The room he had dined in with Laren, Lu and Morrigan could have fit in this one eight times. Everything was made of stone; huge stone pillars lined either side of the area, and four gigantic fireplaces roared their warmth, strategically placed in the corners of the room.

In the center of the room, the five members of the Council lounged at a small table. It seemed as though they just finished their own meal and were conversing among themselves. From afar they looked like a group of old friends sharing a bottle of wine. Much to Connor’s surprise, there were even smiles and laughter ringing out from the group.

Connor got closer and the family leaders composed themselves, all eyes on him.

“Connor Moore, as the Council requested,” the guard said with a bow.

“Thank you, Kale. You are dismissed,” Laren’s father responded.

Bowing out of their presence, the guard left. Connor, nearly forgetting the custom, sank to his knees, his eyes studying the stone floor.

“Oh get up. If you’re the savior the sorceress says you are, you have no business kneeling to us.”

The speaker sounded German and reminded him of Faust. Connor looked up to see two strong blue eyes and an honest smile. The man who spoke to him was somewhere around the age of Laren’s father, his receding hairline made him easily recognizable as one of the two Council members who had not spoken at the trial.

“Oh, let him be, Raban. He’s confused enough.”

Raban looked at Thema with feigned reverence and a smile. “As your majesty wishes.”

Thema rolled her eyes at Raban and smiled. A simple purple dress flowed freely around her body and a golden chain hung loosely around her neck.

“So, Connor Moore. Are you the savior of our people?” The question was blunt, one they were all thinking, including Connor. It was directed at him from the final member of the Council. He was leaning against a pillar. Connor could see his shorter-than-average height, his close-cut black hair, what Connor could see clearer though, were his bright amber eyes.

Be confident and honest.
He heard Laren’s advice play again in his head.

Still dressed in his suit, minus the black jacket, Connor felt bare against their shrewd expressions. He forced himself to stand straight and look them in the eyes. “I don’t know if I’m the savior that Morrigan says I am. Until today, I didn’t even know who my father was. A week ago, I had no idea a superior race existed secretly among humans.”

He paused, mentally kicking himself. Come on, Connor, this isn’t the way you want to talk to people who hold your life in their hands.

There was no going back now he had to finish. “What I do know is that if I am this savior, I will do everything in my power to live up to my name. Whatever strength I have, whatever power flows in my blood, will be sworn to fulfilling the prophecy.”

There was a silence in the room that lasted far too long for Connor to feel comfortable. Did I say too much? Did I not say enough? Maybe I should have just told them I am the savior and be done with it.

It seemed like an eternity before someone spoke. “Well said, Mr. Moore,” Laren’s father congratulated him. “You were wise not to lie. We can sniff out a liar a mile away—one of the perks of living for hundreds of years.”

“Well, we know he’s not a liar, but is he the Judge of the prophecy?” Morrigan’s brother pounded his fist on the table in disgust. “It’s almost impossible to know.”

“Ardan does have a point,” the blue-eyed Raban chimed. “If he doesn’t even know he’s the Judge, how are we to know?” Raban scratched the remaining blond hair he had and shook his head.

“Can a half-blood be a Judge?” the question was asked by the amber-eyed Council member, who was studying Connor intensely. Although he was the smallest member of the Council, he by no means seemed inferior. He was garbed in a light orange shirt and pant combination, resembling the garments monks wear in monasteries.

His eyes never leaving Connor, he continued his train of thought, answering his own question. “If we are to believe Morrigan Hayes, and we have no reason not to, then we have to believe he is the prophesied Judge and a half-blood
can
be our savior.”

“Morrigan has never been wrong before,” Thema mused. “We don’t have any reason to doubt her now. What do you think, Ardan? He comes from your Family line.”

Ardan shook his head and let out a sigh. “The Moores have always been one of our greatest houses. The Judges originated there and one has risen up every time we were in need, but why now? Why would a Judge be given to us at this time? There is no impending doom, no great war to fight. What darkness is he meant to vanquish? Surely not the culprits of the trial we now face, we don’t need a savior for that.”

Laren’s father, who had been silent for much of the conversation, made his way over to one of the large fires that crackled quietly, providing warmth to the room. He stared into the flames as though they were speaking to him. His green eyes looked sinister against the glow of the fire’s light.

“Unless there is a gathering doom that we are unaware of.”

The room fell silent as the other four Council members mused over their leader’s words. Things in their world had been peaceful since the Cuban Missile Crisis. There was no reason to suspect there was any impending doom.

“Are you referring to anything specific, Adolpho? Don’t keep us in the dark,” Raban said.

Adolpho shook his head, still looking into the flames. “No, nothing specific I can explain, but you must all feel it. A sense of doom, an unnatural chill that comes with the night.”

“I have felt it,” Thema confessed. “I was unwilling to recognize it due to my own misgivings—I can be honest now. There is something happening. It has been much too quiet for much too long. Tian? You have a gift for knowing the order of things. What do you think?”

The small man leaning against the pillar nodded in agreement. “The spirits of our ancestors are restless. As to the exact reason, I do not know.”

A look of foreboding replaced Raban’s easy-going expression. “Adolpho, you don’t think that they—that He—could be back?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s slow down here. To say that my sister has never been wrong is one thing. To say there are ancient evil forces returning to the realm of men and Elite’s is extremely different,” Ardan exclaimed.

“Connor.” Adolpho turned his eyes from the fire to address their guest. “Would you mind excusing us? There is a guard outside that will lead you back to your chambers.”

“Of course.” Connor made a bow like the guard had when he first arrived and turned to go. He could hear the Council continuing their conversation as he left. He was too tired to think about what they could have meant or what they would decide. He’d done the best he could. Worrying about it or trying to guess what their decision would be would get him nowhere.

Exiting the room, he came across a guard further down the hall, just as Adolpho had said. Thinking quickly, Connor walked past the guard not saying a word. The man gave him a questioning look as he passed, though didn’t move to stop him.

A few seconds later, Connor was by himself for the first time in what seemed like days. It was a great feeling. He resolved to search for Katie. She was probably scared and confused. With no one to talk to or explain what was happening, things would only get worse for her.

Where am I going to start? The castle is massive and I don’t even know how to get back to my own room, much less find Katie’s. Okay, instead of thinking about how much I don’t know, I need to focus on the things I do know. I know I’m on the ground floor by looking out the windows. Katie wasn’t a prisoner, she was a witness, so more than likely they would give her a room like mine and not a cell.

Connor decided to avoid searching the main floor, from what he had seen, it was mostly large banquet rooms or meeting halls. That left him with the second, third and fourth floors to explore.

Finding the nearest set of stairs was easier than he thought. Exiting the great hall, he was met with a large staircase to his left. Connor took the stairs two at a time and started his search on the fourth floor.

The fourth floor was decorated much like the rest of the castle. Wood floors were blanketed with colorful carpets and it seemed as though there was either a window or a door every ten or fifteen feet. If Katie was held as a witness, Connor guessed there would be a guard outside her door.

Walking the halls, he ran into more than one person going about their own business. On these chance encounters, he gave them a winning smile, nod, and tried to avoid eye contact. So far it had worked, except for one older man who had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Connor and said: “Hey, aren’t you that guy on trial?” Connor kept walking before the man could ask more questions.

Connor used a trick he’d read somewhere for not getting lost in a maze. He made every single right when faced with the choice. This way he couldn’t get lost and would eventually be led back to the staircase.

After twenty minutes of what seemed a brilliant plan, he started to second-guess himself. It was warm on the fourth floor and he rolled up his sleeves as he walked by the portraits of smiling men and women.

“How big is this place?” he muttered to himself, scratching the back of his head.

Just as he was about to turn around and begin his search on the second or third floor, he rounded a corner and smiled. At the end of the hall was a guard standing at attention by a door. Connor jumped back around the corner and out of sight. He hadn’t actually figured out how he was going to get the guard away from the door upon reaching it.

He pursed his lips and scrunched his eyebrows, searching for a plan. Deep in thought, he looked around the long hall searching for something—anything—that might be able to help him. There was nothing. Nothing his teenage mind considered valuable, anyway; no stun guns, no smoke bombs, nothing of use. He could try to persuade the guard to let him by. However, after contemplating the serious demeanor of the guards, he quickly discounted this idea.

Instead he decided on a ruse he saw used in a movie once. Connor composed himself, took a deep breath, and casually turned the corner and walked down the hall towards the guard.

The guard shifted his gaze and looked him up and down. Connor gave the stout man a smile and stopped one door from where the man stood guard.

Connor said a silent prayer before he tried entering the room.
Please let this be open. Please be open.

He placed his hand on the door and turned. The sweet sound of a click made him smile to himself and he let himself in.

Closing the door behind him, he let out a sigh of relief and took in his surroundings. The room looked as though it hadn’t been used in awhile. A musty scent hung in the air. The fireplace was cold and the curtains were drawn tight. Heading straight for the window, Connor opened the curtains and unlatched the locks. Pushing the window open, he felt a slight breeze and the beautiful warmth of the setting sun.

Connor had been witness to thousands of sunsets before, but somehow this one seemed different. The oranges were brighter, the clouds were clearer, and the breeze smelled sweet. He knew it was his heightened senses enhancing the feeling, and in that moment he wished he could stand there and enjoy the view forever. He knew he couldn’t, Katie was waiting.

Connor tore his gaze away from the gorgeous scene. He examined the ground and landscape three stories below him. Lucky there wasn’t a soul to be seen. This portion of the castle grounds was full of trees and shrubbery, perfect to hide his stealthy entrance.

Grabbing the window frame, he hoisted himself up and stood on the narrow ledge. There was barely enough room to place his feet. Connor gripped no more than an inch of the top windowsill. He slowly shuffled to his left. Inch by inch he made his way across the ledge and to the next window, twenty feet away.

Connor’s hands were slick with sweat. Halfway to the window, his left hand slipped off the edge and his feet followed. His right hand instinctively gripped tighter. For a second he thought he was going to fall. For some reason, the grip of his right fingers was able to hold him. It seemed impossible that a few fingers could balance and hold his weight.

Regrouping, he regained his hold and realized his Elite powers were manifesting themselves without him even trying. With a firm resolve, he made it the remaining distance without incident. One hand holding onto the ledge, Connor tried to open the window with his other. But he wouldn’t get lucky twice, it was locked from the inside.

His fingers screamed in pain at the constant pressure they were under. Connor tried to look inside to see if Katie was there. From his vantage point, the room was empty.