Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1) (45 page)

BOOK: Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1)
4.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

With that, he closed the door and left me alone. Something I feared I’d have to deal with for a long time.

Derick

“So you believe you deserve the affections of Abigail Doran, a
Guardian
?” Melos looked back at me and laughed as if the only thing I deserved was the prize for being the biggest idiot.

The book may have lied about many things, but not about what would happen if we ever wound up here.

I ignored him. Saying anything would fuel his fire. No one needed to know the details of my relationship with Abigail, except maybe me. Learning what her emotional power is nearly ruined her; devastation wrote itself all over her face when Aedan mentioned Will and Megan’s Affection for her. I could only hope Abby didn’t think her power influenced me.

But I knew she did.

Melos shook his head full of short, curly hair. He looked like a real life cupid, but taller and not as overflowing with love. “Stubborn. You know, your father and I trained together before they abandoned Kalós. Brendan always favored him, but none of the rest of us understood why. It’s not like Adam Crawford possessed any special skills outside reading people’s minds. Do you know how annoying that is?”

“Does he know how annoying he is?” Will muttered, his arms still clutched tightly around a panicked Megan.

That girl needed some Xanax. I’d never met someone who cried so much. Or I’d never paid attention. Abigail didn’t cry, not often at least, and only about things that mattered. Like her parents.

Or like when I broke her heart.

“What did you say?” Melos pivoted on his heels, fists on his hips.

I held up my hands.


I
said that you’re annoying and I wished you’d just shut up and be done with this.”

Will had balls. That’s for sure.

But he needed to keep them in check.

Melos surged forward and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Look—”


Melos
!” An older man stepped out of the shadows, a towel tossed over his thin shoulders. Servitude didn’t build
his
muscles, but Aedan sentenced us to this more for embarrassment—not development. “You weren’t about to hurt a youth, were you?”

Straightening, Melos said, “Just reminding him of who’s in charge.”

Like we hadn’t already figured that out.

“Well, off with you. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with a bunch of dirty old servants.” The man shoed Melos away, then took us all in. “You don’t look like much, and the clothes you’re wearing are odd at best, but I have plenty of work for you to do. I’m Alexander. What are your names?”

Will was too busy consoling Megan to notice much else in the world, so I spoke up first, “Derick. Derick Crawford, sir.”

Alexander’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “And these two?”

“Will Banaan and Megan Bartlow.” I stepped toward him, standing tall and proud. I had nothing to be ashamed of. Neither did my parents, for that matter. We weren’t fooled by just a book, but by one of the creators himself. I doubted the distinction made much difference to Aedan. He may not have been a vengeful killer out to end the Guardians, but he enjoyed his position of power, and Abigail was a threat. We were all threats.

I’d have to play by these rules if I wanted to understand this place. And if I wanted to protect her, understanding is just what I needed. “What do you want us to do?”

“I have a kitchen full of dirty dishes and two ladies who are in desperate need of a break. I believe these two will make perfect replacements.” Alexander ducked through a short door carved into a stone wall and waved for us to follow. “For you though, Derick Crawford, I have a different assignment.”

Two women leaned over a sink, resting their heads on their arms, sweaty hair sticking to their temples.

“Will, Megan, meet Danica and Linda.”

The women straightened and rushed their hands into the sink as if they were ashamed to be caught slacking.

“Ladies, these two are going to take over while you eat lunch.”

Megan’s mouth fell open. She looked horrified. Who could blame her? Her family paid people to clean, and the only water she’d rush into didn’t share space with dishes.

“We’ll be okay,” Will whispered, taking a towel from Danica.

Megan snapped out of her insulted state and took Linda’s place, going through the motions mechanically.

“Now that they’re settled.” Alexander pushed me between my shoulder blades and through another door. He stopped and turned me to face him, his mouth set in a grim line. “We don’t have much time.” Alexander glanced nervously down the hall. “Where did they take her?”

“Who?”

“Abigail Doran.” He looked around again. “You are Derick Crawford, son of Adam and Lillian, friend of Abigail Doran, correct?”

Anxiety gnawed at my stomach even worse than it already was. “Yes, but how—?”

“Never mind that. Aedan’s original intent was
never
to kill her, or any of them. A Fávlosi attacked Brendan and Marla on their way home through the planes, after they delivered their daughter to the humans, and there were no Guardians left; the only likely candidate for Elder was Aedan. He and Brendan were friends, and Aedan’s battle skills were matched by none. He is an Elemental Fire Caster, after all.”

“Where are you going with this?”

He pointed at his ear. “I hear things. Most people forget when I’m around and delivering their food or sweeping up after their meetings. This afternoon, when they realized Abigail would soon open the planes and return here, Aedan went mad. Her father was loved by many, Derick Crawford. With his daughter returned, the only
living
Guardian, the people would surely request she receive special training and be appointed to Elder—”

I laughed. “She wouldn’t want that.”

Alexander grabbed my shoulders and shook me. Hard. “Listen to me. What Abigail Doran wants is of little consequence. What Aedan Mordha wants is of great consequence.”

Now my heart pounded. Alexander was suggesting Aedan really did want to kill Abby—and I had no idea where she was. “He had a man—Bartholomew—take her to her family’s quarters, or something. How do I get to her?”

“Come with me.” He dropped my shoulders and ran down the dark hallway, and I didn’t waste any time in following.

Abigail

A knock rattled the thin wooden door.

“Come in,” I said, not taking my eyes off the odd mirror in front of me. I’d wandered from the balcony to one of the couches and encased myself in a throw blanket, hoping that curling in the fetal position would help me relax.

It didn’t, so I paced the room until my feet hurt and then plopped down in the chair by the desk. Once I looked into the smoky glass, I didn’t want to move again. I had no urge to do much else but stare and gasp.

“I see you found your mother’s
katáskopas
,” a woman said, placing her thin hand on my shoulder.

“A what?”

“A very old thing you shouldn’t waste your time staring at.” She flipped the mirror face down and knelt beside me. This woman had long, dark hair hanging in two braids trimmed with golden bands. Her eyes were the oddest shade of blue ever, flecked with dark brown. “I’m Katherine, your mother’s sister.”

I glanced at the thing again. Katherine was wrong. I deserved to stare, especially if the glass revealed the truth. “But it’s my fault all those countries are attacking each other. It’s my fault that people I used to call friends might be dead. They probably are dead. Look in it. Look at what
I
did! And now we’re here, and everyone I love is being punished. Derick, Will, and Megan are servants now.
Servants
. Do you know what kind of money Will and Megan come from? They aren’t used to washing clothes or whatever else Aedan has planned for them. And Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, they’re in holding cells, because of what
I
did.”

Turning the glass back over, I stared at the mirror again. This time it showed oil fields burning—everywhere. In Alaska. In the Middle East. In the Gulf. The images shifted to an aircraft carrier in the ocean, just as a torpedo struck.

I screamed and jumped to my feet. “I have to do something. How can I fix this?”

“Abigail, these things you’re seeing, they aren’t real. Our people cleaned up the mess left behind by you and your friends on that little island. The world isn’t at war—well, the Kalóans and Fávlosi are, but no human will see that.”

“They won’t?” I narrowed my eyes. “Or are you just saying that to get me to calm down?”

“You have your father’s overall distrust of people, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t know. Never met him.”

She laughed and took one of my hands, leading me to the couch. “A
katáskopas
shows the future. Essentially it serves those with gifts such as your mother’s when they are too young to fully use those gifts.”

“So what I saw hasn’t happened yet?”

“What you saw may never happen. I sense very little of your mother’s abilities within you. Have you had many visions?”

“Not many. I saw something kill two innocent people, something black and horrible, in my backyard. I saw Boredas and Ruckus planning to talk to Will’s dad. And then I saw my friends”—I took a deep breath and swallowed a lump of fear—“I saw my friends dead.”

My aunt’s eyes darkened, like she was lost in thought and couldn’t be bothered to look at me. “So only two.”

Did she not know how to count? Was that different here? “No, three.”

Katherine smiled broadly. “No. Two. The third, of your friends, I sent that to you in a message.”

“A message? But Derick and I saw the same thing at the same time. Did you send us both a message?”

“You two must have been touching when it came through.” Her words were soft, gentle, and she stayed so calm, but something about all that grated on my nerves. I started the apocalypse, according to the book and Aedan. My friends were basically hostages, and here, my aunt was giving me information but only in bits and pieces. And who knew if she offered the truth.

“We were.”

She nodded. “I am gifted with the same abilities as your mother was. I missed my sister and often came in here to be near her, at least in spirit, and to be near you. One day I looked into this mirror and saw you and your friends fighting two lower spirits on the beach. I watched your Will and Megan die, and I cried when Aedan blamed you. I felt your heartbreak.”

Someone knocked on the door, and we both jumped.

“I’ll be right back.” Katherine went to the door and then returned with a young girl carrying white and blue linens, gray ribbons, white silk shoes with square toes and flat heels, and a tray full of silver jewelry.

I didn’t like this, dressing up like royalty when others were treated like crap. I shook my head. “I’m not wearing any of that. Can’t I put on some of the pants and t-shirts like the fighters do?”

The girl’s black eyes widened, and she stopped and glanced at Katherine.

“Oh, Elyn, she will wear what you brought for her. Won’t you, Abigail?”

“I don’t see how wearing that is right.”

“Nonsense.” Katherine cocked her head to the side and pinned me with a hard stare, lips pursed. “This is what women wear when not in battle, and this is what you’ll wear if you want to walk out of this room any time soon.”

Elyn giggled.

I glared at her.

“I’m sorry.” She moved across the room and took some measurements first, then instructed me to bathe, at which point she giggled some more. Elyn was all of thirteen and clearly not used to dealing with unwilling subjects. The way she found my situation hysterical only made me more reluctant to put on the stupid gown she sewed for me while I soaked in a gigantic, round marble tub that stood in the middle of an open room facing the sea.

Katherine tapped on the thin wooden door. “If you’re clean, Elyn has finished your dress.”

Ducking under the water, I rinsed the last of the soap that smelled strangely of olive oil from my skin and then returned to the surface. “I’m clean.”

She and Elyn entered the bathroom, holding out towels and oils and brushes and things that looked like they belonged in a spa.

Other books

The Thief of Auschwitz by Clinch, Jon
Dark of Night by Suzanne Brockmann
One Dangerous Lady by Jane Stanton Hitchcock
Freestyle with Avery by Annie Bryant
Snow in Love by Ray, Claire
Is There Life After Football? by James A. Holstein, Richard S. Jones, George E. Koonce, Jr.
Wasted Words by Staci Hart