Sprite (Annabelle's Story Part One) (10 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Day three.

Like the day before, I woke up sore and with new bruises on my body. Today, I also woke up emotionally bruised. I was thankful I’d fallen asleep, but certainly not thankful that fear for my family’s safety crept its way into my dreams.

I couldn’t shake the one dream that plagued me. Rather, it was a nightmare.

It was about my abduction in my driveway. Although, this time, three things were different.

The first, I watched the abduction instead of being the focus of the attack.

The second, the kidnapper wasn’t Clemente, but I couldn’t make out who it was: a dark hood covered his face.

The third, the target was Lindsey.

I watched in horror as my car pulled up the driveway and parked off to the side of the house. Lindsey then jumped out, reaching across to retrieve my swim bag. She even had my swim warm-ups on. After she took only a few steps, the hooded figure jumped out from behind a nearby tree and grabbed her, shoving the rag with chloroform into her face. As her body went lifeless, her abductor shifted his body. I almost caught a glimpse of his face. Before I could, my dream abruptly ended.

I know Adrian had told me that the Guardians kept a watchful eye over my family, but still, I worried.

They were thoughts that I needed to push out of my mind. If today was anything like the past two days, I needed my strength. At least, what little strength I had left after my restless night.

After I turned my head to look out the window, I realized my nightmares woke me up earlier than necessarily. The glow of the coral hadn’t yet poured into my room.

I knew I should sleep more, but my nightmares haunted me. I didn’t want it to overtake my dreams again. Instead, I got up. At an attempt to uplift my mood, I squeezed into a bright colored bodysuit that reminded me of dancing flames. With every motion, the shades of orange and red matched my movements.

Not having to shower, it made it a lot easier to get ready than on dry land. With my spare time, I decided to seek out Adrian. I’d never seen his room before and I was curious about the secrets he hid there. Only problem was that I had no clue where to find his room.

Mine was located in the right wing of the house. If I remembered correctly, I was on the opposite side of the castle from the parlor and up one level. I knew there was another floor above me, but there hadn’t been time to explore each one.

I slipped from my door, glancing to my right and left. A few doors waited if I chose to go right. If I went left I’d wrap around toward the middle of the large U.

My first instinct was that perhaps Adrian’s room would be one of the three to the right.

Nope. I poked my head into each. Although the decorations in each room suggested bedrooms, all were empty. Must’ve been guestrooms.

I tried to think as I leaned against the wall. At first, I pictured the layout of the palace in my head. The portraits in the foyer stretched up all three floors, topped off with a glass ceiling. From the foyer, there were four options: left into the west wing, right into the east wing, or through a passageway on each wing that led to the second level. This level had the same setup of either going left, right, or up.

When I was in the parlor in the west wing, the doors to the other rooms had been closed. Still, I figured Adrian wouldn’t want to be on the first floor.

I tried to think what room I’d pick, and I knew I’d be on the top floor. The penthouse, if you will. Then I’d seek not only the highest room, but also one in the watchtower. It had a fairytale-esque quality to it.

Now I had to determine which wing. I was on the right side so it made sense to start here.

I had to admit my little adventure to find Adrian greatly improved my mood and helped to distance my mind from my family.

Upon reaching the watchtower door, I knocked then quickly tried the handle. It was locked.

I paused a moment before I tapped my knuckles again, this time harder.

Still there was no response, the adrenaline from my search fading. I peered over my shoulder and pursed my lips… first toward the right, then my left. From here, I saw down both hallways. That was when I heard him.

“Annabelle?” his voice croaked out.

It was wrong of me, but I pulled joy from his tiredness. Both yesterday and today I woke up feeling beat. It was nice to see that I wasn’t the only one.

“Morning,” I said turning back toward him. “I couldn’t sleep so figured I’d come find you.”

“Lucky me,” he said sarcastically, before a smile reached his lips. “Make yourself at home. I’ll only be a second.”

After he disappeared into an adjoining room, I took advantage of this time to explore his bedroom. Most teenage boys would die for the testosterone feel of it.

His room held a round shape with small arched windows about two feet apart. Along the far wall, there was a four-post bed, like mine, but his didn’t have a canopy. Otherwise, I saw a fireplace, three different suits of armor spaced evenly against the walls, two shields with matching swords above his bed, a sitting area next to a grouping of windows, a chessboard ready to play on top of a marble table, and a desk by his door. Here, various items had been strewn about.

My concentration locked on these clues about Adrian. I made a dash toward them right as he came back into the room. “All right, I’m good to go. It’s probably a good thing you woke me up because Natasha tends to be an early riser. She’s probably already down at the stables.”

I tried to look nonchalant, clasping my arms behind my back and going still a few feet from his desk. “Oh, Natasha is training with us today?”

If he noticed the squeak to my voice, he didn’t let on. “Yeah, she happens to be the best hippocampus wrangler in Tritonis. On top of that, she’s awesome at hand-to-hand combat.”

Horse wrangling and combat? Day three of my training didn’t sound fun.

Could we just redo day one, please?

The answer was apparently no.

As we headed to meet Natasha I asked Adrian why she acted so passive the other day in my room. I felt bad about her unnoticed departure.

Adrian explained that her father was a Guardian. Actually, he was one of the Guardians present when the Trackers took Adrian’s mother and sister. He also served again on the rescue mission that ended with no survivors.

No one blamed Natasha’s father, but she felt ashamed that her dad had failed, not only once, but twice. Naturally, she missed him deeply as well. The combination of these emotions changed her. From that point on, she kept to herself a lot. Her mother was never the same either, forcing Natasha to fend for herself.

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah it is. Possibly the only good that’s come out of it for Natasha is her devotion to her crafts. Like I said, she’s by far the best wrangler, she’s a damn good warrior, and you’re currently modeling her design skills. Even though she’s shy, she’s taken very seriously around here.”

I had to confess to the fact that Natasha intimidated me. She was quiet, but her eyes revealed a determination and passion I’d never seen before.

As soon as we entered the stables, she turned her serious eyes on us.

“Hey Natasha,” Adrian said in an upbeat tone.

I swore he was groggy not even half an hour before.

“Prince Adrian,” she countered in a soft voice, yet a confident stance. “I wasn’t expecting you both until later.”

“
Somebody
woke me up early,” Adrian teased.

“If you’re not ready for us, we can come back,” I interjected.

“No, it’s no problem. Do you want to start with wrangling? Is that okay, Prince Adrian?”

“Sounds great to me,” he responded in a tone that encouraged her to take the lead. “And you know you can just call me Adrian. We’ve been friends for years.”

She nodded then turned her focus to me. “After wrangling we’ll work on your hand-to-hand combat skills.”

“Sounds good,” I lied. I dreaded my first encounter with a hippocampus.

It was really only half horse, so it should be half as scary, but I still felt one hundred percent scared. They were huge.

Plus, I had a bad experience with horses from my childhood. My family and I went on a five-hour trail ride. Lets just say my horse wasn’t fond of me. Every few minutes, for the entire five hours, he swung his head back and nipped at my leg. He never made contact because I whipped my leg around, but still, I’ve stayed away from horses ever since.

It was time to face my fears.

To kick things off, Natasha led six hippocampus out of the stables and freed them into the pasture.

Each of the hippocampus had this type of dog collar around their front, right leg that kept them from swimming too high or across the pasture boundaries.

Once they were spread out, Natasha determined her target. Of course she picked the large, black male. Personally, I’d focus on the smaller, gray one.

Fortunately, Natasha agreed to go first to show me how easy it was to wrangle a hippocampus.

By wrangle, she meant chase it down and somehow fling herself onto its back. She then grabbed its mane to gain control. Naturally, she did this all without a saddle, foot straps, or reins.

From the get go, I didn’t doubt her natural abilities. Her approach was casual, but her speed told a different story. At the last second Natasha dashed to one side, cutting off the hippocampus’ angle and launching herself on top.

Strangely enough, the hippocampus appeared to be enjoying himself as well. My family and I always joked our dog Zoey smiled at us. If a horse could grin, this one sure did. Clearly it was a game for him too—one where he’d try and dodge her.

I watched Natasha for a while, and then Adrian, trying to better gauge how to approach wrangling.

At first, I wasn’t sure why we did this drill, but Natasha explained it was important to learn the skills of quickly gaining control of a hippocampus for a stealthy escape in the throes of danger.

Throes of danger
wasn’t a phrase that I welcomed, but it made sense. All types of dangers lurked in the sea.

She also said the ocean was home to a large number of wild hippocampus. Think of them like a taxicab. Once out in the sea, merfolk tracked one down, jumped on its back, and took it wherever they needed to go. Of course, merpeople rarely left Tritonis so hippocampus weren’t used as much anymore. Really, wrangling had become more of a pastime.

Much to my dismay, my turn to wrangle came around quickly. As I looked out over the pasture, I swore the hippocampus strategically placed themselves equal distances apart. The black male positioned himself the closest. He taunted me.

It was safe to say my first couple attempts didn’t go so well. In fact, it took a while to even get close to a hippocampus. Each time I managed to get within a few feet, I made this crazed dive that resulted in my face in the sand or a cloud of bubbles.

One attempt quickly deteriorated after a feeble hold of the black one’s tail. I couldn’t maintain my grip and he slipped away. Defeated, I focused on the mane of the little gray one. She tossed me off like a bull.

Worst part was, the more frustrated I became, the more Natasha and Adrian found entertainment in my pitiful displays. There were positives though because Natasha loosened up a bit. Her demeanor became friendlier. She fell into a rhythm. I was happy to see her confidence shine through. She even shared a little of her past with me.

After one especially mortifying approach, she gave me a few additional pointers. She suggested that I tap into a sixth sense to anticipate the movements of the hippocampus.

With my sights set on the small grey one again, I figured I’d at least try to predict each twist and turn. However, each failed attempt transformed my growing frustration into a type of wreck loose anger. I was good at most things I tried and I didn’t like to lose.

After yet another pathetic attempt at wrangling, the black male wouldn’t look away. I swore he mocked me. As soon as I made the slightest move toward him, he jumped into action. Every few seconds, he’d glance back to see if I was near.

We did this song and dance for a while, pretending we didn’t know where the other one was. Slowly, I crept closer—my own version of trench warfare. Eventually, I moved close enough for an attack. I plunged towards his powerful frame, barely missing his mane and landing face first into the sand, again.

In response, I threw my hands up in the water and let out a loud, frustrated growl.

Just like that, a current of water shot from my hands and a vibration coursed through my body.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The water current soared forward like a wave and wrapped around the black hippocampus, holding him in place. I barely saw the ripples that disrupted the water.

Instantly, my gaze dropped to my outstretched hands in wonder.

I felt it, too. When the current left my hands a pulse radiated throughout my body. Then just as suddenly as my palms tingled, the sensation stopped.

The startled hippocampus fell forward, immediately swimming as far from me as the barrier allowed. He didn’t look back—not once.

Adrian, on the other hand, intently stared at me, jaw dropped. “Whoa! I can’t believe you just did that!”

“I don’t even know what I did,” I mumbled, still examining the front and back of both hands.

He rushed over and helped me up from the ground. The touch of his hand on mine sent another sort of pulse through my body. A pulse I needed to ignore. I didn’t want to think about how much I missed Blake; coupled with whatever I just felt towards Adrian.

Nothing good would come from it.

Moments later, Natasha joined us. “That was incredible. Just incredible!”

I gestured with my empty hands, confusion imprinted across my face. “I don’t know what I did.”

“I do. Looks like one of your affinities has matured,” Adrian said. “Which gives me an idea…”

The look on his face was devilish. “I’m not so sure I’m going to like this idea.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said dismissively, pulling Natasha away from me.