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CALEB sighed. “My mother and brother kept my murderous act a secret for a long time, even from me.”
For two days Caleb told his story in full detail to a weak but alert Tristan in intervals. But the kid needed to rest now so Caleb got up from the chair and helped Tristan to his feet. He wrapped Tristan’s arm around his neck, supporting most of Tristan’s weight, then walked toward the bedroom. He helped Tristan to the bed then went to stand by the door.
Tristan took a deep breath before speaking. “You were Marda’s Protector,” he said.
Caleb agreed with a nod of his head.
With awe written plain on his face, Tristan asked, “How did you do it? How did you move in the last cycle? From what I’ve read, it is virtually impossible to stand let alone do what you did.”
“All I know is that when you hear the cries of someone you love, who also happens to be under your protection...but I suppose you know how that feels.” Caleb winked. “Fredrick eventually told me that I most likely crawled the last few feet to Marda and Shaw.” Caleb turned toward the door. “I have to make a run. I’ll be back before morning.”
“Wait,” Tristan said, “you never told me what Jai’s ability was.”
Caleb tilted his head, “You’re really interested, aren’t you?”
“Your life’s story is my only entertainment,” Tristan said as he caught his breath. He took in a deep breath then an onslaught of coughing commenced.
Caleb moved to his side with tissue in a flash, covering Tristan’s mouth. He moved so fast from the doorway, to the bathroom, then to Tristan’s side that he knew Tristan’s eyes didn’t even track the movements. When Caleb removed the tissue, dark red blood was soaked through it.
Tristan looked at the speckles of blood that hit his robe and sheets. He sighed.
Caleb wiped Tristan’s face clean with a gentleness he didn’t think himself capable, then helped him to lie back on the bed.
You are cold, heartless, removed. This is only a job. Keep the boy alive, make your daughter’s life a happy one. That was all. He couldn’t afford to get attached.
Already, Caleb lost his patience with Dr. Bannerman and that wasn’t like him. He would do his best to keep the boy alive. That’s all he could do. Caring for him was not a job requirement.
With his new resolve, Caleb made sure Tristan was comfortable before he spoke, “Jai was what The Coesen calls a Fantom. She, and others like her, can create illusions, dreams or mirages in a person’s mind. Some Fantoms are so strong that they can blur the lines between reality and illusion. Once, I watched Shaw whip a field slave on the block for attempting to run away. That slave didn’t so much as flinch during the harsh punishment. He didn’t make a sound, but ended up dying tied to the post that day. That man died with a smile on his face.
“Like all the slaves on the plantation, Jai was ordered to watch. She later told me that she asked the slave’s permission to help. With the slave’s acceptance, she made it so his mind was somewhere else. He died happier than he had ever been in his life.”
Tristan frowned. “But he died.”
“I asked Jai once if she thought that taking his mind wherever she took it attributed to his death. She told me that death was his freedom and that’s what he wanted, his freedom.” Caleb walked toward the door. Without turning back, he said, “I don’t think dying would be so bad.”
A few hours later, Caleb pulled his truck behind an SUV on the highway. He reached over to his passenger seat, picked up the portable flashing police light he owned, and placed it on the roof of his truck. Half a minute later, the SUV pulled off the road.
Caleb got out of his vehicle with a flashlight in hand. He turned the flashlight on and pointed it at the driver’s side mirror as he walked up, causing a bright glare to make it hard for the driver to see his face reflected in it.
“Do you know how fast you were going?” he asked.
“I wasn’t speeding.” Zeta said with confidence.
She squinted as he shined the light in her face. After a second or so, he moved the light and she saw it was him. But Caleb gave her no time to react. He raised his hand. Her eyelids instantly lowered and she slumped down in the driver’s seat of her vehicle.
***
ZETA came to, slumped over on a sofa in a place she didn’t recognize.
Caleb!
Inside she panicked but her face only reflected a perfected calm.
Never show fear, never show pain. Those were the first lessons of the Royal Guard training.
She sat up and looked around the room slowly until her gaze landed on her abductor. As soon as their eyes met, Caleb raised his hand. Against her will, Zeta felt her body rise from the sofa. Her breathing quickened and fear beat at her head as her stiff body levitated a few inches from the floor and moved toward him. Unable to speak no matter how hard she tried, Zeta realized she could do nothing to protect herself.
When she was close enough to him, about arm’s length, Caleb led the way to a closed door. With care, Caleb quietly opened the door then backed away so Zeta was able to see inside. The only reaction her body would allow was the sudden widening of her eyes. Then, all too fast, Caleb eased the door shut, ignoring her mental cries she knew he heard to let her free. Her body floated away from the door and she was placed on the sofa again.
Zeta sat on that sofa, frozen and unable to speak. She felt alone in the silent prison of her mind, knowing what no one else but her and the psychopath who abducted her knew.
“Your reaction in the next thirty seconds will determine if you live. Do you understand?” Caleb asked Zeta, breaking an hour-long silence.
Zeta felt a mysterious pressure lift from her head. When Caleb looked at her expectantly, she realized she could move, but only her head. Zeta nodded yes, indicating that she understood.
Caleb nodded.
With that simple action, Zeta had full control of her body again. But she didn’t move. She just sat there with her eyes locked on her abductor.
After a minute of him staring at her as if he was reading a set of instructions, he spoke. “On the table in front of you is the case Bannerman gave you. Have you let the case leave your sight at any time before I stopped you?”
Zeta shook her head from side to side.
“Good,” Caleb said as he stood. “Would you lead the way please?” Caleb motioned toward the room Tristan was in. He picked up the case from the coffee table and followed her.
Inside the room, Zeta stood against the wall while Caleb injected Tristan with one of the syringes that was inside the case. When the needle punctured his arm, Tristan opened his eyes and stared at Caleb.
“What day is it?” Tristan asked. He seemed to have some difficulty keeping his eyes open.
“It’s the ninth, middle of the night.”
Why did Caleb lie to him, she asked herself? It was the middle of the night but it was August 10th. Tristan must have slept two full days but Caleb obviously didn’t want him to know that.
“These new injections are going to make you feel much better but you need to rest.”
Caleb’s voice sounded unusually soft and caring. Every time Zeta heard him speak before, it was always imposing and rough. She frowned but said nothing as she watched Tristan’s eyes close and his head fall to the side.
“What’s wrong with him?” Zeta asked. She wasn’t able to keep her native French accent from infusing itself into her speech due to her confusion and worry. She spun the glass in front of her in slow circles as she tried to avoid making eye contact with Caleb.
“He was poisoned by someone in your camp, remember,” Caleb told her as he leaned back on the countertop with his arms crossed over his chest.
She looked up and met his gaze. “My camp? How is he still alive?”
“I’ve been keeping him alive,” Caleb said. “I killed the two who carried out the orders but I am still looking for the one who gave them.”
“Impossible. Besides, there were no deaths reported in this region at that time, let alone two.” Zeta rolled her eyes. “I am a member of the Royal Guard. I would have been informed of any deaths that close to the Royal family.”
“None of this is sinking in for you, is it? People in your organization already killed your sovereign, and now they want Tristan dead. Now, one person may be responsible or it may be two or more separate factions that want the same results. I don’t know yet. What I do know is the Coesen are virtually leaderless. Now would be the time for someone to step up and claim the crown. There are bound to be a few Coesen who aren’t as...loyal as you are.”
“We all presumed Tristan was dead for the past three months but you saved him and have kept him alive,” Zeta said, but she was basically thinking out loud. Why? Maybe Caleb is right. “If we don’t know who it is giving the orders then he will never be safe.”
“I brought him here to keep him alive and to find the person responsible. For Vivian’s death and the failed attempt on Tristan’s life.”
“But you’re keeping him from his children, from Cianne.” Zeta stared at him with fresh anger.
I gave up. I told her he was dead.
“Cianne never stopped believing.” Zeta looked away. She was angrier with herself than she was with Caleb. After a few moments of silence, she said, “You know I have to report this to my superiors.” She frowned, then added, “You knew I would...you planned to kill me to keep your secret this whole time, didn’t you?”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to,” Caleb said as he pulled a small object from his pocket and held it out in front of her.
Zeta stood, pushing her chair back. “How did you get that?” She gasped as she reached for the necklace. Before she touched it, she stepped back and covered her mouth.
“You know it cannot be taken. It has to be freely given, and not under duress or persuasion,” he said, reminding her.
