Promises - Part 3

The continuation of my NaNoWriMo 2005 novel, Promises.

         It was mid afternoon when Haydn stood to stretch his legs. It was a short walk from the parking garage to the building where they were to meet the elders. Rhiannon was right—they were early. He breathed deep of the city’s scent, not at all bothered by the lack of fresh open air. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rhiannon tense slightly as she stepped out of the car. For once, Haydn was glad that the elders wanted to see him; otherwise she never would have agreed to come back to New York. He smiled to himself as they walked, and his mind drifted to the last time they had come here. It was just over a year ago, he remembered, just after…
         Haydn stopped smiling.
         The building was just up ahead, and with the memories newly reawakened within him, he suddenly changed his mind about wanting to be anywhere near this place. But it was too late. They pushed open the glass door and stepped into the pristine lobby of the Albatross Corporation. The secretary smiled as she always did, holding the phone balanced between her shoulder and ear.
         “I’m sorry, but Mr. Williamson is in a meeting right now,” she said, her tone the ultimate in corporate politeness. “May I take a message for him?” Haydn moved to a chair, but noticed the secretary wave at him before he could sit down. She placed the receiver against her breast to muffle her voice as she called across the empty lobby. “He’s upstairs waiting for you,” she said with only slightly less cheeriness.
         “Beg your pardon?” Rhiannon was looking at the woman with confusion. “Didn’t you just say he was in a meeting?”
         The woman’s smile vanished for a moment and was replaced by a noticeable air of superiority. “You’re Ms. McManus and Mr. Smith, aren’t you?” When Haydn nodded, the secretary added, “The meeting is with you.” A moment later the phone was against her ear again and she was scribbling the caller’s message on small yellow notepad.
         He followed Rhiannon to the elevator, which was open and waiting for them. She pressed the little button labeled “42,” causing it to light up a pleasant shade of orange as the doors closed with a polite ding. Haydn was perfectly willing to remain in their uncomfortable silence as the floors ticked by, but Rhiannon, it seemed was not.
         “What do you suppose they want to see us about?” she asked. It was a question that seemed obvious, since they had been asked to drive from the northwestern most section of New York state to the city without any sort of explanation as to why, yet somehow neither of them thought to pose the question before this moment. Haydn, at least, wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
         “I don’t have a clue, Rhian,” he admitted.
         “I mean, the last time they wanted to see us was because of—”
         “I know.”
         The elevator dinged again and the little light around the “42” went out. The doors hissed open slowly revealing a very large, spotless boardroom. The elliptical table, large enough to seat at least fifty people and made of some black material with white marbling, took up the majority of the floor space. The floor-to-ceiling windows lining one wall gave an incredible view of the cityscape as well as the hundreds of tiny creatures bustling about on the streets below. Dozens of chairs of the swiveling, ergonomically correct variety surrounded it, all of which were empty save the three at the far end. An older woman looking somewhat haggard, or at least unkempt, sat at the far left. Beside her was a gentleman in a business suit and mirrored sunglasses. On his other side there was another man, middle aged with some flecks of grey beginning to appear in his beard. The man in the center motioned the two of them to take a seat, which they did, circling the table to sit a seat away from the elderly woman.
         The man in the center didn’t remove his sunglasses, though Haydn still knew he was being stared at. “I do not suppose you know why you are here,” he stated dryly, clasping his fingers on top of the table in a rather business-like fashion. “Suffice to say, we need something accomplished, and we believe you would be the best ones for the job.” He leaned back in his chair, turning to look to the older woman.
         “Shades thinks you are,” she piped in, and her voice carried the harsh tones of old age “I still need some convincing myself.” She ran her fingers through her frazzled grey hair before crossing her arms over her chest.
         Shades grinned before shifting his attention back to the two in front of him, and Haydn felt remarkably uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, Gran,” he said, still speaking to the old woman. “I do not believe they will let us down.” Out of the corner of his eye, Haydn saw Rhiannon lean forward a little.
         “Mr. Williamson.” She was barely able to complete the name before the man in the sunglasses raised his hand.
         “Shades is fine,” he said.
         Her throat cleared and she started again. “Shades, what is it you need us to do?” Haydn marveled at her bravery, and so too, it seemed, did the elders.
         “There is a facility,” Shades said, leaning forward to match the tension that Rhiannon had created. “This particular one has always been a thorn in our side, but recently they’ve been even worse. Experiments are being conducted there.” He leaned back against the chair again, letting his hands slide noiselessly from the table. “Experiments that need to stop.”
         In his mind, Haydn was wondering why the elders would want them for this job. Of all the people beneath them… why me? Why us? Too terrified to ask the question outright, he was alarmed when it was answered anyway, as though he’d voiced his thoughts.
         “We need the two of you because of which facility I’m referring to.” Haydn’s eyes widened despite his promise not to let them see how nervous he was. He even felt Rhiannon tense beside him at what Shades so calmly said. No…Not that. “HorizonGenetics Unlimited. You’ve heard of them?” Of course he’d heard of it. Haydn sat still, his mind unable to move beyond that name, that place, what he knew was coming next. He saw Rhiannon nod her head. “Only the two of you have been inside that building,” he added, somewhat unnecessarily. “You’ve been in, and more importantly—” Don’t say it. “You got out alive.” Haydn cursed exorbitantly in his mind. The one thing. The one thing that he’d been trying to forget for the last year. The one thing that he carried around with him. The one thing he’d been praying that this meeting wouldn’t be about. The one thing.
         “What do you need us to do?” The voice was flat, devoid of emotion, evidence of an individual who was completely focused on the task at hand, and it was coming from right beside him. His head whipped around to stare, open mouthed, at Rhiannon whose hands were clasped on the table, much like Shades’ had been a few moments before. Although her knuckles were beginning to turn white, she showed no other signs of what Haydn knew she must be feeling. He wanted to jump up and scream at her, No! No, they can’t ask such a thing of us! But he could only sit silently, his head slowly pivoting to look upon Shades as he spoke again.
         “See there, Gran,” he said, and Haydn was no longer sure where his eyes were focused behind his mirrored shades. “I told you they would not disappoint.”
         “That’s yet to be seen,” she replied, and Haydn could not help but wonder how she could be so cold.

         The walk back to the car was silent, as had been the elevator ride back down to the lobby. “Have a nice day,” the polite secretary said on the way out, and Rhiannon had growled at her in response. Her fists were still clenched by the time they reached the little red Jetta, and she clicked the automatic locks so she and Haydn could enter. She didn’t notice the look of horror that had been plastered on his face since Shades explained the situation. She was too busy seething.
         She didn’t start the car right away. For a while she just sat there, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her fingers were leaving indents. She didn’t look at Haydn either, even though she knew he was staring at her, waiting for her to say something. But she didn’t. Finally, Rhiannon heard Haydn’s timid voice, and she was surprised that he was speaking at all.
         “We aren’t going to do it, are we?” What a stupid question. Of course they were. What choice did they have? Disobey the elders? Ha! They’d never be able to run fast enough.
         “We are,” she said, finally reaching a shaking hand to turn the key in the ignition. She expected him to argue or scoff in disbelief or whine or something, but he simply turned his face away from her to gaze out the window.
         A barely audible, “Oh,” was his only reply.
         It was a short drive to the hotel that Shades had paid for them to stay, though with traffic as it was, it probably would have been a shorter walk. It was decent; much nicer than the one they were in the night before, that was for sure. Once the car was parked again and their knapsacks were slung over their shoulders, the two of them picked up the key card from the front desk and went straight to their room.
         It was a nice room. Certainly nicer than the dank, mildew-filled room they had inhabited the night before. Rhiannon watched as Haydn sank immediately onto one of the two beds. She tossed her pack onto the other and stood still for a moment. She’d been hoping that she would never have to be anywhere near that damned building again, but now, not only did she have to go near it… Her fingers moved to unzip her pack and she found herself staring down at a hefty amount of explosives… Now she would have to blow the place into oblivion.


         The sun had already been below the skyline for quite a while when Liam opened his eyes. Only the small glowing numbers on the clock beside the bed let him know that it was time for him to wake up. In fact, he should have been awake already. Forgetting for a moment about his adventures the night before, he sat up in bed as he usually did, though this time his body was significantly less happy with the idea. There was a sharp intake of breath as he moved far too quickly for his own good. With a slightly more subdued pace, Liam stood from the bed and flipped on the light, noting with little surprise that he was alone. Sleeping late as he did, it only made sense that Isolde had been up for some time.
         He pulled clothes out of his chest of drawers; just a t-shirt and some jeans, his usual attire. After changing he paused for a moment in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the far wall. The cut beside his eye was looking rather well, all things considered, though he could see now that it was deep and would probably leave a bit of a scar. The contusions on his knuckles and his arm had finally settled on a nice shade of purple. There were also marks, he noticed, like fingerprints on the sides of his neck from where he’d been grabbed and lifted off the ground. Though that had been after, once he’d gotten home. He lifted his shirt and turned a bit so that he could get a view of his other wounds. The ones Isolde gave him the night before.
         The chair that he’d been thrown through had left its mark on him. Painted across the well-defined muscles of his back was an enormous bruise that was a painful shade of yellowish-green in the center and a deep violet around the edges. Although the simplest thing like breathing was a bit uncomfortable, Liam was certain that nothing had actually been broken. Except for the chair, of course.
         The rest of the apartment was dark except for the bronze lamp that he’d left on, so he turned on a few more lights as he walked the kitchen. A smile crossed his lips when he saw the vast amount of blood in the refrigerator. It was for him, of course, since she still preferred to hunt her own. That fact used to make him jealous, long ago, though he had since realized the necessity of her feeding from others. She would kill him if she used him exclusively. But there was something about the pleasure he felt from it. It bothered him—even now it bothered him—to think of others experiencing Isolde in the same way he did.
         That’s where she would be now, he decided. Leaving so much of her own blood for him, Isolde would need to hunt before the night was over, and she had probably opted to do so while he was still asleep. Pouring himself some of the crimson liquid, Liam moved into the living room to pick up the broken pieces of furniture still lying on the floor. It was then, with the blood he had poured nearly gone, that a soft clicking sound registered just on the edges of his perception. He turned in the direction of the noise. The doorknob jiggled slightly, as though someone were testing to see if it was locked, which it was. He got slowly to his feet, picking up one of the broken chair legs and gripping it tightly. Isolde hadn’t locked herself out in decades, and they never got visitors, especially at night. Liam was afraid of what that might mean.
         And rightfully so. The door suddenly gave way with a thunderous crack, splinters flying into the apartment. A large man in thick-soled boots was just regaining his balance when the door fell entirely from its hinges. Three others were with him, and all were dressed in black. Their faces were uncovered, and so Liam was able to recognize them easily.
         “God damnit,” he muttered, shifting his grip on the makeshift club.
         “Now, now,” said one of the men as he drew a rather nasty blade from a sheath on his belt. “Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.” The four of them filed into the apartment and fanned out, forcing Liam to step backwards to avoid being surrounded.
         He gritted his teeth, willing himself not to be afraid of them, or at least to not sound like he was. “What’s the matter?” he managed. “Didn't you get enough last night?”
         The large one who had kicked down the door pulled something like a Desert Eagle that must have been tucked into the back of his pants and laughed a deep, reverberating laugh at Liam. “You mean when you beat us up so you could escape and lead us right here?” He laughed again and this time the other three joined him. Liam flinched a little, cursing himself inwardly for being so foolish. He hadn’t thought he was followed…
         The third man, smaller than the others but no less cruel, slid a set of brass knuckles decorated with little silver crosses over his fingers and flashed a smile at Liam. He remembered those knuckles well, though the gash on the side of his face remembered it better. The last one there, a tall, lanky man with long blond hair pulled back, was unarmed, though he was standing in the center and stepped forward so that he was only a couple paces from Liam.
         “Let’s go,” he said in such an overwhelmingly calm and gentle tone that it sent shivers running down Liam’s spine.
         “Go to Hell!”
         The four men charged him then, weapons flailing, amid a torrent of wild laughter.

         Isolde was quite content with her hunting for that evening. No mess, no fuss, no one even realizing what she did. Her victims, if you could even call them that, were enthralled by the pleasure of her ‘kiss’ while she got to drink her fill from four or five different people each night. She preferred it that way, honestly, rather than having to kill someone every night just to continue with her existence.
         She only had to reach her floor to know that something wasn’t right. There was a scent there that hadn’t been before. And she didn’t like it. Her pace quickened until she reached what was left of her door after it had been smashed in.
         “Liam!” She screamed his name as she ran into the room. To hell with stealth. The desk was overturned, spilling its contents and throwing everything that had been atop it onto the floor. The bronze lamp was flickering from a wire that had been jerked too far, and it cast an eerie glow through the room. She could smell the blood, and she didn’t even have to taste it to know it was his. “Liam!” Only a moment later and her search of the small apartment was complete. He wasn’t there. She was on her way out the door when the glint of something by the window caught her eye. On the sill, held down by a single silvered bullet was a small piece of paper that looked as though it had been torn out of a detective’s notepad.

                   If we even think you’re tracking us,
                   he’s dead. We’re not joking, demon.
                   Do as we say and you’ll get your
                   whelp back. We’ll be in touch.
                                       SOL

         A scream, something between a shriek and a howl, echoed through the building, followed by a deafening crack as Isolde threw her fist into the wall, leaving behind a hole four inches deep.

         The night passed in agonizing slowness as Isolde paced through the tiny apartment. She didn’t dare step outside for any reason at all, lest these men, whoever they were, should have someone watching her. She tried to busy herself by straightening the mess that had been left behind, but things found themselves back in order far too quickly for her liking, and she discovered that there were far too many hours in the night when one is helpless. When the sky finally began to grow lighter, Isolde retreated to her darkened room and tried to sleep, tried to will time to go by faster. Yet for all she did, the bed still felt unbearably empty and she was entirely unable to sleep.
         Her mind was working, all day it kept going, thinking of who this SOL was and what terrible things might be happening to Liam. Her imagination, she quickly discovered, had not atrophied nearly as much as she thought it had, since she was able to think of dozens of horrifying tortures that he might be subjected to. But for all the time she had to think of Liam’s suffering, she had equal time plot out exactly what she would do to those who took him from her. Those bastards! She would make them pay, she decided. She would do as they asked, and once she had him back, she would make them pay. Whatever they would do to Liam, however they would torment and violate him, she would visit it upon them ten-fold and send them screaming into the darkness.

To Be Continued...