Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2) - By Aaron Patterson Page 0,54
athletically dropped down inside a squared-off area that had been created by the irregular stacking of randomly shaped and sized crates, the “floor” an uneven surface of the tops of crates and boxes below.
“It’s sharing time, Michael.” Ellie’s eyes flashed. It was clear she meant business. “If we’re to work as one, be players on the same team…you’ve got to tell me a few more juicy bits.” She ran one hand through her hair, gathering it away from her eyes.
Her skin was flawless, smooth, glowing and radiating light. She was beautiful and he couldn’t help but acknowledge that to himself. “Okay…”
“I promise to reciprocate, don’t worry.”
Her eyes were the bluest he had ever seen. “What do you want to know? Can’t you just read my mind or something?”
“No. I can project when I want. I don’t have the gift of reading.”
Michael sighed and sat down, resting his back against a corner. “I really should be sleeping.” He looked up at her. She still stood over him. “And so should you, Ellie.”
“No rest for the wicked,” she said.
“Oh, for crying out loud, would you sit? You don’t have to act like that.”
“Like what?” She stayed put.
“Like you’re running the whole show here.” He looked up at her, his eyes widening a little in mockery.
“What—and you are?”
He sighed again, exasperated.
“You’re doing a bang-up job, mate. Really, you are. Allowing the police to track us, starting a high speed chase that nearly killed all of us, being too stupid to know how and why the Brotherhood know where and when we’re doing just what and how often. Yeah. Brilliant grasp of command in the field.”
He was shocked. All he could say was, “What? You told me to outrun the cops! What would you have done?”
“Do you do everything you’re told?” Her tone was mocking, but he noticed a hit of teasing in it.
“Would you sit,” he spat, gesturing to the opposite corner of their little conference room.
“Fine,” she said, and sat.
He couldn’t help but think she was quite graceful. Beauty graced her movements; it was simply obvious.
She gave him a look. “Talk, then!”
He sighed a third time. “All right, where do I start?”
She removed her dagger from its concealed sheath and began polishing it with the hem of her sweater. “At the top. Tell me what you know of the Brotherhood; anything that might help us with the royal mess we are about to get into.”
He was irritated at the implied threat of the drawn weapon, intentional or not. “Okay, then. My name is Michael Alexander—”
She cursed and jumped to her feet, dagger at the ready. “Say that again,” she hissed at him.
“What?”
“Your name, captain courageous.”
“Alexander.”
Another curse. “Son of Stanley Alexander?”
“Yeah, why?”
She cursed again and sheathed the dagger, sitting down, pressing her palms to her temples. She muttered under her breath. “This is worse than I thought it was.”
Michael eyed her warily.
“Mate…you’re not just any demon boy. You’re the son of the Seer.”
He shrugged and smirked at her as if to say, Duh. “Um, I know?”
“You’re The Alexander.”
“Yes. Michael Alexander.”
Suddenly fierce again, she said, “Tell me more.”
He told her as much as he could, wanting to get to the bottom of things with her. He told her how things worked in the Brotherhood, the rank structures, the way the training became manifest in the bond between man and Brother, the way he was a walking demonic encyclopedia. Something within him pulled at his heart, telling him to share as much as possible with her. He thought she would share as well in turn, and he needed to know what she knew if they were to have any hope for any kind of future that did not involve fighting for their lives at every turn.
But it’s not just that, he thought as he went over the account of the cliff-top fight involving James, his Brother; how he had murdered his own father. It was more than that. They had become entangled in something for which there were permanent consequences. Decisions made now, he knew deep in his soul, would reverberate throughout eternity. And he wanted more than anything to make the right ones from now on.
“Wait,” she said. “You killed your own father?”
“Yes,” he said, “I did.”
“How did you—how did you come to such a decision?”
Michael exhaled quickly, a brief laugh. “He was going to kill Airel. I killed him first.”
She looked genuinely shocked. “I hadn’t heard that part.”
“That’s what you get for trusting the rumor mill,” he said, not really wanting to know