Awakening: The Elder Chronicles, Volume 1 Read online

  Elena reached out to Alec's mind. Sober up, she told him. We need to leave now! I was attacked by another Daimon. His leaden eyelids told her the problem, he'd overdone it drinking and couldn't understand the urgency of the situation.

  However, after a few moments of her pushing and prodding him into motion, he looked very serious. Through rum-soaked lips, he replied, "What do you mean attacked?" His breath stank of alcohol.

  Elena pulled him from the stool. The Opposition found us. There are police coming. We have to leave. Now!

  Alec's first attempt at standing resulted in him sliding off the chair and slumping down to the floor. Elena didn't wait for a second attempt. She picked him up in a fireman's carry, slung him over her shoulder, and made for the front door. None of the pub's other patrons seemed to want to challenge her. Seeing her catch the owner's baseball bat had been enough to convince them not to mess with her. They all watched her as she carried Alec out over her shoulder.

  She headed right out of the door and diagonally crossed the broad street to the nearby tube station. Elena propped Alec up and purchased a couple of Oyster Cards for the Underground. They wasted little time and made their way to the first train available—a southbound line heading to Golders Green. Her nerves stayed tense during the entire trip to the station. She'd left the Daimon woman lying on the floor of the pub's bathroom without ensuring she could not follow. She feared each and every stop would be another opportunity for other Opposition agents to come find them. Luckily, during the ride Alec sobered enough to be able to walk and to scan his own card when they transferred to the Charing Cross line.

  From Golders Green, they rode to Charing Cross in Westminster. Elena remembered from a geography class she had taken last year they were real close to the famous Trafalgar Square. It would have been nice to pay it a visit. After all, she wasn't sure if there would be another opportunity.

  Alec had finally regained his wits by the time they reached the station. "We should get out of London as quick as we can," he said. And then, glancing around he asked, "Where are we?"

  "We're at Charing Cross Station," Elena replied, a little thankful to have the Alec she needed back.

  "Okay, good," he replied, "We're a couple of miles from the St. Pancras Station. Let's go for a quick walk."

  The sun had sunk in the sky and the streets were lit with sodium-vapor lamps. They had left all of their belongings back at the hostel near Hendon Park. The only personal items between them consisted of Alec's cell phone, some leftover cash, their passports, and the clothes they had worn.

  In the cold October air, Elena shivered. In the excitement of leaving the pub, she had left her jacket hanging on her stool. She shivered and huddled close to Alec.

  He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. "Sorry," he said to her. "I keep forgetting you are more susceptible to the cold than I am. Perhaps we should take a cab."

  She smiled with excitement at the prospect of getting out of the bitter night air. "Yeah," she replied through chattering teeth, "let's."

  She had to admit the idea of wandering around this part of London as evening became night did not really appeal to her. She scanned the street. Nearby Trafalgar Square attracted tourists, which meant it would also be frequented by a wide variety of bums, pickpockets, and hoodlums. Nighttime would be worse since there'd likely be a good supply of drunken tourists ripe for the picking.

  Alec raised his hand to hail a passing cab. As it pulled to the curb, he opened the door and ushered Elena in. The inside smelled bad, like hot sick, but she didn't much care—it was a ride. As Alec slipped into the car beside her and handed the driver a thick wad of cash. "Can you take us to Pancras Road?"

  "Are you going to the rail station?" the cabbie asked.

  "No," Alec replied. "I'm meeting a friend. You can let us out anywhere on the road, thank you."

  The man thumbed through the wad. "My pleasure," the cabbie said from beneath his bowler cap.

  The cab lurched away from the curb and back onto the road. While they drove, Alec tapped away at the screen on his cell phone.

  The trip took a few minutes. After they stepped from the cab and onto the curb, the cab sped off. "Okay, so where are we headed?" she asked him with a yawn. The alcohol and adrenaline were working their way out of her system, replaced by exhaustion.

  "Paris," he replied with a yawn himself. "And don't do that," he said pointing his finger at her open jaw. "It's contagious."

  She glared at him. "What's contagious?"

  Stretching his torso, he answered, "Yawning."

  He stifled another yawn. "I reserved some tickets for us while we were in the cab. Ori has arranged for an associate of ours to meet us with some new IDs, so we should be able to get into France without any issue. All of the necessary paperwork for our trip has been taken care of. From Paris we can chart our course to the Elder. We'll need to stop somewhere to rest. I have some friends there who can accommodate us while we rest up and re-equip."

  The walk from their drop-off point to the train station took a few minutes. On the way, Alec accidentally bumped into a rather tall, thin man with short-cropped black hair, but continued. As they reached the front entry to the train station, he pulled two new sets of documents from his pocket. Elena realized Alec's accidental bump was actually a transfer as smooth as something staged in a spy movie.

  The train station was massive and its brick Victorian architecture intimidating. It conjured images of a time when aristocrats and industrialists planned the fate of the world's most powerful nations. She wished she could have seen more of it in the daytime. As she walked inside the building, it was apparent the exterior masked its engineering genius.

  The lofty interior rose nearly five stories, with little obstruction from the ground level. She marveled at the massive blue steel-lattice archways, which contrasted with the red brick of the St. Pancras Midland Grand Hotel.

  After studying the train schedules, Alec led Elena to one of the ticket machines. They picked up their two business-class tickets for a train leaving for Paris in about fifteen minutes. They didn't have much time to reach the platform, and no time to stop and grab a snack or even a magazine to keep occupied for the next few hours.

  Elena knew she could trust Alec to watch over her. She decided to try to get some sleep on the train. But the noises from other passengers made it impossible. They headed off in search of peace. They managed to find an empty car to inhabit for the trip. Staring out the window into the moving blackness of the tunnel outside the train, Elena pondered what new twist lay around the next corner.

  Chapter Twelve

  For the first time in a few days, Elena dreamed. It didn't last long, but in it she climbed a sheer ice-covered mountain face. She struggled to make her way up the escarpment alone, with Alec nowhere to be seen. Her outstretched hands felt the top of a wide flat ledge projecting from the rock. She climbed up onto the narrow platform. It was wide enough to hold her. She fastened a crampon into the frozen rock face, tested its strength, and satisfied, hooked her safety line through it.

  The narrow ledge formed a right angle break in the mountain. A small oval entrance had been carved in the solid rock face, surrounded by a group of odd sigils and glyphs appearing to be a mish-mash of random Egyptian, Mayan, Aztec, and Sumerian symbols. However, she knew these symbols were anything but random. They marked the entrance to the Elder's tomb.

  Without warning, the entire scene began to shake, though not as fast as she would expect of an earthquake. And no rumbling accompanied the movement. It felt like the whole world shook in a slow rhythm. Somewhere, from the far distances of the emptiness surrounding the mountain, she could hear whispering.

  The whisper called her name, but she could not make out the two words following it. Elena, aay, kaah. Aay, kaah.

  Grappling with the voice carried upon the wind, her mind began to finally make out the final two words of the chant. Elena, wake up! The voice belonged to Alec.

  Ele
na's eyes popped open. The train sat still in complete darkness—the hackles on her neck stood on end. They were alone in the car, the seats around them were vacant.

  "What's happening?" she asked, not able help the tremor in her voice.

  It would appear we have stopped. Alec replied with his mind. Do not speak out loud. There is something very much amiss here. Can you hear anyone speaking in your mind?

  Elena searched the darkness. Apart from Alec, she could not hear anyone's mental voice.

  I hear no one, she said, becoming more concerned. Where are we? Why is it so dark?

  The power is off, and it is night, he replied. His response confirmed what she already knew; he focused on something else. I think we may be stopped in the channel tunnel, he told her. I am not sure, though.

  Why aren't you sure? she replied. I thought Daimones almost never slept.

  She could hear some movement in the car behind them—slow, slight movement.

  Did you hear something? she asked with a tremble.

  Yes. Stay very still, he replied.

  She stayed as still as she could, even holding her breath and clamping her hand over her mouth. For an extra measure of security, she shut her eyes as she had done as a little girl hiding from whatever monsters might lurk in the dark.

  The handle for the door connecting adjacent cars moved. After a pause, she could hear the door opening.

  Somehow, they've found us, Alec said.

  It seemed odd she still could not hear any Daimon voices in her head. If not Daimones, then who would be able to...

  And then it came to her. The Daimon woman from the pub knew about Elena being Daimones, and she had left her alive. Had she anticipated their next move?

  She reached out to the woman's mind. Are you there? Elena asked the woman. Is this you?

  A faint voice returned, nearly a whisper. Where are you? the woman's voice asked. Are you moving? Your voice is far—you have left London. She could hear the anger rising in the woman's voice.

  To Alec Elena said: It's not her. She's too far away.

  Then who is it? he asked with genuine curiosity.

  She turned and poked her head above the seatback to watch the door continue to open as if in slow motion.

  Red light from an emergency exit sign trickled down the aisle. As she continued to watch, she could see a figure stalking down the aisle. The black-clad figure had a strange set of goggles on its head. She had seen enough of her college friends playing first-person shooter video games to recognize them as night vision goggles.

  Two bursts of light flashed through the darkness, blinding her. The flashes were accompanied by whispered gun pops. Alec's body jerked forward in his seat as the spate of automatic fire stuck him square in the side of his turned chest and then his head. Elena could feel her face spattered with something warm and wet. Darkness claimed the car again.

  Another burst of light erupted before her and she felt the strong sensation of flying backward against another seat. Her chest felt as if somebody had struck her full force with a sledgehammer. Warmth spread outward from her chest. She landed against the far wall and fell over onto Alec's crumpled form.

  She coughed, her breathing becoming labored.

  Turn on the lights, a different voice said. It is done.

  The lights came on, and her eyes were awash with white pain. The black figure walked closer, but she could not make out any features. In fact, her vision kept getting blurrier. She coughed again, and her throat burned as something thick and wet came up into her mouth. It had a metallic taste.

  The target is dead...or will be soon, the new voice said.

  The figure raised the submachine gun again, and she could see the barrel swing toward her. She tried to raise her hand to block the inevitable, but it wouldn't move. In her last moment, she wondered how much the projectile about to erupt from the barrel would hurt.

  The muzzle flashed again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elena woke with a start. Below her, she could feel the train still speed through the darkness. But she was unsure if they were on the English side or the French side of the Channel.

  Where are we? She asked, half expecting to see the barrel of the submachine gun still pointed at her face. The lights were on, and they were cuddled up with each other. She had apparently fallen asleep on Alec's chest. She had to admit she liked the feeling of waking up beside him. Wishing it could always be this way, she couldn't see herself in any other arms than his. As she adjusted her position to sit up, Alec tried his best to remove the Cheshire grin from his face.

  The half-empty train car's other passengers appeared to consist of businessmen focused on either their laptops, smart phones, or some kind of paperwork. Alec turned to her. I figured you would have asked out loud. She could hear his mental laugh. We made it through the tunnel. We are in France. Paris should not be too far from here.

  I had the absolute weirdest dream, she said to him. You would never believe what happened.

  Oh yeah? he replied. Try me.

  You and I were both murdered in the channel tunnel, she told him, by a commando dressed in black with night-vision goggles.

  Strange. His mental voice sounded a little different. It seemed as if he knew something more, but chose not to tell her.

  What do you mean?

  He raised his eyebrows high, and then attempted to disarm her with a wide, calm smile. Only that it's strange.

  Elena didn't buy his response for a moment. You're holding something back, she said. Tell me what you meant. You had a tone when you said it. What did you mean?

  Alec sighed. I think the stress of our present endeavor, he said with the same tone, is beginning to get to you.

  His reply agitated her more. What? Stress? What stress? she flared back at him. Why would I be stressed? My whole world has been turned to crap, my college career is officially over, and now I am dreaming about militant commandos murdering me in my sleep. What makes you think I could possibly be stressed?

  Alec laughed and smiled at her. Don't worry, Alec told her. My colleagues in Paris will be able to help us on our way. You won't have to worry much longer.

  Then aloud he said, "So, did you enjoy your little cat nap?"

  Elena didn't let him waylay the conversation. She intended to get to the bottom of his tone. Don't try and change the subject, she barked at him. You had a very distinct tone. What is it?

  Alec's smile dimmed and he sighed. The fact you are dreaming of humans doing the Daimones' dirty work to reach you worries me, he said. They actually have done such things in the past. After the thrashing you gave the Daimon at the pub, you have proven yourself a formidable opponent. You may have developed some kind of precognitive powers, which can sometimes manifest in the form of dreams. So, if you are dreaming of being murdered by commandos, it's rather troubling to me. He paused staring into her eyes. I don't want to take any chances.

  Elena hung her head. She hadn't wanted to consider the last part. Great, she said to herself, but openly enough so Alec could read. As if fighting Daimones wasn't enough. Now I have to take on their human minions as well?

  As I mentioned before, he said, don't worry. We have our own minions and associates in Paris. And the Opposition will need to find us first. So, let's focus on getting to the Elder. And let the dreams of murderous commandos go the way of the dodo.

  Elena chuckled at the way he delivered the last line. The Elder. Right. Let's focus on getting to the Elder. She gave him a big smile and snuggled herself back in against him. She heard a low moan deep in his chest, and her heart beat a little faster.

  His arms wrapped her in comfort, and she cursed this train ride needed to end. She wished it could last forever as her heart continued to melt from his electric touch.

  "It's about midnight," he said, "and we have a little bit of time to kill. Are you ready for some food?" He rubbed his stomach. "There is a great little patisserie in Paris with the most wonderful pastries. They should still be open. We're
about a half-hour away, at most."

  "Sounds great! Let's go." Her stomach grumbled; neither of them had eaten in quite a while.

  Minutes after the train had stopped they were making their way through the departing passengers, scanning them for suspicious characters. They chose not to linger too long, however for fear of raising suspicions themselves.

  After grabbing some cash from an ATM, they stepped out of the west station entrance and hailed a cab. They were in luck. There were several taxis sitting and waiting with no fares. They climbed into the first one.

  Alec gave the taxi driver an address, and the man swerved into traffic, speeding through Paris' streets. Elena's rear-passenger-seat tour of Paris was not as glamorous as she had imagined. Granted, they drove past the Eiffel Tower, but sitting in the back of a compact taxi cab at this time of night did not provide the optimal viewing position. Similarly, the Arc de Triomphe whipped past, a shadow of grayish stone against a blurry, dark, urban backdrop as they passed by at breakneck speed.

  Their cab ride took about ten minutes before they finally arrived in front of a small bakery. But it had taken them too long to get there and the place had closed. They instead managed to find a secluded table at a nearby bar to while away the next few hours. Another hour or two exploring the streets of Paris in the wee morning hours brought them full circle to the small bakery. Finally open, the earliest batches of pastries were still fresh from the oven. Instead of seating themselves at one of the little café tables in the corner, the pair took their treats to go. As they walked down the street, Elena following Alec's lead, she fell in love with authentic French food. Or at least authentic French pastries.

  "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "These are so good. I never knew a pastry could taste so good. Seriously, this is like a little buttery piece of heaven!" Alec laughed while she enjoyed the pastry and led her deep into the back streets and alleys of Paris.

  About ten minutes later, they were standing outside of a small set of flats off some Rue de something or other. Elena's inability to read or speak French left her out of her element, a veritable fish out of water. From everything she had ever heard, Paris was about as dangerous a city as you could find as a tourist. Of course right now, anywhere she headed would be dangerous. After all, she had angels, and probably humans alike, trying to kill her right now. Fortune smiled on her, though as her nearly indestructible escort Alec could handle any petty thieves or con men with ease.