She shakes her head. "Everyone knew it was a possibility. This is a significant moment for both your kind, Arabella. I'mfearful because I know this time we will be forced into this war. The Maritime will fight if one of ours is on the front lines, you will be the very first out to battle."
The puzzle pieces are beginning to click together. “They will follow me even though I didn’t grow up in this world?”
"To us, blood lines are everything. We will sacrifice anything to help one of ours that's in trouble, Arabella. You will need the help of our people before this is over, I saw it once in a dream that your mother had." She whispers.Chills creep down the hairs on my neck, and I’m done with words. I’m a warrior, but I am still only one person. So many people are counting on me, everything will have to go perfectly. “Everything will be alright, Arabella. You will see, follow me." Her face lights up in a smile, and I can't help but return the gesture.
The weirdest thing about this whole situation is that besides my hair floating up and down every so often, it feels no different than walking on land. Even breathing through my nose is the same but when I attempt to breathe out of my mouth, a long succession of bubbles come out. Something is really weird here.
We make our way into the business part of town which is small. The buildings, and wooden pathways remind me of a movie set from a western. Well past business hours, the place is empty. I can almost picture Doc Holiday and Wyatt Earp at the jailhouse delivering the outlaws they've just arrested into a dirty old cell. Uncle Jo loves all Westerns, I tolerate only that one.?
As we finally make our way to the outskirts of town, I stop in my tracks when I realize the houses are all made of glass. Some windows are covered while others you can see straight through. Some are big, and some are small, but all are perfectly beautiful.?The Maritime people have no qualms about blatantlystaring at me. Families are lined up in their driveways to get a good look. Some smile, while others just raise a brow, but no one says a word. I can only imagine what they’re saying in their minds. Landers are not trusted down here.
"You're not a Lander anymore, Arabella. They are saying they can’t believe The Chosen One is Maritime. Some are already planning to join the efforts to keep you safe, because you must be special, which I agree." She smiles encouragingly.
Our final destination is a mansion so big I couldn’t get a full picture on my cell phone, unless I was standing 200 feet away. Good thing, mine is not in my pocket.
Eleanor stifles a laugh. "Welcome to our home. The Governor, my father, is away on business."The butler opens the front door before we make it up the front porch steps. He is surprised by my appearance but manages to mask his reaction quickly. "Ms. Eleanor, I have a fire built in the common room. Do you wish to retire there?"
How do you build a fire in water? The butler smirks, obviously hearing my thoughts. He’s handsome, very Bruce Willis-ish. He has a shiny bald head on top, with closely trimmed hair around the back of his head.
The common room, as the butler called it, is extravagantly furnished. Red drapes cover the windows, and the walls have painted portraits of mostly men. They are from different centuries, as well as every walk of life. A minuscule number of women are on the walls. I smile broadly at Eleanor when I see her picture, walking closer to get a better view.
No more than a teenager, the artist captured the freckles across the bridge of her nose, beautifully. A glowing smile spreads across her face, while she plays the harp. The word angelic comes to mind, because you can see her inner goodnessshining from deep within her.?Next to her portrait is one of a raven-haired beauty, who is the dark of night to Eleanor's light of day. It’s Eleanor's older sister Geneva, the traitor married to the Scotsman that is trying to kidnap me. When my eyes meet Eleanors, her expression breaks my heart, because of the sorrow radiating there. No matter the crimes her sister has committed, she still loves her.?
"I'm sorry, Eleanor." My would-be captors may be assholes, but before they became the villains in my story, they were average beings that were loved by their families and friends that they betrayed.
"Geneva, was not always bad, you know? We loved each other and because of our age difference, we hardly ever had disagreements. She had a bright future set before her, one destined for politics, just like our Papa. The summer she came back home after her Finishing School graduation, everything about her was different. She was no longer the optimistic sister I knew and loved, in her place was a cruel vicious young woman. She was so full of anger and self-righteousness. Our father caught most of her wrath, as she spewed hate and screamed about how she was tired of living in the old ways. Geneva was done with living in what she called the shadows of society. She had fallen in with a bad crowd of misfits at her school in London. Blaine Ramsey was a young, highly decorated officer of her Majesty's Maritime Navy. It was love at first sight for those two and it didn't take long for him to poison her mind against us all. If only we could have stopped that chance meeting." Her smile is sad, yet hopeful.
She hopes that her sister can one day come back to them. The realization of that makes my heart break even more for her. The chances of that are extremely slim. She must know that. It's not fair because Eleanor deserves better.
Blaine sounds like an opportunist, and I just know that once he’s done with her, she’ll be discarded like trash. Geneva is the daughter of the most influential man in the Maritime community, and that’s no secret. I don't believe their meeting was by chance.
Eleanor gasps, and I want to facepalm myself. She can read my thoughts, I'm such an idiot. “I'm sorry."
She takes my hand and directs me towards the sofa against the far wall. "It's ok, Arabella. I have thought those same things a million times! He targeted her for a reason. His heart is too evil to love. I choose to believe that she’s not too far gone. Redemption, once lost, has a way of coming back to us all. It is up to us on whether we accept the gift or not."
"I believe that too, Eleanor. But look at all they have done. How can you think she’s not too far gone?" I hate to say those words, but they are true. Geneva is a ruthless criminal, and I don't understand Eleanors fierce loyalty.She turns from me, I’ve made her feel sad, which in turn makes me feel like shit. "The words are hard to hear, but they are warranted. Geneva no longer has my loyalty, but she will forever have my love. When she’s brought to justice, hopefully peacefully, I will be by her side. There are no excuses for her behavior, and she must pay for her crimes, but I will not make her do it alone."
Eleanor becomes lost in thought, and I hate to interrupt that. I may not fully understand her every emotion but do understand her reasoning.?
"Arabella, you mustn't be gone for much longer, there is much to discuss. Great rumblings are coming from all directions, we’ve received some intel from as far as East Asia. Mayra is looking for a secret weapon that was hidden by your society’s forefathers many years ago. This weapon is said tobe indestructible and has obliterated entire nations. Mayra’s top General is said to be the one searching for it. The pieces have been scattered throughout the world. It is crucial we stop her, whatever this is, it cannot be good." Eleanor looks almost nauseated as she tells me the newfound information.
Nervous energy flows through my veins, I would like to know sooner rather than later what this weapon of mass destruction can do. “Who is her top General? How many top-ranking officials is she said to have?"
Eleanor holds her hand up and begins counting them down. "The top General moves in and out like a ghost, no one knows his true identity, we only know him by his nickname Phasma. He has two Generals below him: Elaine Rickles, and Jameson "The Chainsaw" Dixon. They were unashamed supporters of Mayra and have been on the Nation's watch list for years. Despite Kamila Kelli’s best efforts, they have not been able to connect them to any terrorist activities. That will change since the great prison escape. Their army will be ruthless, as her numbers grow daily. We need to find out what this weapon is, that way we know what we will be fighting against.”
I agree, it’s not a matter of if they attack, but when. "Do you know where any of the parts are located?"
She gives me a devilish grin. "Of course, dear child, that is why I called for you. Rumor has it that Phasma has acquired one piece already, and they’re keeping it in a heavily guarded facility in the heart of the San Francisco Bay. It used to be a prison for mobsters or something like that. I've heard numbers as high as two thousand guards being there protecting it. Be careful, Arabella. Mayra will stop at nothing to find every single piece."
"That’s Alcatraz. There’s no telling how lethal that weapon will be, Eleanor. I can't even imagine the destruction that'scoming for us all if we don’t figure it all out." My voice shakes on the last word, an inky heaviness sinks into the depths of my every pore.
Eleanor begins pacing in front of the sofa. "Mayra will show no mercy when the time comes for you to face off, and that kills me. It’s hard to see you running towards danger and not be able to stop it, but please never lose hope, Arabella, because you will win this fight. You must, because our very futures depend on that success."Eleanor reaches inside her pocket and pulls out a picture, then looks around the room, before turning back to me nervously. She whispers so low I almost don't hear her question. "Have you ever heard the name Solomon Flint?"
My interest is piqued. Why is she whispering? I hope he's not some new enemy of mine, because I’ve reached my quota of those. "No." I whisper back.
"Ella, what I'm about to tell you, cannot leave this room, at least not until you find out who you can trust. Solomon Flint is what we call a Wanderer of Time. No one knows how old he is or where any of them originated from. I’ve known him since I was a child and in all that time, he hasn’t aged one ounce. He’s been missing for a year. Suspiciously, around the same time the new Ice King took the throne. I suspect he’s being imprisoned in the Ice Palace. Arabella, you must find him." Eleanor takes something else out of her pocket and holds it to her chest, a solitary tear falls down her left cheek. I watch in awe, because how can that happen in water?
So many questions sound off simultaneously, that I’m not able to stop them from tumbling out of my mouth one by one. "What is a Wanderer of Time? Why must I find him? Can he be trusted? Why are you crying? What's on that piece of paper?"
