The Unveiling

Chapter Eighteen

The table creaked as I sat down opposite Chase, putting all my energy and effort in simply not looking at him - my French toast deathly interesting. With each glance in his direction, I found his eyes darting away quickly, as if he too had been looking at me. 

Stabbing the dewy softness of my egg soaked toast with my fork, I wondered what time Chase had risen to prepare all this - or if he simply hadn’t slept at all. 

My throat felt dry as my tongue slid against my teeth, searching for the words I needed to break the ice. 

A flutter. That's what it sounded like anyway.

We both heard it and simultaneously turned towards the front door. 

A clean sheet of white paper had been slid under our door, and for the first time that morning I turned towards Chase, his silver-grey eyes met mine, brimming with all sorts of unspoken things.

I shook my head - not now. 

He stood up carefully, retrieving the paper. As he laid it upon the table I realised that it wasn't blank - not in the least, rather there simply wasn't much written on it.

Two lines. That's all it was, and the last line was only one word. 

'Meet me at the Loft. 

Shay' 

Chase grunted, "your friends don't exactly make things easy.' 

I grimaced in response.

“Are we going then?” I asked hesitantly. 

“Of course we’re going,” he grunted, “your friend might be a nuissance, but he is the only one that has provided information of any real value.” 

Despite being dressed in jeans and a white v neck t-shirt, Chase still looked anything but ordinary as he threw his large black leather jacket on and headed towards the door. 

My traiterous thoughts kept causing my eyes to linger on the fullness of his lips, making me wonder what it would be like to have that fullness pressed against me. 

I looked at my french toast longingly, and trudged after him, my brown lace up boots squeeking with every step I took. A mild annoyance on a day where things looked like they were going to hell. 

The sun was hiding behind some dark clouds, casting deep shadows across the base camp. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my long grey coat as my breath created puffs against the air. In my younger years I would try and make shapes with my breath itself - a silly, child-like game, but now with my newfound genetics I wondered if it could actually be possible. 

“How are we going to get there?”

Chase didn’t answer, he simply leaned foward and marched down the street looking for something. 

“You know,” I said, two feet behind him, “if you told me what we were looking for I may be able to help.” 

He remained silent, and I continued to talk to the back of his head, his black boots crunching the frosted street beneath. 

“Do we have an alibi as to why we need to leave the compound?” I pushed forward. 

Still he ignored me. 

“You can’t just drive me out of here without a reason,” I huffed. 

He was walking with purpose one moment, and the next he stopped dead in his tracks, his head turning to face a large blue hilux truck parked in the drive-way of a middle-class home. Wiithout uttering a word he swivelled on his feet and headed in direction of the truck, lifting his hands in the air in the way that kind of resembled an orchestra conductor. 

Even from this distance I saw the lights in the car switch on. 

Chase motioned for me to get in the car, and while this wasn’t something I was adverse to, it was never something I thought I would be doing with the Prince. 

“You’re into car theft now?” I asked, sliding into the passanger seat.

His eyes narrowed on me as he spoke, “we’re borrowing it,” he countered. 

“Sure we are,” I smiled blandly. 

He rode the truck smoothy along to the boomgates, waiting for the guards to open for us. 

My stomach twisted in knots when the fronthouse guard walked to the driver’s window and asked Chase where we were going. 

“I have some business to take care of with some of my Fae contacts in this realm,” he answered easily, his expression not showing a hint of the anxiety I was feeling. 

“Does President Gaol know that she’s with you?” he asked, motioning towards me. 

Chase flashed a smile, that was anything but pleasant. 

“Haven’t you heard?” he asked blandly, “she’s under my protection after Oswald allowed her to be attacked.” 

The guard’s face was strained, every fiber in his being highlighting that he didn’t actually want to let us through, and yet despite his stiff posture, he opened the boom for us and ushered us through. 

It seemed Oswald had his own lot that were loyal to him.

He drove confidently - almost too confidently, until eventually I asked him, "Do you know where you're going?" 

Pressing his lips together before answering, he said. "I was hoping you would direct me." 

I raised an eyebrow at him in response. 

"Turn left here," I instructed, directing him easily to the place I once called home.

As we entered downtown the streets started to look more and more shambled, until eventually we arrived in my district. Buildings were derelict, with windows boarded up and doors splintered, and while Chase didn't say anything, I noticed his knuckles whiten as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. 

We passed Bakery - which was run by Mrs Merry. Everyone called it a Bakery, but it was a simple hole in the wall that people collected loaves of bread through. A large stone pillar with a jagged horizontal slit stood as our post-office, and I spotted little Joey running between buildings delivering small packets of coffee - a luxury within these streets, but something that was sought after for the simple fact that it reminded us of times that were easier. 

The loft apartment stood at the top of an old red-bricked building with a steel door at the entrance. The door, while battered and rusty, was still standing and served as a fair enough deterrent to would-be thieves. Of course Shay himself was a deterrent, so no one really attempted to break into our building. 

The steel stairs changed loudly, echoing in the stairwell with every step we took. 

Chase's face was drawn as I glanced at him, and still he didn't say anything. 

The door to the loft swung open, with Shay ushering us quickly inside. 

"Prince," Shay greeted Chase. 

"Coyote," Chase replied. 

And if Shay was even the least bit surprised that Chase knew what his shifter was, he didn't show. 

I sank into the brown leather sofa, the cracks and tears feeling a lot like home. 

Rogue sat by the window seat overlooking the streets below as Shay suddenly didn't know where to place Chase. 

The prince simply walked towards the sofa and sat down next to me, one of the tears in the cushion stretching with his weight. 

I watched Chase take in the room and briefly wondered what he made of everything. 

A stack of records stood in the corner, and an old electric guitar that Rogue was ridiculously fond of hung from the wall. The TV came from a decade earlier, and only worked sometimes. An old typewriter sat at the opposite corner and looked like it was connected to an old desktop computer. Books lined the shelves against the wall on the other side of the room, and I felt the pang of longing in my heart for a moment. 

I had bartered and traded and saved for those books. In fact, the entire book shelf was a labour of my love. 

I looked at Shay and noticed the dark purple rings under his eyes from a lack of sleep. His band shirt looked creased, and his hair stood in a way that told me he had run his fingers through those blonde strands numerous times. 

"What's wrong?" I asked softly. 

Shay stood in the middle of our shabby living room clenching and clenching his fists by his side. 

It was Rogue who answered, his voice wavering as he shifted his body to face us from the window seat. 

"They took my little sister," he clasped his hands together, staring at his fingers as if somehow the solution could be found within the small lines etched within his palms. 

"They took Angela," Shay confirmed. 

I frowned, "you're not making any sense," I said. 

Shay sighed and turned his back to us as he spoke, as if seeing our expressions when he delivered the news would be the thing that broke him, and not the actual events themselves. 

"This morning they announced that they're rolling out the injections to even things against the 'superior' races," Shay spoke, his tone not even hinting at his distress. 

Chase looked at me, eyebrows raised in question. 

I sighed, "the smaller races believe that they were short changed and have paid to have an injection created that will enhance their powers, this evening the odds against the Fae, shifters and Angel's," I explained. 

Turning towards Shay - who was now pacing the room - I asked, "but why did they take Angela?" 

Shay shook his head in dismay. 

"As a tester," he said. 

"What?" Chase asked incredulously, "how old is she?" He further demanded. 

"Six," croaked Rogue. 

"Source have mercy!" Chase exclaimed. 

I clutched my face in my hands, "but why are they choosing a six year old to test their injection on?" 

"Because," Shay said, "the younger the tester, the faster adverse reactions present themselves." 

We sat in silence, Rogue turning away to stare at the street once more. 

"Can we get her back?" I asked softly. 

His eyes spoke the truth that his heart didn't want to. 

"We already have Thom and some others trying to enact a recovery plan," he grunted. 

The chances of recovering her were dismal, I knew that, and yet I found the ember of hope burning deep within me. If Angela could be returned home it could restore some semblance of peace. 

I stood up and said to Rogue and Shay, "tell them that if they don't return her, they'll have the wrath of the angel to deal with." 

Shay's eyes flared in surprise. 

"Reya," Chase gripped my arm, "do you know what you're offering?" He cautioned. 

"Yes," I turned, "I'm offering to save a six year old from being a test subject for these injections. I'm offering to help keep her innocent in this war between the races. Because there is already a war - we might not be bombing each other, but the tension exists in full force." 

Rogue blew out the breath that he was holding, his eyes glistening with emotion. 

"Reya," he said, his lips trembling, "that would mean, well it would mean everything." 

I simply nodded in reply. 

"I'll get the word out," Shay said excitedly, grabbing his phone. 

Chase was quiet weighing in the flurry of activity occurring around us. 

If me being an Angel could help, I would use it. I refused to be a pawn when I could be a weapon. 

Chase's phone rang and I watched him answer, horror draining the colour from his face. 

The more he listened to the conversation through the phone, the more strained his appearance became. 

When he hung up, I asked, "What's wrong?" 

He gritted his teeth and spoke, "We have to leave. Now." 

"Back to base camp?" I asked, wondering how much trouble awaited us with Mayor Winters, and ultimately the President. 

"No," he shook his head, "to my realm." 

I could see the strain ripple through the hard lines of his body as he stood up, placing his hand on top of mine, clasping it firmly. 

The warmth of that contact caused electricity to sitter up and down my arm in the most delicious way. I sank slightly into myself, getting lost in the sensation. I watched as Chase's eyes glazed over slightly before he shook his head. 

He looked over at Shay and shouted, "we'll be back soon," before taking one step back, tugging me with him, blinking us both out of existence within this realm.