Aon

Chapter Eight

I leaped to my feet and rushed for the door just as it slammed open and a figure stood in my way of escape. I came to an abrupt stop, my heart in my throat as I stopped and stared at the figure in terror. I could see the blond halo from the locks of one of the twins and I stumbled back in fright. I didn’t care which one it was, Marcus or Jacob, I now knew both were traitors.

“We have to go.” He barked. “They found us.”

“Who?” I asked as I backed away from his entering form.

I need to stall while I think of an escape route…

“The Legions! Come on, we have to go!”

He came closer until he could lunge for me. I ducked, launching myself across the room and escaping passed his grasp to dash for the door. He cursed and followed in pursuit as I raced down the halls and rounded the bend for the staircase. I half stumbled down the stairs, jolting to a stop that almost sent me flying down the stairs in horror.

A man was on the landing, holding Debbie in his grasp, her head locked in his arms as she struggled to get free from his grip. Her eyes stared at me in horror –bloodshot, as she choked for me to run. Her face was turning purple and red as he strangled her with his arms.

On the floor beside her was Sledge, lying with her eyes peering up at the ceiling blindly. Half her jaw was missing from the shotgun bullet that shattered half her face and killed her instantly. I could see the bone, the shredded muscle and tissue, and the teeth that were yet in contact as she continued to bleed.

Debbie slumped to the ground, her eyes just as sightless as Sledge’s as she fell limp beside the pool of blood. The man looked up with piercing blue eyes that cut through my soul and left me struggling to remain intact. He surged up the stairs, his eyes blazing as I stood paralyzed on the second step to the first.

Just before he reached me, a figure flew passed me and shoved him with its shoulder. I couldn’t move or look away from the two –now three, dead bodies at the bottom of the staircase. The man fell down each step, with a loud snap that twisted his neck in the most unnatural way by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs.

An arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me up the steps as four more men stumbled into the lobby. In the next second I was being shoved into a secret passageway behind a bookshelf and dragged down an old stone staircase. I didn’t know how we got outside and across the lawn to the SUV, or when we began racing down the highway. It was as if I were still back on those stairs looking down at their disfigured bodies.

“Eleanor?” Someone demanded. “Look at me, come on. –Can you hear me? Jacob, she’s not responding. I think she’s in shock!”

“Am I supposed to care?” A voice snapped. “We’re only keeping her alive until we reach North Carolina. After that, the Legions can have their prize. We got rid of the four people a part of the Guard, now it’s just her, Kaden, Eli, and Garrett we have to finish.”

Jacob was in the driver’s seat and Marcus was crouched down in front of me, holding the arms of the chair so he wouldn’t tip over from the sharp turns. I didn’t look at him, I couldn’t look at any of them directly. I wasn’t in shock, I was frozen in fear as I began plotting my escape numbly. I had to get away, whether it meant I would die from my attempt or live to set everything right. I didn’t give a s**t. I needed to try.

Soon Marcus gave up and took his seat in the passenger seat as I watched them wordlessly. The images from back on those stairs were my new haunting memory, they mangled with the already reoccurring nightmares. I wished nothing more than to have my pills to calm me, yet I was glad the adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I could overlook the dead bodies for now and set my eyes upon what matters most.

Surviving and retribution.

It was silent –not one person uttered a word as time ticked by and the sun began to climb into the night sky. Just an hour ago three people died, while I sat here plotting my getaway, looking for the right time to make my escape. There weren’t any safety locks on the doors, I could just pop the lock, open it and run. But we were on the highway. I would be run over by the next car or truck. I felt the adrenaline pumping through my veins as my heart hammered in my ears, I was practically shaking with exhilaration. I didn’t care if they felt my energy suddenly frantic like a live-wire, they wouldn’t know my exact intent.

“We need gas.” Jacob said suddenly with a swift glance to his brother. “You fill it up. I’ll take care of it.”

I saw Marcus give a swift glance to me and he seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. For the first time, I saw something other than irritation flash across his face when he looked at me. It was fear. He only nodded, turning ahead again as he latched his fingers onto his seat either side of his hips.

It… I was the it in his sentence, wasn’t I? I couldn’t wait any more, it was now or never. The car slowed as it pulled into the turning lane and he flicked on the turn signal. My heart quickened as my eyes flashed to the door across from me and back to them. He stopped the car at the red-light as cars crawled passed us to continue forward.

It was now or never…

I launched myself across the car and slammed into the door as I pulled up on the lock and yanked on the handle. It flung open as a car screeched to a stop and swerved out of the way. I took off, sprinting towards the other side of the road as my heart raced.

I can’t get caught.

I need to hurry.

I was only half-way there. Hope filled my chest and tears of relief were beginning to weld in my eyes, when a hand suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I left out a shriek of terror and began to flail in vain. I turned and looked into the eyes of whichever twin he was for a split second before spitting into his face. He released me in repulse and shock as I raced back towards the other side while a car rushed between us. I heard him growl in irritation, cursing as the cars began a heavy flow behind me to cut off his route. I fell into the grass on the other side, looking back as he paced by the SUV with his rage and horror radiating and dissolving into my body. Car horns sounded behind their parked vehicle as cars streaked by between us.

I leapt to my feet and flung myself down into the ditch. It was a storm drain that led beneath the highway. I didn’t think twice as I ran through the murky, rat infested waters, drenching my jeans to the knees as I sprinted forward. The water splashed my face, but I didn’t care if it was full of anything deadly or infested with rats.

I needed to get away.

When I reached the other side, I was out of breath, lightheaded, and something stung inside of my chest. Damn, I really need an inhaler or I just need to lose some weight. I don’t know how long I was running. Streets became a blur and intersections became minimum. I stopped only for a second to scan around myself to gain an insight of where I was now. I was at a curve in the road, where it led down to a highway and up onto a ramp. I took the lower level and sprinted down the sidewalk, where it curved into a patch of grass and vanished where roads united into a single lane. On the one side was the river, and on the other was houses lined hip to hip.

I rushed across the road when it cleared and found myself trotting on sidewalk down a back road. I didn’t know where I was, it seemed this was a part of New York you don’t mess with. Like where Kaden resided in Pennsylvania.

I knew I had gone too far when I began to pass shady characters that stared at me as if I were out of place. I was. I was in a part of a rundown neighborhood I would have never run to if I were in my right mind. I walked quickly, trying to find my way out without getting caught or mugged. I feared they’d find me, drag me back, and then kill me as they had planned, I’m sure.

After what felt like an hour, my adrenaline began to fade and I realized my legs and feet were sore. My clothes were drenched and splattered with the unknown from the storm drain, but I could have cared less at the moment. I survived the run, now I have to survive the journey. I wasn’t cold, but my jeans plastered fast to my legs, my shoes squeaked, and my joints ached. By noon I realized I hadn’t eaten yet that day, but I wasn’t hungry, and I had no money to feed myself even if I was. My clothes were tattered, my hair was a mess, and I’m pretty sure I looked homeless.

Just as I was crossing between blocks, something hit me. Some sort of connection was made and pulsed within me. My head turned on instinct towards the cable that seemed to tug against me. I felt the need to follow this feeling, to search out and follow the invisible line laid out before me. It was a risk, it could be another trap leading me towards my doom as before. I was tired and drained, if it was to lead me to my own demise, so be it. I would rather get this over with, then to be chased the remainder of my life until they caught up with me.

I followed tiredly until I turned down a wide-open alley that was centered between two of the houses lawns. A man was walking down the center of the road, his shoulders hunched forward with a cigarette glowing in his hand. It was strange at first, it was hard to see him correctly. It appeared to be a fog or shield surrounded him as he stalked forward. Each thump his foot made against the ground vibrated, almost as if it jostled a wavelength. I hurried after him as he grew distant, a spark of relief flooding through my veins as if I already knew him.

“Wait!” I finally shouted to gain his attention. “Come back!”

He stopped and looked at me with a pair familiar brown eyes, and his mouth pulled into a stern thin line as he stared at me from beneath his hood. I knew him, but I didn’t know where from. He was a young man, only twenty-two or twenty-five.

He turned suddenly, without a word, and began walking again. I was puzzled and quickly began to run after him in fear he’d vanish. I was only twenty feet away, gaining to my triumph and relief. I was going to shout after him again as he turned the corner, but when I turned the same corner myself, there was no man at all, only a dead end. I came to an abrupt stop in shock and stared at the empty space before me.

Where the hell did he go? He couldn’t have just vanished into thin air!

But that’s what he did. I stared at the space between myself and where he vanished in bewilderment and curiosity. There had to be a logical explanation, something that could explain what I saw. Then I remembered something Jacob had once said to me:

“Trust me, there are things unseen to the eye of man that we can see. Portals, beings without bodies, and energy fields built to destroy like ticking time bombs at certain points in time-”

It could be two of the three; a portal or a being without a body. I don’t know why, but I stepped to the side and tipped my head, only to see a thin disturbance in the fabric of time lining ten feet tall and five feet wide. It was like a doorway, but only I could see it: a portal.

I stepped closer as my heart raced with excitement, and an energy vibrated and hummed inside my ears. My body trembled from the strength it drew from my being and my feet quickened as the feeling drew me closer. It pulled out my energy yet pumped me full of some sort of static energy. I felt it envelope me and suck me through as the alleyway suddenly fell black, and the sound of dripping water filled my ears as I blinked amazed. I looked around me, behind me was the alleyway through a waterfall-like illusion or portal. I stared at it before turning forward and walking further through the stone tunnel. My mind was blank and for some reason I was drawn deeper through the cold damp place. My footsteps echoed as I felt the damp walls to guide me until I finally spotted light at the end of the tunnel. I hurried, hearing the pools of water that collected from the ceiling splash from the impact of my feet.

I expected to find an opening or another portal, but instead it was a rounded domed room. Above was a hole in the ceiling, where the blue sky peeked in through and the sun sent its rays through the gap. As I looked around the stone dome, I saw those same illusions or portals on the walls. They looked to be of different places of the world painted on the stone. There were five in all: the first was of a dark stone hall much like this one; the second, was of an alley covered in graffiti; the third. looked to be of a wooded area; the fourth, was of a creek beneath a bridge, and the fifth, was of a room that looked oddly familiar.

I stared at this image and studied it carefully as it drew me closer until it was just in arms reach. The rooms walls were maroon, and the hardwood floors were stained with finisher. There was only one thing in the room, and that was a dome shaped arch in the wall that led deeper into the house. I was about to touch it, when something moved in front of it, a shadow that emerged and embedded itself into the stone. There he was, that man, peering back at me from the center of the doorway. He no longer wore that tattered hoodie, jeans, or held a cigarette. He instead wore a fine white blouse that hung from his lean shoulders and a pair pressed trousers that his blouse tucked into. He had a head of ginger curls frothing out from the root in a full out disarray, and his mouth was stern, his forehead crumbled in thought as he peered at me.

Then just as before, he turned and disappeared into the image.

“Now wait a minute.” I said startled.

I quickly lunged into the image and grunted when my chest hit the wall. I suppose this one isn’t a portal. I winced as I opened my eyes, but instead of seeing stone, I was face to face with stained hardwood floors. I quickly got onto my hands and knees and looked up in amazement as I peered around the room. On the other side, the part of the portal I couldn’t see, I saw another doorway, but it was guarded by the portal.

I quickly looked ahead and scrambled to my feet before he could get away. I rushed through the archway, but he was already gone. Instead, I found myself in another room, this part finely furnished with antiques and porcelain. The chairs looked to be more than a hundred years old and a dusty oval mirror on the wall maybe even older. I searched the room quickly and hurried through the next archway, only to find this room had slimmed down to just enough space to fit ten people standing hip to hip. Of course, it was empty, but by measurement, it was.

The only thing on the other side was a door that clicked shut just as I arrived. I groaned in irritation and quickly grabbed the brass nob and pulled it open. It was a bare hall, lined with portraits that had begun to collect dust over the years. I stepped through and latched the door after me as the stale air caught my throat. Slowly, I began to walk down the hall and peered at the pictures as the lights flickered. The first was of a child, maybe only two or four years old, it was smiling toothily. Her bright green eyes smiling as brightly as her smile. A mane of curly ginger locks surrounded the chubby cheeks of the child’s dimples. She wore a crimson dress that of velvet or soft material, with white cuffs and trim around the neck and bottom of the dress. She stood with her head tilted to the side, hands locked behind her back, and standing on her toes with cheeks crimson.

I moved onto the next portrait, this of a woman only in her early to mid-twenties. She had the little girl’s eyes, wide and childish as she smiled with half-moons from her lifted cheeks. Her face was round, her nose small, she was childlike in some aspects. Yet the next portrait revealed her to have womanly curves, large bust and wide hips that were accentuated by her blue gown. She had thick wild fiery hair that came out like a blazing flame, with a plump mouth that pursed with her smile. She was beautiful, like an angel painted onto canvas.

I moved down to the next one, but that’s where I stopped. My breath hitched. His eyes peered down at me sternly, his mouth pulled and pinched into a stern line as he stared off the canvas. His tousled ginger locks hung to his chin and sprouted out in a disarray, which seemed to be the only untidy thing about him. His face was thin, he stood tall and slender from the center of the archway in the portrait. He looked unlike the girl and woman, yet, he fit. He was the man I saw, the man I chased. But why was he on the wall?

I looked at the bottom of the portrait, where a golden thin plaque fastened to the wall by screws. It was coated in a thick layer of dust, but I could faintly make out the letter ‘N’ engraved into its smooth surface. I took my thumb and wiped it away using the edge of my baggy shirt to dust it off. It was hard to see at first until I bent down to peer at it. At first impressions I didn’t know the name, but as I studied it. Something began to thud inside my mind, like a fist banging against a hollow wall. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but every thud it gave, the quicker it grew until it seemed the thud was my heartbeat. And it was my heart, my heart soared as I stood straight up and backed away in horror.

Nigel C. Foster.

It couldn’t be… he’s dead. Was dead? Is dead? I didn’t know what to think as I hurried back to the portrait before his. I quickly cleaned off the plaque with my shirt and held my breath as I stared into her eyes.

Marie E. Foster.

I don’t know how I broke from her gaze. But when I did, I found myself cleaning off the plaque to the child with trembling hands. The name that laid below was engraved into my head and those familiar eyes peered at me mockingly.

Eleanor A. Foster.

I looked to the woman again, her eyes –her wide beautiful eyes. Then looked to the man and his mouth, how stern and complex it appeared.

They were my parents…

I felt on the verge of a panic attack as I quickly looked down the hall at the rest of the images, all of those were of us together or just the two of us. One with both of my parents together, another with all three of us together. Two with only I and my mother and one with only my father and me.

My eyes fell to his portrait again as I realized the horror of it…

I have just seen my father’s ghost and he has led me somewhere into the unknown.

I quickly looked away from them as the panic raised. I raced down the hall and around the bend. Here, I found another hall and between them both was a staircase. I hurried down the stairs, looking around at the ancient building as it decays and chips with age. When I stopped in the middle of the lobby, I found that this wasn’t a house of torment, but my own home.

Foster Manor.

Was this what Debbie was telling me about? The mansion hidden from the eyes of all mortals? Had my dead father led me here?

I didn’t know how it was possible, maybe it was a portal he walked through to show me. But he wasn’t human, he had no body, only soul.

I stood motionless in the lobby and looked around myself, trying and failing to figure out what I was to do next. I looked around me, at the frail home I once grew up in, and looked in wonder. Was this a part of me? A part of me I had to find? Debbie did say bringing me back here would unlock myself to my full potential.

That thought suddenly brought me to move towards a bare hall, where darkness touched it and the colder it seemed to feel. When I pushed open the large heavy doors at the end of the hall, I stopped short at the sight before me. A puff of warm air hit me instantly and I found myself frozen inside the doorway. Inside was a study modeled right out of the nineteenth century. Lanterns were strung on the walls every five feet, and bookshelf after bookshelf stretched from ceiling to floor and wall to wall. There were piles of books scattered across the ground, some left open on the tables and desk where they had last been left to lie by their previous owner. The room was not small, but cozy enough with the old furniture displayed by the hearth for short heart-to-heart chats. But that wasn’t what startled me.

The hearth was ablaze with a recently lit fire. The fresh logs splintered and sputtered inside as the fire devoured it hungrily. I drew closer to it, studying every aspect of the flames as if it were the answer.

How was that possible? The room itself claimed it has been untouched with the dust and cobwebs. It just didn’t seem plausible.

“You have come back, Mistress of Foster Manor.”

I almost screamed and leaped out of my skin as I turned. I was sure I was a few shades paler and my hands trembled as I shoved my hair back from my face. An elderly man stood beside an old withered desk. His form trembled as he stared at me with his cloudy grey eyes. His shoulders were hunched with age and he used a silver cane to keep him upright. He was maybe eighty or ninety in age, liver spots blotched on his forehead and across the back of his bare hands. He wore a frock coat that reached his knees, with a white blouse that was neatly tucked into his black trousers around his thin waist. His hair was thin and as white as snow, slicked flat back against his scalp. He was pale and almost transparent as the fire eliminated his face and showed his thin frail form.

“Who are you?” I stammered as I tried to calm my heart.

He was going to take a step towards me, but he stopped as the tremble in his body forced him to remain still.

“I am the warden of Foster Manor. I have served since your parent’s death and now I shall serve you until my own death.”

“How did you know I’d be coming? How do you know my name?”

He smiled as he forced his trembling legs to move towards me. I pitied him and met him halfway, so he could rest. Once I was close enough, he reached up with his bony fingers and stroked my cheek as if a grandfather petting his grandchild in delight. His fingers were like a corpse, cold and ridged as they gingerly scrapped against my jaw.

“I had a feeling you’d return today. I may be mortal, Ms. Foster, but I can sense when something is amidst. The Manor has been aroused from its decades old sleep, it is now ready.”

“What is it ready for, Sir?”

He shook his head and his mouth trembled as he petted my cheek in grief.

“You’ve grown too much for my old heart to bear, Ms. Foster. I remember when you were just a wee tot running around with your mother in the halls.” He ignored or didn’t hear me correctly.

“What is it ready for?” I pressed.

“Hmm? Oh, what is it ready for? I thought you said, ‘What was it like before.’ My hearing isn’t what is used to be, Ms. Foster. I apologize.” He patted my cheek, then placed his hand on my shoulder to steady himself. “It is ready for the rising of the Aon’s, Madam. You need to form your alliance and undo what has been done. With your parent’s death, it brought much downfall and fear to the hearts of us all. When they died, your kind fell, and the Legions arose from the ashes to claim what wasn’t theirs.”

“But I don’t know what to do, Sir. I didn’t pop out with the answers. I didn’t get instructions handed to me. How can I fix what I don’t know how to mend? I was never taught how to be a Monarch or a leader. How am I supposed to lead when I don’t know how?”

He frowned and smiled sorrowfully. “You are not to be taught, Ms. Foster. You are to be strong in here-” he put his hand over my heart- “and here-” he touched my forehead. “Your heart, your soul, and your mind are your own. You cannot have others teach or tell you, you must learn and succeed as a leader does. And they learn through trials and errors, through victories and defeats. A leader is never to be born led, but to be driven to lead those who are in need of one’s advice and wisdom. You are a born leader. It runs through your veins and it pumps as strong as iron. You do not have people teach you to breathe and you don’t have people teach you to feel with your palms. And yet, you do so naturally without being taught. Then why must you have someone teach you something that should come naturally to you?”

He leaned back and balanced his weight on his cane and tilted his head to the side.

“Then how do I begin? Can I at least know that?”

He shrugged his frail shoulders. “I will give you the same advice your father gave me when I asked him that very question seventeen years ago. Your mother and father were trying to plan the battle coming forth in just three months. They were at this very desk here.” He patted the smooth surface, lightly dusting it with his crooked fingers. “I listened in doubt from where I stood there by the hearth, while they murmured back and forth different strategies and courses to take. It seemed right, with my age and wisdom, to add in my own view point.

“’Where do you begin, Master Foster?’ I said. ‘It appears as if it is all dead ends from here on out.’

“Now I’ll tell you this, Ms. Foster. That sly father of yours turned from his lovely wife and smiled with buoyancy. ‘You doubt us then, Thomas?’ He asked. When I nodded and said I did, he roared with laughter. ‘Ah, then you don’t see what I do.’ He shook his head at me. ‘You see, my good man. There is always a beginning, just like there is always the beginning and an ending of a rope. We just need to find the right thread to lead us to the other end.’

“Being the wise old man I was, I said, ‘Well, if you find the right thread. Then what do you do with it?’

“’Easy, my good man, I follow it until I reach the end and tie them together.’

“’What if you can’t reach the end?’ I asked, implying if death should partake.

“Your father shrugged his heavy shoulders and smiled. ‘If it comes to that, then the rope will be left for another to master. Not all of us are to finish a task, but to start it for the next person to pick up and end.’

“Now this left me scratching my head for years, but it appeared your father knew what he was talking about. He was implying you, Ms. Foster. He had found the beginning of the rope, but he and Mrs. Foster could not finish it. It was their task to start, but it is your task to finish. Pick up the rope from where they dropped it, my dear, and begin where they left off.”

It was a metaphor and I recited it in my mind before responding.

“What were they doing before they dropped the rope?”

Thomas grinned halfheartedly at me. “Before being defeated by the war here and after their death on the Other Side… They were gaining allies, just as I’m sure you will be.”

“Then what?”

“Whatever you’re led to do.”

“How will I know?”

“It will be easy, Ms. Foster. You will feel it. In your heart and in your soul, they both will whisper to you at the right moment and tell you what you need to hear.”

“But-”

“No more questions.” He stopped me. “I have answered enough to give you an insight of what you need to do. It’s now your job to take that advice and use it wisely.”

He patted my arm and turned for the entrance of the study but stopped before he could even take a full step.

“By the way, your mother had informed me, before she passed, that when this day comes, I should give you something.”

“What is it?”

He pointed behind the desk. “It’s in the left bottom drawer. I’d get it for you like a servant should, but I’m afraid I can’t bend passed my cane height.”

I rounded the desk as he turned to watch me and sunk into the leather seat. It squeaked from my weight on its year’s old screws and groaned from the grinding metal beneath. I took a moment to look over the smooth desk and over the delicately carved drawers, admiring it before I dare to touch it. I looked to the left bottom drawer and wrapped my fingers around the cold brass handle as my heart galloped.

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes, it is very important to both Aons and Legions.”

I pulled it open and the wood grunted and groaned until I could jostle it out far enough to see a small hand carved box inside. It was about a foot long and six inches in width, with four short carved legs on the bottom. The sides were smooth, with carvings of spirals and flowers on either side of the front of the wooden box. They seemed to be carved with leaves like arms and roots like legs, oddly, it appeared they wished the blossoms to act alive. I pulled it from the drawer and placed it on the desk to admire it, touching the image on the lid in silent awe. It was a tree, with branches that stretched and coiled like arms in a breeze. Its roots visible, sprouting from the ground and ghosting against the earth as if it grew legs and walked.

The latch was old, but it needed no key. It was a simple turning of a small round nob and lifting up on the flap to unbuckle it. I lifted the lid and found the inside to be that of soft velvet, with a small black cloth that wrapped around the item. I carefully lifted the oddly shaped object and began to unravel it from its bound. Thomas leaned forward and watched as the black fabric fell open in my palm and the object was bared.

I felt my heart leap into my throat and the words catch in my throat. A strange tingle ran up my spine as my hands began to shake. There it was, the Pendant…