73. Jack
SEVENTY-THREE
JACK
Sneaking out of the palace was easier than Jack thought. The security force was built to watch for those making their way in, not the other way around. Those guards who did see them simply gave the two familiar men a salute.
Jack and Aareth were out of the palace and trotting down the streets of New Hope within the hour. New Hope was in the process of converting their kerosene-powered streetlamps for those made from mage light.
The light warped shadows as the chill of the night convinced Jack to pull his brown jacket close. The cold soon left Jack, however, as he was pressed to keep up with Aareth’s long, quick strides.
As much as Jack wanted to give Aareth his space, he also wanted answers. It was clear Aareth was eager to find The Order and those responsible for the events of Burrow Den, but something else was driving the man. Jack needed to know what he was getting himself into.
“You know I’m with you, right?” Jack had to jog to keep up with Aareth. “No matter what.”
“Of course.” Aareth’s fast pace halted for the briefest second before he continued. He looked at Jack as if he had forgotten the young tracker was beside him altogether. “That’s why I came to you tonight.”
“Then you know, no matter what’s going on with you, I won’t stop having your back. Now, what’s going on?” Jack’s words disappeared in puffs of steam as they escaped his lips. “I’ll be better prepared to help you if you tell me what we’re about to get ourselves into.”
“I—” Aareth paused. Their pace had led them to the heart of New Hope, through the residential district and to an abandoned warehouse block filled with large steel buildings.
“I know this sounds crazy, but the wife I thought was murdered is alive. She’s the hitman …
or I guess, hitwoman we’ve been chasing. ”
“But you said she was dead.” Jack felt his mind run a dozen different directions at once. Of all the things Aareth could have said to Jack, his current explanation was not one Jack was prepared to hear. “Why do you think she was the assassin who tried to kill the Queen?”
Aareth stopped at a corner where the streetlight had died. A giant dilapidated structure, more rust than metal, stood to their left. There was no one in sight.
“When she slammed through the door after taking her shot at the Queen, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on her wrist. Not just any tattoo.” Aareth pulled down his jacket and shirt to reveal a tattoo of his own. The placement was over his heart. “This tattoo.”
The ink had faded, and Jack had to squint to get a better look. It was an image of the distressed face of an angry wolf with the words “Send Me” underneath.
“Brenda, my dead wife, and I got these tattoos together.” Aareth’s eyes glazed over as he repeated words he hadn’t uttered in years.
“Brenda loved all animals but wolves the most. Her favorite poem had the reoccurring line of ‘send me’. When things were hard, when no one else would go, when others gave up, send me. I’ve never seen another tattoo like it.
I don’t know how, but she’s alive, and now she’s this woman we’re hunting. ”
Jack wanted to believe Aareth. The look on his friend’s face was more than desperate. Whether he knew it or not, Aareth needed someone to agree with him. He needed validation that he wasn’t losing his mind, someone to tell him he wasn’t going crazy, that his wife was, in fact, somehow, still alive.
“And you think she’s involved in this Order?” Jack did his best to hide the skepticism he felt. “How can you be so sure?”
“Listen, I think The Order’s tied to it all. It could give us both answers, but don’t do me any favors if you don’t want to come?—”
“I didn’t say that.” Jack shook his head.
“I meant it when I said I was with you until the end. Now that my dad’s gone, you, Sloan, Abigail, and Elizabeth are the closest things I have to family.
I just don’t want you to be disappointed if we find out that it’s not your wife behind that metal mask. ”
“I don’t know how,” Aareth started wiping sweat from his brow, “how it’s her. I saw her body. She was dead. But I’m telling you, our assassin is my wife.”
Jack had a dozen different questions to ask about the events surrounding Brenda’s death, but this wasn’t the time. He could only go back to the palace or move on with his friend. It was clear whatever his decision, Aareth was planning to go on without him.
“We should talk more after tonight. I have so many questions.” Jack cleared his throat. “But I’m with you. If your wife’s alive, I’ll help you find her. Let’s go.”
Aareth didn’t thank him. In fact, he didn’t say a word. The look of relief on his face was enough for Jack.
The two men turned the corner and approached the largest building on the street—a decrepit steel refinery with pipes and rods weaving in and out at sporadic angles.
“This is one of the last pockets of New Hope that hasn’t been restored,” Aareth whispered as they approached the behemoth of rust. “Let me do the talking, but be ready for anything.”
“You got it.” Jack flexed his right hand. The holster carrying his wand rode low on his right hip. In a heartbeat, Jack could grab his weapon and have a bolt of green magic racing toward his target.
Aareth stopped beside a door that looked as though it would fall from its hinges with the next knock. Aareth pounded on the door three times, then two, then three more times.
Silence, then the door swung inward. The room was so dark, it took Jack a moment to realize a man in an iron mask, covered in a dark robe, was beckoning them in.
If the man wasn’t eerie enough, he was wearing the same helmet as the hitwoman when they met her in the alley.
The same contract killer that, if Aareth was right, was his dead wife.
“You may enter.” The masked man’s voice was emotionless as he made room for them to come in.
Jack followed Aareth inside a small room. A single candle lit the dark entrance. A closed door led deeper into the structure. What looked like a bar tabletop separated the room. Another mask-wearing cloaked figure stood behind the bar.
“Weapons,” said the man behind the counter, in the same flat tone as his clone.
Jack looked to Aareth for consent. He had more than a few reasons why he’d rather hold on to his wand.
Aareth, however, tilted his head forward, removing a short, double-barreled shotgun from his cloak, along with a large bowie knife. He placed the items on the bar top. All eyes turned to Jack.
Jack’s fingers itched. It went against every fiber in his being, but he had no choice. If he wanted to gain entrance to whatever this was, surrendering his weapon was the only way. Reluctantly, Jack removed the belt holding his wand.
It was a small comfort that Jack had the ability to channel magic without using an object. The only drawback to using this method was the level of fatigue that came with performing magic in such a way.
Jack placed the items along with Aareth’s on the counter.
The lifeless eyes behind the man’s mask looked them up and down.
He gathered the offered weapons, storing them somewhere behind the booth.
“You’ll get your items back after the meeting.
However, you’ll still need to be searched.
Don’t argue over such a trivial act. The Order awaits just beyond these doors. ”
As promised, the man who had opened the door for them motioned first Jack, then to Aareth to open their arms wide before he patted them down.
Jack was clean. Aareth, on the other hand, gave his searcher pause when the man’s hands came into contact with something metal under Aareth’s left arm.
“Must have forgotten about that,” Aareth told the masked man.
He reached into his shirt and brought out a sheath filled with three throwing knives. “Just slipped my memory.”
The man searching Aareth accepted the weapons. He finished patting down Aareth without finding anything else. Once done, the masked man turned to his counterpart behind the bar. “They’re clean, do it.”
In turn, the man in the steel mask behind the countertop reached under the ledge.
Jack noticed the motion and was ready to act. His heartbeat quickened. Heat that preceded his conjuring of magic warmed his right hand. Jack’s fears would be unwarranted. Instead of a firearm in his hand, the man behind the bar stood holding two black robes and a pair of steel helmets.