Thirteen Forgotten Worlds (Seam Wardens Book 1) Page 3
The woman gasped and let out a shriek. “Alfonzo!”
But Alfonzo no longer looked like Alfonzo. His skin had started to melt and within seconds turned black and crusty, with red eyes peering out of his blackened face. His hair had disappeared and his lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth.
Tamara wasn’t kidding about them not being sexy. The dude looked like a charred zombie. Extra crispy and double the grossness. For a moment, I could do nothing but gape at the creature. Tamara and Spencer weren't crazy. This was for real.
Once the Stoki's date saw the change, she let out a horrified cry, leaped out of her seat, and ran straight for the door.
The Stoki shook his head, still dazed from having been bashed against the table. “Aw, man. Now look what you did,” he said in a rough, inhuman voice. “It took me a full month to finally find an in with that hottie. Do you have any idea how hard it is to seduce a girl who forgets you every night?” He stood up and large, bat-like wings burst out of the back of his shirt. “Now I’m pissed.”
That was the final straw for the rest of the patrons in the restaurant. They screamed and ran for the door in a crazy mass exodus. I was pretty sure several of them were offering up prayers as they left.
Spencer and Tamara pulled out their Boom Sticks. Spencer twirled his around with his fingers like a drummer in an epic solo. He clearly had plenty of practice with these and looked eager to use them.
Upon seeing the Boom Sticks, the Stoki hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. He glanced from Spencer to Tamara and then made an attempt to push past them.
He concentrated most of his efforts on Spencer since he was the largest. He succeeded in knocking him down, but Tamara managed to hit his thigh with one of the Boom Sticks. A crackle of blue lightning encircled his leg and the Stoki stumbled and fell to one knee.
He reached back and reflexively slashed at Tamara with knife-like claws. I gasped as the claws connected with Tamara’s arm. But instead of slicing Tamara’s arm into lunch meat, the claws slid off the fabric of her black shirt. The hit knocked her arm back but miraculously didn’t cut her or the shirt. What was that thing made of?
It hadn’t done much damage, but it had given the Stoki the opening he needed. He jumped back to his feet and ran – with a distinct limp from the effects of the boom stick – out the restaurant door.
Spencer cursed and stood back up. He turned to check on Tamara. She had been knocked off balance, but otherwise appeared unhurt.
“I’m fine!” she shouted. “Don’t let him get away!”
Spencer wasted no time and ran out the door after the Stoki. I hesitated for a moment to make sure Tamara really was ok, then dashed out the door myself.
I was just in time to see the Stoki leap into the sky and flap its ten-foot, bat-like wings. The disgusting creature quickly gained altitude and began to fly away.
Spencer pointed his Boom Sticks in the direction of the fleeing Stoki and smacked them together. I heard the click of the sticks, but couldn’t see anything to indicate that the sticks had actually done anything other than make noise. A second later, a large hole appeared in one of the Stoki’s wings, and it began to tumble. It twisted awkwardly in the air as it plummeted toward the earth. The creature hit the pavement with a loud thump and lay unmoving.
“Nice shot!” Tamara said. She was just stepping out of the restaurant and ran toward us. “Knocked it right out of the sky.”
“Scumbag hit me,” Spencer said. “I wasn’t about to let it get away. Now, let’s cuff this thing and take it back to headquarters.”
“Is it still alive?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how anything could have survived a fall from that height.
“Unfortunately,” said Spencer. “They’re tough to kill and can take a good deal of punishment. Some Stokis are all right, which is why we let their colonies stay here. But a lot of them have a hard time giving up their hunting instincts. Trying to legislate the extinction of innate behavior is a losing battle for the most part.”
Tamara reached into a vest pocket and pulled out what looked like a small, metal ball the size of a marble. She held it in her hands and it quickly grew to the size of a rubber playground ball.
She walked over to the still stunned Stoki and pushed one of his fists into the ball. The ball was not hard like metal as I had thought, but soft and malleable – like clay. Once the Stoki’s hand was inside, the substance of the ball constricted around the Stoki’s wrist. She rolled the Stoki over and repeated the process with his other hand so that both hands were stuck inside this ball behind his back.
I watched as the ball began to mold itself around the Stoki’s hands until it had formed a tube that was molded tightly around its hands and wrists.
“Don’t forget the wings,” said Spencer. “You remember what happened to Matthew last month.”
Tamara nodded. “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten.” She pulled out another ball and this time stuck the tips of each of the creature’s wings into the squishy ball. Once again, the substance molded itself, this time around the Stoki’s wing tips, pinning them together so it couldn’t fly.
By this time, the Stoki had begun to regain consciousness. It thrashed around, screeching its protest in a language I had never heard before, which made my ears ache. But, despite his struggles, the silver balls held him secure and the Stoki was unable to get free.
Spencer grabbed the Stoki by the arm and pulled him to his feet.
“You’ll pay for this, Seam Warden,” the Stoki said, this time in English. “When I get out I will—”
His words were cut short as Spencer switched his hold from the Stoki’s arm to his wing. He twisted the wing with his strong arms and the Stoki let out a loud scream of protest.
“Shut your mouth,” Spencer said, his voice calm and slow. “I don’t appreciate being threatened.”
“And you aren’t getting out,” Tamara said, “because we aren’t locking you up. We caught you in the presence of a human woman. You will face the justice of your clan.”
The Stoki reshaped his skin so he looked like an extremely handsome man with dark, wavy hair and bright blue eyes. He turned to face Tamara and dropped to his knees. “No, please!” The Stoki protested. “They will clip my wings and force me to be a slave!”
“Yeah, that’s a real pity,” Spencer said. “I’m going to be up all night thinking about you and the moral implications of turning you over to your tribe for punishment. Seriously, there may even be tears.”
“You probably should have thought of the consequences before you started eating humans,” said Tamara. She shook her head. “It amazes me how stupid some of you monsters are.”
The Stoki growled and lunged toward Tamara, but Spencer twisted his grip on the Stoki’s wing until he once again yowled in pain and dropped back to his knees.
“And this one seems to be an especially slow learner,” Spencer said.
The crowd, which up until now had been watching in horrified fascination, slowly began to break up. Those from the restaurant went back inside and continued their meals. Those who had been attracted by the crispy, flying zombie wandered away in seemingly random directions.
“Where is everyone going?” I asked.
Spencer shrugged. "Back to whatever they were doing," he said. "Their minds can't really comprehend these creatures, so they'll each form some story about what happened. Perhaps there was a lover's spat in the restaurant or a case of domestic violence. It doesn't really matter. They'll have completely forgotten about it by tomorrow."
Tamara pulled out a small, black box and held it in the palm of her left hand. She touched it with her right finger and a bright light burst out of it. Strange shapes and symbols floated in the air around her, pulsing and rotating slowly.
I reached out a hand to touch one of the symbols but didn’t feel a thing. My hand just passed through it as if it weren’t there.
Tamara watched me with a smile. “It only works for the one holding the gate box
,” she said. She reached out with her right hand and began moving and manipulating the images.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a gate box,” said Tamara.
“Yeah, I got that,” I said. “But what does it do?”
“This is how we travel,” said Tamara. “The gate box projects a holographic map.” She reached out and spun the shapes and symbols in the air. “We select the location.” She touched one of the symbols with her finger and it turned from a blue to a red color. “Then, we chose the size of the gate.” She touched a different symbol.
The map collapsed and disappeared leaving a rectangle about the size of a door floating in mid-air.
“Finally, all we have to do is walk through,” Tamara said. “As soon as the gate box goes through the gate, it closes behind you.”
“Where does it go?” I asked.
“Anywhere we tell it to,” said Tamara. “It’s got accuracy issues for going to new locations, but once you have been to a place, it’s easy to open the exact gate again. This one is headed back to our headquarters.” She motioned to the Stoki. “We need to take this charmer back to face charges.”
“I’ll rip your throats out and eat your—” the Stoki began, but Spencer cut him short with a hard kick in the butt that knocked him onto his face. With his arms and wings secured behind his back, there wasn’t much he could do to break his fall, and he face-planted hard.
“That’s enough out of you,” Spencer said. He pulled the Stoki to its feet and turned to face Pierce. “Listen, I know this has been a less-than-ideal introduction to the Seam Wardens, but I want you to know that we want you to join us. We need more of us to protect Earth from things like this.” He gestured to the captive Stoki. “When you were with us, you proved you had what it took. I know you wanted to be a Seam Warden when you were ten, but a lot can change in eight years. I promised to come back and invite you when you were old enough to join. You are under no obligation to do this, but I can promise you it will be more exciting than any other path you could take.”
“Whatever you choose,” Tamara said, “we will understand. If you’re just looking for the path that will give you the greatest chance for peace and a normal life, then wait a couple of weeks and you’ll completely forget about us again. But if you want something more – a chance to make a real difference in the world, to protect the entire human race – then the Seam Wardens can offer you that.”
I hesitated. Hadn’t I always felt that sense of unease – the feeling that I was meant for something more? Maybe, this was exactly what I had been looking for. But this was also the biggest decision of my life. I couldn’t make this decision on such short notice.
“I need more time to think this through,” I said.
Spencer shook his head. “Oh, we’re not asking you to make a choice now,” he said. “You have another week before Cadet training starts. Take some time and think about it.”
“We’ll come to your house a week from today at 9:00 am to take you with us – if you decide to come.”
“What should I tell my aunt and uncle?”
“I would go with the truth,” said Spencer. “They won’t like it and won’t believe you, but having them upset beats living a lie, hands down.”
“If you want to join us, pack a bag and be ready to go,” said Tamara. “If you choose not to come, we’ll respect your decision and leave you alone.”
I wasn’t entirely certain, but it looked like Tamara was starting to tear up. But before I could look closer to be sure, she turned around, handed the gate box to Spencer, and walked through the gate.
Spencer shrugged. “Tamara isn’t one for long goodbyes,” he said. “She’s got a bit of a soft spot for you if you haven’t noticed.”
A soft spot? What exactly had happened when I was there? “How well did I know you guys?” I asked.
“Pretty well,” Spencer said. “If you decide to join, many of your memories of that time will come back and you will be able to answer that question for yourself. If you decide not to join, then you’re probably better off not knowing the answer.”
And with that cryptic answer, Spencer shoved the Stoki through the gate and quickly followed behind.
A few seconds later, the gate closed, and I was left alone.
3
Spencer Vs. Uncle Mike
For the rest of the day, I couldn't concentrate or think about anything else. I went on a run, but gave up a couple of miles into it and just walked while I thought about what I was going to do.
I wanted to analyze this and be sure I was making the right decision. When things got confusing and murky, I found that taking a step back and analyzing the situation from a more distant perspective sometimes helped.
The first question was: Did I believe them? I had seen some technology and a creature that I had no other explanation for. The gaps in my memory, the way the crowd seemed to completely forget what they had seen, and the video of myself as a kid all supported Tamara and Spencer’s story about Seam Wardens and other worlds.
That didn’t mean everything they said was the complete truth. They certainly seemed hesitant to tell me about how my family died. Now that I thought about it, they never did finish the story after we were interrupted in the restaurant. I would have to fix that. Were they just worried it would scare me off and make me not want to join, or was there another reason they didn’t want to tell me?
What about my previous experience with Tamara and Spencer? Did I really get that close to them in less than a year? It was possible, of course, but outside of my aunt and uncle, it had only been my sophomore-year girlfriend Amy Smith who I had ever been that close to. And she dumped me when she got her big acting break, moved to LA, changed her name to Brooklyn Stone and became famous. After all, who needs real friends when you have toadies and sycophants to tell you how wonderful you are?
But Spencer and Tamara hadn't told me I should join or even implied it was my duty. They hadn't painted a rosy picture of everything being easy and happy. Tamara had even told me that if I wanted just to have a happy, easy life that being a Seam Warden wasn’t my best option.
But straight-up happiness wasn't what I was after. Of course, I wanted to be happy, but I didn’t want it at the cost of having a hollow and meaningless life with no substance or challenge to it. That wouldn’t be happiness to me.
I already had plenty of things in life that should make me happy. I had a good home and, while not my birth parents, my aunt and uncle did love me and treated me as their own son. I was also smart, athletic, and at least some girls found me attractive. I had everything that the world told me I needed to be happy.
But hadn’t I always felt like I needed something more? That I could be something more? Do something more? Hadn’t I wanted to make a difference? Wasn’t that what I had felt all through high school? Wasn’t that what compelled me to push myself and try to succeed at everything?
I stopped, my train of thought suddenly interrupted as a powerful surge of memory washed over me, sweeping away all other thoughts.
I am holding Tamara in a hug, and I must be younger because my head doesn’t even reach the top of her shoulders. My face is wet with tears and I am begging her to let me stay.
“I don’t want to go! I don’t want to forget. I want to stay here with you,” I say. I feel the agony of being forced to leave. I want to stay with Tamara, not live with some uncle I hardly know.
“Shhhh,” she says, holding me tight. “It will be all right. We’ll come find you when you are old enough to join us.” I could hear a hitch in her voice as she spoke and knew she was crying, too.
“Promise?”
Then it was gone.
A tear rolled down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away. What was that? Had that been an actual memory? Did that moment really happen, or was my mind fabricating things based on what I had heard from Spencer and Tamara? If it was real, why was I remembering it now? There were too many questions and not enough answers.
That flash of memory unsettled me more than I could have anticipated. All through the rest of my run, I could practically feel that hug. I could even remember how she smelled at the time. And it wasn’t just the hug I could remember. I actually felt the emotions I was experiencing come flooding back, detailed and vivid.
The emotions were raw and powerful. Even though it was over, I could still feel the sense of loss clinging to me, refusing to let go.
But the most disturbing part was that I could somehow tell there were other memories there, hidden in my mind. Blank spots in my subconscious mind that were waiting to be discovered. If I kept going forward with becoming a Seam Warden, what else might I find?
I woke up the next night, another memory pushing its way into my conscious mind. This time, I was watching Spencer practice with the Boom Sticks.
Spencer sets up the training room with five randomly moving targets. I want to be in the room with him, but Spencer says it’s too dangerous, so I have to watch through the window.
I’ve used the Boom Sticks before – on their lowest settings, of course – and I was a natural. Spencer wasn’t supposed to let me, but after months of begging, Spencer had finally given in and let me try them out.
He had been impressed when I had hit four out of five standing targets. He said getting the feel for aiming the Boom Sticks was not easy.
But as much of a natural as I am, watching Spencer with the Boom Sticks was like watching a true artist at work. He runs across the room taking each shot deliberately off balance, or while falling, hitting a target each time. Five for five – a perfect score.
One day, I will be that good. I will be a Seam Warden just like Spencer and Tamara. I’ll fight monsters and protect people.
I gasped as the memory ended, and the feeling of excitement and pure desire to be a Seam Warden penetrated me completely. All that desire to do something, to be something, came from this, I realized. This was the something more I had been searching for my entire life, but couldn’t remember.