leather chairs facing the fireplace. Noticing his son’s disheveled appearance, Eliath stands, “What happened? Shoshanna, grab the first aid kit.”
“I’m fine, nothing more than superficial scrapes.” Abel stares at them and clenches his jaw. “There was another assassination attempt tonight, in public this time. They’re getting desperate.”
Chapter 6 — Abel
My eyes open and blink sleep away. A ceiling fan whirls above me. I feel a breeze travel across my bedroom from an open window and my skin cools at its touch. I love Sundays. Rolling over onto my side I immediately reach for my phone. In two weeks of knowing Cate, this has become my routine. Illuminating the screen, I see her picture stare back at me, but no texts; she must still be sleeping. Stretching my legs over the side of the bed, I stand and throw on a green t-shirt and black basketball shorts and glance at the gold currency pin that sits on my desk. What an idiotic concept . I refuse to wear it unless I have to so I leave it behind and make my way out of my room and down the hall into the kitchen.
“Abel, you’re up early.” My mother’s eyes meet mine.
“Yeah, I smelled you burning something down here and thought I might need to come check it out.” Dad laughs from behind a newspaper.
“Ha ha, very funny, you know those cooking classes I took back in Berlin are actually paying off quite a bit young man.” I roll my eyes and sit down to the table slowly, my muscles burn from the previous night’s events and Dad undoubtedly notices.
Peering from the corner of his paper, Dad says, “Are you alright?” His remark comes off smug.
“Yeah, I’m fine, how’s your shoulder?” I smirk.
“Just because you’ve mastered an arm lock or two doesn’t mean anything.” He reaches up and rubs his shoulder. “Egos aside, are you okay?” Mom sets plate of pancakes on the table and I reach to grab a few.
“Yeah, I guess I’m out of practice. Training didn’t use to take so much out of me.”
“We’ve been too relaxed recently…” he glances at Mom. “It’s important we keep up a strict regiment, especially with the close calls we’ve had lately. We’re close this time, closer than we’ve ever been, wouldn’t want to lose it all just because our hand-to-hand combat wasn’t up to par.” He smiles at me and though I hate to admit it, he’s right. I’ve been slacking.
Mom sits and pours me a glass of orange juice, “Any plans today? Seeing Cate?”
“We’re supposed to check out some book store in town,” I manage to say through bites.
“Have you been able to assess her any further?” Dad interjects.
“She’s brilliant, I mean the way her mind works, and it’s more than I was initially prepared for. I didn’t expect her to advance so quickly.”
“We’re in her life now,” Mom chimes in. “And with other tools in play, quicker advancement is to be expected. How’s her strength?”
“I’m not sure, it’s not like I can bring up a rock throwing contest in casual conversation and not come off as a freak.”
“No, I know, you’re right,” Dad continues. “But try to find reasons to get her moving, situations in which her physicality might show itself naturally. It’s been quiet, but all that means is that they’re reorganizing, planning. We have time, but let’s err on the side of safety and assume it’s not much time.”
My phone vibrates across the table and I reach to grab it.
Morning! What’s the plan? Am I meeting you at the book store?
“Is that her?” Mom asks.
“Yeah she wants to know if I’m going to pick her up or if we should meet there.” Dad pulls the paper up again and his sudden disinterest makes it pretty clear that he’s testing me, seeing how I’ll respond, seeing if I’ve forgotten our purpose and am simply assimilating into a
“I’m fine, nothing more than superficial scrapes.” Abel stares at them and clenches his jaw. “There was another assassination attempt tonight, in public this time. They’re getting desperate.”
Chapter 6 — Abel
My eyes open and blink sleep away. A ceiling fan whirls above me. I feel a breeze travel across my bedroom from an open window and my skin cools at its touch. I love Sundays. Rolling over onto my side I immediately reach for my phone. In two weeks of knowing Cate, this has become my routine. Illuminating the screen, I see her picture stare back at me, but no texts; she must still be sleeping. Stretching my legs over the side of the bed, I stand and throw on a green t-shirt and black basketball shorts and glance at the gold currency pin that sits on my desk. What an idiotic concept . I refuse to wear it unless I have to so I leave it behind and make my way out of my room and down the hall into the kitchen.
“Abel, you’re up early.” My mother’s eyes meet mine.
“Yeah, I smelled you burning something down here and thought I might need to come check it out.” Dad laughs from behind a newspaper.
“Ha ha, very funny, you know those cooking classes I took back in Berlin are actually paying off quite a bit young man.” I roll my eyes and sit down to the table slowly, my muscles burn from the previous night’s events and Dad undoubtedly notices.
Peering from the corner of his paper, Dad says, “Are you alright?” His remark comes off smug.
“Yeah, I’m fine, how’s your shoulder?” I smirk.
“Just because you’ve mastered an arm lock or two doesn’t mean anything.” He reaches up and rubs his shoulder. “Egos aside, are you okay?” Mom sets plate of pancakes on the table and I reach to grab a few.
“Yeah, I guess I’m out of practice. Training didn’t use to take so much out of me.”
“We’ve been too relaxed recently…” he glances at Mom. “It’s important we keep up a strict regiment, especially with the close calls we’ve had lately. We’re close this time, closer than we’ve ever been, wouldn’t want to lose it all just because our hand-to-hand combat wasn’t up to par.” He smiles at me and though I hate to admit it, he’s right. I’ve been slacking.
Mom sits and pours me a glass of orange juice, “Any plans today? Seeing Cate?”
“We’re supposed to check out some book store in town,” I manage to say through bites.
“Have you been able to assess her any further?” Dad interjects.
“She’s brilliant, I mean the way her mind works, and it’s more than I was initially prepared for. I didn’t expect her to advance so quickly.”
“We’re in her life now,” Mom chimes in. “And with other tools in play, quicker advancement is to be expected. How’s her strength?”
“I’m not sure, it’s not like I can bring up a rock throwing contest in casual conversation and not come off as a freak.”
“No, I know, you’re right,” Dad continues. “But try to find reasons to get her moving, situations in which her physicality might show itself naturally. It’s been quiet, but all that means is that they’re reorganizing, planning. We have time, but let’s err on the side of safety and assume it’s not much time.”
My phone vibrates across the table and I reach to grab it.
Morning! What’s the plan? Am I meeting you at the book store?
“Is that her?” Mom asks.
“Yeah she wants to know if I’m going to pick her up or if we should meet there.” Dad pulls the paper up again and his sudden disinterest makes it pretty clear that he’s testing me, seeing how I’ll respond, seeing if I’ve forgotten our purpose and am simply assimilating into a
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