Haven- Agent 51 Read online

  ***

  Rylan did not die that day. Instead the days turned into weeks, and the torture grew worse. The small cuts and abrasions on his body seemed to multiply, and his stab wound never really healed. Each of Nao’s visits grew longer and only concluded when Rylan passed out from extreme pain or fatigue.

  His cell remained the same throughout the duration. The nights were still cold and the days humid, sometimes stifling. Foul smells spoiled the air as they drifted up from the floors and through the thin cracks in the walls. Some days he was so nauseous he could barely move. But most of his time was spent looking through the keyhole.

  This small crevice had become something of a window, his only real escape. He would stare for hours through the hole, lost in his thoughts. Often times, it felt like a quiet rebellion, strategically planned while Nao was away. It had become an exercise to discover the contents of his own mind. A self-assessment to make sure that he was still sane. Then maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.

  Being captive came with its own set of adversities beyond the cruel treatment that was now a part of his daily routine. It seemed like Nao derived pleasure in torturing him only to heal him again. The repetitive process was agonizing—more to his psyche than his body itself. Most nights, after a day of physical abuse, Rylan would find his wounds cleaned, skin stitched, and his dressings changed. He would spend the rest of the night huddled near the door, looking through the keyhole into the corridor, just to repeat the process again the next day.

  But one night Rylan awoke early to find himself sprawled face down in his own blood. The flesh on his back was scorched, and any slight movement cracked the dried skin, making it bleed. He had three broken ribs now, which forced him to take shallow breaths. His fingertips were raw, his nail beds torn off and splintered due to his violent convulsions while he was on his hands and knees.

  Rylan turned his head so that his cheek pressed into the cold floor. The rancid smell of the dungeon still lingered, but even that could not hide the smell of his own blood. The air stung a gash on his forehead, and from the corner of his eye, he could see a small trickle of blood travel over the bridge of his nose and onto the floor.

  He was going to die here. It was like Nao had said. The Majesty would not come. They couldn’t. If they tried to rescue him, they would acknowledge that the Majesty had a hand in this rogue mission. He knew that was something they could not do.

  To lose his life was one thing, but to lose it here, in this state, was demoralizing. He was glad Alisa would not see him like this. She would remember him as the strong, confident Keeper she had married. That was the man she loved. Not this frightened boy on the brink of death.

  Rylan closed his eyes. He could still see her face. They were standing in the hangar, and he was about to board for the mission.

  “Be safe,” she said, and placed a hand on his chest as she moved into his arms. Her blue eyes met his, and Rylan stood there lost in her beauty. God, he loved this woman. He searched her face, taking in every line, curve, and nuance that was individually hers. He loved her strength and independence, her drive and perseverance. But most of all, he loved the way they loved each other. It was genuine and real, and it meant something.

  When he looked into her eyes, he could see the depth with which she loved him. It was a love to which no words could do justice. That’s why they never said I love you, they didn’t have to—they just knew.

  “I will, don’t worry,” Rylan reassured her.

  “I’ll always worry,” Alisa said and nestled her face into his chest.

  “And I’m always fine,” he said, smiling down at her.

  “I wish Demetrius was going with you.”

  “Me too, but I need to do this. I have to make my own way. It’s time.”

  “I know, but I still don’t like it. Zeek is, well, Zeek.”

  “I’ll keep him on task,” he said. “I promise.” She smiled and looked up at him. Their eyes met, brimming with the adoration they felt for one another, and he knew what she was thinking.

  “Always and forever?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Always and forever.”

  Rylan kissed her gently and held her tight.

  His revelry broke when he heard footsteps outside the door. Keys clattered as they slid into the keyhole and heard the lock click as he watched the door creak open. Light from the corridor spilled into the cell, forcing him to close his eyes. He lay there, perfectly still as if he were asleep, listening as the footsteps grew closer.

  “Is he alive?” a voice whispered.

  “Yes, barely,” another said.

  Rylan was sure they were both female. Perhaps more of Nao’s warriors.

  “Well, sedate him and patch him up so we can get out of here.”

  Rylan heard the one closest to him rummaging through something until the cold sting of a syringe pierced his neck. Careful not to move, he felt the warm liquid enter his body. I guess this must happen every night without me knowing it, he thought.

  “This is not civilized,” one of the women whispered as she began to tend to his wounds with a cloth.

  “It doesn’t matter what you think. Do as you’re told and mend the prisoner,” the other said. Her tone was aggressive, more militant than the first.

  The first woman began cleaning Rylan's burns. She started at the top of his back and worked her way down to his legs. The pain was excruciating. It felt as if each pass of the cloth was tearing the wounds open again. Rylan squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to keep from screaming out. As she continued, he could feel his body becoming numb, and the pain lessened as the medicine worked its way through his system. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was the woman whispering.

  “He will need her help if we want him to live.”

  “That will be up to the Queen,” the second woman said.

  ***

  It felt like only seconds had passed before the familiar voice of his captor rang out.

  “Rise, Agent 51!”

  Rylan was lying on his side, huddled close to the wall by the door. When he moved he felt the familiar pain in his ribs; the wound was still tender. He wore a clean dressing around his chest and fresh stitches in his forehead.

  “I hope you slept well,” Nao said.

  Rylan looked up through the keyhole. He could see her black skin and white hair. She was pacing back and forth again as she spoke.

  “I have something special for you today. Would you like to know what that is?”

  Rylan got to his knees, wincing, and placed a hand over his ribs. He saw Nao lean down so that her red eyes were peering through the keyhole. Rylan was not sure he could talk, even if he wanted to. His throat was raw, and his lips were crusted with so much dried blood it was probably impossible to say anything coherently. And to make things worse, he had not had food or water in several days.

  “I can’t hear you, Agent 51.”

  Rylan tried to speak, but nothing came out. He stared through the keyhole at her and nodded his head.

  “I see,” she said and disappeared from view.

  Keys rattled, the pins in the tumbler clicked, and the door slowly opened.

  Nao stood with her spear in one hand and the gold sword she had stabbed him with in the other. Her black skin merged with the darkness. Had it not been for her animal skin clothes and her brilliant white hair, she would practically be invisible to the naked eye.

  “Death,” she exhaled with the roguish grin. “There is no mistaking it. It has its own vulgar stench.” She opened her eyes and looked down at Rylan.

  “But perhaps you can take a different path, Agent 51. Perhaps you will choose to live, choose to be free from this place.”

  Rylan brought his knees to his chest. His eyes moved from Nao to the empty corridor behind her. Nao’s gaze followed his line of sight.

  “Then again, perhaps not,” she said in a disappointed tone.

  Rylan’s eyes shifted back to Nao, and she grinned at him. He sat motionles
s, glancing back and forth between her and the hallway.

  “Tempting, isn’t it?” she said. “Freedom, just beyond that door.” Her smile faded. “Would you like your freedom, Keeper?”

  Rylan was reluctant to answer. Even if he could speak, he didn’t know what to say. But he did know one thing. He would not beg.

  “I—” Rylan choked on his words. Blood trickled from his freshly split lip, but he didn’t have the strength to wipe it off. He closed his eyes and did his best to swallow.

  Nao tilted her head, fascinated at his behavior.

  “I said I have something special for you today, and I do.” She turned to her right and spoke to someone in the hallway. “Kara, give the Agent our gift,” she said as she stepped to the side.

  Rylan opened his eyes and looked up at the silhouette that slowly sauntered into view. His mouth immediately fell open in surprise. He must be dreaming; maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. Even worse, perhaps Nao’s torture had finally driven him mad. Standing before him was a creature he had only read about in books, or heard in fables his mother had told him as a child. But there she was, standing right in front of him. A living, breathing, Waterchild.

  Chapter 7

  Rylan stared up at the mysterious creature. Was this really happening, he wondered. She looked exactly like his mother had described them. Her upper body was alabaster in color, her eyes were huge, teal green, flecked with shimmering gold. She had a button nose, pale lips, and long silver hair that floated around her as she moved. The Waterchild was tall, graceful, her features delicate. As she approached Rylan, he caught a glimpse of her silver fishtail that swayed behind her. She approached him and got down on her knees. Then she held out the cup.

  “Drink,” she said softly.

  Rylan could feel the blood rush to his face. He leaned in and his lips parted to speak, but then he closed them in a stony expression. What do you say to someone like her?

  “Please, you need your strength,” she insisted and moved the cup closer to his mouth.

  Rylan reached out with two shaking hands and took the cup. He began to drink, slowly at first, but then he gulped the cool water down as fast as he could.

  “Slowly, Keeper,” she cautioned and placed her hand on his shoulder. She felt cold, and that surprised him. It never dawned on him that she might not be warm-blooded.

  When Rylan had finished the water, he lowered the cup and looked at the Waterchild again. Kara. What a beautiful name for such a lovely creature.

  “Thank you,” he said and gave her back the cup. She placed it on the ground and turned to look up at Nao, who was staring down at Rylan.

  “Continue,” Nao ordered.

  “Please,” Kara said to Rylan, “lie down.” Rylan struggled at first to do so, grunting in pain as he positioned himself, but he did as she asked.

  “Please close your eyes,” she said, looking down at him with a pensive stare.

  But he didn’t want to. Rylan had gone his whole life thinking this mesmerizing creature was just a legend. Yet here she was, kneeling right next to him, and all he wanted to do was look at her for a few more minutes.

  “Please, Keeper, I implore you,” she said. “You are not well.”

  Her silver eyebrows were pulled together in concern, and she gently patted his shoulder once more.

  Rylan knew she was right, but at that very moment he felt no pain. He felt like a child again when he looked at her, like he was living in a time when everything was new, when the world was full of possibilities, and his imagination was limitless. He had not felt that way in so long. She made him think of home, his parents, and his brother—he hadn't seen any of them in years. He didn’t want the moment to end, but, reluctantly, Rylan finally conceded. He gave a slight nod to Kara and slowly closed his eyes.

  The Waterchild placed both her hands gently on his chest, directly over his wound. Rylan immediately felt a sense of grogginess sweep over him, as if he were slipping into a lucid dream. His muscles relaxed so it felt like his body had fallen asleep. Yet, his mind remained conscious, active, and he was not sure if he was awake or dreaming.

  Then his heart began to quicken. His breathing improved, as if more oxygen had been thrust into the room. It all felt highly tactile and vivid, like an out-of-body experience. His chest wound tingled along with his other injuries. He felt his muscles tense up again, but they did not feel fatigued. His heart was beating rapidly now, but he was under no duress.

  Rylan wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed, but when he finally came to, Kara was there, waiting for him. Her hands were still firmly placed on his chest, her eyes were closed, and she had her head tilted back in concentration.

  “Enough, Kara,” Nao said.

  Kara opened her eyes and looked down at Rylan. She pursed her lips and tilted her head, just slightly, as if she was apologizing for something.

  “This will help,” she said softly. Rylan looked at the wound on his chest. Only a scar remained. This wonderful creature had healed him. He felt better than he had in days. Thanks to her, he was no longer at death’s door.

  Two soldiers entered through the doorway, and Rylan looked over to see who they were. He was expecting Nao’s warriors, but instead he saw more of Cyrus's skull soldiers. Was Cyrus Kan still at the facility or had he left his men behind as a precautionary measure?

  Rylan watched as the Waterchild stood and left the room with the two guards. As the large cell door closed, Rylan felt an emptiness he could not explain. It festered in his mind but resided in his soul.

  He reluctantly turned and gazed up at his tormentor. Nao stood staring down at him, her face absent of all emotion.

  “Shall we begin?” she asked smoothly.

  Rylan lowered his head back down on the floor. “I have nothing for you,” he said. “Nothing.”

  Nao took a step closer. “Oh, I think you do, Agent 51,” she said. “I think you most definitely … do.”

  Rylan rolled onto his side and gradually sat up. He stared at the floor for a moment and then looked up to meet Nao’s hard stare.

  “I am Agent 51,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  Nao’s lips flattened and then curled.

  “Where is the hidden base?” she hissed, baring her teeth as she spoke.

  Rylan lowered his head. “I am Agent 51.”

  Nao sighed. “That’s disappointing,” she said and stabbed Rylan in the thigh with her spear.

  Rylan screamed as he lunged forward in an effort to grab the weapon, but Nao twisted the serrated tip into his thigh and quickly pulled it from his leg. The torn flesh burned white hot, and blood flowed from the open gash. Rylan clenched his hands over the wound in agony as Nao kicked him in the nose. He flew back, hurtling into the wall.

  Nao closed the gap between them within seconds. She was standing above him now, glaring down at the wounded Keeper.

  “You make me very unpleasant, Agent 51. I pride myself on my patience and my dignity, because I am better than you. But there’s something about your very existence that unhinges me, that makes me want to tear you limb from limb. You are not my adversary, you are my prisoner, and you will do as I say, or you will die. Do you understand?”

  Nao struck him again across the cheek with the end of her spear and Rylan’s head flew back. He quickly covered his face, writhing in pain.

  “Now, I will ask you once again, where is the Majesty’s hidden base?”

  Rylan gripped his face in his hands as he lay crumpled on the floor. The muscles in his thigh shuddered, twitching erratically as blood streamed across his leg and onto the stone beneath him.

  Nao moved closer, her menacing stare bearing down on him.

  “Where is it?”

  Blood was streaming from Rylan’s nose now, down his mouth and over his chin. He turned so he was facing her and lifted his hand to wipe the blood from his mouth. He glared at Nao.

  “I am Agent 51,” he snarled. Then he smiled.

  Nao blinked in disbelief. Her han
d tightened against the shaft of her spear, and her lips quivered with fury.

  “You fool!” she yelled.

  She lifted her spear high into the air and paused, just long enough to see Rylan’s blank expression staring up at her before plunging her weapon forward. Rylan saw nothing but darkness.

  Chapter 8

  The stone door creaked as it swung open on its metal hinges. Rylan stirred against the back wall of his cell and turned to see two warriors move through the doorway into the chamber.

  “Wake, you beast,” one said to Rylan with a swift kick to his stomach.

  Rylan gasped for air, then rolled onto his side.

  “Please, Commander,” Nao said from behind them. “That’s no way to treat our guest, especially since he has been so forthcoming.”

  Turning onto his back, Rylan looked up at Nao, who strolled between the two women.

  He grimaced and placed a hand on his leg. He was barely awake, but he was wearing fresh clothes, and all his wounds had been treated again. Rylan looked up at Nao and forced himself to speak.

  “What?” he muttered.

  Nao towered above him now. She was holding her spear in one hand and a large glass of water in the other. But what was most peculiar, and perhaps even more disturbing, was that for the first time Nao was smiling. Rylan leaned back as she approached him. His stomach tightened and suddenly he felt hot. Something wasn’t right. This was not the captor he had grown to hate.

  “Why yes, 51, and I must say your information proved to be most helpful,” she said.

  Rylan's eyes shifted around the room and then back to Nao. He could feel that his gaze had grown distant. “What information?” he asked. He sat up gradually and slid his back to the wall. “What are you talking about?”