Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
I will be forever in your debt, Tristan insisted, stepping back.
Wendy stared at the boy’s face with her unnaturally gentle eyes, as if practicing her humanity. “It is I who am currently still in yours,” returned Wendy evenly, “and, thus, you owe me not a thing for this infringement upon the dire laws of your Makers. After all, our contract is still intact. We are but partners in fire.”
Tristan smiled. You’re so cute with your wordings. I wonder if you would someday write my biography. It would be fairly boring in parts, so you should warn the reader to stick it out until the end.
“I will signal in our usual way once sanctuary for the mortal is secured. I will signal in our unusual way should trouble arise.”
I hope never to hear from you, then.
Wendy met his eyes. With their artificial kindness, it was an unsettling sight. “You are an enigma, Tristan. I hate that.”
Everyone does.
In a flash, Wendy and the boy were gone. After he spent a moment to collect himself in the tranquility of the dark woods, Tristan left to return to Kyle at the two-star motel miles away. He prayed he would not hear from her for a long while yet.
But it would be merely three nights later that he felt the burning at the nape of his neck. The bad kind.
“It could not be avoided,” said Wendy. Tristan met her by the train tracks that cut through a nearby forest. “It is done.”
Please tell me you are practicing the human emotion of humor.
“I am not capable of humor. The boy did not trust me. The effect of the human eyes I projected backfired. He attempted to escape five times. He was certain I meant to end his life, an odd belief to hold when it was my only given charge to protect it. On the fifth escape, he made it the farthest … and was then seen.”
Seen?
“And thus, six human lives paid the price for their curiosity, six I could not spare, and thus, cleanup was necessary to do, and thus, the attention of a Dallasade scout was caught, and thus—”
I’ve heard enough, Tristan decided, dropping to his knees at the edge of the rail. Where is he now?
“In the hands of Director Cindy of the Dallasade domain. I made my recommendation to her already. It was, as I calculated, the greatest chance of survival the boy would have.”
Tristan lifted his eyes. You made a recommendation?
“For him to be sent to the House of Vegasyn, to be kept in the humans cells for the remainder of his days alive. It is done.”
Tristan closed his eyes. He could imagine it all. The fear that sent the boy’s heart galloping each time he woke, his mind racing with nightmares of his family dying again, nightmares he would not easily be able to distinguish from reality. Wendy advised it would’ve been a more merciful option to let him die in the house with his parents, to let the boy join them in their eternal rest, to let him go. Tristan defied that mercy. He also refused to include him in his future with Kyle, his new creation, his new love …
Tristan was to blame for everything.
“There is no chance he can be freed again,” said Wendy. “I have considered each option available to me. It is not possible.”
Of course it isn’t, agreed Tristan wearily, slowly collapsing.
“Have we reached an end of this rebellion?” asked Wendy, as lightly as if they were returning from a trip to the store, from a tedious Tuesday afternoon errand. “Will you give up your life with Kyle and finally return to your post at Lord Markadian’s side? He thinks of you each day, demanding your whereabouts, his sanity crumbling. There are others who wish to replace you, eagerly plotting, many who hope you will never return. Do you not desire to disappoint them? Would it not be … ‘fun’ …?”
Tristan collapsed dramatically upon the tracks, face painted in moonlight, splintered wood and metal digging into his back.
Nothing will be fun anymore, he worried. Nothing at all.
“Put the boy out of your mind, it is done. What will you do now, Tristan? Decide.”
Tristan prayed a train would come. He prayed it would be so kind as to crush him, each and every car. It would surely hurt less than the guilt weighing so generously upon his chest.
“The dawn approaches. The night has run out. Decide.”
Yes, the sun was another option. It would hurt more than the train or the guilt, but perhaps it was what he deserved.
Nevertheless, he knew it was time. He had to make the best of the hand he had drawn, even if his only present desire was to burn every last card he held.
So he made his choice: You have a new mission, Wendy, if not your final one, perhaps, before I disappear into my new life.