“Yes, your brother. I am your brother, Noemi.”
“That is a load of crap. I am an only child.” By then, everyone’s eyes were trained on us. The boy who never talked and the girl they’d never seen.
“No it is not. And no you aren’t. Soul protectors just can’t have more than one child. I was three when you were born. They brought you home, I saw you once, and then I was sent to our grandparents for the rest of my life. That is why you were never allowed over. We were not allowed to see each other. Remember?”
Exasperated, I whispered, “I remember.”
Nico interjected there. “Um, sorry to rain on the parade, but… what in Saint Mary is going on here? This is a lot to take on, even for me. Are you trying to say that the girl I brought here, Noemi, she is your sister? I mean, I see a big resemblance, but still. Are you sure?
Victor looked over to him. “My eyes. Our name. The hair. Even our clothes have the same design. You saw her marks, right? The scars? You all notice the weapons. Not to mention her recent injury. This girl is a demon hunter.
“Shut up!” I nearly screeched. I did not like surprises, especially dire and confusing ones.
“What? He knows. They all know. They found me after the war that mama and papa died in. A demon attacked me, and Nico tried to fight him off.” I looked over to Nico, who lifted his pant leg to reveal a single spiral scar. He spoke in barely a whisper, “I knew what your scars were from, Noemi. That is why I did not leave you out there.” I turned back to Victor, dull understanding replacing my previously rising anger. He spoke again. “I had no choice but to tell them everything. It is okay, they won’t tell anyone. I trust them. Do not worry, Nemzi.
Tears were starting to well up in my eyes, despite how hard I tried to hold them back. “Papa called me that. Nemzi. You really are my brother, aren’t you? But… why was I not allowed to know? Why could I not even know you existed?” I looked around without seeing, pain and confusion and anger clear on my face.
“I do not know the answer to that one, I am afraid. Probably just another saint rule. That brings me to another topic. We cannot know each other after you leave this place. The saints will not allow it, for their own reasons. They will not allow us to co-exist.”
“The saints are dead. Murdered. Every single one of them was slaughtered. I had to watch mine die. He gave me a riddle. “Within the walls of ancient oak, lie a dagger, and a cloak. These items of worth are keys, to set your troubles at ease. Within your heart is magic, chiseled in your core. Within your past are secrets, your family has kept. Release, release, release them, or you shall be in debt.”
“Murdered? Oh no. well, you do not have to worry, the saints will always come back when they die by force. But every binding, law, rule, every restriction they ever made has been broken. That is the only reason anyone has ever broken the rules. That is how the war started that killed our parents. It was not just a raid. And… the box. Noemi, do you still have that small oak box encrusted with jewels from papa?
“Yes… Why?”
“I think that is the box the riddle refers to. You don’t suppose the history secrets are me, do you?”
“That is not impossible. But wait… do you mean someone is trying to start a war? We need to get to my home and open that box!” I looked around warily then at the people who now knew more of me than I did of them. You don’t trust people like that.
Nico cleared his throat and said, “Hey, guys, I’m going to come with you to help. Ben, you are in charge.”
I stopped him. “No, I do not want to pull innocent into this.”
“I am coming, Noemi.”
I sighed and silently gave up. He was coming, and nothing would change his mind.
Victor was already on his way to the doors. I quickly skipped after him, my mind full of rushing thoughts. This day had started so normal, and now I was running to my home with two people I barely knew to stop a war I knew nothing about. And I was free to do it.
That was the most shocking part of the saints’ deaths. We were no longer forced by an unknown binding to do what our ancestors were forced to do. We now had a choice. A choice to do what we wanted. But, what did I want? I could do absolutely anything, and I chose to drag myself back into the hellish life of hunting demons. I was prepared to stop a war that I could completely run from, if I wanted. It is ironic how we spend our entire life hating what we are forced to do, but when given a choice to be free, we choose what we have known all our lives.
We raced down the street, me in the lead. I was not looking forward to these two near-strangers coming into my house, even if one of them really was my brother. I hopped across the street and onto the bridge, checking to make sure that the two boys were still following behind me. I silently hurried to the edge, where I had a black mark sprayed on the railing. I swung over it, landing on the beam just below the entrance to my home. Victor followed directly after me, standing right next to where I was, waiting to go in.
Nico was hesitant, though. He looked puzzled, wondering why we were down there. I looked to him and murmured “Trust me. It is safe.” Seemingly slightly reassured, he crawled over the railing and clung to it. He was certainly strong enough to stay there, and quite able to balance himself. I guess the thought of standing on the opposite side than usual of a bridge guard-rail was quite disconcerting, if you were not used to it. I ducked my head into the hole, and beckoned them to follow. Nico came next, eager to get out of the open and away from the awkward position. Victor was last. He looked around, taking in everything, automatically evaluating his surroundings, as all of the people like us normally did.
There was not much to my home. The front space held an untraceable computer on a tall simple desk, with a comfortable chair sitting next to it, angled outwards as if I has simply jumped from the chair and forgotten to put it back. A rack near the door held some of my standard equipment and jackets. A mat below that had my boots and other shoes. There was a small lounging chair next to a small coffee table that was covered in tracking plans. On the far wall was an open doorway to a small room about the size of a two person elevator. A small handle was attached to a hatch door in the ground. I walked over to it, and opened it. There was a hole in that floor, and a ladder was attached to the one side of it. I looked over to Nico and Victor and said, “Come on, we have to get to my bedroom. We have to go down into the living room and across the keystone to get there. Let’s go.”
I ignored the ladder and slipped down through the hole, tucking myself to avoid hitting the sides. I walked swiftly across the living room floor, past the old flat screen and the loveseat. There was another small room, a hatch on the ground, and a set of steep stairs leading to a hallway. I pulled myself up onto the ledge of the steps and began climbing them two at a time. I could hear the other two behind me, quietly observing my home.
I had few pictures, and there were only three along the wall of this narrow staircase. A picture of my parents, which was already mine by the time they left, a sketch of a demon that I had done in my spare time, and an old painting that I had purchased at an auction. It was a painting of a girl outside, staring into a mirror, in the middle of a thunderstorm. It was the only painting I could afford, and the only one I wanted. I liked to think of myself as that girl. Searching for who she was despite the raging storm she lived in
I walked briskly down the short hallway with the low roof, hopping down the other set of steps two at a time. Finally, my room. The bathroom was just below us. I rushed over to my bedside table and grasped the box sitting there. I stared down at it, wondering how we would be able to open it. Many nights I spent looking at the oddly shaped indentation on the top, trying to decipher what fit there. The indentation looked oddly like a double sword. I looked up to Victor with a confused expression on my face. He sat down on the bed with me and said, “Here, hand it over.” I obediently gave him the box. He reached down to his ankle, and unhinged a thick silver chain with a black and icy blue sword locket on it.
“Mama gave this to me before I left. She told me one day I would need it. Now I know why.”
“To unlock the box of oak, and save us from debts of a sort.” I replied, rephrasing the riddle. I looked up to Nico, who was standing over near the corner, waiting to be welcomed over. I waved him closer, and he tentatively stepped closer, intrigued.
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