Chapter 53 - Robert Delaney (Ansel Conrad POV) Pt. 3

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Chapter 53 – Robert Delaney (Ansel Conrad POV) Pt. 3

"Did you know that there is acreage to the right of what you've purchased for sale?" Angela asks, pointing it out. "Right now," she shows me the land I had, the houses already built, though nothing like what Samson had faxed us.

North of Asheville, the land started from low slowly going towards high elevation. The main house, I had assumed would be a property that overlooked the city below.

Surrounded by greenery, with plenty of privacy and hidden land that had yet to be developed. We would have no neighbors, unobstructed views of the mountains not to mention the unique finds the land possessed.

"We do not need more," I start saying but Angela, shakes her head quickly, "No, no, look. Okay you have the elevated land Ansel, but the acreage to the right of yours," she pulls her laptop towards me.

Her screen is plastered with various images, opened documents, browsers overlapping but Angela points to one picture in the upper left hand corner, "From your notes, this is the type of production greenhouses you're interested in building," I lean forward taking in the block long connected greenhouses, surrounded by towering foliage.

I scan the image with an observant eye, the visual aid helping create the ultimate end product. Nine lined up production houses, however, seemed just a bit too much.

"I know what you're thinking," Angela says instantly, "it's a lot, but from the schematics I pulled up," she pauses doing so, showing me.

"Okay, so we have the plans that Samson sent us," I nod, "I think this system would work for us Ansel, because again, if it comes down to what you've said," Angela speaks almost in code as though Peter may understand.

We had remained at the front of the bus, everyone letting Angela and I work, murmuring around us.

"With the right equipment, we can manage these eight to grow what is needed climate control wise. You already know that not all things flourish in the same climate, with these eight we can grow what we need too."

I glance at her plans, still unsure that we needed the amount of greenhouses that the picture held. Especially when considering the group of people we had with us.

"How do you plan to manage this though? Nine greenhouses, each double the size of this bus we're on. Sure we can keep the right temperatures in the production houses, but when it comes time to pick what we've grown, how do we go about that?"

Peter again proves that he's listening.

"You don't work, you don't eat," he says shrugging. Angela, always one to turn smug quickly, nods, her light brown eyebrows lifting, expression screaming, 'exactly!'

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "Okay, what I'm saying is that sure, when it comes to the point we need rather than want to do this, I'm sure everyone will be bending over backwards to help. I'm thinking in the here and now, per se," I tapped my index finger on the retractable tabletop.

Peter, again, serious faced, eyes what he can from across the table where he sits silently, "same thing. If you don't help now, you cannot get the goods later on." Rationally, I knew what Peter was saying was nothing but the truth. The problem was the fear I had that we would not complete what was needed in time.

We had the house plans Samson sent but it would take a few months, maybe more to get that completed. We needed the greenhouses, yet, again, how long would it take to create what Angela was showing me?

The Den was not small, but at the same time, I doubted we had enough hands to make the end product completed at a sooner date.

"Might I suggest something?" Naomi says looking away from my mother and their herbs discussion. When I turn to her, I nod immediately. I was not the leader that pretended to be more than I actually was. If I could not create a solution, I took advice from those around me. I did not act foolishly however. It was advice, not a command that I was required to follow.

"From what you are saying, I believe you will do well if you do welcome more along – if you have the funds for such an undertaking." Naomi says what has been at the bottom of my list, everything else piled up.

Shifting my eyes to the floor plans Samson sent, I wonder how he was able to build what he did. Surely it was not done alone? Faith said that Dmitri never left her for more than a month or two at a time, which meant someone helped him... but who?

"Also... since you were not aware of the earlier explained dilemma, have you considered stopping to check those that are in your ranks?" I had to smile. Naomi was quite the thinker.

"Yup," Angela answers for me, "it's right here," she points to the second piece of paper I wrote. "Apparently, we're stopping in eight hours... in... Rawlins, Wyoming," I chuckle. At this point, I was relieved.

Not informing everyone where we were going, that was the best decision I had made yet. North Carolina had truly become the safest place for us to head. Nick did not know of that plan, Devin hacked our system and who ever was watching, they too had no knowledge of out future location.

Resting back, I tilt my head to the side as a new thought causes my chest to feel as though it's being crushed. "Naomi... how old are people that work for the Elders?"

I had to say, that Angela was always a quick thinker, it takes two seconds but it's instant in my opinion. She stiffens next to me, and her hands freeze in place. The only movement she makes is to shift her eyes towards Naomi.

"You worry that someone that was sent with your children are working for the Elders," Naomi confirms, with a sharp nod, for my benefit. "What I did not learn from my friend, I was able to gather when I began trailing one of the people she mentioned in her life. Although I had to wait until I had my sixth tail to do so."

"Why?" – "Tail?" Peter and I ask simultaneously.

Naomi remains focused. "From what I've gathered, there is no one too young for the Elders. Sometimes they see someone and feel as though they have purpose to their cause. They take them. Kill off family members, make them dependent on those the Elders want them to trust."

"They have recruiters as well... people that search for humans that might have a gift or supernaturals that have gifts." Angela swallows loudly besides me, and her hand wobbles before she clenches it into a fist.

Before Antone made it North Carolina, I needed to make sure that those with him were on our side.

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Faith Ashlynn POV

Then. "I member all dem," I gloat, smiling wide, and gazing up at Wyatt. Theatrically, he widens his eyes, "You do?"

"I shows you Watts," I giggle merrily, pulling on his hands. Much bigger than mine. I hold onto just his index finger, and pull. The sunrays streak into the path I'm following, walking bravely and aware of my location.

When another adult turns and joins Wyatt and I in the hallway, I slow my pace and hide my excitement and look away, moving my smaller body next to Wyatt's bigger one.

The other grownup doesn't like me.

I keep my eyes shifted to the ground, looking at out the window, but from the corner of my eyes, I make sure the other big person isn't still watching me.

"Come on sweetheart," Wyatt says after a few minutes, jerking my hand, his playfulness puts a smile on my face and we continue as though nothing has happened.

Into the room, I pull Wyatt towards the wall holding a poster, letters and characters below them. Making a grand show of my skills, I look at the poster once more, before turning my back to it.

"Ready?" Wyatt asks, brown eyes focused on my greenish ones. I nod sharply. "Okay, what is the shape for... the letter... L?"

I giggle before answering, my hair wild, falls on my forehead, over my eyes. Without care, I push it back, though it'll probably just fall in my face again. "The L, is a heart, the end it pointing weft!" I use my hands to draw it in midair as I answer.

Even then, in my head, I could place all the letters and the match characters in order. I had it in my mind according to the poster.

"This is a harder one," Wyatt warns, but I only find his playfulness funny, "what is the number 8?"

"Dats an easy one Watts," I stomp my foot, pouting as I hold up both my hands, matching my actual hand with the picture for the letter in my mind. "It's dis hand," I keep my right up.

"Okay you want a super hard one?" I nod.

Always teasing, Wyatt tapped his chin, making me wait forever, or that's how it feels.

"Tell me the shape for the letter... K," I know it.

"K," I'm primed to answer but find my response funny, and good-natured Wyatt indulges my giggling with a beaming grin of his own. "The wetter K," I exaggerate, "der is a frwame, with pointy ends, and bumps, and in the middle of da box der is a big," I lift my hands up, placing my right index finger over my left, "a big X."

"How many pointy ends?"

"Faour."

"How many bumps?"

"Faour-" In a singsong voice I push on, "point – bump – point – bump – point – bump – point – bump."

Wyatt throws his head back laughing as I do a little side-to-side dance with my words. "Why does I need to wearn the shapes?" I ask, and it doesn't occur to me that I've asked this more than once. In fact, I'm sure I've asked almost always when we played the game.

"It's a secret language," he says back and that's what encourages me to continue playing. It's a secret language and I feel special that I get to learn it. I get to know the secret too.

"You'll need it for the numbers someday..."

Now. Groaning, the corners of my vision in my dream darken and I'm pulled away from the memory of Wyatt and I, more pushed towards the sounds around me, the movement behind me.

Sighing, even in sleep, I know where I am.

Samson is behind me, a thick quilt covers us, and more and more, I melt back against him. A single movement is rewarded with him tightening his hold on me. I'm pulled further from the mental images in my head.

Eyes fluttering open, my gaze shifts to the projector screen. A soft piano sounds around us. Samson's heartbeats pick up, quickening against my back and I find that mine does the same. The puffs of air released on my neck, come more frequently and when Samson moves behind me, I instantly feel his lips against my neck.

Wet and soft, he lingers, and I become hyper aware of everything, the shivers that take over my body though I'm as warm as possible. His teeth sharp, scrapes over sensitive skin and a new fog – different from the haze I woke up in – takes over my mind.

I've never – not that I could recall – ever woken up so at ease.

His movements are just enough to wake me up and send the butterflies in my stomach into action. All too soon, the light ache in my abdomen smarts and I wince, groaning this time in discomfort.

The warm and quiet space we had between us is swiftly pulled away and so are the lips on my neck.

"What's wrong?" Samson whispers. Pushing the covers off of us, he props him self up on one hand, as I roll onto my back, face pinched.

"I don't know it's a slight ache," I say shrugging, pushing the throbbing out of my mind and sitting up slowly, kissing Samson's cheek. "We have Advil, maybe take some of that after breakfast," he replies with glazed over eyes and a lovely smile.

Nodding, I take a chance to shift my gaze around the room, and find that we're alone, both Luca and Imogen are gone, their blanket folded and sitting on the pillow.

The two of us release a sigh together, before getting up and fixing our quilt and pillow near theirs. Grabbing clothes and each going our own way to use the showers. Washing quickly, throwing on the sweats Imogen bought, I had off to the kitchen, letting my nose lead me. Once I sit, with no more distracts, a simple morning from Imogen and Luca, the dream I had comes back, dances in my minds eye. Although parts are blurred.

I recall Wyatt's words. "You'll need it for the numbers someday..."

As Luca and Imogen converse in hushed whispers, I stand finding a piece of paper and pen, before returning to my seat. Eyes closed, I concentrate on the image on my mind, and forcing myself to clear the fog that accompanies the part I want to see the most.

In no time at all I've drew the table as best as I can. All the letters and numbers zero to nine as well.

Filling them in as I go, I concentrate, forcing the haze away, revealing I, K, L, Q, R, S and Y the best. When I cannot immediately remember the images, I go a different route, filling in what I could from the dream I had.

I fill in the right hand that represented the number eight.

Pushing, thinking about nothing else, I mentally push the cloudiness away, revealing more and more of the table, until I'm able to get a clear image, the edges of my vision darken and blurred.

I jot down everything as Imogen and Luca begin carrying plates of food to the table and Samson enters.

The secret language completed I put my pen down, just staring at the paper in front of me. When Samson comes to look, he frowns but remains silent.

"What is that?" Luca asks with a strange look in his eyes. I glance from him to the paper and back. "Where..." he doesn't finish.

"Wyatt taught it to me... made me memorize it," I answer, looking at table top.

"I uhm, I – those characters were on the piece of metal I picked up years back, what led me to be Rhys..." he says unsure. Imogen, at Luca's side, squints her eyes at the piece of paper with the secret language I've created.

"Not," Luca starts, slowly sitting down, "my dad has this book," he frowns pausing. Slowly from side to side he shakes his head, "this is a code. It's a coded book," the words are murmured to himself. As his head hangs and eyes shift from side to side.

"My dad has this book, he bought it maybe two or three years ago for a few million – and before he cased it, I saw the script, it was filled with just these symbols," He says unable to remove his eyes from the paper.

Imogen takes her seat across from me, reaching for Luca, "Maybe it just looks like it," but Luca shakes his head immediately, "No, I swear these are the characters in the book. It's old, brown, with this golden aged spine. And it has a marking," he reaches for my paper, flipping it over.

"The image on there is mirrored," He says as he draws what starts off as a lower case e in cursive but the tail is drawn upward almost creating a stem of a flower and one petal. When Luca has finished, though not exact, the second half is the first half's mirror image.

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