Chapter 3
Both confused and hopeful, Haatim left the meeting with his father. The meeting hadn’t been what he’d expected, but it had gone quite well. He looked forward to spending time in the hotel and seeing more of his father.
Haatim also felt gladdened that he’d gotten to state his position about the trial. He’d known his father would disagree but didn’t want it to turn into something more. His father had it wrong about her—about everything. Old-fashioned about a lot of things, his father, but it pleased Haatim that they could have a disagreement without it devolving into a screaming match.
The problem was, however, that his father’s opinion influenced Abigail’s future directly. The idea that a Council of people prepared to make a decision about whether or not someone lived or died seemed unfathomable to Haatim.
Very dark-age, to be honest. He could understand their desire for secrecy and the need to punish disobedience. They battled against creatures that wanted to kill and possess people, and so, mistakes could wind up costly.
But the idea that Abigail would be put to death if the Council decided it was …
Insane. The only good word Haatim could think of that fit. He found it hard to wrap his head around just how high the stakes of this trial rose.
When he made it up to his room, his breaths came heavy. The building had so many stairs, and the idea that he would need to walk up them every day seemed ridiculous. Especially when a perfectly good elevator lay only a short ways away.
However, he didn’t want to get on Dominick’s bad side, at least not this early in the relationship. Dominick seemed like a fun-loving and slightly wild person, and completely different from Frieda’s strict attention to practice and routine. What, exactly, would his “training” entail?
Certainly, Frieda had never ordered him to walk up the stairs instead of using the elevator.
Haatim dropped off his stuff, and then headed back out. Exhausted, he wanted to take a nap, but still had one more stop to make before he could rest. He walked down the stairs and through the hall toward Abigail’s holding cell.
He admired the surrounding decorations. Tapestries hung on the walls in muted earth-tones, detailing a regional history that he knew nothing about. The artwork looked intricate and clean, and everything felt ancient but cared for immaculately.
It felt as though he’d stepped back in time a few hundred years. The entire place had an almost gothic feel to it that appealed to his sensibilities.
Two guards stood in the hallway outside the room that held Abigail. One seemed a short man with greasy hair and rough features, and the other, tall and lanky with a baby face that only a mother could love.
Both of them stood armed with assault rifles and wore bored expressions. The short one looked Haatim over while he approached, dismissing him completely as a threat. Haatim couldn’t decide if he should feel offended, and then decided not to.
“Yes? Name and business?” The guy held his rifle in a non-threatening manner, but his eyes said he would shoot Haatim in a second without even the slightest regret.
“I’m Haatim Arison. Just got here a few hours ago.”
The guy stuck out his hand, and Haatim grasped it.
“I’m Jim; this is Mike. We haven’t met, have we?”
Jim had an iron grip and, unlike Dominick, seemed the kind of guy that made it clear he was trying to inflict pain with how hard he squeezed. Haatim’s grimace elicited a grin from his partner.
“Not yet,” Haatim said. “A pleasure.”
“Aram’s son,” the guy said with a nod. “Heard a lot about you.”
Haatim frowned. Over the last several months, it seemed like everyone he met recognized him, but he’d never been introduced to any of them. It made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t say much about it. “It seems everyone has.”
“We don’t get a lot of outsiders turning into a Councilman’s son, you know?” Jim said. “And you’re friends with Abigail, so the rumors say.”
“Yeah,” he said. “She saved my life.”
“Did she, now?” Jim said.
Haatim couldn’t be sure, but the tone sounded sarcastic.
“So … can I go in and talk to her?”
Jim stared at him. “The thing is, kid, you might be Aram’s son, but that doesn’t mean squat down here. Got it?”
Haatim felt unsure what to say, so he kept his mouth shut.
“You might think you’re something special, but you’re just some dumb kid with an important father. So, how about we start this conversation over, and this time show a little respect?”
Haatim bit back a disgusted sigh, and then forced himself to nod. He could bite back his pride. The other guy, the lanky one, just watched with an amused expression.
“Hello, my name is Haatim Arison. May I, please, go in and speak with Abigail?”
“You mean the prisoner?”
Haatim frowned. “May I, please, go speak with the prisoner?”
“Yeah, kid, you may,” Jim said. “And, I’m gonna let it pass this time. But, if I were you, I’d show a little more respect to the people that can whoop your ass.”
“I apologize,” Haatim said. “It won’t happen again.”
His words seemed to mollify Jim, and the guy nodded at him. “I’m going to pat you down now. There isn’t anything sharp in your pockets I could hurt myself on, is there? If you lie to me, and I cut myself, I won’t be happy.”
“Nothing,” Haatim said. “Just my wallet and phone.”
Jim handed his rifle to Mike, who just kept staring at Haatim in a way that felt supremely uncomfortable, and then stepped up behind Haatim. He patted Haatim’s sides and legs, hitting every conceivable area where he might have a concealed weapon. He made it considerably rougher than he needed to, especially in tender places.
Fortunately, Haatim hadn’t thought to wear his gun or carry a knife. A few weeks back, Frieda had taught him how to shoot and given him a pistol, but he still hadn’t grown used to keeping it with him. Decent at shooting targets now—at least the ones that didn’t move—he still didn’t feel right having a weapon on hand.
“All right,” Jim said, finally. “Just knock when you’re ready to come out.”
Mike opened the door and gestured Haatim through. He stepped into the hotel room, and the door slammed behind him. The lock clunked a second later.
Inside, he found a decently sized abode with an attached bathroom and a bed set against the leftmost wall. The lights glowed dim, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. Abigail had the drapes pulled shut, which left the room gloomy and unwelcoming.
Old trays and half-eaten food covered a dining area with a bar and stools. A bed sat along the left wall, messy and unmade, and several chairs sat covered in dirty clothes and other items next to a table by the window.
Abigail paced back and forth between the bed and television, muttering to herself and lost in thought. So distracted that she didn’t even notice his entrance. The woman clenched and unclenched her fists, bristling with energy like a caged animal.
“Abigail?” he asked.
She froze, tensing up. Slowly, she turned to him, a muted expression on her face. They stared at each other from across the room, neither one moving. The seconds ticked past as she stared, expression unchanging.
Suddenly, she rushed forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. Abigail squeezed him a lot harder than someone her size should have been able to, and he gasped for air.
“Jesus,” she said, finally, letting him go and stepping back. “I’ve worried so much about you. Where the hell have you been?”
“Out of the country,” Haatim said, a little defensive. “And we only just now got back.”
“We?”
“Frieda and myself. I traveled with her for the last few months. It’s why we couldn’t come because my father had already come here.”
“With Frieda? Why?”
“She filled me in about the world my father kept secret from me.”
Abigail frowned. “No one tells me anything that happens outside these walls. I’ve had no idea what happened to you. I didn’t know if you’d died or anything.”
“I’ve been fine,” he said. “I tried calling several times, but they told me you aren’t allowed to receive any outside communication. My father wouldn’t allow Frieda to come until the Council overruled him, and I didn’t want to see him, so we had to stay away.”
“It’s fine. I understand. It’s just that I’ve been stuck here with no one to talk to for months,” she said with a chuckle. It sounded forced. “I’m going a little stir-crazy.”
“I can imagine.” Haatim nodded.
“You mentioned your father. Have you spoken to him? Did he send you?” Abigail crossed her arms.
“No.” Haatim shook his head. “I talked to him a little while ago. He said I shouldn’t visit you, and he doesn’t want me testifying in your defense.”
“Of course not,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll understand if you ...”
He shook his head, this time with vehemence. “No way. I am definitely going to help defend you. You saved my life.”
“You’ve already repaid that debt,” Abigail said.
“I’ll never repay that debt,” Haatim said. “Besides, we’re friends, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t stick up for you?”
She smiled. “A crappy one.”
“Exactly. You talked to Frieda earlier, right?”
“Briefly.” Abigail nodded. “She’s trying to put together my defense. Apparently, Aram has found more evidence to use against me, and she feels worried that some of it will stick. She told me you might testify, but she wasn’t sure. Aram is your father, after all.”
“I’ll tell them what happened in Raven’s Peak. They don’t know the full truth, and when they hear what you did to save all those innocent people, they’ll have no choice but to side with Frieda and let you go free.”
“What you did,” she said. “Not me. I tried to face Belphegor and failed.”
“We did it,” Haatim said. “Teamwork. I just provided the distraction.”
“True,” Abigail said with a laugh. “You can be quite distracting at times.”
“This whole thing is stupid,” Haatim said. “I can’t believe they’re having this trial at all.”
“I know. This shouldn’t even be an issue; the entire situation is stupid. There are real threats out there that we should be dealing with, but no one is even talking about them.”
“Like the person who tried to set us on fire,” Haatim said.
“Exactly,” Abigail said. “They are still out there, and we should be looking for them, not talking about whether or not I broke a couple of stupid rules.”
He heard bitterness as she said the last part, and he could sympathize.
“They are only doing this because they hate me.”
“Why?” He blurted the question out before he could stop himself. “Why do so many people dislike you?”
“I don’t know.” Abigail sat on her bed. “Maybe it’s my sunny disposition. I don’t know. I wish I did. It isn’t just your father, either. A lot of the Council hate me, and they have since I was a little girl.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Does it have something to do with Arthur?”
“They …” She looked away.
“They what?” Haatim said.
“They blame me for what happened to him.”
“The thing that happened at the Church?” Haatim asked. “When you were …”
He couldn’t bring himself to say “possessed.” He’d heard bits and pieces of the events from Frieda and a few other people. Everyone seemed to have conflicting accounts about exactly what had happened in that Church in the forest.
Haatim didn’t know what to believe. Everyone agreed that Arthur had confronted a demon that had possessed Abigail, and yes, he lost his life in the conflict. But, Haatim doubted Abigail had any control over the situation.
From what he’d heard, the Council screwed up by sending her there in the first place, underestimating the threat. If anyone were to blame, it was them. They shouldn’t hold her responsible for something out of her control.
At the very least, he wouldn’t hold it against her. Haatim cared much more about his interactions with people than any stories he heard. Abigail had a good heart. She was a kind and honorable person—more than he could say for many of the other people he’d met, especially the ones who disliked her.
“Frieda told me about it,” he said. “But I don’t think you were responsible for any of it.”
“That, yes, but also so much more,” Abigail said, shaking her head. “They blame me for everything that happened to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not even sure what I mean,” she said, then changed the subject. “What have you been doing with Frieda?”
“She’s teaching me about what the Hunters and Council do,” Haatim said. “And training me how to fight. Now that I’m … now that I know what’s going on, she’s afraid more things like what happened in Raven’s Peak could happen to me, and I should be prepared.”
“Good idea,” Abigail said. “Are you getting any better?”
“I know which end of the knife to hold and how to squeeze the trigger of a gun. I can even hit things, you know, as long as they don’t move. But I’m not ready to take on anything more than a loaf of bread.”
“Stick with it,” Abigail said. “You’ll get good enough in no time.”
“People who are good enough are usually the ones who get beat up or murdered. I’d rather be either awesome at fighting or never fight at all.”
Abigail smiled. “Touché.”
“Frieda said she’s going to have you train me once you get out of here,” Haatim said.
Abigail’s smile soured. “If I get out of here. That’s still up in the air.”
“I’m not done talking to my father about it. He’s a good man, just misguided. I’ll make him understand what kind of a person you are, and then he’ll move to our side.”
Abigail chewed her lip, looking away. “You should probably get going.”
Haatim frowned. “All right,” he said. “I’ll come back and keep you company, though. As often as they let me.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Do you want me to bring you some books or other reading material?”
Abigail burst out laughing. “No,” she said. “Books aren’t really my thing.”
“You sure?” he said. “They can distract you. Take your mind off what’s going on.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “The company would be nice, though.”
“Definitely.”
She turned away, and Haatim took that to mean she had dismissed him.
“I’ll come back soon.” Haatim walked toward the exit. “We’ll get through this.”
Abigail didn’t respond. Haatim knocked on the door, and Mike opened it to let him out. Jim had gone.
“Where’s Jim?” Haatim asked.
Mike closed the door and gave Haatim a look that told him he wouldn’t get an answer. Time to get moving. Haatim headed down the hall and toward the lobby.
He would need to find Frieda and let her know he’d spoken with Abigail. He agreed with Dominick: she wasn’t doing well in her captivity, though he seriously doubted he’d do any better after four months locked in a cage. All things considered, she seemed relatively calm and held it all together.
As he approached the lobby, hushed voices spilled out of a side room. One sounded like the voice of Jim, and the other, he recognized as his father.
Haatim drew closer to that room, and then hesitated, not sure if he should make his presence known or eavesdrop. He didn’t much care for listening to people without their knowledge, but he also knew his father wouldn’t speak honestly with his son around. This might be a good opportunity to find out the truth about everything going on.
He waited at the corner of the doorway, out of sight, and listened. His father spoke, “… don’t care what it takes. Find her and bring her here.”
“Frieda will want to know what we’re doing. What am I supposed to tell her?” Jim asked.
“You’re not on assignment,” Aram said. “You can do whatever you want. I’ll cover your tracks for you. Just bring her back to me as soon as you locate her.”
“Where is she?”
“Last report put her in Paris ten hours ago.”
“We’ll leave in the morning.”
“You’ll leave tonight,” Aram said. “This is of the utmost importance.”
“What about Abigail?”
“Mercenaries will guard her now. Frieda doesn’t want you here, which works just fine with me. Dominick will fly you out to the airport, and a jet is already waiting.”
“All right. I’ll grab Mike, and we’ll go.”
“No mistakes this time.”
“Yes, sir.”
Footsteps came toward the door. Haatim slipped back and ducked into a side alcove behind a statue, out of sight. A moment later, Jim walked past, headed back down the hall toward Abigail’s cell. Another pair of footsteps went in the opposite direction, into the lobby.
Who was his father talking about? Why would he try to keep this a secret from Frieda?
Part of him wanted to go tell Frieda about the conversation. She had charge of the Hunters, and his father meant to circumvent her control. Frieda had behaved nothing but kindly to him during these last few months, and he owed it to her.
However, this was his father he was thinking about, and even as much as he didn’t trust Aram right now, they were still kin. Whatever Aram planned, it seemed to have nothing to do with Abigail’s trial. For all Haatim knew, the conversation held nothing untoward, and his father just wanted to locate someone.
Still …
He didn’t like the fact that his father worked against Frieda willfully. After his speech to Haatim about following the rules, this felt hypocritical. He would look into it on his own and try to find out what Aram planned, and if it proved something he felt Frieda should know about, he would tell her.
***
The next morning found Haatim sprawled out on his bed with someone knocking on the door. Still dark out, his clock informed him that he’d woken just before five.
Whoever stood at the door knocked again. Haatim rolled off of his bed and onto the floor, letting out a groan, and staggered to his feet. Bleary eyed, he yawned.
“Hang on,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m coming.”
When he opened up, Dominick stood there, wide awake and chipper. Already smiling, his grin widened when he saw what Haatim wore.
“Superman pajamas?”
“Don’t mock me,” Haatim said, stepping back into the room. “It’s too early.”
“Never too early,” Dominick said. “The morning is the best time of the day when you can accomplish the most. We have a lot to do, so hurry up and get dressed. Meet me in conference room ‘A’ in five minutes.”
Then Dominick disappeared from the room, closing the door behind him. Haatim yawned and headed to the bathroom to splash water on his face. He’d gotten up early since he started spending time with Frieda, but never this early.
He threw some clothes on, mussed his hair, and then headed out toward the conference room on the other side of the hotel. It felt completely and eerily quiet walking through the halls. It had seemed empty yesterday, but nothing like how it seemed today.
When he went into the conference room, he found Dominick standing next to the table. He had on a pair of ugly glasses and was looking at one of the chairs and talking, but no one else occupied the room.
Haatim hesitated, but Dominick waved him in, still looking at the chair. “Hey, hang on a couple of minutes, and then we’ll get some breakfast.”
“Uh …” Haatim said. “Sure.”
Dominick looked at him, frowning, and then laughed. He picked up another pair of glasses from the table, flipped a switch on the side, and tossed them to Haatim.
“I’m not crazy,” Dominick said, turning back to the chair.
Haatim slipped the glasses on and, suddenly, saw someone sitting in the chair. A small and pretty Asian woman with her hands folded in her lap.
“Wow,” he said, flipping the glasses up to see the chair again.”
“Augmented reality,” Dominick said. “She’s in Brazil right now.”
The image looked imperfect, and on closer inspection, it became obvious that she wasn’t sitting on the chair, but rather a part of her stuck out of it. Still impressive, though.
“That’s so cool,” he said.
Dominick shrugged. “It beats television screens, but not by much. Anong, this is Haatim. Haatim, Anong. He’s Aram’s son.”
She bowed her head toward him. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” he said.
Dominick turned back to her. “You said Aram wanted you to come?”
“He spoke with Colton yesterday,” she said. Her voice came through little speakers on the glasses next to Haatim’s ears. “We’ll be there Friday.”
“Why?”
“Security,” Anong said. “He wants more of us on hand.”
“And more mercenaries.” Dominick leaned against the table. “It’s like he’s afraid of something. Has he spoken to you about any real concerns?”
She shook her head. “He only speaks with Colton. Do you think I should mention it to Frieda?”
“No,” Dominick said. “I will. Just keep doing what Colton said and keep me updated.”
“Will do.” She reached up and touched the glasses, and then disappeared in a blink.
Dominick removed his glasses, frowning.
“Frieda never showed me these,” Haatim said, holding up his pair. “I’ve seen her wearing them once in a while, but I just assumed her nearsighted.”
Dominick chuckled. They put their glasses back on the table and headed for the door.
“More Hunters are coming?” Haatim asked.
Dominick nodded. “Yes, but I have no idea why.”
“Is it because both Aram and Frieda are here?”
Frieda had told him about their security policies and how they rarely met in person. They always sought to avoid needless risk and expense whenever necessary.
“No,” Dominick said. “Aram called them here, not Frieda. He’s in charge of this outpost, so technically, he’s allowed to, but it still seems shady.”
“Shouldn’t he tell Frieda?”
“Definitely should, but he’s doing all kinds of stuff behind her back. Just last night, I had to fly Jim and Mike back to the Airport. I have no idea where they were heading.”
Haatim hesitated. “Paris,” he said after a moment. “They are looking for someone.”
Dominick scrunched up his face. “How do you know?”
“I might have overheard my father talking to Jim about it,” Haatim said.
“Did he say who they were looking for?”
“Some woman,” Haatim said, shaking his head. “I don’t know. My father just wanted her brought here.”
“Because of the trial?”
“Didn’t sound like it,” Haatim said.
Dominick fell silent for a moment. “What game is he playing at?” He scratched his chin.
“Should we tell Frieda?”
“You said it wasn’t about the case,” Dominick said. “Right now, that’s all she cares about. We’ll take care of Aram in a few weeks when all of this is over with, but in the short term, I think it’s best if we just keep our heads down. Besides, we have plenty of other stuff to do today.”
“Like what?” Haatim asked.
Dominick grinned. “Hiking. Come on, let’s get breakfast.”
***
Hiking, it turned out, meant a multiple-kilometer slog through knee-deep snow. They did a circle around the hotel, spending about two hours walking.
Dominick spoke with Haatim the entire time, asking him questions about his life and telling him things about his own. He liked to tell stories, Haatim discovered, and half of them seemed completely fictional; of that, he felt certain.
“What about the Council?” Haatim asked while they walked. He felt cold and miserable, but determined to put up a tough front.
“What do you mean?”
“When did it start?”
Dominick shrugged. “I have no idea. Not much for history. Somewhere in Europe, I think.”
“It’s multi-religious?”
“Yep,” Dominick said. “No true God, but there definitely is something strange out there. I used to be an atheist.”
“Not anymore?”
“I know there’s something out there; I’m just not quite sure it needs a label, you know?”
Haatim nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was a theology major, so I know a lot about world religions. They share a lot of stuff in common, and most of it can be broken down by psychology.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know how writing developed independently in different parts of the world but still shares some things in common? That’s basically the same thing with religion. It fills a need for answers in all of us.”
“You think everyone just wants answers?”
“And hope,” Haatim said. “It’s biological. You know how you walk into a dark house late at night, and a chair with a blanket on it suddenly looks like a bear? There’s a part of your brain that lights up, and it helps keep you alive by exaggerating threats and filling in explanations for things that aren’t quite true.
“The same part of your brain handles religion. We have a biological need to believe in things like that, and it only makes sense that different cultures would fill that need in different ways.”
“I see what you mean,” Dominick said. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
“Sort of,” Haatim said. “I used to think it was just a form of comfort. Something to keep people happy and content and fill that need. Now, though, I think there’s something out there, it just doesn’t fit the labels we try to put on it.”
Dominick nodded. “We’re almost back.”
“Good,” Haatim said. “I’m starving.”
They walked in silence for a couple of minutes. “Is the Council the only one like it?”
“Nope,” Dominick said. “Hundreds of them exist. Thousands, maybe. We aren’t even the oldest one. We work with a few of them, but some seem more interested in serving their own purposes than helping people.”
“You chase down cults?”
“And other things.”
“Like vampires?”
“Haven’t heard about anything like that in ages. I guess they used to be a lot more common. Now, they just keep to themselves.”
“Most mythology is rooted partially in fact,” Haatim said. “I just never imagined stuff like this would be real. Who funds the Council?”
“Governments. Organizations. If you can think of them, they probably fund us. They just might not know it.”
The hotel appeared ahead of them, and after a few minutes, they returned to the warmth. Haatim let out a sigh of relief, finding an air vent pumping out warm air and standing by it.
“Let’s get some lunch,” Dominick said. “And then we’ll spar. Don’t worry; we won’t spend any more time outside today.”
“Good,” Haatim said. “That felt terrible.”
Dominick chuckled. “Just a short jaunt. We’ll do a lot of hiking, and it’ll usually be a lot farther than that. You better get used to it.”
Haatim didn’t like that idea, but maybe Dominick exaggerated it or wanted to scare him. “Should we go get changed first and put on dry clothes?”
“Yeah,” Dominick said. They walked toward the stairs. “You were able to overhear your father earlier, and he might trust you. If you hear anything important, make sure to let me know, okay?”
“Sure,” Haatim said.
“I hate asking you to spy on your father …”
“No, it’s cool, I get it,” Haatim said. “I’m not sure how much I trust him right now, anyway.”
They climbed the stairs. By the second staircase, Haatim felt exhausted, and he panted, barely able to keep his legs going.
“Why so many stairs?” he asked, gasping.
“It’ll get easier,” Dominick said. “And there’s no better way to train your body. This is my stop.”
They stood on the landing of the third flight. Haatim, still panting, had grown sweaty, and Dominick didn’t even breathe hard.
“I think I hate you,” Haatim mumbled, resting his hands on his knees.
“Everything is to make you stronger,” Dominick said with a grin.
“If it doesn’t kill me.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. It won’t kill you.”
“Can I get Frieda back and have her train me again? That seemed way easier.”
“She’s busy,” Dominick said.
“Doing what?”
Dominick frowned. “Trying to keep Abigail alive.”
