Chapter 24 The Celestial Resistance
1355 Words
Chapter 24
The Celestial Resistance
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Jada
I arrived at a well-hidden bunker in the dead of night, on the back of the nimble Shushila, who knew precisely where to go. That was one of the perks of having a wolf. They knew things – sensed things you wouldn’t ordinarily know. I couldn’t distinguish the shape or size of the bunker as we trotted up to a metal hatch.
Panting, Shushila dropped and allowed me to climb off. Once Lillianna had changed back, she knelt before me. Her chest rose and fell with each deep panting breath. “You were very brave, Jada.”
“I don’t feel brave,” I admitted, dropping my head. “I was so scared…”
“Of course you were, sweet girl…” She cooed as she reached over and wiped dirt-stained tear trails from under my eyes. “You’re safe here… The people are here for you…”
The hatch door opened, letting a hazy orange light filter into the darkness. Lillianna stood and took my hand. She smiled at me warmly as we stepped into a metal room, and the hatch closed behind us.
“Beta Lillianna…” Two robust women echoed with a bow as they handed her a stack of clothes. Nudity never bothered werewolves, especially if they were already mated. Lillianna took her time, caught her breath, and finally dressed.
“Thank you, Leonie…” She turned from the tallest woman with a pixie half-pink and half-black hair cut to the other with long black hair braided over her left shoulder. “And you Kyra…”
They nodded at her, then turned on their heels. “Follow us. We’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.”
Lillianna took my hand, and we were escorted to a small chamber with two beds and nothing more.
At the chamber door, Kyra handed us sandwiches and a large cup of water. “It’s not much, but it will tie you over until morning.”
“Thank you,” Lillianna replied, taking the offer.
But my hunger was gone. The information and insults were driven hard into my soul. I drank the water but left the sandwiches with Lillianna as I peered around the tiny bunker room. It was round, dusty, and lit by the round light outside the doorway. A war bunker!
“I know you must feel horrible, but try to sleep, sweet girl,” Lillianna whispered as she ushered me from the doorway to the first bed. She patted my head softly. “You’re going to be busy over the next few days…”
“I don’t know if I can…” I admitted as I perched on the edge of the bed. I was covered in dirt and dried tears. So much had happened in the space of a day. Hearing the hateful, spiteful words my false father had said would have sent anyone running. “I’m scared… I’m scared for me, Anna and the Mist Clan…”
Her gentle face reflected the worry and fears in mine. “I know, little one... So am I.” She helped me into the bed, tucking a blanket around me. “I’ll wait for Anna and Jackson in the common room. When they get here, we’ll join you.”
“Thank you for everything…”
She kissed my forehead. “You’re welcome...”
I had many questions, but Lillianna’s face was beyond exhausted, so I decided to wait. I rolled onto my side and watched Lillianna close the door. I laid back and listened to the muffled voices of the others around. Just as I had expected, sleep failed me.
As day broke, I was still alone. Worry rattled me, tightening my chest. Lillianna, Anna, and Jackson were nowhere in sight. Anna, where are you?
I threw the blanket back and slowly reached the door. I pulled it open and stepped cautiously out into Kyra’s back.
“Ah, Jada, I presume,” she uttered as she spun around. In the light, I realised she had a small scar under her hairline as a fight souvenir.
“That’s me,” I admitted. “Did you see Lillianna Little?”
Kyra shook her head. “I haven’t seen the Beta this morning. But I do have orders to look after you.” She offered her hand. “The name’s Kyra Masters... I was once a Delta warrior for the Celestial Moon Clan. I fought beside your dad.”
With restraint, I shook her hand. “Hi...”
“Don’t be afraid of me. Edwin is the real tyrant. I’m now a part of this rebellion to take him down… You might be surprised. There are more of us than you know.” Her eyes twinkled as she leaned in closer. “I can’t wait to see him suffer the way many have suffered at his hands.”
“He’s not my father,” I corrected as I released her hand. “I’m not a Hugh … Not by birth.”
Kyra smiled, making her rugged features gentle. “And I can imagine no one is more thankful than you...”
“I don’t know what to think about it,” I exhaled a sound that revealed my lack of sleep. “Thankful isn’t the right word.”
“You need something to eat… Go down the corridor… turn right,” she pointed ahead. “You’ll find the kitchen and possibly a few familiar faces...” she turned to me. “We’re all united here, so don’t be afraid.”
Nodding back at Kyra, I followed her direction. The corridor was grey, empty, metallic, and uninviting. Sun was trying to reach through the ceiling, but it was failing. Instead, round lights above my head lit the way. A sense of numbness, exhaustion, sorrow, anger and fear washed over me. How was I even functioning? Voices filled the air – well, lack thereof, as I reached the kitchen. I sucked in a breath and stepped forward.
“I know you...” called a voice from across a set of dining tables made into a communal dining area. The voice was whimsical, with a hint of mischief behind it.
A woman–the owner of the voice, stood before me with hair as black as night and eyes as black as coal. She peered into my soul. I could imagine her poking about in there, trying to uncover the mysteries of who exactly I was on the inside.
“Do I know you?”
“You don’t know me… of course, you don’t… but I know you... Well, I know of you – about you… so I do know you.”
“I don’t…” Her words hurt my head. I massaged the skin on my temples, then faced her. “Did you work in the packhouse or something?”
She laughed dismissively, waving her hand to mimic her tone. “Silly girl… I’m one hundred and fifty years old. I try not to stay in the same place too long…’ She scrunched up her face. “And you would never catch me in that packhouse.”
I blinked at her, dumbfounded. “You’re how old? You don’t look at day over twenty!”
She curtsied in a way that made her black skirt fan out.” I do appreciate your honesty...” Smiling impishly, she framed her face with her hands. “It must be this amazing beauty product I call witchcraft...” She glanced over her shoulder at the room. This time, everybody’s glances were on us. “Most people here would call it bitchcraft, and I’m fine with that.” She threw back her head and howled with laughter.
“You’re a witch?” I asked, taken aback by her frivolity.
With a playful glean in her dark eyes, she reached over and pinched my cheeks. “What gave that away? Was it something I said?”
“Leave the poor kid alone, Agatha!” Demanded a very familiar, husky voice. “Poor kid has been through the wringer… Give her some space!”
- Writer
