Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves (75 page)

Her grin broadened at the
irony of the situation. Was it not truly caustic that she should be
holding the Lesser in an ancient World War II bomb shelter? The
fact it was underneath the same school Andrew Ibarra had attended
the week prior made it all the more funny.

He was the same boy she
needed to find no matter what. Soon, she would have to devote a
tremendous amount of time and energy into finding that little
brat.

Soon, but not
now.

Deep down, she knew it had
something to do with Chance.

And it was
chance
she
needed.

With a flick of the
fingers on her right hand, she opened a portal only she could
manage. An instant later, she was gone.

An instant after that, she
stepped forth from its’ duplicate upon the Melded World.

Let my Knights find the
Lesser. I will find sweet, little Andrew, and I will bend him as I
have all the others. He will be forever mine.

And then, I will kill him
before the Throne.

~~~~~~~<<<
ᴥ
>>>~~~~~~~

~ 43 ~

The Mayans Were Right After
All

Day Five, Monday, 2:37
am…

Derek peered up and let
the heat of the sun’s rays warm the skin on his face, enjoying the
sensation even more. For some reason, he was certain he had not
felt it in some time. Then, at the last moment, was not sure why.
He glanced around the backyard of his house nestled high in the
hills overlooking Eagle Rock on Castle Crest Drive. It was the
usual sight. The lawn undulated over the multiples levels of the
land owned by his parents, stretching a third of the way down the
hill. Surrounding the area was a myriad of willows, oaks and a few
pine trees. The entire outer edge of the yard, clinging to the line
of wooden fencing, grew deep-green vines of ivy. It was natural
barrier, demarking the extent of the property in a way that pleased
the eye.

He looked this way and
that expecting to see some small patches of snow or ice spaced here
and there about the yard, but did not. He tried to remember why he
had expected to find any in the first place.
Come on, dude, it does not snow in Los Angeles.

He walked deeper into the
yard, hearing the rustle of the thick grass under his boots. He
smelled the loam of the earth below it, smiling at the clear, blue
sky and the brightness of the day.

This was his place, his
special place, where he liked to play or think - or both - while
sitting on the grass or rolling around upon it. Ever since he was a
young boy, he had come out here with his toys. Or sometimes it was
a book. Or he would spent time amusing himself in the thousand,
thousand ways an imaginative child could if left alone, given time.
It was where he went to escape the noise and the bustle of his
large family, where he went to express himself to himself and no
one else. There were no big brothers or sisters telling him what to
do or commenting on what or how he should play or draw, or
whatever.

The yard was
his.

His sisters (all three of
them older) only came to the backyard when there was a party. Or if
they wanted to get away from their father’s
all-seeing eyes
, they'd come to back
to find a secluded place to steal kisses from their boyfriends. His
two brothers, who were older as well, were usually too tired from
football practice or running track. They did not come out here all
that much. More often than not, they opted to relax on the couch or
in the hot tub on the patio. It was next the house at the top of
the yard - far from his sanctuary below. No one ever visited the
heart of the property like Derek. No one counted the flowers or
knew where the thickest most comfortable grass grew - perfect for
lying upon and gazing up at the sky. They had all outgrown it. This
notion he had come to understand over the years.

They all had, except him
of course.

He took a seat in the
middle of the lawn, four terraces down from the house. He thought
about his family and himself, the last one born of his siblings. He
was the baby, the “oh my god, we’re pregnant again” kid, six years
younger than the next child before him. He knew he might be a
little spoiled because of that fact. He knew he was much loved by
the entire family. Though, at times, he felt somewhat excluded from
them, because everyone else was so much older. They knew things he
did not. They had been a family long before he had
arrived.

That was only part of it
though.

When he thought about it,
he was not completely sure it bothered him. It was his reality. He
had grown used to it, because he had developed, at a young age, the
ability to play alone and not feel lonely. If he had not, things
might well have been more complicated and undesirable for him. As
things played-out, he did not get upset even if he lacked a
playmate or a confidant. It was how things were. He had known
nothing else and was content to leave things like that. It made
sense to him. He had his place of solitude when he needed it and he
had a loving family to fill his heart and soul when he needed that
too.

He grinned at the thought
of his good fortune, his body warm with the heat of a mild sun
radiating down upon him. He glanced about, seeing some of his old
toy cars and trucks laying off to the left from where he sat.
Curious, he tried to recall when he had brought them out of his
closet.
When did I grab those baby toys
and bring them out here?
He had not played
with many of them in years.

With a slight frown, he
stood up and walked over to them. He crouched down on the balls of
his feet to get a better look at the relics of his early
childhood.

It shocked him to see them
scorched and burned almost as if someone had taken a blowtorch and
melted them beyond recognition.
Who would
do this?
he thought to himself, sifting
through the wreckage of Hot Wheels and Tonka trucks.
Why crisp a bunch of old toys?
He shook his head in disbelief not understanding
the intent behind such a heartless act.

He stood in one swift
motion and pushed the remains of the toys into a pile with his
feet. He peered around when he had finished, searching for any
extra evidence of the bad guy who had mangled his toys. He saw
nothing in the immediate vicinity, nothing was out of the
ordinary.

So, he decided to walk
down to the lowest level of the yard to inspect the back fence. He
wanted to see if there were any clues down below. Maybe someone had
climbed over the barrier and left evidence of their passing.
You know, snapped twigs and tattered leaves…
always evidence of an intruder.

He spent the next few
minutes walking amongst the ivy, careful not to trample too much of
the pant. He peered around bushes and ferns, gazing at the
fence-line. He found nothing, which was puzzling. Everything
appeared normal like it had for the years he’d been coming back
there to play.
Weird
, he thought as he searched his memory, trying to remember
the last time he had brought the toys out to the rear of his
parent’s property.

He could not
recall.

But, he did remember he
had kept them encased in an old suitcase - a powder blue one with a
great big brass buckle down the front. If the toys were out there,
then the suitcase had to be around there somewhere,
right?

He trotted up a few of the
more level surfaces of the yard, using the higher vantage to see
more of the yard. He shielded his eyes with his hand from the glare
of the sun, scanning the vista. He turned as he did so, making sure
he got a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree look
around.

From the corner of his
eye, a flicker of blue caught his attention. He continued turning
to his right hand side.

He saw it then. There,
parallel from where he stood in the back yard, was the suitcase.
Only it was resting in the last place he would ever suspect to find
it. It was stuck in a thick bough, up in a pine tree, some twenty
feet off the ground. It was lying across a couple of the tree’s
branches - plain as day, as pretty as you please.

He huffed in
indignation.
Who the hell would toss the
suitcase way the hell up there?

Even as he spoke to
himself in his mind, he felt his ire rise. These were his private
things. It was beside the point he had not paid them much attention
in the past few years,. They were his. No one had any right to
destroy them with such wanton disregard for his
feelings.

He stood there staring up
at the suitcase wondering if any of his brothers or sisters was
playing a cruel joke on him. The thought made him even
angrier.

Why would they do
this?

But as time passed, he
cooled. The more he pondered the situation, the more he could not
see any of them doing such a thing. They were all too much older,
too busy to trifle in petty pranks. His oldest brother was almost
twenty-five years old and about to graduate from college. It did
not make any sense. Why would they waste the time or the
effort?

But, who then? Who would
squander the time to search through my messy ass closet. Who would
lug the suitcase to the backyard, empty it and then go and get
Dad’s blowtorch - or whatever - and burn the hell out of
everything? AND then be stupid enough to hurl the freakin’ suitcase
into the trees.

It made no
sense…

He scratched his head,
trying to figure out who would do this.

Could it have been
Sonny?

His head jerked up at the
thought. He was, after all, the only person that Derek could call
an enemy. He was the one guy who had been bullying him just because
he had asked Kimberly for directions one afternoon in what seemed
like ages ago. He was a low life with a lot of time on his hands,
or so he surmised… but then the thought lead to another.

It was true that Sonny was
a dead beat - a proverbial idiot. But he was definitely not some
super-ninja. He did not have the ability to sneak through people’s
homes, do all this damage and then skulk away undetected. He would
have left a trail of beer cans and syringes everywhere he
went.

This made even less sense
than one of his brothers or sisters playing a joke on him. He shook
his head.
Dude, I’m giving that asshole
way too much credit.

Derek walked toward the
pine tree, gazing up at the suitcase perched far above his head
still at a loss.
How did it get up
there?
He frowned, determining right then.
He’d climb the tree and get it down. He was confident in the notion
his parents would not take to well to the idea of a piece of
luggage chillin’ out in one of their backyard trees.

He reached the base of the
pine, grabbing ahold of the lowest hanging branch, chest high off
the ground. He hauled himself up so he was straddling it in one
swift motion. His gymnastics training making the move look easy,
though it was not.

Grasping above, he caught
the next branch. With its’ support, he was able to stand on the
first branch. From there it was just like climbing a ladder. The
limbs of the pine tree were many and placed at traversable
intervals, which made the going even easier. Within half a minute,
he was eye-level with the suitcase and was able to shimmy up the
last bit. He placed his butt on the same set of branches that
supported the aged piece of luggage.

He was just about to slide
horizontal-like, reach out for the bag when the tree shook of a
sudden. It was as if someone with a great deal of strength was
shaking the trunk from below.

Derek peered down through
the many branches and pine boughs to see if he could see anyone or
anything. There was nothing down there. He stopped and listened for
a bit longer, but nothing else happened. He slid over a ways and
reached out again for the case, his fingers brushing against one of
its’ edges. He did not gain enough of a grip to hold onto it. His
fingers slipped off it. He signed with a tinge of frustration and
slid over some more. He was confident the branches beneath him were
broad enough to support his weight.

Again, he leaned over to
try and grasp the suitcase. This time he was able to haul it an
inch or two in his direction.

Yet, the tree shook again,
only this time more violent than before and for a longer duration.
In fact, all around him, he realized, he was hearing what he had to
be car alarms going off. There was a smattering of shouts of
concern from his neighbors as well.

The movement
continued.

This was not some isolated
event he alone was experiencing. Maybe it was an earthquake. Maybe
he should forget the suitcase and climb back down the tree.
The ground is safer, right?
He could not recollect what the specifics of his parents’
safety tips had been regarding tremors. Because they had been for
the most part absent his entire lif,e he had not thought the
lecture important. He admonished himself for not paying better
attention, because every few decades they did in fact ravage
southern California.