The Night Isn't Always Quiet ch2+3

CHAPTER TWO

Memories Are The Gates
To The Soul






"ALRIGHT, MALLORY," SAID LUCIEN AS HE STOOD, PULLING her up with him. "We're going to take you to see someone who can explain all of this to you properly."
"We're not taking her to see Yasmyn," Jet said. Doubt crossed his face. "Are we?"
"Well, we can hardly take her to see Markus now, can we? I'm sure you like your head attached to your neck."
Jet thought that over. "Yasmyn it is. I wonder how she'll react."
"As long as we show her what happened, she should help us. Memories don't lie," Lucien replied. He looked down at Mallory. "Can you walk?"
"I think so," she said. He kept a hand on her arm, just in case. Her wings still trailed out behind her, swaying slightly in the breeze.
"Well, I don't think she'll be too pleased to have an archangel in her apartment," Jet said indignantly. He glanced back at the dead Telgan. "We'll have to get someone out here to clean that up."
"I'm sure Yasmyn is sorting something out as we speak. But think about it, Jet. She doesn't know what she is. She has already killed one of her own kind. She saved our lives. Maybe she will be the first good archangel that ever lived."
"Yeah, maybe, but what do we tell Markus? We can't let her go home. She's going to have to stay with us."
"What do you mean I can't go home?" Mallory demanded.
"It's for the safety of your family," Lucien explained. "Your power could explode out of you at unguessable times, like today, and it would be safer if you aren't near anyone human. We'll contact them for you and explain everything, unless they already know."
"Huh."
He glanced back at Jet. "I have no idea what we're going to do. We could pretend she's my cousin or something."
Jet laughed. "You look nothing like each other. That is the only kind of crazy Markus will fall for."
"There's a method in my madness. Let's get moving."
Jet grinned and shook his head as he started walking down the street, his hands pushed deep in his pockets. Lucien and Mallory followed close behind him.
After ten minutes of cautious travel, they arrived at an old, boarded-up hotel. Every window was covered with either wooden planks or concrete. Letters ran along the front of the old building, above the door. Mallory thought they used to say 'Le Grand' but by now the 'e' and the 'n' were missing, so she couldn't be sure. Painted on the door in white was a strange symbol. It looked like a crucifix, but it had a diamond over it.
"What is that?" asked Mallory, pointing at the door.
"It says to others of our kind that this is a safehouse," Lucien said.
"Safe from what?"
Lucien looked down at her. "Safe from things like Telgan."
"Oh."
While they talked, Jet had wandered to the side of the hotel, somewhat aimlessly. Now he trailed his hand along the wall. Back and forth, he traced. After a while, there was a soft click and a disguised door swung inwards. It revealed a flight of stairs leading downwards into darkness.
"Down we go," muttered Lucien. "I wish Markus would invest in an elevator."
Jet chuckled under his breath as he stepped lightly down the stairs, quickly disappearing.
Lucien held out his hand to Mallory. "Come on. I won't let you trip."
Mallory accepted his offered hand and followed him gingerly as he walked after Jet. She could hear their footsteps echoing on the walls, and Lucien breathing beside her. That was all.
The staircase twisted round and round and just as Mallory began to feel a little claustrophobic, she caught sight of bright, artificial light ahead of her.
She and Lucien emerged in a long hallway, painted a dark green. Oak panelling ran along the lower half of the wall. Intricate wrought iron light hangings dotted the walls, each one about two metres from the next.
Lucien pulled Mallory down the hall at a jog, trying to catch up to Jet, who was already walking.
She glanced up at Jet's face instinctively when they reached his side. His eyes were on her, but they flicked forward as soon as she met his gaze.
Doors began appearing along the hallway, all made of the same oak as the panelling. They all golden numbers screwed onto the front, and plaques of the same colour underneath.
Jet stopped at door number thirty-eight. The plaque read; Yasmyn Bates, Fifth Year of Training at the Durmont University for the Aerewolf.
"Here we go," Lucien said as he knocked on the door. "However she reacts, Mallory, don't say anything."
"What?" a female voice demanded. The door swung open.
"Lucien!" Yasmyn said. "What are you . . ." She trailed off as she looked behind him, seeing Jet with Mallory half-hidden behind him.
Yasmyn was extremely pretty, Mallory thought. She had caramel coloured hair that cascaded in waves past her shoulders. Her skin was a light golden brown, a sign she spent a lot of time in the sun. Her eyes were a bright, unnatural green. When you looked at those eyes, it was obvious that she was Jet's sister.
Yasmyn glanced at Mallory's face for just a second before her gaze travelled to the pair of white wings brushing the ceiling. Lucien extended his hand, and she took it both of hers. Her eyes glazed over for a second before she dropped his hand.
"Get inside," Yasmyn said, holding the door open wider.

Mallory's eyes widened as she entered Yasmyn's room. The walls were painted a rich magenta, red and orange wall hangings spread tastefully across them. There was a double bed in one corner, covered in bed linen the same colour as the walls. Opposite the bed was a black leather sofa.
"Still rebelling against the system, little sister," Jet noted as he sprawled across the couch. "You know they're just going to paint it white again when you move into the sixth year wing."
"I know," said Yasmyn. "But seeing as my big brother is off fighting archangels every second day, I thought I may as well draw some attention to myself."
"And this is the best you came up with?"
Yasmyn ignored him and turned to Mallory, who had folded onto the thick carpet and was leaning against the wall. "What's your name?"
"Mallory."
"Lucien told me you say you don't know anything about archangels or aerewolves," Yasmyn continued. "Do you mind if I check?"
Mallory stared at her for a second before realising she had to give Yasmyn her hand, just like Lucien had done. Yasmyn smiled at her reassuringly as she took it. As soon as their skin touched, both girls slumped forward. Worry crossed both Jet and Lucien's faces, but they knew better than to interrupt Yasmyn while she was working.

~~

Mallory followed Yasmyn as she plunged through a cloud of thick fog.
"These are the layers of your mind," Yasmyn explained. "See how it get thinner the further we go down? I can only get through here if you're with me. Someone placed a very powerful defence mechanism here when you were very young. Before you were even born, perhaps."
Mallory didn't understand anything that Yasmyn had said, but before she could ask for an explanation, they touched solid ground.
They were in a large meadow, the lush, green grass reaching to above their knees. In the distance, Mallory could see one side of a broken, useless fence. There was an orchard of fruit trees in one corner, and she could hear voices coming from it.
"Do you know this place?" Yasmyn asked.
Mallory shook her head. "It feels a little familiar, but I've never been here in my entire life."
"Hmm. I think we should follow those voices, to see if they help us unravel why your mind has taken us here."
She nodded and they began to pick their way through the grass to the orchard. But as they walked, two horses galloped toward them, their riders not yet identifiable. Mallory glanced at Yasmyn as they rode.
"They cannot see or hear us," she said.
As the horses passed by them, one bay, the other black as night, time seemed to slow. Mallory and Yasmyn had a perfect opportunity to look at their faces.
Mallory gaped openly at the red-haired girl riding the bay mare. It was her, just a few years older. She stared at herself. Everything was exactly the same. Her skin colour, pale against the mares' hide, was identical to Mallory's own. The oaken eyes, the way some of her hair glowed dark orange in the sun, even the way she rode her horse without a saddle. Mallory couldn't pick up a difference, apart from the couple of years that separated their ages.
When she finally managed to pull her eyes away from the girl, she studied her companion on the black horse. He had thick, shaggy, black hair and bright green eyes. The colour was so unnatural that Mallory would have known it anywhere, even though she had only seen it for the first time today. The person standing beside her had the exact same ones.
"Jet," breathed Yasmyn. "What on Earth is he doing in your mind?"
Mallory shrugged helplessly as the memory returned to normal speed. The pair on the horses galloped further through the meadow, circling a couple of times before they came to a stop close to Mallory and Yasmyn.
The dream Mallory slipped off her horse first and fell back into the grass. Jet lay down beside her.
"I remember when we used to come out here when we were little," she said, staring up at the sky. "And we used to find pictures in the clouds. Look! There, that looks like Aregon." She was pointing to a somewhat horse shaped cloud, so Mallory supposed Aregon was one of the horses' names.
"Hmm," came the boy's reply. He rolled toward the girl until he was half on top of her, one hand on her waist and the other braiding into her hair.
She smiled at him, her hands sliding up his chest as he bent to kiss her. It was a long, gentle kiss, and it told more than words ever could. It told that these two people loved each other more than anything on the planet and that they would for the rest of their lives. It said that they had each other's faces imprinted on the back of their eyelids. That there was nothing that had ever existed or would exist that could tear them apart.
Mallory gasped and would have fallen if Yasmyn had not caught her. All she could think that the girl was her and the boy was Jet. Or as she knew him better, Jonathan. Sweet, sweet Jonathan. For now all her memories of a past life flashed before her eyes. One where she was not Mallory, she was Alyson. She remembered she was an archangel now, and all of her lessons. She remembered growing up in the old homestead on top of the hill with her grandfather, learning about her abilities. Then the day when the aerewolves had discovered their hideaway and had come to kill them . . . But Grandfather had pleaded that they only wished to fight with the aerewolves, not against them. So the aerewolves had taken them to a great underground lair where hundreds upon hundreds of aerewolves resided. There she had first met Jonathan.
He was just as she remembered him now, in this life. He was perfect and unchanged in every way. Just the name. Jet. Well, she had a different name now too. She was no longer Alyson. She was Mallory. But that didn't matter. She still remembered the feel of his body, his lips pressed against hers. Reincarnation had not dimmed her love for him, and this memory had resurfaced it. But a thought suddenly struck her; what if Jet did not remember yet?
The sound of wings beating the air broke Mallory's reverie. She glanced up at the sky as a dark shadow appeared on the horizon, approaching fast.
She knew what it was instantly. It was her enemy. The black archangels that were so great in numbers. They strove to darken the white wings of Mallory and her kind. They had no name in the human language, but their name was one of the first words of her homeland to come back to her mind.
"Skiteriah," Mallory spat.
"Sorry?" Yasmyn said.
"That is one of the Skiteriah," explained Mallory, pointing at the shadow that was almost upon them. She tensed herself to spring into the air and attack before she realised that nothing she threw at it would cause harm. She and Yasmyn were only spectators.
Jonathan and Alyson rose to their feet as the Skiteriah touched the ground, scaring the horses into a bolt. This one was smaller than Telgan, but still two times as tall as everyone in the meadow.
"So the rumours are true then," said the Skiteriah smugly. "My daughter is white-winged and cavorting with the aerewolves."
"You were gifted with white feathers once too, Father," said Alyson. Jonathan's gaze swung between her and the Skiteriah.
"This is your father?" he asked, bewildered.
"Later," Alyson murmured, reaching over to take his hand.
The Skiteriah narrowed at that. "That I may, Alyson, but I soon realised where my soul truly lay."
"My mother always used to tell me brilliant stories about you when I was young. But now I wonder whether it was just her imagination."
"Don't you talk about Tasha to me!"
"I'll talk about whoever I please! Don't think I'm going to let someone as twisted as you waltz into my life after nineteen years and tell me what to do. Why are you here, anyway?"
"To simply express my disgust in my daughter. At least your brother showed some promise before his accident."
Alyson gasped as her father rose back into the air and sped away. Jonathan caught her as she stumbled backward and pulled her to his chest.
Mallory's head reeled as she was pulled away from the scene in the meadow and back towards the real world. She didn't realise she was crying until her tears dropped onto Yasmyn's thick carpet. It had been so long since she had heard any mention of her brother, not even counting the years between the two lives. The whole family had mourned for months after his death, and it had been so close to her mother's.
She had to look up, but she was too scared. What would she do if Jet didn't remember her? That was a worse thing to contemplate than her brother's death. As more and more of her memories came to the surface, she realised she knew this place. From the childhood of her last life, when she was Alyson. This was where she and Grandfather had come after the aerewolves had found their homestead on top of the hill.
Maybe Grandfather's office is still where it used to be, Mallory thought. She jumped to her feet and ran out of the door.
"That's not good," Yasmyn said. But by the time Lucien and Jet shot off in pursuit, Mallory had disappeared.
"That's even worse," Jet muttered, scanning up and down the corridor. "For someone whose never heard of an archangel, she's getting the hang of being one pretty quickly."
"You can say that again."
There was a soft thud as Mallory dropped in front of them.
"Do you know where Markus is?" she asked.
"What?" Jet and Lucien said in union.
"Markus. It said on the plaque on his door that he was part of the Inner Circle and was director of the University. Do you know where he is?"
"Not at this exact moment, no," Lucien admitted. "How did you get over to his office so fast?"
"I ran." The answer was so simple it almost surprised both aerewolves more than if she had said she rode on a magic carpet. "I need to see him. Right now."
"Well, I don't think that's a very goo-" Jet broke off suddenly. "Where'd your wings go?"
Mallory rolled her eyes. "I can use magic to hide them. So I can go out in public."
Jet and Lucien stared at her blankly for a moment. Jet was the first to respond.
"Uh huh. Anyway, why do you need to see Markus?"
"You won't understand."
She tried to walk past them, but Jet put an arm out to block her way. She stiffened at his closeness.
"Try me," he said.
"As much as I would like to see how large your mental capacity is, I really can't tell you. Maybe if you find Markus, he can tell you. But excuse me. I have things to do."
"We can't just let you wander around here on your own," Lucien pointed out.
"Then come with me if you must. Just don't get in my way."
When Mallory pushed through them this time, Jet and Lucien hesitated for a moment, watching her back. She had suddenly transformed into this . . . this . . . neither of them could find a name for it.
Mallory whipped around at the end of the corridor. "Are you coming or what?"
They hurried after her.






CHAPTER THREE

Memories Relived Are
Often More Emotional
Than Anything
The Present Offers






MALLORY WEAVED THROUGH THE UNIVERSITY CORRIDORS WITH surprising expertise. The students bustling for access to lockers and bathrooms stopped to stare at her. She obviously had experience in the field, a lot more than anyone else they had seen. Even Jet and Lucien, who were usually a sort of celebrity to the student body.
The two of them trailed in her wake, mumbling half-answers when they were asked who she was. They still hadn't got a believable story to tell everyone.
Mallory froze suddenly as they came across a busy cross intersection.
"Did you see Markus?" Lucien asked.
"No," she replied. "Even better."
Jet and Lucien followed her gaze and saw a tall, golden skinned boy with the same reddish-brown hair as Mallory. He was standing in the centre of all the bustle, calling out to any familiar face. Not many returned his greetings.
"Is that Nate?" Jet murmured to Lucien.
"I think it is," Lucien answered, in the same low tone.
"So that's what he calls himself," said Mallory. She moved to push through the crowd toward him.
Lucien caught her shoulder. "I wouldn't do that. Nate is a horrible person. He has no friends, because he treated them all really badly. And I swear he's gone through every girl in the school. Some of them more than once."
She frowned. "Maybe he just needs a little family intervention."
Both Jet and Lucien's faces crumpled in confusion, but before either of them could question her, she disappeared into the crush of people.
"Ah, well," Jet said. "There's no point in going after her. We'll be able to see everything from here anyway."
Lucien sighed and leaned against the wall. "I doubt we'd be able to stop her, anyway. She seems very determined."

Almost immediately Mallory lost sight of Nate. She had a surprisingly easy time pushing through the clumps of people milling in the halls, though. They seemed to, almost subconsciously, move slightly out of her way. Soon she had sight of him again.
He had his back to her, so she crossed her arms and waited for him to turn around. It didn't take long. Even ordinary humans could sense when someone was watching them.
Annoyance, surprise and confusion flicked across his familiar face in quick succession. For a moment Mallory didn't bother explaining herself. She just drank in the feeling seeing her brothers' face again had brought over her.
"Elissa?" Nate asked. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Ash. Though I suppose you should call me Mallory and I should call you Nate. Before we arouse suspicions."
Nate grinned and stepped forward to sweep his sister into a bone-crushing bear hug. "Only you would say that when you hadn't seen your brother for centuries, Elissa."

Jet and Lucien's jaws dropped when they saw Nate and Mallory embrace in the centre of the corridor. When, after a moment, Nate started leading her in the opposite direction, they started in pursuit.

"They're going to follow, you know," said Nate. "They're that kind of person."
"That's why you're here. They're absolutely petrified of you, you know. You'd think you'd be nicer to people you've been best friends with for thousands of years."
"Yeah, well, you know me. I never do things by the book."
Mallory looked up at her brother's face. "It's so good to see you again, you know. I'm glad I found you before I broke down in tears. Because I would have if I'd spent another five minutes with him."
Nate put one arm around her shoulders and looked over his shoulder. Jet and Lucien were walking a safe distance behind.
"You go ahead," he murmured to Mallory. "I'll get rid of these two so we can talk."
"Okay."
She continued down the corridor without a backward glance when Nate stopped and folded his arms across his chest.
"Hey guys," he said warmly. "How's things?"
"A lot better when I wasn't talking to you," snapped Jet. He nodded after Mallory. "Where's she going?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"I'm serious."
"So am I. Why do you care? You don't even know her."
"Let's just say you have a bad track record with the new girls," Lucien inserted with a grin.
"Technically she isn't a new girl. We both know that."
Jet and Lucien blanked. "How did you- "Jet began.
"Does that really matter? I know a lot more than you give me credit for. Now, if you'll excuse me . . . "
Jet shot out an arm, blocking Nate's retreat. "So soon? We we're having such a good time." Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
Nate's face darkened. "Touch me and you'll be sorry."
"Guys . . . " Lucien said, eyes flicking between them.
Neither of them gave him a response.
"You never answered my question," Nate pointed out.
"Maybe it wasn't worth an answer."
Nate whipped around and pinned Jet to the wall by the throat. Both Jet and Lucien were stunned by the speed of the move.
"Please explain to me why your so interested in my sister. Especially when you only met her today."
"Your sister?" Lucien and Jet asked in union.
Nate rolled his eyes. "Never mind. So why are you so interested in my sister?"
But Jet never answered him. At that moment, a man who looked like he was in his sixties came around the corner. He was another person who had the same reddish brown hair as Nate and Mallory. Lucien wondered briefly how he had never noticed the similarity.
"Jet, Nate, what on Earth do you think you're doing?"
"Well, I was pinning Jet against the wall and thinking where would be the best place to punch him first . . . " Nate trailed off when he caught the look on the man's face. He let Jet go.
"Nate, you are to be in my office by nine. Jet, Lucien, if you aren't out of my sight in the next minute, you'll be there as well."
"Yes, Markus," they both muttered, walking back the way they had come.
Markus shook his head. "Ash, Ash, Ash. How I wish Elissa was here to keep you in check. Or even that Lux remembered. You need company."
"Actually, speaking of Elissa . . . " said Nate. "I think you should come with me."

Mallory was sitting cross-legged on the carpet about fifty metres down the corridor, leaning against the wall. She didn't look up when Markus and Nate approached. She had a sad air around her, and Nate knew she was thinking about Jet.
"Mallory," he said quietly, alerting her to their presence.
She glanced up quickly, her eyes falling back to her lap almost instantly. After a few moments, however, she looked up again, rising to her feet.
"Grandfather!" she cried, throwing her arms around Markus.
"Elissa?" he asked, in the same tone Nate had used ten minutes earlier.
"Yes, it's me, Grandfather. I was looking for you after Lucien and Jet brought me here, but i found Nate first. He was going to take me to your office."
Markus looked at Nate. "That is an excellent idea. When we get there, you can explain how Jet and Lucien came to find you. And I suppose Yasmyn is involved somewhere along the way."
Mallory nodded as the three of them began walking down the hall.
"I'm surprised Jet doesn't remember," mused Markus. "Now that he's seen you . . . "
"Mallory," she said. "That's my name in this life."
"Ah."
"I think she stirred something," said Nate. "Even if it is deep down. He sounded pretty protective back there." He winked at Mallory. "Maybe you'll just have to make him fall in love with you all over again."
She hit him and Markus chuckled. "It isn't that bad an idea."
Mallory rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "Why are you so mean to them, Nate? When you've known them for so long?"
"I've never actually done anything to them specifically. Or Yasmyn. They just hear stories and avoid me." He caught the look on both Mallory and Markus' faces and quickly added, "Stories that are mostly untrue. Do you really think I would even consider a girl when I know Gwen is out there somewhere?"
"That's true," Mallory allowed.
"They only make up those stories so they have reasons to not talk to me. I think I unnerve them."
"Well, you were never known for always concealing all of your abilities," laughed Markus.
"That isn't funny! I got in a lot of trouble for that! Though it didn't really matter so much when we didn't have to hide who we were."
All of them sobered at that. How they missed those days.
Not a word was spoken till they arrived at their destination. Markus unlocked the door and led Nate and Mallory inside.
It was just as she remembered. A single shelf ran along the top of all four walls, filled with priceless books and ornaments. Framed photos and paintings hung around the room, depicting all his journeys as a white-winged archangel. Both Mallory and Nate starred in more than one.
A mahogany desk stood proudly in the back half of the room, a dark, high-backed leather chair behind it. The desk overflowed with books, paper and old manuscripts in forgotten languages. Completing the scene perfectly was a window looking over a rainy park, creating an ideal backdrop.
"I think you have quite a story to tell, Mallory," Markus said, sitting in the chair behind the desk and indicating the two in front of it. "Do sit down."
So Mallory launched in an explanation of everything that had happened since she had left the house this morning. Her voice grew quiet when she told of the memory she and Yasmyn had seen, and how she had remembered everything while Jet still did not. But it was back to its usual pitch by the time she had finished her story.
"How interesting," said Markus. "I'm very surprised Jet has not recognised you."
"So am I," Mallory replied. "Trust me."
He turned to Nate. "I think we need to have a talk with Jet, Lucien and Yasmyn."
"Why do I have to go?" he complained. "Mallory knows her way around."
"Just go, Nate."
He grumbled a little longer as he walked out of the room.
"How are you, really?" Markus asked, reaching forward to put his hands over Mallory's.
"As good as I can be, I guess. I haven't really had time to go back through everything, but I don't really want to. I mean, it would be good to look at it all. It's just that every time I look, there's a memory of Jet and I can't really deal with that right now."
Markus nodded and smiled reassuringly at her. "It can't be that far away now. Sometimes I swear he knows everything and just hasn't told anyone. It's usually a comment he makes that reminds me of Lux. But then he turns oblivious again and I know I'm just imagining what I wish would happen."
Mallory's gaze fell to her hands as she thought over Markus' words. Neither of them knew how long they sat there in silence, but both of them jumped when Nate returned with Jet, Lucien and Yasmyn.
She automatically stiffened when she felt Jet's eyes on her back. Nate jumped into the seat beside her before he could take it. Mallory sent him a grateful glance.
"Now," began Markus. "I have a lot to explain to you, so this may take a while. Yasmyn, before you ask, I'll write you a pass when we're done.
"The best place to begin would be thousands of years ago, when archangels and aerewolves still lived in Kurong, our homeland under the earth. When the difference between Jururgan and Skiteriah was still unknown to most, and there was no such thing as war."
"Hold on," interrupted Jet. "What is a Jururgan and what's a Skiteriah?"
"I am a Jururgan," Mallory said, shocked at how strange that question sounded coming out of his mouth. "We are the archangels with white wings. The Skiteriah have been our enemies from the first Immortal War, and are burdened with wings of black."
"Oh."
Markus smiled. "And so we begin."