Humayre: The Chronicles of Ronin Wilder
Chapter 28

A wooden sign that read Frank’s Taco Shop swayed back and forth in the wind. Never had Ronin been so happy to be anywhere. It took all night and part of the next day for Ronin and Cyrus to make it back to BrightWood. Dodging police and making most of the journey on foot was a time consuming process.

“It’s around eleven,” said Cyrus. “I told Grace I would meet her here for lunch at twelve, but I have to report on what happened last night.”

Last night. Never had he wanted to forget something so bad. His shoulders slumped. All he wanted to do was crawl under a rock and never come out. The sounds of the screaming men haunted his thoughts.

Cyrus stared at Ronin for a moment. “Brahm will pay for what he’s done. The council will send a team to take care of him. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” snapped Ronin. “We just left those guys to die.” He folded his arms. His claws punctured into his palms as he closed his hands into fists. The pain barely bothered him. “We didn’t even try to help.”

“You will learn soon enough that sometimes the best course of action is to run. To live. To fight another day. Even if that means there will be collateral damage. We are outnumbered and out gunned. Without us the humans would have no chance. The world as you and I know it will not survive without us. We are the only defense against the Vein.” The more Cyrus spoke the more worked up and angry his voice became. “So yes. We will run. We will survive. Even if that means a few humans are lost in return.”

“I will never run again.” Ronin hated himself and despised Cyrus.

“And you will die,” said Cyrus, in a calm cold voice.

“Then I’ll die knowing I tried to help,” snapped Ronin. He really didn’t think of what that meant. He was angry and disgusted.

“Have it your way.” He folded his arms and furrowed his eyebrows. “You know. I should report your involvement in all of this. Then you won’t have to worry about any of it because you will be expelled.”

“So why don’t you then?”

Cyrus shook his head. “Because if I do Grace will never talk to me again.” He snickered. “So you have her to thank.” Cyrus’s angered expression relaxed. “Listen. I like you. You have a well meaning heart. Don’t go making the mistake of thinking you are the only one though. We all make sacrifices. And one day you will too.”

Cyrus’s peaceful gesture put Ronin at ease. Relaxing his shoulders and unfolding his arms Ronin stared at the Frank’s Taco sign. Guilt began to build in his heart. If only he had asked for help, or waited. The police never would have been involved if he hadn’t acted without thinking.

“Sorry,” said Ronin. “I know it’s all my fault and if it wasn’t for you I’d be dead.” He nodded to Cyrus. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Cyrus rested his hand on Ronin’s shoulder. “I’ve got to go write up my report on the incident and I won’t be able to have lunch with Grace. You think you could fill in for me?”

It was the least Ronin could do. “Sure,” he said.

“Okay then,” said Cyrus. “I’ll check in on you later.” He playfully poked Ronin in the chest. “Don’t go wandering off to another Vein Den while I’m gone.”

Ronin smiled. “I won’t.”

The sand clock read fifteen minutes until twelve, Ronin had finally conquered the blasted thing. After waiting in the taco shop for ten minutes he became restless and decided to take a walk outside. The frigid air and crisp scent of pine needles invigorated him. Scanning the little town, Ronin wondered where Grace was. Four men in white jackets appeared from behind a cobblestone building on the opposite side of the street. They were headed straight for him.

“Ronin Wilder,” said the tallest of the three men.

“Yes,” said Ronin. All the men except the tall one wreaked of fear and adrenaline. Ronin took a step back. In unison the four men stepped forward. They spread out and surrounded Ronin. Ronin’s claws instinctually extended.

“Dr. Storm has ordered some more tests,” said the tallest man. “You need to come with us to the hospital.”

Something wasn’t right, Ronin could feel it. “Okay. Let’s go tell Mr. Wetstone first. I think he should know if I’m being taken off campus.”

The man to Ronin’s right pulled something out of his pocket and held it tight in his hand. Sniffing the air, Ronin deduced it was some kind of chemical not in his scent library. Metal and plastic were the other two scents. It was a syringe. Ronin crouched low and took a step back. With arms held away from his body and his fingers splayed, ten razor sharp pearlescent claws revealed themselves.

A tiny prick in the back of Ronin’s arm spun him around. Everything blurred and then went dark.

White. Blinding white. Three huge circular lights hung over Ronin’s head bathing him in the most brilliant light his eyes had ever seen. A strange feeling came from his forehead. It hurt but it wasn’t a sting or a throbbing, it was more of a burning sensation. He touched where the open wound should have been and found it stitched closed. Two of the light’s extinguished above his head. Even before his eye sight could adjust he knew there were three men in the room. Two of the men who ambushed him at Franks Taco shop and someone new.

It only took him a second to gain his bearings. The unmistakable earthen smell of concrete let him know he was at the hospital. The room was foreign however. All he could pick out was the smell of bleach.

“Ahh,” said a Man. His shadowed outline grew as he approached Ronin. “Finally awake I see.”

The last light went off above Ronin’s head. A somewhat smaller man formed out of shadow. Ronin sucked in a breath through his nostrils. The smell was familiar and yet different from anything he knew. And it dawned on him. The pheromones were what he recognized. They were the same as Ryan’s. It was Ryan’s father.

“I am Doctor Grey,” he said.

“What happened?” asked Ronin. He sat up, the room began to spin but he fought the sensation. He focused on Dr. Greys’s face. Even though Ronin knew about the whole immortality thing, it still shocked him to see that Dr. Grey looked just slightly older than his son. His glasses and lab coat were the only thing that hinted at his maturity.

“We needed a few more samples,” said Dr. Grey. “For your troubles we also fixed up your forehead.”

The four white coat men popped into Ronin’s mind. “You guys kidnapped me.”

“We were within our rights,” said Dr. Grey, smugly. “You refused our request and then resisted when we tried a stronger approach.”

Right away Ronin could see where Ryan acquired his winning disposition. “I want to go back,” said Ronin. A throbbing on his left arm drew his attention to a piece of white tape. “What did you do?” He glared at Dr. Grey. Feeling violated and nervous Ronin wanted to strike out at the smug jerk but he knew he couldn’t.

“Like I said,” said Dr. Grey. “We needed a few more samples.” He pointed to the door. “You are welcome to leave whenever you are ready. A carriage is out front waiting to take you back to BrightWood.”

Ronin shot out of bed and headed straight for the door. Anger stopped him. “What do you think Mr. Wetstone will say when I tell him what you’ve done?” he said defiantly. His gut told him that the whole situation was fishy.

Dr. Grey’s expression went from smug to enraged. “I will fire the fool and have you expelled immediately you insubordinate little brat.” Sucking in a deep breath he brushed his short curly brown hair back and straightened his glasses. In a calmer tone he continued, “We have everything we need from you.” He turned, walked to the door on the opposite end of the room and held his hand up smugly, waving Ronin off.

An hour had passed since Ronin’s kidnapping. It seemed like it had been longer. Ronin stood in front of Frank’s Taco shop hoping Grace hadn’t left yet. The last two days had been like something out of a bad movie. All he wanted was to see Grace. To feel like things were normal again. As he opened the door he wondered why Dr. Grey needed samples. Was there something wrong with him? Was he sick? The smell of corn chips and refried beans enveloped Ronin as he stepped into the invitingly warm restaurant. His eyes were met with a vast array of greens, whites, and reds. Murals of old-world Mexican culture spread across the walls to his left and right. Donkeys and palm trees. Sombreros and adobes. All painted in bright vivid colors.

Sitting in the center of the room was a black cast iron tortilla oven. A short woman wearing a poncho was perched over the cooktop flipping tortillas. The heat emanating from the oven was enough to warm the room, which was probably why there was no fireplace.

“Hi,” said Grace. A plate with a half-eaten taco and some salsa sat in front of her. A napkin smashed into a ball lay next to the plate. She glanced past Ronin, and then looked to the sand clock sitting on the counter.

“Sorry,” said Ronin. It was obvious she felt stood up, and it was all his fault.

“For what?” asaked Grace. She sat back and folded her arms.

“I was supposed to meet you for lunch,” said Ronin. “Cyrus had to do somet…”

The door burst open and in ran a student. “There’s a Vein in the courtyard!” he half shouted. He gasped for air. “He’s calling for Cyrus.”

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