Fly: A PORTAL Chronicles Novel (The PORTAL Chronicles) Read online

  I had met the girl I was to protect today, but it wasn’t the first time. It was just the first time I’d met her in person. I was still warring over whether I should continue protecting Sophie or not when I got the call from Dr. Smitherson, headmaster at Brightman Academy and an ally to the agency. There had been a security breach and someone had hacked into Brightman’s registration database. Dr. Smitherson was needed and requested I greet Sophie in his stead as he knew I’d been assigned to protect her.

  A few hours later, I found myself waiting for her outside Brightman’s headquarters, a nervous mess. What was wrong with me? After all, it was like I already knew her. Why the sick feeling in my stomach? I’d never felt like that before, and I hadn’t liked it.

  I’d spent the past three months of summer break in Portland following her, learning about her, and figuring her out. Upon receiving the mission, I’d gone to Portland to research the enemy’s target simply thinking, All I have to do is watch a teenage girl. How hard can it be? I’ll follow her around and whip out a few reports. It will be like a three-month paid vacation — easy money before the school year commences.

  Mom and Dad agreed the time away would do me good. Watching me spend a month holed up in my room made it apparent to them that being home only reminded me of Benson, so I accepted the mission with their blessing, relieved to escape the sad prison our house had become.

  Once in Portland, I got settled in the apartment the agency provided and set out to begin my research, soon finding Sophie at a bookstore. I later found that when she was alone, which occurred almost daily, if she wasn’t at home or running errands, she was at this bookstore.

  I’d expected to find a trite, sixteen-year-old girl, but Sophie was nothing like I’d anticipated. First off, she was far prettier than I’d imagined.

  The most recent images provided in her files were from her eighth birthday. I guessed her mom, Clara, had been the photographer of the family as no pictures of the family had been taken since her death. But then again, maybe it was something Sophie’s father, Evyatar, did purposefully. It made sense for him not to take pictures of a daughter he didn’t want anyone to recognize, especially considering he and Sophie went into hiding after Clara’s death.

  The first time I spotted Sophie, she was in line at the coffee stand in the corner of the bookstore, her back turned to me. All I saw was a thin, young woman in a white summer dress, her long, brown hair hanging in a braid down her tan back. But then she turned and stole my breath away.

  I took in every detail of her lovely face: her intriguing, dark eyes framed by thick black lashes, the delicate arch of her brows, the slight peach glow of her cheeks against her olive complexion, and her full pout — her upper lip just slightly larger than the bottom.

  So yes, at first the attraction was merely physical. Though as I trailed her, I became captivated with the things that weren’t: Her innate kindness — something I found unusual for such a pretty girl. The way she got lost in her books for hours on end, unconsciously frowning, laughing, and smiling along the way. How she exuded nobility without even trying. The fact that she was utterly unaware of the many stares that followed her every move, totally clueless of her eminent beauty.

  I felt sorry for the poor saps whom came to the book store to study, read or work, but couldn’t accomplish a thing for the distraction of a beautiful girl in the room. Though, maybe like me, they came around anticipating her appearance at ten a.m., knowing she purchased mint tea and a blueberry scone before making her way to the oversized yellow chair near the windowed wall.

  And if, like me, they came simply for a glimpse of her, I couldn’t blame them, for she was lovely in every way.

  Chapter 9

  At First Sight

  At first, I excused my exceptional attention to Sophie rationalizing that it was my job to notice every detail about her, like whom she talked to, what she wore, and where she went each day. But I soon conceded that I’d never taken to studying a subject with such voracity before. Something about her captured me, drew me in.

  To my detriment, the feelings took root and grew. The more I saw her, the more I needed to see her. The more I learned about her, the more I wanted to learn. Why was the agency so careful to protect this beautiful girl? And why was Lucian Divaldo, the agency’s greatest enemy, so determined to kill her?

  Though, if I knew anything about Divaldo, it was that he hated all things good and pure and he didn’t care who he had to sacrifice to win his long-fought war against Dio, whom I served. So maybe it was simply the fact that Sophie was so selfless and kind, characteristics encouraged by Dio, that made Divaldo despise her. Regardless of the reasons why there was a death sentence on her head, my growing care for Sophie drove me to quickly learn her habits and routines to better protect her.

  She was an early riser and made breakfast for her father, Evyatar, each morning. They’d pour over the morning newspaper at breakfast, reading aloud tidbits that amused them, always ensuing much conversation and laughter.

  The girl was close to her father, largely because they were so much alike. Like her dad, a genius and brilliant professor, she was very intelligent. While this was probably correlated to the innumerable books she read, there was no doubt in my mind it was also genetic, making me like her even more. She was smart and beautiful and seemingly unaware of both.

  After breakfast, Evyatar would go to work, leaving Sophie to her own devices. I’d then spend the day following her from a distance down aisles at the grocery store, watching her pick up the dry cleaning, or keeping an eye on the streets outside her house at night.

  As my admiration for Sophie grew, so did my need to be near her. Like an addict, the more I got, the more desperate I became for my next fix, and I soon found myself doing careless things that risked blowing my cover. I pulled alongside her car at a stop light or sat within noticeable range at the bookstore — anything to be close to her. I normally wouldn’t dream of doing such things, but the wellbeing it gave me led me to do it again and again, until, on one particularly bold day, I almost got caught.

  Sophie occasionally accompanied her father to the university he taught at, spending the day visiting with his co-workers or taking in a class. This day, she settled in for one of her father’s lectures. The area where she sat was empty, and, ignoring my instinct that it was horribly wrong, I sat directly behind her.

  For too long I’d been following her from afar — from across a crowded street or business or from a computer screen and headphones feeding me sight and sound — so I relished this vantage point, watching as she doodled in her notebook, occasionally pausing to focus on Evyatar’s lecture while chewing the end of her pen. From here, I could smell her pretty, fresh scent, make out the faint, sheer rose of her cheeks, and tell she was cold from the goose bumps on her arm. Caught up in my reverie, I lost track of my bearings, becoming engrossed and complacent.

  Suddenly, Evyatar called out, “You, in the back.” It took me a moment to realize he was referring to me. “The time required for half of the atoms in any given quantity of a radioactive isotope to decay is called the… ?”

  The whole class waited for an answer, many students turning in their seats. I froze, my mouth gaping. Nothing came to me.

  After what felt like an eternity, Sophie called out, “Half life. The time required for half of the atoms in a given quantity of a radioactive isotope to decay is called the half life.”

  Evyatar shook his head at her, a slight smile on his face, before continuing his lecture on nuclear physics.

  With great relief, I got up to leave. Thankfully, Sophie hadn’t turned to stare like the other students and I knew it was wise to disappear before I drew any more unwanted attention. But then, making my way out of the narrow row, I tripped with a great clamor. Sophie started towards me, distracted by the ruckus. Still a good ten feet from the door, I threw myself into the nearest seat, folding my arms across the desktop and letting my head drop. My genius proved false as my head slipped past my ar
ms, planting into the desk. Tingly pain pricked from my nose to my cheeks, and then behind my eyes. Though excruciated, I held my pose until I heard the rustle of Sophie turning to watch her father again.

  When I thought it was safe, I slowly raised my head to find a small puddle of blood on the desk. Frantically feeling my face, I realized my nose was bleeding. Not bothering to see if anyone was watching, I quickly wiped the desk with my sleeve and raced from the room.

  I laughed at the moment now, though at the time, it scared the living daylights out of me. I almost compromised my position. And for what? To sit close to a girl who didn’t know I existed.

  I was a joke. For the first time, I was glad Benson wasn’t around so he didn’t witness my misstep. Though Dio had seen it and I wondered how or why he would choose to use an incompetent fool like me.

  I entertained resigning from the mission, though that thought lasted only a moment. No one could do a better job at protecting Sophie than me. In a way, my vested emotions were an advantage, so I continued with new determination to remain professional, soon learning I wasn’t the only person to do something I hid.

  On occasion, Sophie watercolor painted, but only during the day while Evyatar was away, stowing her supplies and cleaning any evidence of her hobby long before he returned at the end of the day.

  Sometimes, the paintings were bright and beautiful: large landscapes with rolling fields and flowers or vibrant skylines. But in these rare, unguarded moments, she also showed a side of herself she kept private from the rest of the world, painting the dark, abstract feelings of depression that I so readily related to, perfectly portraying the emotions that, like her paintings, she carefully hid away.

  Growing up, Mom often called me “a deep well.” It seemed the same with Sophie. She was multidimensional, having many layers that she hid from the world, showing me we had something in common.

  I’d stay up at night wondering what type of person she’d fully reveal herself to. What sort of person would she trust enough to show that she wasn’t totally healed from the tragedy in her life, wasn’t all sunshine and butterflies like she expertly portrayed?

  Every evening, Sophie would make dinner and set the table before Evyatar got home. Like in the mornings, they would talk and eat and laugh, later clearing the table for a game of cards or retiring to the TV room.

  Watching this was bittersweet for me, reminding me of my family and how we were before we lost Benson. Memories would play in my head like long lost movies: laughing over inside jokes and stories at the dinner table, long card games with Benson where our competitive nature would take over, watching our favorite movies together in the large theater room Dad had concocted while reciting our favorite lines and laughing at all the same parts. It was little things like these that I missed, the little moments in time that had been stripped from me and my family.

  Though, I found hope in seeing that Sophie and Evyatar enjoyed life despite the loss they’d endured, making me think, Maybe we can be that way again. Maybe we can be some semblance of the family we used to be. Though I knew things would never be the same again, I gained a newfound confidence that my family could be — no, would be — whole again.

  We would one day laugh again, find joy again, and enjoy life again. The question was just a matter of when. How long would it take for us to heal? What would it take for us to finally get there?

  The summer quickly passed, and my time with Sophie came to its dreaded end. I packed my things, flew back to Minnesota, and presented my final report to Agency Director Emmanuel Salvatore, known to me as Sal, and his board of twelve officials. Praised for the thoroughness of my research and my superior performance, they felt I was ready for more responsibility.

  Death threats had been made on Sophie’s life, initially alerting us to her status as a target for Divaldo and resulting in my placement in Portland. Now, the threats were coming frequently, more sinister than before.

  Divaldo’s operatives were closing in. Like so many times before, they had figured out where Sophie lived and were planning to assassinate her. In order to throw off the enemy, the decision was made to separate Sophie from Evyatar, relocating them to different places in an attempt to save both their lives. It was my job to inform Evyatar of our plans that very week.

  I called him at his office and, using the guise of a student, told him I was transferring to his department from another school. He was excited to talk shop with me and scheduled lunch at a bistro near campus the very next day. I flew back to Portland and arrived at our appointment right on time.

  A dedicated professor, Evyatar jumped right in, animatedly telling me about the fascinating Nuclear Physics program he oversaw. I eventually cut him off, regretting to tell him the bad news that was sure to shatter his world.

  I revealed who I was and was surprised when he didn’t seem shocked. He then explained he and his wife had once worked for the agency, and that he’d been in cahoots with Sal to stay a step ahead of Divaldo, explaining why he and Sophie had moved every few years or so. Horrified to find his daughter in such danger now, he agreed to the proposed plan with great sadness. He thanked me profusely and, promising that he’d immediately call Sal to discuss travel plans, we went our separate ways.

  Upon arriving home that night, I got a call from Sal. Per his instruction, we met the next day and he offered me the job of Sophie’s protector at Brightman Academy. He disclosed that he’d known of her predicament for some time now and had placed Benson and me undercover at Brightman two years ago with the intent of eventually charging Sophie to our care. He briefed me on a prophecy Sophie’s mom had made about her and the possible powers she’d receive upon being awakened, finally illuminating me to the full reason Divaldo hated her so. According to him, Sophie was the only saving grace the agency had left and the assignment was a great honor.

  Discouraged by how hard it would be not to come into contact with Sophie while attending the same school, I told him I’d need time to think about it. What Sal told me then came as a shock: interaction was allowed. I would be given liberty to operate the mission how I saw fit, allowing me to befriend Sophie if I wished.

  The mere thought of it made me sick. First off, I was clearly infatuated with the girl and genuinely cared for her. What if she didn’t like me? Would I care? Would I be hurt? Would I be able to handle it? Either way, it would undeniably affect the mission.

  Secondly, it seemed wrong to befriend Sophie after learning so much about her. Was it dishonest? What if I slipped and said something tipping her off to the fact that I knew more than I should? For any other mission, I wouldn’t bat an eye at the instruction, but I couldn’t do it now — not with her. She was too special. I refused to deceive her.

  Thirdly, what if she recognized me? I had gotten too close that day in her father’s class, and she’d possibly seen me at the grocery store or an ill-fated stoplight. Then again, being too lazy to partake in grooming rituals, I had sported shaggy hair and a beard over the summer. In fact, my mom probably wouldn’t have recognized me, and I’d since cut my hair and shaved.

  I still hadn’t given Sal a straightforward answer when I got the call from Dr. Smitherson. Begrudgingly agreeing to help him, I waited for Sophie’s arrival and was utterly shocked to spot her in my mom’s car of all places.

  I was greatly irritated by other’s failure to stick to the plan. I was told Sophie would arrive in a taxicab. How was I supposed to keep Sophie safe if no one else followed the rules? But at first sight of her, my anger dissipated, leaving one thought remaining: She’s so beautiful.

  I saw Sophie’s dumbstruck face through a small patch of frost worn away on Mom’s car window — all flushed cheeks, big, dark eyes, and gaping mouth. Sound ceased to exist as I came to a mental standstill.

  Over the past three months, I’d found the light at the end of the tunnel. Sophie was that light — that brightness in the midst of the darkness of my grief, depression and doubt — unintentionally and unknowingly pulling me from the pit
of despair. It was my mission to protect Sophie from harm, but so far, it only seemed like she had been saving me — yet another glaring reason not to accept the mission to protect her at Brightman. But in that moment, seeing her look so helpless — like a scared little girl who needed a guardian to defend her and show her the way — helped me to see that she needed me just as I needed her.

  It was then that I accepted the mission and that being assigned to her was no mistake. It was meant to be. Dio must have known it was exactly what I needed, but did he know she’d end up meaning so much to me? Did he foresee how I would grow to deeply like her, maybe even love her? He must have, for I’d been taught that there were no coincidences where Dio was concerned.

  I’d been so distracted deciding whether to accept the mission or not that I didn’t put any thought into how to conduct myself upon accepting it, forcing me to decide on the fly. Confused and disarmed, I put the charm on too thick and overcorrected by shutting down before experiencing a near meltdown while escorting Sophie through the crowds of students at Brightman’s headquarters. For the grand finale of my royal freak show, I repeatedly snapped at her, which she understandably took to heart, giving me a tongue lashing all her own.

  While I did my best to make amends later, I feared the damage done was irreparable. I’d panicked, lost control, and made a complete fool of myself. I could only imagine how relieved Sophie was to be rid of me after I left her dorm tonight.

  But thankfully, the upside of choosing to protect her meant that now, there would always be a tomorrow with her. I’d redeem myself then.

  Chapter 10

  Dark Glory

  A pounding noise pulled me from my sleep. My eyes shot open, blinded by the sun pouring into the windows flanking my bed. Looking around, it took me a moment to comprehend that I was in my new room at Brightman. And then a recollection: Didn’t I close the curtains before going to bed last night? Strange that they're open now.