The Burned Rogue Book

Chapter Three: Campus

Chapter Three: Campus

We drove fast and to a part of Chicago I didn’t even know about—which was normal, since I had only lived here for two years. How Atlas knew this place, I didn’t understand. But then again, what did I understand about Atlas?

At the subway station, Atlas made a strange transaction with the teller, like they knew each other, but I ignored it. Answers were coming my way; I’d make sure of that.

“Come on,” Atlas said gravely, and we followed him to the platform. There, we waited for a minute for our subway to come, and when it did, Atlas practically dragged us in, not waiting for us to use our own legs.

We were the first in the car, and Atlas held out his hand, muttered “fermentus” and the doors shut so that he, Javi and I were the only ones there. This made me a little nervous. Javi and I took a seat and waited for Atlas. He said, “allez.” The z was silent; I figured he started speaking French or something. The train started moving and he staggered, but steadied himself on one of the poles in the aisle.

“You can start explaining,” I said, and he sat down across the aisle, slouching, and his elbows on his knees. “Start with the monster and work your way back.”

“Yeah, man,” Javi agreed. “First I’m learning about converting degrees to radians and suddenly we almost die. It’s a lot to take in.”

Atlas thought for a moment, and then let out a breath. “The creature was a ignean devil. Born out of fire and igneous rocks, they’re usually not too bad, unless…er, we’ll get to that in a moment.”

“Okay,” I said. “Now explain to me the Burned Rogues, because I’m the only one here apparently left in the dark.” I gave Javi a sideways glare. “And the significance of the tattoos.” I pulled up my sleeves, just to make sure I didn’t have them. I didn’t.

“That’s weird,” Atlas said, staring at my arms. “They’ll appear somewhere else on your body then. Legs, arms, shoulders...”

Javi said, “My aunt has them on her—”

“That’s irrelevant,” Atlas interrupted. “The Burned Rogues are not aliens. We are not demigods. We are not wizards. We are mortals. Mortals with powers.” When he said powers, his eyes glowed orange, like they had yesterday in the parking lot. “We need to figure out where your tattoos are. Both of you.”

“Why?” I asked.

Javi turned to me. “Where the tattoos appear on your body are significant of what kind of Rogue you are, if you are a Rogue. Right?”

Atlas nodded. “I have them on my forearms, meaning I’m a Guardian.”

“What exactly do you guard?” Javi questioned.

He sighed. “I guard people, places, animals…as long as it has significance to the Rogues, it needs to be kept safe.”

“Books?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked down.

“Yes. Books.”

I sat back. “Keep explaining.”

He looked around, as if someone was watching us. “We’re here,” he said, and he stood up. The subway was still moving.

“We’re still moving, man,” Javi said. “I mean, unless sudden death is the only way to get to where we’re going…”

“I mean the entrance is coming.” Atlas stood and walked over to the doors. He held his hand to it, muttered something, and they flew open. “Come.” He held out his hand to me, but I didn’t take it. We were moving rapidly.