Ava Rising: Book 2 of 3

Chapter 8

Stepping out of the Melbourne airport into the sunlit morning, Ava felt like she had completed her journey into a parallel universe. It was the end of February, the dead of summer for Australia, and the combination of hot sun blanketing her exposed skin and the feeling of having successfully escaped from America left her smiling broadly. The air was warm but threaded through with a cooling breeze, and the space outside the terminal was dotted with what looked like miniature palm trees. Everywhere she looked were clumps of happily reuniting family and friends—each wearing some version of cutoff shorts, a tank top, and oversized sunglasses. The logical side of her brain knew that members of both orders were surely still looking for them. But the animal side stretched happily in the sunlight and itched to get into a pair of cutoff shorts of her own. Here, ten thousand miles away, in the opposite hemisphere, and with a sudden switch from the chilly weather of America to the blinding sunlight of Australia, all of the horrible things that had happened in the last several months felt very far away. She looked over at Lucas, who was blinking happily in the summer warmth. Pushing aside an intense longing to grab his hand, she said, "Let's go find your mom."

They hailed a cab and Lucas directed the driver to head towards Federation Square.

"So, you know Melbourne well?" Ava asked.

"Pretty well."

"But I'm guessing your mom doesn't live in the city?"

"I don't think so. This is just the best place to start looking for her. Although I'm rather hoping I can get her to come to us," he said, clearly impressed with himself.

Ava raised her eyebrows. "How?"

"Still working out the kinks in that plan..."

"No newspaper code?" Ava asked with a superior smile.

"Everyone can read the code," he said dismissively.

"I know. It doesn't seem like a very secret way for a secret order to communicate."

"I have an old friend here..."

"We can't trust anyone in your Order."

"He's not an Ares," Lucas said, clearly amused by the idea.

"So how do you know him? The childhood you've described doesn't seem very conducive to making friends outside the Order."

"It wasn't conducive to making friends. But for one glorious summer Greg was my..." he trailed off, a hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Your...?" Ava asked, eyebrows raised.

"My wing man, for lack of a better word."

"I thought you said he was an old friend. Who needs a wing man when they're a kid?" Ava pantomimed an impression, saying, "Excuse me, Katie, you're looking lovely today. You should come see what my friend Greggy is building in the sand box. It's a work of art."

"Okay, we're not that old of friends. But I told you, my father started my training early." Sadness flashed in his eyes when he said it but he recovered quickly.

Ava felt a pop like the sealing of a Ziploc bag. Lucas had walled in all his emotions from her and she knew better than to pry.

"Well let's find this Greg character then."

The taxi deposited them at Federation Square, which was humming with energy even at mid-morning. As they moved away from the car, Lucas struck an exaggerated pose—pointing his fingers into fake guns like he was a member of Charlie's Angels. "We're going to have to take evasive action. Are you ready?"