The Burned Rogue Book

Chapter Thirteen: My Predecessor

Chapter Thirteen: My Predecessor

The next morning, we both woke up exhausted. I had never thought I’d see Atlas the way I’d seen him last night. But this morning, I could see the change in him. Even though he was tired, even though he had dark circles under his eyes, he walked with purpose and resoluteness and strength.

We exchanged groggy pleasantries and we showered and changed, knowing that yesterday was a secret between the two of us, and it would stay that way. After we finished breakfast, we walked to the lobby of the hotel, where we sat down on a really plush couch next to each other.

“Cornelia, Gair, and Javi will be here in a little bit. She just texted me.”

When he said she texted him, I felt a pang of jealousy, but then I looked down at our hands. They were intertwined, and I I hadn’t realized until now. It was like this was the natural thing to do. It felt good. Then, I gasped.

“Can I call my mom?” I asked suddenly, remembering that I hadn’t spoken to her for a while.

“Sure,” he said, and he handed me his phone. I dialed my house and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

No answer.

I dialed again, and she didn’t pick up. I called her cell, too, and I got the same result. I felt something drop in my stomach.

“Are you okay?” Atlas asked. I gave him back his phone and shook my head.

“I think something’s going on,” I confided. “My mom hasn’t answered her phone or called back.”

“Don’t stress,” he said. “She could have gone to the Campus to look for you. You’ve been missing school. She’s worried. We’ll ask Javi if she showed up on the Campus.”

“How would she know how to get there?” I questioned, knowing that something was going horribly wrong. “She knows of this world, yeah, but…she’s not a Rogue.”

Atlas stroked my hair behind my ear. “It is possible she knew of the entrance in the subway. And it’s also possible she’s a non-Rogue. Does she have scars like these?” He rolled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt to show me the scars that looked like a burning whip had coiled itself up his forearm. I nodded slowly, and he breathed. “My…my mother could have shown her the way. Or my father. She’s seen this world, and it was most likely during a war. During the Vast Fires War.”

“Well then where are your scars from? You weren’t alive during the War.”

“I’m a Guardian. I’ve seen many things no other Rogue has seen. Traveled extensively. Gotten into skirmishes.”

“What causes those scars?”

“They’re these really weird creatures called salomis”—he pronounced it ‘sal-ohm-eyes’—“and they’re nasty. A salomi is like a white saber tooth tiger with huge shoulders, like an old-fashioned werewolf’s, I suppose, and a long tail that can shock you with a single touch. Usually, you don’t see them unless in war. They’re bellicose creatures, like ignean devils.”

“But my mom—”

“Bel,” Atlas said, placing his other hand on top of my own. “She could have found her way to the Campus. That’s the most likely explanation. Or, you know. She could have been busy, like taking a shower or something.”

“She hasn’t called back,” I emphasized.

He sighed. “Have you had any dreams about her?”