The Secret of Zormna Clendar, Julie Steimle [e novels to read online .TXT] 📗

is in our best interests, if you haven’t figured this out already. We are leading a rebellion. If she is the last Tarrn, then we need her to win the war.”

“There are other Tarrns out there besides as high profile ex-Alea whom Dural Korad himself has targeted. Especially one who has drawn the attention of the FBI. She is high risk.” Asdrov turned to Zormna. “No offense, but I think we should keep looking for other Tarrns, as it would be inhumane to leave the others to death just because he thinks we have found the one.”

Jafarr’s face flushed. “Now wait a minute! You—”

“No, he’s right. We should,” Zormna said, feeling numb. “I don’t like this whole ‘last Tarrn’ thing going on here. If I can keep other Tarrns alive, I will. And you should.”

 Pressing a hand to his forehead, Jafarr shot Al a weary look, which was exchanged heartily.

Jafarr said, “This isn’t about choosing one Tarrn and leaving the others defenseless. But the High Class has already eliminated all the Bently and Melzdar Tarrns. And I believe that you are the last Clendar. It will only be a matter of time before they find the rest of the other four families and kill them too. Tarrns are few and far between anyway. We can’t let the High Class win, even if I have to protect an old enemy who has drawn unwanted attention.”

“But you don’t mind if I continue to search for other Tarrns?” Asdrov said with bite.

“Go ahead.” Jafarr gestured as if the man ought to do it right that second.

“But what do we do now?” the woman asked, looking at Zormna again.

Zormna gazed towards her. She felt guilty that she did not know the woman’s name. Her face was not one she knew. Zormna also had a feeling the woman was sort of attached to Orrlar rather than a rebel leader herself.

Orrlar said, examining Zormna critically. “She should move in with us.”

Al’s eyes widened with panic.

“No…” Jafarr shook his head vehemently. “That would be bad.”

Asdrov nodded. “Orrlar, you’re forgetting the FBI is watching her. You’d be putting us in their sights.”

Jafarr nodded also. “We already diverted that problem. We don’t need the attention again.”

However, the older man gazed worriedly at Zormna. “But she is living with high bloods who will eventually figure out what she is.”

Al and Jafarr shared a look. Zormna pretended not to notice.

“She would be safer—”

“No,” Zormna said. Clearing her throat, she explained, “I’ve been trying to get the McLennas to grant me emancipation as a minor. I’ve almost convinced them.”

“That’s highly irregular, though,” Eergvin murmured. “A fourteen-year-old-girl living by herself.”

The woman nodded.

Zormna shrugged. “Look. I have a house already. And money left to me by my great aunt.”

Al and Jafarr nodded in agreement.

“But you will be alone,” the woman said.

“What’s your name?” Zormna asked finally, facing the woman.

Blushing, the woman replied, “Call me Aunt Mary, or Mrs. Andrews. It will save confusion in the future. And you should call him—” pointing to Orrlar “—Uncle Orren or Mr. Andrews.”

“Eric Dawes.” Eergvin raised a hand.

Asdrov huffed. “Aaron Evans.”

Zormna nodded to them all. She looked to Al.

“I know you go by Alex, but what’s your real name? Your friends just call you Al.”

Al laughed, scratching the back of his head. “You should just stick with Al.”

She smirked, yet waited for his real name anyway.

Blushing, Al replied, “Alzdar Demmon.”

Drawing in a breath, Zormna recognized the name Demmon. Al might not have been famous, but his father was. She said to Al, “You play a good game of pronuk.”

And he blushed more. Their one and only encounter had been at a handball game. His. He had been dominating the court against one of her fellow Aleas back Home. It was also a time Jafarr had actually escaped from her.

Jafarr laughed. “Have you been waiting a long time to say that?”

Zormna shrugged, looking away.

Asdrov huffed.

They looked to him. His eyes said, ‘back to topic, please.’ His mouth said, “It is not safe for you to live alone. Isn’t that how your great aunt ended up dead?”

Zormna stiffened.

“It’s not safe for her to live with a High Class family either,” Orrlar cut in.

“We’ll watch her back,” Jafarr gestured to himself and Al. “Besides, Todd McLenna and Jennifer both would protect her.”

“They are high blood,” Orrlar snapped.

“They are Americans,” Zormna retorted.

They stared at her.

Jafarr grinned. “That’s right. They believe they came from Ireland. And they think Zormna is Irish.”

Orrlar did not look convinced. “But the parents…”

Sighing, Jafarr peeked once at Zormna to tell her to keep silent. “The parents want a peaceful life. I visited their house once, with Todd. We’re friends, you know. Him, me, and Al.”

“Friends with a high blood?” Asdrov stared acidly at him.

Looking straight back, Jafarr said, “An American. That is the beauty of this country. You can hang onto your ethnicity if you want to, but we’re all Americans here.”

Asdrov huffed, staring at Jafarr as if he were ashamed of him.

Zormna smirked though. What Jafarr had said was how she felt about Todd also. She was glad Jafarr felt the same. In a way, hearing it removed a load of tension from her.

“What do the parents think of you?” Orrlar asked Jafarr.

Jafarr met his gaze with an offhand shrug. “They think I’m a punk. I might remind them of things they want to forget. But I don’t think they’ve connected us to Arras at all. If Zormna has been discrete around them about me, then they will never know.” He eyed her as he said that.

Zormna nodded. “Not a word.”

Al smiled with relief, then crossed to the window. He gazed out through a crack. Apparently their video surveillance system was down. It must have been connected to the computer, which looked like it was in mid-renovation.

“I still don’t feel good about this,” Orrlar murmured.

“You don’t have a choice,” Zormna replied.

The man raised his eyebrows at her, surprised at her answer.

“This is how it is,” Zormna said. “But I’ll make sure the McLennas don’t find out about you.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Orrlar sighed, shaking his head. The others did not look all that happy either. But there was no way to change the situation without drawing the FBI’s attention.

“In the meantime,” Zormna drew up herself, realizing that she needed a plan of action. “I want to know what I can do to help.”

Al glanced back at Zormna from the window.

Eergvin and Asdrov stood with what she thought looked amused expressions. Though Orrlar and the woman known as Aunt Mary seemed thoughtful.

Jafarr sighed. Stuffing his hands into his pockets with a peek to the others, he cringed. “Actually, you need to do nothing.”

Not the answer she wanted. Zormna narrowed her gaze at him.

“I know,” he said with a crack of a smirk. “I know this is awful for an ambitious solider, but the best thing you can do is what you already have been doing. Lay low. Blend in. …Admittedly, I never expected you to join the cheer squad. But blending in and staying with a group is the best idea.”

Her mouth popped open in protest.

“Convince everybody that you are Irish, for pity’s sake,” he said. “Including the FBI.”

“I’m sure I’m too late for that,” she said, scowling.

He shrugged. “All the same. We’ll work on your alibi to make it convincing. We have already started—for our own sakes. But, uh, you need to let us take care of things. Go play cheerleader.”

Her mouth popped open, reading the mockery.

“And I’ll play punk kid wrestler who wants a new start at life,” he said. “That’s the game.”

Logically, Zormna knew he was right. But her entire being revolted at the notion of letting other people do the work she could do. She wasn’t really royalty. More Americans had nearer royal blood than she did. Brian Henderson claimed to be a descendant of Charlemagne—an emperor. He had the genealogical charts to prove it. Besides, she still wasn’t so sure about this whole prophecy thing. She just wanted to be part of the rebellion.

Watching her facial contortions as her mind went over all the information again to make doubly sure of her position in the muddle, Al smirked. He looked to Jafarr. Their eyes said they knew she would not sit back so quietly. And they were hoping that the older ones would not catch on to that.

With the conversation lull, a former worry floated back to Zormna’s attention. If now was the time for answers, she had to grab it. So she asked, “One more thing. Do any of you know who it was that killed my great aunt?”

All of them shook their heads, frowning.

“We arrived long after she was dead,” Orrlar said. “We had always assumed it was the FBI that had done it.”

“No.” Zormna shook her head, staring at the floor. “It wasn’t them. I’m sure of it.”

This was not good news for any of them. And the feeling in the room turned grim.

“Another thing to look out for,” Asdrov muttered.

Eergvin elbowed him in the side and shook his head. He gestured to Zormna as if to say to him, ‘Be sympathetic’.

“It’s ok,” Zormna murmured. “I think the FBI are keeping a keen eye on that one. It is one of the reasons they are watching me.”

“And the other?” Orrlar asked.

Feeling the coming headache, Zormna muttered, “They’re expecting an alien invasion, I believe.”

“Ugh.” Asdrov moaned and stalked to the door as if to leave.

Eergvin set a hand to his face. “Great. More good news.”

“Don’t get mad at me,” Zormna muttered. “It’s my great aunt’s fault. She either went senile, or I don’t know what. I don’t even think the FBI actually kidnapped her, but took her to the asylum near Kevin’s place for a mental assessment. Darren said they were just investigating her as possible drug house.”

All of them stared. Many of them looked concerned.

“What convinced them, do you think?” Eergvin asked.

Looking to him, Zormna shrugged. “Someone from within the bureau recognized that she was Tarrn, and she got murdered. That’s what.”

“And Darren probably babbled about her being killed by her own people,” Jafarr added up.

Zormna nodded. “The guy’s an idiot.”

“Speaking of idiots,” Al said, “I think I see that particular one walking through our neighbor’s yard. I thought we got rid of him.”

Both Jafarr and Zormna groaned. They walked to the window as if already a team. Jafarr pushed the curtain slightly apart and peeked out. Turning from the window with a roll of his eyes, he paced back into the center of the room, clenching his hair. Zormna pushed aside the curtain near Al, peering around him. She barely caught a glimpse Darren’s head bobbing over the top of the hedge. She closed her eyes.

“Get rid of him?” She muttered. “I have been trying to get rid of that pest for the past three months. It is impossible to get rid of him. He is tenacious.”

“That dork followed me home yesterday,” Jafarr said.

Zormna raised her eyebrows. So he hadn’t noticed her. This assurance eased Zormna’s headache some. However, the perpetual headache still outside was clearly thinking up a foolhardy plan against ‘aliens’. This had to stop.

“I’ll take care of this.” Zormna marched to the closed door. “He is my problem, really.”

But then she stared at the lock. This one was just a hook and eye with a spring latch. The doorknob was this old glass thing that merely spun around. Blinking at it, she blanked for a second.

Asdrov hopped to the door to be of service. His eyes caressed her face as he said, “Manual locks can be a little tricky.”

Had she not wanted to keep allies, she would have slapped the man for his leer. Sliding the spring catch to the side, Asdrov lifted the hook then opened the door.

Zormna huffed, tromping out into the hallway.

Asdrov held back, affronted.

“What’d you expect, a ‘thank you, my white knight’?” Jafarr said to Asdrov as he followed Zormna out. “She’s still a soldier.”

“That’d make her the biggest feminist…” Al chuckled right behind.

“A thank you would have been polite,”