Page 5 of Chemistry: The Chemist

Patiently, I waited for the recurring vision to produce evidence it was real. Because it felt like it. But, just like every other time, nothing more than a few waves, evidence of excellent lung capacity, and commendable endurance revealed themselves.

The persistence of the darkness carried on until the vehicle came to a complete stop. The engine of the Escalade quieted. So did my mind.

“Chemist.” Aden beckoned for my attention.

“I’m aware.”

I separated my lids from one another, basking in the silence that preceded what was to come. Sunlight peered down into the backseat as the door widened, waiting to greet me, again. It wasn’t for long.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four swift steps led me into darkness again, freeing me from the brightness and risk of public consumption. It was two steps too many. The breezeway that led to the lecture hall was long, but not quite long enough. Exposure was forbidden under any circumstances to maintain the integrity of the quarterly meetings. Someone hadn’t gotten the memo.

Stretched legs pushed through the nippy space. I buttoned the single button of the finely pressed jacket Aden handed me as I stepped out of the vehicle. It was a perfect match for the pants that had been designed to complement it.

The vibration of my phone reminded me to silence my notifications. All calls would have to wait. What I was walking into was far more important than whatever was waiting to be divulged to me on the other line.

Fine, small bumps peaked at the expense of my smooth, unblemished skin as I turned the corner and entered the nearly empty room with only a table and three useless chairs.

No one was sitting and I wouldn’t be the first. Relaxing my limbs left too much at stake.

Slowed my movement tremendously. Gave me unnecessary resistance when releasing my weapon. And, adding two seconds too many to the escape route was always, always prepared in my head. Sitting was not an option. It was never an option.

Valentine. I nodded toward the host of the quarter.

Tension, as thick as a well-done steak at the finest steakhouse, thickened a bit more as my presence was added to the stirring pot.

There was no beef.

There was no competition.

There were no ill feelings.

There were only rules and regulations neither of the families within The Triad cared to abide by. But, to maintain peace and order within the city of Clarke, we had no choice.

If order was ever lost, empires would burn and so would the city we cherished. To evenly distribute the land so the three most powerful families could remain in control without bumping heads, The Triad of Ara was formed.

The first letter from the wives of the leaders' names was combined to identify the triad and solidify its presence in Clarke. Though ghostly in nature, there wasn’t a soul in the underbelly that didn’t know of its existence.

Ashland. The wife of Kalvin Valentine.

Rhea. My father’s wife, my stepmother.

Angela. The wife of Henry Baptiste.

“Four steps too many,” I informed.

“Noted,” Priest responded with a nod. “Pardon my–misalignment.”

“Shall we get down to business?” Honor cleared his throat, unable to stand still longer than a few seconds. The youngest of the bunch, his head was the hottest.

Situated in the back of the truck with the meeting behind me and a missed call from my father staring back at me, I contemplated dialing him back before allowing everything that transpired to register. It was business as usual, but the presence of a few cats from Perry had ruffled a few of The Triad’s feathers.

Nothing had come of their presence yet but could change at any given second. When it did, if it did, peace wouldn’t be possible in Clarke.

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