Little Child Lost
Chapter Twelve
Vanish
Sydney sunk to the floor as the gravity of everything she'd just read washed over her. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Or, the more appealing, punch Sark in the face. She didn't want to know all that she had learned. She had previously wanted to, but now she realized that there was a whole new level of too much information. Sure, the biography was useful. It told her of all the horrible things she'd done the last two years, unless the file was a complete lie. Not that she would put it past The Covenant to lie. Not that she put it past Sloane. Yes, Sloane was the recent head of The Covenant. Apparently, since he constructed Il Dire. He was like the head priest in some sick and twisted evil cult. That was probably the least surprising thing she'd read. Humanitarian, her butt. She sighed, well aware that Sark was watching her. He was always watching her. Always. Sark slid down from his chair, leaning against the desk once he hit the floor. He licked his lips subconsciously and Sydney couldn't take her eyes off of them. Sark didn't speak at first. It was like he always knew when to give her a chance to process information. He waited for her to meet his eyes, an unspoken sign that she was ready to begin the conversation. She finally did, her eyes the color of the whiskey in the carafe. He'd had his own shock, learning about Julia Thorne's life. Andrian Lazarey was alive and in hiding. Of course, The Covenant knew where he was. The Covenant knew just about everything, it seemed.
"I was an assassin."
"Yes. We already knew that."
"An assassin that didn't kill your father."
"Yes. He probably has more information that can help us."
"About me or about you?"
Sark averted his eyes, not willing to let her see how vulnerable he was. Talking about his father was like an open wound; one that he had believed had cleared up long ago. When he was taken under Irina's wing. He shrugged his shoulders, no matter how uncharacteristic it was.
"Maybe both of us."
Sydney nodded, pushing her brown hair off her face. She took a deep breath and continued her statements.
"They brainwashed me."
"Yes."
"And they performed an 'unidentified surgery' on me."
"Apparently."
"And Sloane was the
one who ordered it all."
"Indeed."
Sydney narrowed her eyes, annoyance flicking on her face.
"Can you add more into it besides affirmatives?"
"Yes."
A boyish smirk appeared on his face, his enjoyment of her irritation only making it worse. He didn't clear his face of the emotion and Sydney decided the playful expression instead of the game face. But, eventually, it vanished.
"We have to find my father." He spit the word out with distaste.
"We will."
"We'll have to leave today."
"Okay."
"We need to discern whose side he's on exactly."
"I don't even know which side YOU'RE on."
Sark shifted his position, banging his head on the desk.
"Bloody Hell! This is why I don't sit on the floor to have heart-to-hearts!"
"Is that what we were having?"
"This is about as personal as I get."
Sydney allowed a small smile to show on her face. Sark seemed sort of proud he'd made her smile, as if he wanted to see it. He didn't return the smile, but she hadn't really expected him to. It was Sark.
"Well, I'm about to get more personal with you, Julian."
He flinched when she used his first name. He hated it when she called him that. He was a completely different person now. Calling him Julian reminded him of a life he'd long left behind.
"What about?"
"I, uh, found something else when we were looking for the disk."
"You didn't…what was it?"
"A file. A took some photographs of it."
"And what was it
about?"
"You."
"The Covenant has a file on me?"
"And your mother and your father."
"You have an entire file about me?"
"Yes."
Sark closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what was in it.
"Will you give me the photos?"
Sydney bit her lip and nodded. "Yes."
Sark stood up, his posture defensive. Sark rarely let anything show in his posture or face. But this showed his annoyance and his anger and his distrust and even a bit of hurt underlying in it. Not hurt that she had read about his past. More hurt from his past. Sydney stood as well, unsure of whether to go get the file now or wait. Sark walked out of the cottage wordlessly, with not another look at Sydney.
Sark had wandered about the path behind the house. He was angry Sydney had stolen a file about him. He'd left the cottage because he'd wanted to punch Sydney. Fight with her. Spar with her. Anything to let out the anger. But he didn't think Sydney was really ready to fight with him. She was still in shock from everything she'd read about Julia Thorne. So he'd left. He'd stayed outside for an hour; Sydney never came after him. He hadn't really expected her to. She probably thought it would be better to give him some space. She was probably right. But that didn't matter anymore. They needed to get out of Whitechapel. He had a feeling that Irina would be looking for them and she just might decide to come to Whitechapel to check up on them. He didn't want to be waiting for her to come. He headed back up to the cottage, opening the door. He called out for Sydney to come on, but he received no reply.
"Sydney?"
Nothing.
"This isn't funny. We've got to get out of here before your mother decides to check here. Unless you want to relive another excellent family reunion."
There wasn't even any movement in the house.
"Sydney?" Sark walked to the guest room and found it completely empty. All that was left was a note, propped up against a lamp, a pile of photographs in front of it.
Julian~
I'm sorry I took the file. I just wanted to know what's been going on with you. I should have told you, I guess, since we seemed to have this whole new trust thing going on. I'll see you around…
~Sydney
Sark cursed inwardly as he crumbled the paper up. He picked up the photographs that held his life story, flipped through them and dropped them on the floor. She left. What happened to them finding out together? What was he supposed to do now? He guessed it was a race again, who could find Lazarey first. He gathered the pictures back up, hurried out the bedroom door, stopping to pick up his laptop. He rushed out the front door, finding his Mercedes parked in the driveway. He jumped in and pulled out.