Faeted

by ReGi McClain

  She shuddered. “One.”

  “It’s worse.”

  Terrible images flashed through her mind and set her limbs to trembling. Was that what Ashely Rice had wanted to do to her? What were they going to do with Jason’s body? She wailed, “But why? Why would he want to do that to your mom? To anyone? ”

  Below them, Seraph rumbled. A spurt of flame lit the sky for a split-second and the resulting puff of smoke hit Harsha in the face. “Might as well ask the people who do it to animals.”

  Harsha turned her face to her shoulder to catch the little coughs caused by the smoke, then turned further to look at Zeeb, her eyes wide with her questions and barely contained panic.

  “Dad never cared to find out.”

  They descended on a patch of land as the sun peeked above the horizon, threatening to reveal the trio to the occupants of the island, although Harsha didn’t see any people about. Lush jungle dominated the landscape and one end of the island boasted spectacular reddish-brown cliffs. She caught sight of a large white building near the cliffs. It had a wide lawn on one side, what she assumed must be an orchard on another side, and possibly vegetable or herb gardens on the other two sides. She only glimpsed it before they dipped below the tree line and she lost sight of it. The second they landed, Seraph misted into human form and sprinted for the nearby jungle without saying a word.

  Harsha, stiff and sore after two long dragon flights, hobbled after her, following the sparks of red hair flashing through the lush vegetation. The pace strained her, but she pushed her body into the chase. When Seraph went to her knees behind a bush, Harsha stumbled to a stop and dropped behind her, flopping onto the ground with no attempt at gracefulness. Her heart pounded, struggling to pump her fae-weakened blood through her body, and her thighs felt like someone had taken a torch to them. She closed her eyes to ward off dizziness.

  A tap on her arm startled her. Realizing she’d fallen asleep, she blushed. Seraph pointed. “There’s the lab.”

  Harsha peered over the bush at a large, Southern-plantation-style mansion. Manicured Kentucky bluegrass, incongruent with the surrounding rainforest, led up to a row of white pillars supporting an enormous balcony that spanned the entire front of the building. A set of double doors sheltering in the shade afforded by the overhang winked in the sunlight, their knockers shined to brilliance. A horse whinnied. Mingling with the ferns and plumerias, Harsha imagined she smelled warm shoofly pie.

  A twig snapped. Her head whipped around of its own accord and her heart raced.

  Zeeb knelt beside her. “It looks like a nice place, doesn’t it?”

  She let out her breath. “It certainly does.”

  “We’ll wait until nightfall. I’ll need the moon if this is going to go well, and you need rest.”

  She considered arguing. She wanted to get in, get her family’s remains, and get out. She opened her mouth with a logical argument on her tongue only to have it stifled by a yawn fit to split her head in two. “All right. Where do we hide out?”

  Zeeb waved for her and Seraph to follow. “Dad found a place the last time we reconned.”

  He led them tiptoeing past a mango orchard to a part of the island crowded with untrimmed trees. A rotting storage shed cowered among the dense foliage. Harsha spotted the remains of a foot trail leading to it from the direction of the mansion, but it looked abandoned. The door hung at an angle from the rust-covered top hinge. Zeeb lifted it open to let them in.

  The dirt floor was about eight feet square. Graced with three grimy paint buckets, a deteriorating set of narrow utility shelves occupied one corner of the shed. The smells of rotting wood, oxidized metal, and damp soil permeated the air.

  Seraph trailed in after her and looked around. “Not exactly the Ritz.”

  “I dunno.” Zeeb threw his backpack into a corner and replaced the door. “It’s better than a metal lab table.”

  Harsha shuddered and glowered at him.

  He winced. “Sorry. I forgot you have personal experience.”

  She shook her head to clear it. “I agree. This is much better than a lab table.”

  Seraph stretched and curled into a kittenish bundle in one corner of the shed. “Wake me at sunset.”

  Zeeb settled in front of the door, blocking it with his body. Harsha chose the corner furthest from Seraph. The morning sun warmed the air to a comfortable temperature. Being close to a living radiator around noon struck her as an undesirable situation.

  Her exhaustion brought sleep, but it refused to impart pleasant dreams. Her mind wandered over horrific scenes of tortured animals, of herself strapped to a metal table and prodded with scalpels, of Ashley Rice stalking her through a wicked forest of grasping claws and needles. One of the claws snagged her arm and she woke with a scream.

  A hand clamped over her mouth. “It’s okay. It’s me.” Zeeb’s eyes peered into hers, filled with concern. He lifted his hand. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, relieved to be free of her dreams. “Yes. I was just caught up in my worries. I’m sorry for waking you.”

  He shrugged and crawled back to his place by the door.

  Fearful of returning to her nightmare, Harsha looked for whimsical pictures in the wood patterns of the shed walls. Instead, one horrific specter after another leered at her. She thought back to her early childhood, when she used to jump from her bed to Ami’s to snuggle with her sister in moments of fright. The old ache throbbed in her heart, joining with the fresh loss of Jason and forcing tears into her eyes.

  She wished she could jump the gap of time, back into her childhood, back to when nightmares were imaginary and someone was always there to wipe away her tears. She felt foolish and childish, but she craved the reassurance of being close to another person. Seraph had never minded when she inched close for warmth during their adventure in Alaska. Harsha stared at her, speculating. She doubted her ability to sleep through the combined onslaught of heat from the sun and the dragon, so she pulled a bag of trail mix from her pocket, hoping to eat her way out of her needy mood. She fished around for dried fruit, chose a piece of papaya, then put it back.

  “I still snuggle with my parents.”

  Harsha jerked her head up, startled by Zeeb’s voice. “Huh?”

  The image of a thirty-odd man sharing a bed with his mother and father churned her stomach and caused a flood of doubts about Zeeb to rush over her.

  “When there’s a full moon. It’s a wolf thing.”

  While this explanation brought to mind pictures of snuggly wolf packs and eased away her disgust, it failed to explain his sudden confession. “Okay, then.”

  “It means I don’t think less of you for wanting to be held because of nightmares.”

  She blushed, feeling infantile. He closed his eyes. His abundant hair threatened to be as hot and uncomfortable as Seraph’s abundant heat. Almost. Not quite.

  She made one last attempt to fall asleep alone before crawling across the floor and settling next to him. “I’m still mad at you.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.” He put an arm around her in a comforting embrace, much like Ami’s.

  She closed her eyes and slept, this time without dreams.

  Chapter 20

  Tiptoeing after Zeeb, three fortifying rosemary candies packed in each cheek and the taser Jefe gave her all those years ago tucked in her pocket, she noticed the shadows cast by the trees in the waning sun bore a striking resemblance to her nightmare pursuers. The anxiety she’d felt getting to this moment paled in comparison with the thrills of terror trying to seize control of her limbs now that she faced the real challenge. With quaking fingers, she dug another candy out of her pocket and shoved it in her mouth with the others.

  At the edge of the lawn, Zeeb lowered to one knee. Pink and green lights rimmed the edge of the area, casting an effeminate glow on the gleaming mansion.

  “It looks like something out of a faerie tale,” Harsha whispered, hoping to diffuse her intense fear with this whimsical observation.

/>   “So do we,” Seraph whispered back.

  Zeeb leaned in to add his voice to the conversation. “Can you mist all the way there, Seraph? I need to catch a few moonbeams before we storm it. If you can get a window open, I can get Harsha across the open space.”

  Seraph frowned at the distance, her amber eyes flickering with calculation. “I don’t think so. Maybe we can catch a stray worker?”

  “Won’t there be security?” Harsha asked. “Alarms or guards? How do we get past them?”

  Zeeb shook his head. “As far as alarms go, the place is designed for preventing escapes, not robberies. Getting in is easy. As for the rest, we don’t. You and Seraph focus on what we came for. I’ll handle security. What about a bird, Seraph? Can you fly in?”

  Seraph gave Zeeb a look oozing with disdain. “How about an emu? Are you crazy? In another five centuries, I won’t even be able to manage a human.”

  Harsha stared at the expanse of grass. An idea struck her. If Seraph could imitate a rock… “How about a patch of grass.”

  The fire in Seraph’s eyes flared and a puff of smoke escaped her nostrils. “A patch of grass?”

  Zeeb buried his head in his arms and shook all over in a pitiful attempt to contain his laughter. He looked up, opened his mouth to speak, but doubled back over for another round of quivering. When he pulled himself together, Harsha heard the smile in his voice. “Got a better idea?”

  Seraph huffed, tiny sparks of flame escaping her nostrils. “No, but you better not tell anyone about this. Otherwise, you’re going to be my first sentient snack.”

  “Agreed.”

  Seraph misted. Harsha watched in wonder as Seraph’s shimmering mist form settled in coppery sparkles on the grass. The sparkles vanished, leaving behind a thick patch of orangey-green grass large enough to carpet a sizeable living room. The grass rippled a few inches forward, paused, and rippled again.

  “Can’t you go faster?” Zeeb whispered.

  The grass responded by rustling before bunching up like an inchworm and shooting forward several feet, leaving behind a trail of uprooted real grass.

  Zeeb chortled. “I don’t know what’ll bother them more: losing a victim or finding their lawn ruined.” He turned to Harsha. “Stay here. I’m going to find a moonbeam. When I get back, we’ll make a run for it. You’ll have to ride me.”

  He started to go, then whipped back to her. “I mean my back. Ride on my back. I didn’t mean ” he faltered.

  Harsha stuffed another candy in her mouth to disguise her smile. She shifted candies around to mutter, “I know what you meant.”

  “Right. Of course. Okay. When I get back, then.”

  She watched the grass drag itself across the lawn, hoping none of the occupants of the mansion noticed the strange behavior of their greenery. At her new rate of travel, Seraph made it to the mansion before Zeeb returned. She sparkled as she changed, then a female silhouette with a long, thick braid slipped into a window.

  The next moment a wet nose nudged Harsha’s ear. She jumped and almost screamed at the sight of the enormous wolf. Gathering her wits, she straddled Zeeb’s back and leaned forward to be flat against him with her arms circling his neck. His tongue flicked across one of her arms.

  “I’ll be okay,” she whispered, hoping she chose the correct answer to his gesture. “Seraph went in the second window to the left of the door.”

  He bounded across the open lawn. As a reflex, her arms squeezed. Faster than shadow, he reached the mansion, leaped through the open window, and landed on the thick carpet of a small office without a sound.

  From the place she held next to the window, out of Zeeb’s path, Seraph whispered, “This place is too classy for an emergency exit map. Do you know which way to go?”

  Harsha dismounted. Zeeb crept to the door and sniffed before shaking his head.

  Seraph sighed. “We should split up, then.”

  He growled.

  “I’ll stay with her.”

  He sniffed outside the room again and disappeared to the left.

  “All right, Harsha. You heard him. Stay close. If we get separated, get out and get off the island. Don’t wait for us. Don’t try to hide. Find a boat and paddle for west. If you can’t find a boat, swim. You’re better off drowned than trapped here.”

  Harsha nodded. Inside, her gut struggled to erupt out of her throat. The rest of her candy supply went into her mouth to help keep it down.

  Seraph led the way down the hall to the right. Rich, burgundy carpet muffled their footsteps, but they may as well have been stalking the halls in broad daylight, the way the strong LED bulbs lit the passage. Between the pairs of ornate mahogany doors spaced every couple of yards, elegant paintings, cases of small sculptures, and woodcarvings lined the cream-colored walls.

  Harsha recognized a Monet among the paintings. For half a heartbeat, she let her step slow while she admired it. A half-heartbeat later, she froze altogether. She thought she’d heard a moan. Or, not quite a moan. It was like the first few notes of a sad song falling away into a whimper. “Sewap ’id oo heaw da’?” The candies stuffed in her mouth made it difficult to speak.

  Seraph, already at the end of the hall, strode back to Harsha’s side. “Stay focused.” She took Harsha’s elbow and started to lead her on.

  “Doh, waid.” Harsha swallowed several of her candies whole to make room for words. “Whoever is in that room needs help.”

  “It’s probably one of SoPHE’s people. Speaking of whom, we’re probably going to meet a few soon. Come on.”

  Harsha let herself be led forward three or four steps before she stopped. The noise she’d heard gave her the distinct feeling the occupant of the room was not a member of SoPHE. “At least sniff it for me. If it’s a human, we’ll move on, okay?”

  The way Seraph locked eyes with her, she suspected she was not going to like what the redhead had to say.

  “We’re not here to rescue individuals. We’re here to get your brother’s body back so SoPHE can’t use it against all hiders.”

  Yup. She hated it. Her entire being railed against it. As much as she wanted to ensure SoPHE did not use Jason to hurt others, the cold fact remained that she had come for a dead body. Meanwhile, living creatures needed help.

  “You’re right. While we’re at it, why don’t we open a few doors?” Determined to try, she grasped the knob.

  Seraph swatted her hand away, causing an ugly, black bruise to erupt on Harsha’s wrist. “No. The longer we stay, the likelier it is we’ll be caught. We need to hurry.”

  A bevy of sharp retorts flurried through Harsha’s mind. She pushed them aside and settled for, “Which won’t happen if we stand here arguing.”

  “They have no place to go. I can’t fly all of them away.”

  “They’re hiders. I’m sure they’re resourceful.”

  Smoke streamed up from Seraph’s nostrils. “And how exactly do you plan to open it? Do you have a set of lock-picks handy?”

  Harsha jiggled the handle, just in case. It didn’t open, of course, but she hadn’t expected it to. “We need to find a key.”

  “Fine. We’ll ask around while we look for Jason’s body.” Seraph’s saccharin words dribbled sarcasm.

  Harsha rolled her eyes and followed her. They rounded the corner and collided with a housekeeping cart being pushed by a plump Filipino woman, and two men holding long metal sticks. Before they could react, Seraph leapt over the cart and the woman to throw solid kicks into the men. The men soared to the opposite end of the hallway, smacked against the wall, and slid into heaps on the floor. Seraph never slowed. Blowing fire from her human mouth, she bounded after them while they scrambled around another corner to get away from the flames. Then all three were out of sight.

  Stunned into silence, Harsha stared at the spot where the men had lain in heaps a half-second ago. At the same moment she remembered the woman, the woman remembered her. The woman snatched a broom from her cart and swung it at Harsha’s head. Harsha ducked an
d grabbed the first thing her hand landed on: a damp washcloth. She flung it at the woman’s face.

  The woman disappeared.

  Harsha blinked, rubbed her eyes, and took another look. Nope. No one there. She inched her way around the cart, fearful of finding a puddle of melted person behind it. After all, this was a mad scientists’ lair, however wonderful their taste in art. To her relief, the puddle behind the cart retained its human form. Except it looked dead. A new, real fear replaced her irrational speculations.

  “Please, please don’t let me have killed her.”

  She eased down, wary of a trick, and felt for the woman’s pulse. Despite having her own pulse taken hundreds of times, finding the miniscule thump proved too difficult for her. She pressed one spot, then another, and another.

  Her own heart rate picked up. “Please, please, please.”

  A soft sigh escaped the woman’s lips. Harsha sat back on her heels and let out her own sigh of relief. What is on that rag?

  The side of the cart held garbage cans, long metal sticks, and no clues as to the nature of the substance on the rag. No matter. Several tasers hung on another side of the cart, reminding her of the one in her pocket. The one she’d failed to use at the appropriate time. Shaking her head at her slow thinking, she tucked one of the woman’s tasers in her other pocket.

  A gleam at the woman’s waist caught her eye. Keys. Those will come in handy. Harsha stooped to open the clasp of the key fob attached to the woman’s belt. It held four computerized keys similar to the one she needed to start her car, all the same size and shape at the top. She guessed, given the disparity between the number of rooms and number of keys, one of them opened captives’ rooms and the rest opened other areas, which would simplify her task.

  The idea of wandering around the mansion on her own sent a flurry of goose-sized butterflies through her belly, bolstering her determination rather than undermining it. Maybe she wasn’t as fierce as a dragon or as stealthy as a werewolf, but she’d taken care of her family all her life. She could release a few suffering hiders on her own. At the very least, she could release one.