Hereditary

by Jane Washington

  I marvelled at some point, how this thing had changed us, had changed me. I flinched when people spoke, as I never used to, but Hazen’s voice in my head, which had always felt alien before, was now something that I needed.

  As it was nearing darkness again, I made sure that everyone went home, assuring them with as little words as possible that I was fine. My father, I knew, wouldn’t leave, even if I tried, so I welcomed his presence. He made dinner and we curled up before the fire in the living room, me wrapped in a blanket because I still felt strangely cold.

  “Tell me about it.” I said eventually, wishing that I could speak into his mind as I did with Hazen.

  “What Hazen showed me… what you did… that’s nothing like my ability. Mine is physical.”

  I was confused for an instant, my memories strangely fuzzy, slipping away from me before I could focus on them.

  “I didn’t see that far. I stopped watching. In Nareon’s court, I killed two men. I didn’t see it then either, but I was only unconscious for a few moments.”

  I didn’t know how much the others had told him, but I suddenly didn’t want to have any secrets anymore.

  “Joseph mentioned Nareon. That’s why I wanted to talk to you on Friday. So I suppose he knows that you’re marked now?”

  “Yes.”

  He was silent for a while longer.

  “Tell me about how it works for you.” I pressed.

  He took a deep breath, but it wasn’t to stall, only to steady himself. I could tell that he didn’t like talking about it.

  “It’s just an instinct, a very physical instinct. I can kill a man in seconds, with the heel of my hand, a single kick. I can throw a dagger, and it will always find the way to the heart. Do you want to know how you killed him?”

  I was surprised by the question, because all weekend, we had avoided directly referring to the man, or what he had done.

  “Yes,” I found myself saying, “I’d like to know.”

  “It was instant, like you’d switched out a light. One minute he was alive, the next, he was dead. He stopped breathing immediately, his brain stopped ticking immediately, he dropped right to the ground, and you crawled over to a tree. It wasn’t even you who pushed him behind the bushes, it was the roots, the vines, they rolled him, tried to smother him by my estimations. They wanted to protect you.”

  I thought back to waking up at the base of a tree, muddy roots embracing me, securing me to the ground as if they would draw me right through the base of the tree. I felt an odd tenderness well in my heart, and longed to open my connection and be comforted by the surrounding forest. Instead, I turned my attention back to my father.

  “I didn’t remember.” I told him, though that much would have been obvious, “I didn’t mean to. Not on Friday night either. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

  He stroked a hand over my cheek and smiled sadly.

  “Either did I, the first time.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was much older than you, a foot soldier in the Black Guard. I was put in charge of guarding the prisoner’s cells, and stupidly, one of the jailers had placed a convicted rapist beside a woman. I don’t remember what crime the woman had committed, but the man terrified her on a daily basis, jeering at her, shaking the bars, telling her all the things—” he paused then, his face going white, as if he had only just realised what he was talking about.

  I had realised long before, and my body was shuddering again, my mind quickly going cold. I opened my mouth to reassure him, but only a choking sound came out, and internally I tried to berate myself, but I suddenly lacked the strength. I wished that Hazen were there, or Cale, or Rose… But no, I had to learn to deal with this eventually. I had to start protecting myself, instead of always relying on my friends. My father seemed too shocked to move, and eventually I calmed enough to reach out a shaky hand and pat his knee.

  “It’s ok.” I told him.

  “Move into the other house with me.” He spluttered in response.

  At my surprised look, some colour returned to his face, and he grasped my hand.

  “Bea, I can’t leave you here. Even though I have to go away again soon, I’d feel better having you there. You’re not in so much of a danger anymore, not with the whole royal family doting on you. I have a housekeeper in the other house, she can look after you. And the whole Market District is closed-off from the rest of the kingdom overnight, the gates guarded even during the day.”

  I made a face, “Gretal hates me.”

  “She’ll fall for you sooner or later, everyone does.”

  I couldn’t refuse him, not when he looked so desperate, “of course Dad.”

  I went to bed early that night, fatigue weighing down on me even though I had barely moved all day, barely even spoken, and the next morning, I awoke alone for the first time since Friday. My appearance was more bedraggled than usual, the shapeless grey dress paired with black leggings and boots, my hair pulled into a lopsided braid. It was the only spot of colour on me, bright as a flame against the golden skin that miraculously mirrored how spread-thin I felt. There were dark smudges under my eyes, and a drawn pallor had settled over my face that no amount of synfee beauty could hide.

  My father was still asleep when I left, but I didn’t mind, because I knew he expected me to not go to the Academy. And if he were awake, I wasn’t sure if I could lie to him again.

  I moved into the trees, finding where I had tethered Nareon’s horse, a horse that I had decided to name Lady. I swung onto her back, and wheeled her in the right direction, surprising the usual guard that I had come to expect whenever I crossed the border.

  “We hadn’t expected you again so soon, Lady Beatrice.” Grenlow said, helping me down from the horse.

  I nodded, staying silent, and eventually he turned and escorted me to the castle, dispatching one of Nareon’s men to find the King. It took him longer to arrive than it usually did, and when he swept into the room, there was a blond woman on his arm, looking about as drugged as I often felt, when Nareon was using his compulsion on me. I didn’t spare her a glance, and as soon as Nareon saw me, he disentangled himself and strode toward me, grabbing me instantly, his eyes searching my face.

  “What is it? What happened?”

  It struck me then, the way that Nareon treated me. I was something special to him. Not a girlfriend, or a mother, or a daughter. Not a pet, or a prize. Something different, something that I suspected not even he understood.

  “I need you to teach me how to kill people.” I said, slowly, “with my power.”

  He barely seemed to hear me, though I knew that on any other day, this would have made him ecstatic.

  “Someone’s hurt you,” he said, seeming to taste the words as they left his mouth, “you’re hurt. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “I think I’ve blocked it out. Or Hazen has. Do you have a mind-reading ability?”

  Why had I never thought to ask that before?

  “Of sorts. Nothing like your friend’s.”

  He watched me a moment longer, and when he was sure that I wasn’t going to elaborate, he turned and barked an order, and began to pull me from the room. The route was vaguely familiar, but it didn’t click until we came to the guarded room. It was too bizarre a thought, that Nareon would strap me down again, when I was nowhere near losing control and didn’t need to feed, and so I ruled it out as a possibility.

  He took me right to the two guards, and then made an impatient gesture. They unlocked the doors hastily, and left them open as we descended down the suddenly steep flight of stone steps. Our way was lit by bracketed wall torches, one of which Nareon grabbed as we neared the bottom. He held it out, and rows upon rows of cages stretched out before me, either side of a central, stone walkway. A shiver raced down my spine, but Nareon pulled me right to the centre of the walkway.

  “Choose one.” He said.

  I peered at the closest cage, at the dirty face of an old man, slumped onto a cot. He was h
uman. I couldn’t kill him.

  “Show me a rapist.”

  I felt Nareon’s gaze on me, felt his hand around my arm slacken, felt his body vibrate. I let him think it, because it was true, he could see it on my face now. I should have taken into account that Nareon wasn’t my friend, he was the old, mad, synfee King. He killed people for sport. I could hear him swearing now, and he lurched away from me. I began to shrink in upon myself, unable to help my reaction to the violence I could feel emanating from him.

  He turned to the nearest cage—the cage holding the old man—and tore the bars from their hinges. They came apart like splintering twigs in his hands, flying into the walls around me, somehow not hitting me. I sank to the floor, unable to move any further back, for there was a cage behind me. I could feel the hot eyes of every prisoner; they glowered at me, their scrutiny painful and harrowing all at once. I began to rock back and forth, a frightened sob tearing through my throat, and suddenly Nareon was before me again. His hands were slick with blood, I couldn’t fail to notice, but I didn’t recoil from him again. I couldn’t, not when I had seen in his eyes what I meant to him.

  Why me? I thought, as he held me against him, crooning to me as he had when I had killed two of his men.

  And then it hit me.

  I pushed out of his arms, my eyes wide.

  “The way you treat me, it’s like you lost someone, and I’ve replaced them. Like you have a second chance at caring for somebody.”

  He didn’t answer, but I couldn’t miss the flash of pain that fleetingly scattered his expression. I looked away from him, to the bloody handprints on my arms, half covered by the sweep of my hair.

  “Or maybe…” my voice had become barely audible, as I continued to stare at my hair, the deep red merging with a memory of another colour; a richer, smoother burgundy.

  “Maybe it’s more than that.” I snapped my eyes back to him, “you were in love with my mother, weren’t you Nareon?”

  He sat back, stunned. I wondered if I should be angry with him, or hurt, but when I tried to dredge up the emotions, they didn’t come. Instead I only felt sympathy. My mother had chosen a foot soldier, a human foot soldier, with orange hair and a death ability, over her family, her life, and the love of her King. I didn’t criticise her choice, because I had seen first-hand how happy it had made her, how content she was. And I knew the stories about Nareon.

  Still, it was there. The desperate care he had for me. It was unconditional, and with it present, I simply couldn’t hate him.

  I arrived back at the Academy just as lunch was finishing, and found the others at their usual table beneath the cherry-blossom tree. Hazen stood before the others had noticed me, and I could tell by the tense set of his shoulders, that he had already seen where I had been.

  I told you not to. He turned to stare at me, and I found that I liked having the old, glarey Hazen back.

  I couldn’t go through with it. Doesn’t that count for something?

  Nareon had eventually led me to the right cage, after yelling for someone to clean up the mess that he had made, and even though I hated the sight of the man who stared back at me from within, I hadn’t even been able to contemplate killing him. I didn’t even try.

  I’m not glarey. Was Hazen’s only response, as the others had now noticed me.

  Cale and Rose quickly recovered from their surprise, and Rose rushed to me, throwing her arms around me.

  “Oh Bea, today of all days. Are you sure you want to see him?”

  By him, I assumed she was referring to Harbringer.

  “He was only doing his job, and even though he doesn’t like me, he protected me in the end. That has to count for something, right?”

  She frowned, but didn’t argue the point anymore, and as the bell rang, Cale also reached me, throwing his arm about my shoulders, and steering me toward the Sand Theatre. He knew better than to question my sudden appearance, and as always, just his presence soon began to relax me. The students milling about the theatre constituted a much smaller group than I had anticipated. Smaller even, than a normal class. Harbringer was waiting there already, with Mad Mont, Boring Barlow, and Arrol, the handsome ranger professor. Harbringer looked up when I began to walk down the steps, alerted to my presence the same way Hazen would have been. I wasn’t sure what expression was in his eyes, that inky black gaze didn’t seem capable of sharing secrets, though he stared at me long enough to draw the other students’ attention.

  I reached for Hazen with my mind, and found that I didn’t even need to voice the question.

  His mind is shut to me Bea, but he doesn’t seem angry.

  I slid into the seat next to Cale, glad that he had put a few rows between us and Harbringer this time.

  I killed that man, when I said I didn’t. How could he not be angry?

  Hazen, who had settled on my other side, turned to me incredulously, drawing Cale’s curious gaze. I turned away from them both, and caught Harbringer’s eye again. To my surprise, he motioned to me.

  “Harrow.” He spoke normally, but his voice carried, “perhaps you would like to be our first volunteer.”

  I had been expecting him to kick me out of the class, declare that I was too unsafe to have around, but now my predictions had shifted. Now I was sure that he would humiliate me in front of everyone. I hesitated, wondering if it were too late to back out of the class, but everyone was waiting for me, and two rows down, the boy Cudos was staring at me. He looked amused, expectant. He clearly thought that Harbringer wanted to humiliate me as well. Feeling a rush of stubbornness, I returned the boy’s glare, and pushed to my feet, marching down to the stage. Arrol smiled at me, and I managed a smile back, because I liked Arrol, his class had been my favourite, even though I had only gone to it once, before my timetable had changed.

  As I reached the centre of the stage, I found myself abruptly surrounded by the four professors, each evenly spaced out and circling around me. A chill settled over me, and I heard Harbringer speaking to the others.

  “Now I’m sure you’re all wondering why I have chosen Miss Harrow for this first demonstration, and I’d like you all to watch carefully, take note of how she reacts when she is attacked.”

  This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea.

  I repeated the litany over and over again, until Arrol sprang at me. He was very fast, but I had trained with many rangers before, most of the kingdom soldiers were rangers or elves, because their powers were combative. I stepped easily to the side, and Arrol sailed past me, swung around with lightening speed, and was running for me again instantly.

  I laughed then, the sound clearly delighted, because this was something I could relate to. Harbringer had chosen me because I had spent my entire life training with my father, not because I was marked. Arrol caught me on the shoulder the second time, and his strength sent me whirling, but I ignored it, and stumbled back to give myself more time to react for his third attack. Unfortunately, he had predicted this, and was coming at me from behind. I felt the prickle of awareness on the back of my neck, and dropped down, rolling to the side. When I pushed to my feet, he was facing me again, and we circled each other. I had always been much better at weaponless combat, and I knew what my strengths and weaknesses were against any enemy. Arrol was fast and strong, perhaps even more so than many of the soldiers I had fought in training, but he was large, his body cumbersome compared to mine. I feinted to his right, ducked beneath the left swing he aimed, seeing right through my fake, and pounced on his back, winding my arm around his neck.

  His hands wound about my wrists, and I knew that he’d throw me off in a matter of seconds, but Mont blew a whistle then, and he stopped struggling immediately. I jumped down, and saw the faintest smile on Harbringer’s face. Arrol clapped me on the back, looking impressed, though we both knew that I wasn’t anything compared to a true ranger. Harbringer sent me back to my seat then, and divided us up into pairs. I could tell that we were sectioned off depending on our strength a
nd size, as Rose ended up with a slim girl behind her, and Hazen ended up with Cudos. Luckily, I ended up with Cale, and we all spread out on the stage. Harbringer and Arrol demonstrated a number of attack and defence poses, and set one person in each team to the attack or defence role. I was defence, and soon had Cale swearing with frustration, because he couldn’t seem to catch me to land a blow. When we switched positions, things changed, and I found that Cale was easily able to deflect my lesser strength, and in a fight, I knew that he would have been the superior.

  As the lesson ended, Harbringer caught my arm and drew me aside. Cale stopped to wait for me, but Harbringer ignored him. He handed me a rolled up piece of paper, one I recognised as the ‘questionnaire’ we had been given a week ago.

  “Have it back on my desk tomorrow.” He said, walking away.

  When he left, I unrolled the paper and saw that he had written something beneath my story.

  You call that an ending?

  Speechless, I tucked it into my dress pocket and just shook my head when Cale asked about it. Harbringer’s sudden interest in my creative writing faults apparently wasn’t the only surprise I was going to face that afternoon however, as when I reached the academy gate, my father was there waiting for me. People threw him looks and whispered just as they always did, and I examined his expression, wondering if I might be in trouble for leaving the house that morning.

  He looked excited.

  “Evening Sir.” Cale gave the Commander of the Black Guard a mock salute, and I rolled my eyes.

  My father looked at my scruffy-haired friend, and then shook his head, bemused.