It was evening. The streets were filling with humans indulging in a nightly ritual of drinking, sex, and rowdiness. I kept to the shadows as the nightlife started to thicken. I chose a particularly uncivilized place that night. Oram. It was a portion of a city that had refused to unite with the sectors after the war ended over a hundred years prior. It deteriorated since then as more and more people moved into the sectors and abandoned Oram to its gangs and corruption. This was where the lowest of the filth resided. Where I’d find a man the Draakir had been wanting to get its hands on for months. Borus Kramar.
Borus was no major threat to anyone. He wasn’t organized or a leader to any group that held sway over anything important. He was a pest. A man sticking his fingers in the trafficking business. A man who’d flexed his non-existent stature and happened to get lucky and kill the wrong person. A boy. A Draak boy to be more specific. I didn’t know the kid. I barely knew his parents, but that night I felt a need to release violence on someone who deserved it before I hurt someone who didn’t.
As I walked the street, the bass of a club started to travel through the air toward me, leading me exactly where I needed to go. Darkness was thick and I knew my eyes would give me away. Calming the fire inside of me was difficult, but I managed, bringing the glow down to something nearly undetectable as I approached an old brick warehouse. It was surrounded by chain link fences and a line of people, already unstable and tainted by whatever drugs they’d consumed. I walked calmly around to a cluster of dumpsters near the side of the property and used them to leap over the fence. In the alley was a thick, metal door. I tugged on the handle, realizing it was locked, but no matter. Another tug and the metal frame gave way, allowing me entrance.
Inside, music was blaring to a deafening, irritating degree. I walked down a narrow hall toward an array of smoke and laser lighting that lit up a giant interior filled with bodies dancing sadly offbeat. Not a single person there truly knew where they were. I could smell the sweat and alcohol and cigarette smoke like a poison wafting through the thick air.
Pushing past the barely dressed club-goers in their netting dresses, spiked vests, and almost transparent bodysuits, I zeroed in on a second story overhang that looked over the crowds. I stood in the middle of the dance floor, rock solid as bodies bumped clumsily into me, staring up at the round platform above. The glow of my eyes lit up in the sporadic light shows that painted the dance floor. On the platform was a coward of a man sitting on couches that had once been red, but now looked the color of rust.
I started toward a metal stairway that led to the overhang. Women and men alike reached out to touch me as I strolled past them. I shrugged them off, glowering with disgust each time I felt their paws slide against the leather of my coat. It would take days to get their stink off of me.
As I ascended the steps, I could smell the smoke of whatever Borus and his goons were inhaling. It smelled sweet like the putrefying odor of fruit and it made their faces red with laughter. I came to the platform and was met by a Pike with broad shoulders and a bald head covered in scales and tattoos. The unlucky ones vaguely resembled humans, their skin tinted green or yellow with a texture between reptilian scales and flesh. He acted large, but once I came to the last step and stood level with the Pike, I was looking down at him. He was used to scaring people off with his stance alone, but gods if he didn’t move he’d be two halves of a man instead of a whole one in a matter of seconds.
My eyes gave off a glint that made him gulp with discomfort. He didn’t step aside until I started moving forward, making my way to the sofa where Borus sat. He was taking another long puff from a tube connecting to a round, glass bowl in the center of a table. Even in the smog, I knew it was him. He and two other companions, a man with a white shirt and a woman in a mesh dress, sat around consuming the same smoke. The white shirt was no human. He was a Draak. A human-born Draak with sandy, blonde hair and a yellow glow in his eyes that was dim under the influence. None of them noticed me until I was practically on top of them. The Draak was the first to jump, nearly knocking the woman over as she was about to sit in his lap.
“Fuck,” the Draak spit.
Borus, a scrawny, middle-aged man with a single, unfinished tattoo on the side of his neck, nearly flipped off the sofa, taking the glass bowl with him. Glancing at the Draak again, I realized this was how Borus managed to kill a Draak boy. He had help from a disgusting, unworthy rat who, by the looks of him, had moved from the sectors to get rich in the outer territories.
Connections in the sectors made wealth in the outer areas more attainable for numerous reasons, most of them having to do with trafficking. It was a business that provided sick men their sadistic pleasure. They enjoyed Ashlings most since mistreating women claimed by Draak was the ultimate “fuck you” to our race, but once in a while, young Draak were targeted for more sinister reasons. The idea was sickening. These disgraces were nothing more than killable objects with faint heartbeats.
“Who the fuck are you?” Borus said in a tone that was layered with a smoky rasp.
The Draak man moved behind the other sofa, putting the furniture between himself and me as if it made a difference. Borus turned to his useless Pike guard and pointed him toward me, but the Pike appeared to be the smartest man in the room. He made no advances.
“Fucking get him!” Borus shouted.
When the Pike shook his head, Borus, displaying the full extent of his stupidity, reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a black pistol. He raised it toward me and fired without hesitation, but even if he was seeing straight, he would not have hit me. The bullet hit the brick wall behind me and ripped my patience to shreds. I stepped two feet forward and reached for him, grasping his wrist in one hand and bending it abruptly so it snapped like a dry twig. He let out a scream, so high pitched I could have taken it for the woman’s, but no one in that damn club would care, even if they could hear him.
As the woman scurried out on too-high heels, the Pike finally rushed me, fire lighting up the veins around his eyes and growing along the skin of his head. Thrusting my other hand out to grasp his neck, I stopped the large man and bore my teeth at him with fury, heat rising in me like water coming to a boil.
Throwing Borus to the ground in a heap of agony, I grabbed the Pike’s head in both hands just before he released an explosion of flames that could level the whole club. His eyes burst into fire, but before it could spread, I twisted, reveling in the crack of his spine that rendered his body a heavy, limp sack. Borus cried out on the floor and, looking down at him, I pulled my knife from my belt and sliced it across his throat, spilling his blood across the concrete floor.
As Borus gurgled his way to death at my feet, I glanced up at the Draak still standing behind the sofa. A traitor. A man who had been using his residence in the sectors to take advantage of humans and Draak alike. It took two seconds of mild focus to peel those truths from his head. Any man or Draak that would subject anyone to the abuse trafficking entailed was a monster and it was a dishonor to my race.
I marched toward him, eyes ablaze. When he turned to leap off the landing, I lunged forward, bounding over the sofa, and plowed into him. The two of us plummeted over the railing together toward the floor below. Twisting, I threw the Draak’s body under mine and slammed him into the ground. The knife sunk into his chest as I pulled him up close to my face with a growl.
There was nothing to say to this creature. I reached out briefly toward his mind and found regret only for being caught. He’d aided in murder and the suffering of others. Theft. Lies. I pulled his memories from his head like a string from a spool and found the dead boy’s mother alive somewhere in the grunge of the outer territories. I didn’t go deeper. I was in no condition to venture further into a mind I didn’t know. At that, I twisted the knife.
“Where’s the woman?” I demanded over the boom of the music.
He didn’t answer. I withdrew my blade. Taking the man by his ankle, I began hauling him toward the club�
��s back door where I’d entered, pushing violently through the crowds. Reaching the exit, I tossed him out into the alley where the music was less of a nuisance.
“Where is the boy’s mother?” I asked again, more calmly now as I paced in front of the helpless Draak.
“Who the fuck are you!?” the Draak shouted, pressing a hand over the bleeding wound on his chest. “You some bounty hunter? Part of the Draakir’s lame security force?”
Insulting. I spun around to face him, breathing with rabid disappointment. My eyes lit up with anger. Glowing, orange veins fanned out along the sides of my face and carried that feral heat with them. I felt the fire burning, hungry for a release. This Draak traitor needed to be killed. I saw years of dishonesty, abuse, and cheating rancid on his thoughts. There was no need to question him. Just a need to tear him down.
“I have what I need,” I bluffed, stepping toward him.
“Wait, wait!” he begged, waving his hand at me. “You want money? You want a cut? I can give you whatever you want.”
“You’re not worth my suffering over another word,” I snarled. “You’re a disgrace.”
“Wait! Ok. She’s in Nilis. She was sold to a man in Nilis. Ekhart Williams. That’s all I know. Please.”
Tilting my head, I considered bringing the Draak back to the sector for a trial, but the idea of him living another day disgusted me.
“Thank you,” I said.
Grasping his head in my hands, I gave it a firm, sudden twist until bone and flesh tore and broke away. Clutching the man’s hair, I ripped his head free from his body, kicking him aside to pull the last clinging tendons away and sever the two parts completely. Blood splashed across the alley in steaming-hot sprays that pooled around my boots. I watched the perfect white of his shirt become red as I marched away with the Draak’s head, infuriated and grasping on to what little control I had left in me that night.
13
Everly
. . .
It had been three days since I arrived at the estate. For the most part, everyone left me alone. Everyone but Ronan, who seemed to follow me everywhere. He thought he was being stealthy. Every time I caught him peeking out from around a corner or pretending to happen across my path throughout the day, I tossed him a smile just to let him know I’d noticed him. I hated it but loved it at the same time, like a long game of hide and seek that he was having too much fun playing.
That night, everyone gathered in the dining hall for dinner. I was hesitant to join, but Ronan, the pushy child, hadn’t let me out of his sight that day. He dragged me along, assuring me I’d love what had been prepared.
We walked into the room and the first thing I noticed was a couple of the housemaids sitting on the far end of the long table, snickering and gossiping like a couple of school girls. Keera was on the other side of the room putting out a plate of grapes. The way Ronan rushed for it made me think it was specifically for him. Keera looked up and smiled, motioning for me to take a seat next to her son while she turned to go back into the kitchen. She snapped her fingers at the two girls as she passed and they both stood to follow her.
I looked around, trying to think of a way to escape the kid so I didn’t have to suffer through dinner. The rich scent of steak and garlic coming from the kitchen made my mouth water, but I would have much rather grabbed a sandwich and gone to eat outside or in my room. At the table, Ronan was stuffing grape after grape into his mouth and humming to himself.
“What’s that?” I asked him, trying to cut the awkward silence.
Ronan chewed a mouthful as fast as he could to answer. I stepped forward as I waited, sitting on the edge of the table, and took a few grapes. They were the green ones. My favorite. I slipped one into my mouth and the firm little fruit popped with sweet juices between my teeth.
“It’s something my mom sings when I can’t sleep,” Ronan said, rolling a grape between his fingers.
“Why are you singing it now?”
“I get it stuck in my head.” He popped another grape in his mouth. “Do you know any songs?”
“I know a few,” I nodded. “My mom used to sing one to me, too. It was a lullaby that her mom taught her.”
“What is it?”
I thought about it, my eyes wandering to the far wall as I fought to uncover my hazy memories.
“I can’t remember,” I said finally. “It’s been a long time.”
Saying that aloud was a little painful. Memories of my parents were slowly fading and every time I forgot something else, I felt like I was insulting them in some way. Like I was never their daughter. And, as if he smelled my drop in mood, Draven entered my awareness. I heard the door open behind me and a sensation like spiderwebs blowing up my arm tickled my senses. I slouched, stuffing two grapes into my mouth to keep my teeth from clenching.
Without having to look at him, I could tell it was Draven by the annoying tingles in my nerves. The smell of vetiver that came with his presence and the pace at which he walked. I tensed as he neared, listening to his heavy boots as he trekked across the wood floor. Ronan looked up with a smile, but even he seemed a little nervous when Draven was around.
Once I’d swallowed the grapes in my mouth, my teeth were grinding together. Draven came up behind me, reaching his arm around to take a handful of grapes for himself. He probably didn’t even like them, the bastard, but he seized any opportunity to make me uncomfortable. I glowered at the wall, my pulse racing. Draven paused for a moment, turning his face toward me so I could feel his hot breath in my hair.
“Pity the kid is here,” he whispered in my ear. “I thought for a moment that I’d gotten you alone.”
I said nothing. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I popped my last grape into my mouth and tried my best to block him out. The inhuman heat bleeding off his body so close to mine made that difficult. It poured over the back of my neck like a summer bonfire. I gulped, anger making the grape bitter in my mouth. He wasn’t stepping away. In fact, he leaned in toward me again, taking a deep breath along the back of my head, his nose tickling through my hair.
The kitchen door swung open as the ladies returned to the dining room with food. The sound startled me and I jumped away from the table, pushing past Draven with a shove that would have knocked any human on his ass. Draven barely moved. I marched toward a different seat at the table, hating how much he enjoyed my reactions. His heated eyes seared into me, looking me up and down slowly, lingering, as if I was standing there naked.
Swallowing the sour taste Draven left in my mouth, I threw a piece of garlic toast and roasted asparagus on a plate and left the damn room.
“Everly?” Keera said as I left.
I didn’t even look back.
14
Everly
. . .
I’d gotten to know my way around the estate a little, but the place was so big I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the whole thing. There were four women in the facility aside from Keera, but I rarely saw them. They acted more like servants than anything and slept in a different wing of the house. As unmarked women, they were just there to wait on their Draak employers, dressed in red and completely doe-eyed every time they were in their presence. Keera had taken the role of my personal guide. She was always there to show me around, escort me, or continue trying to convince me that my situation wasn’t all bad. I’d begun to drown out those conversations over the past few days, shutting down my senses when she started going on about the Draak.
It wasn’t until day four that I finally agreed to wear something other than my old clothes. Seeing as they were getting dirty, I decided to cave and put on something from the vast wardrobe the estate had. I chose an array of black pants and leggings and some thin, cotton shirts and night dresses. I enjoyed moving in my clothes rather than being constricted in something fancy.
Keera had shown me different ways to put my hair up and even offered to trim it for me, but I turned her down. It wasn’t as if I wanted to please anyone. My calluses wer
e rough. I would always have slightly sun-tanned skin from working outside my whole life and my scars and tattoos would never disappear. My appearance was the least of my worries.
Draven, to my surprise and delight, disappeared for long bouts of time every day and usually returned for dinner, at which time he’d continue tormenting me with his ravenous gazes and lecherous whispers. But the worst moment came the day I realized I had stopped counting. With Draven always gone, I was actually getting comfortable at the estate and it wasn’t sitting well with me. I shouldn’t be comfortable. Comfortable things made people lose track of goals and my goal was to get away. Maybe kill Draven. Hell, if I could do both, I’d be golden. After that awakening, I was almost constantly thinking of ways to get the hell off that property.
The nightmares I thought I conquered years ago returned, with new ones added to the mix. I dreamt of fire and screaming. Of blood and death. Things I thought I’d coped with. I saw the bodies in the Red Race every night in my sleep. I felt my burns like they’d just scorched my flesh. I saw Taurus’s head burst open in front of me and heard his words just before he died in my arms. Run, he said. If only I could have.
One particular night, my dreams wouldn’t allow me even a moment of peace. They were especially vivid, causing me to wake with sweat coated on my skin. My thoughts were still tainted with things I wished I could forget and now Taurus, the one who used to lull me back to sleep, was part of the horrors that haunted me. I got up and swung my legs over the side of the mattress to stand. Opening my window, I let the cold air in to soothe me, but it barely helped. I continued looking for ways to calm myself and paced for a moment, catching my breath after a long night of heart-pounding nightmares. Finally, I stopped, quelling my nerves with a few slow inhales and exhales.
Ash Bringer (A Storm of Fire: Paranormal Dragonshifter Romance Book 1) Page 9
