The Taken

by Nikki Hunter

  “What did she do?” Zayn asked, taking another bitter swig from the bottle.

  “Flipped shit. Like, I almost lost my dick, kind of flipped shit. What about you?”

  Zayn sat, thoughtful for a minute. He fidgeted with his hands, trying to find the best scenario he had. “One time a girl asked me if I would choke her with my feet.”

  Kade shook his head. “Did you do it?”

  “Well, yeah… I’d try anything at least once.”

  Just two old friends, the pair sat together swapping stories, laughing until they cried and their ribs hurt. Each glance back at each other only made the tale they told that much funnier. The liquor they held eventually ran dry and Zayn found some more, drinking until their vision became a blur of distorted reality.

  Kade stilled, swaying as he slid from the counter standing on shaky legs. “Zayn,” he whispered, the urgency in his voice cutting though his friend’s joy sobering them both. “Someone is here.”

  Nerves, not just his own, raced up and down Kade’s spine, a cool confidence and determination that he recognized as that of a well trained warrior. Not one, but many. Five.

  Kade made to grab for Zayn’s wrist to send them back to the castle, but his limbs were heavy and sluggish. Not fast enough for the figures that crowded their doorway.

  Not fast enough to defend themselves from the bullets that bit into their skin. That made a black cloud of fear and regret rush like the heavy wave of an unstoppable tide until it covered them both.

  And they drowned in it.

  ***

  Bekket growled with frustration at the news that Queen Noryn’s guards had brought him. News that carried him through the decorative halls of the castle, past the many guest rooms and into the dreary dungeon. Two guards flanked Bekket and Lance as they walked down the large staircase. Blood hung so heavy in the air from many a prisoner tortured to death. A musky iron scent met them under the dim lighting, over powering their senses, sticking to their skin. The cellar door squealed loudly as he pushed it open, Lance followed closely behind him, as they caught sight of two crumpled forms.

  “Set them on their knees.” Bekket guestered towards the guards. Clad in red armor they pulled the two figures up, ignoring their protests and painful moans.

  Bekket stepped forward, peeling away the heavy blindfolds from each of them, revealing a sly smile and a smart ass smirk.

  Lance’s hand reached up to cover his mouth, holding in his own chuckle in response to the finding of his two friends. Drunk as skunks.

  “What is wrong with you two?” Bekket demanded. “You could have gotten yourselves killed. You are blessed by one of the many gods that it was our surveillance team that found you and not Queen Katrice’s.” His hands shook as he lifted them, running them over the plains of his face, over the dark circles under his eyes. “Lance, you are their leader. Are you not? Control these fools.”

  Bekket’s narrowed look, released the flood gate of Lance’s humor as he bent at the waist in a hearty chuckle. Kade and Zayn exchanged entertained glances before they too laughed.

  Lance straightened, finally returning a fleeting glance at Bekket whose jaw had dropped at the response. “I think,” Lance begun, “That it’s about time I saw them have a healthy reaction to this situation. Let them sober up, and then all will be as it was again.”

  He moved away from the wall leaving Bekket standing alone with a scowl. Reaching out, he unbound Kade’s wrists, letting the rope fall to the stone floors. Lance patted his back stepping back with an approving nod as Zayn’s magic fried the rope.

  “You know…” Lance cocked his head at Bekket, “I think this is actually a good idea.”

  Bekket raised his eyebrows in question letting a sly smile grace his lips. “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “It was my best fucking idea,” Zayn interjected while he got to his feet swaying slightly.

  Kade joined his friend, nodding in agreement. “It was a good one. Right now I’m feeling good. But he isn’t.” He pointed at Bekket whose scowl only deepened.

  “Come on, Bekket.” Lance clasped his shoulder. “Let me show you how we mentally unstable poor folk soften a hurting heart.”

  Chapter Five

  Vaerol

  With her eyes closed she laid on the small cot, the metal squeaking with each small movement she made. Outside the tent was a constant rumble of men shouting and laughing. They only quieted when they neared her tent. The clamor falling down to a quiet hush as they questioned the guards. The men were curious.

  Why wouldn’t they be? The only girl around for miles. Beautiful. Great sense of humor. What isn’t to like?

  Camila ground her teeth, pondering why the queen would think she was special enough to steal away. Time seemed to move in slow motion giving her eternity to think on her loneliness. Three weeks of loneliness, she guessed. The slap of the tent’s fabric being flung open and the rush of someone running in caught Camila’s attention, but she didn’t move from her spot on the cot, didn’t even bother to open her eyes.

  “Hello, welcome to my prison cell,” Camila mumbled, putting her hands behind her head.

  “Holy living hell.” A female voice erupted.

  Shocked, Camila sat up and turned to face the new comer.

  “Excuse me?” Camila asked, looking her over. Tall for a woman, chestnut hair secured in a long ponytail, deep brown eyes, and all sharp angles. She stood with her mouth open in awe, her hands rested against her hips as her eyes ran up and down Camila’s body before she bolted out of the tent without a word.

  How utterly strange. Camila stood, confused by the interaction, intrigued by another woman in the camp. The first she had heard of or come across. Someone she could possibly plead her case to. Maybe someone who could sympathize with her. A woman who was more connected to her emotions than these brute warriors could work to Camila’s advantage. Something she desperately needed. If she had to live through another one of Jenk’s power sucking hugs she didn’t know what she would do, but whatever it was it surely wasn’t going to be good, for her or Jenk.

  Again, the entrance to her tent was ripped open as the woman came stumbling in, dragging a man with her by the elbow. They both stopped and stared.

  “Can I help you?” Camila growled. “This isn’t a free show. I take payment via credit card, return in magic abilities, or large pre-approved dick.”

  “Is that her?” The woman turned toward the man, ignoring Camila completely.

  “I’ll be damned,” he whispered back, his eyes barely leaving Camila. “Looks like her. So unless she had a twin, I think it is.”

  “Damn,” the girl snarled.

  “Damn, Damn,” he answered her quietly.

  “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Camila cut in, her patience worn thin.

  “I know you,” the woman stated plainly.

  “Well, apparently so does everyone else at this camp. I’m even famous enough for your terrible queen to want a piece of this action. But I don’t know you.”

  The man slowly stepped forward, his hands up in surrender. Camila rolled her eyes at the movement. What was she going to do to him? She was powerless. She could scratch him with her dirty nails and give him some sort of dangerous disease they would proudly name after her.

  “My name is Char Livings, this is Layla Su—“

  “Just Layla.” She cut him off, stepping up to him with an annoyed look. “Why are you here?”

  With a snort Camila sat back down on the cot, the metal whining at her weight. “Beats me. Ask the big guy, Vargan. He’s the one who dragged me here.”

  “Vargan… hmm.”

  “Now may I ask, how you know me?”

  Char and Layla exchanged a glance suddenly unsure of what information they could share. They couldn’t tell her they had been at the party for the four who guarded the tear. Sharing that information could get them killed. Publicly tortured and killed.

  “That’s not information I can give you.” Layla folded her arms acro
ss her chest with a frown.

  “Well what do you want? Why are you here?”

  “Curiosity, I suppose.”

  Shaking her head, Camila propped her elbows on her knees and cradled her face in her hands mumbling into them. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  “What?” Char and Layla said together.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” she repeated.

  “I don’t understand,” Char said stepping forward in front of Layla. Camila smirked at Char, did he think it was some sort of magic spell she was about to cast on them? So protective this one.

  “It’s a human statement.” Camila waved at them. “Just saying that asking questions and poking around where you don’t belong can get you into trouble.”

  “If I get the answers I need that’s good enough for me.”

  Pulling her face up from her hands, Camila caught Layla’s gaze. “‘Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.’ What do you want from me?”

  Layla patted Char’s arm as she walked past him and squatted in front of Camila. “How do you know those who guard the tear?”

  “I served them.”

  “Served them? They hired a servant?” Layla pushed.

  “No. I’m a genie, I was assigned to them. I was given to them to meet whatever need the fates deemed necessary to fulfill. That turned out to be a joke with a bad punchline, but whatever.”

  “What about Lan—“ Layla began but was stopped as Vargan entered the tent.

  His mouth went from a flat line to a grimace quickly as he caught them talking with Camila. “Both of you. Out. Don’t you have Vaerol to prepare for? This is a restricted area,” he bellowed.

  Layla dropped her head with a sigh.

  “What’s Vaerol?” Camila whispered.

  “It’s a yearly celebration of the queen’s crowning. There will be more drunk men than sober ones tonight. Watch yourself,” she said in a hushed tone, before standing up and walking out of the tent behind Char.

  There will be more drunk men than sober ones tonight. The phrase played over and over in her mind. An opportunity had arisen. Her chance to escape.

  Vargan watched Camila as she stared at the exit, not bothering to give him any attention. He cleared his throat, setting down a metal plate with what looked like cake on top of it.

  “I brought you two gifts.” He gestured toward the cake, then pulled a old worn book from his pocket. “It is Vaerol, so even the lowest of lows receive a gift.” His attempt at a smile appeared more like an awkward scowl.

  Camila glanced at the cake, surely poisoned, then the book before turning her back on Vargan and rolling over on the bed. She laid down in silence. Surely, these offerings—these gifts, were meant to distract her from possibly her only opportunity to escape. Camila would have no part in it.

  Behind her Vargan growled, kicking the desk he had placed the gifts on, rattling the drawers.

  “You’re an ungrateful brat,” he huffed.

  Camila shook her head in silence, keeping her mouth closed tightly.

  “You don’t want to talk? You worthless woman.” He pushed, crossing his arms. “Insignificant genie… Whore of ‘five mates’,” Vargan mocked, chuckling to himself.

  Rage built in in her chest. Her hands shakily tucked in her folded arms as she laid facing the tent. The more he spoke the more it pushed her, the more her temper spiked.

  “You just going to sit and take it? Magicless fuck.” He tongued his cheek, waiting. Her resistance eating away at him.

  “You ugly ass, waste of space, jin. You aren’t cut out for our realm. You aren’t cut out to play in the big leagues. They should have kept you with the humans, coddled like a babe.”

  Her eyes closed, the words like the sharp blade that slit her throat. She couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t listen to it anymore.

  Like a whirlwind of anger she sprung from the bed, her finger pointed as she began shouting. “You think for one second I’m gonna let you talk down on my character as if I’m any of those things you said, you are dead fucking wrong.” She stepped up to him, standing on her tiptoes to get closer to his face. “I’m as gorgeous as a goddess, worth more than any of you men, if I had my magic you’d really be feeling my wrath right about now. My value isn’t dependant on the amount of men I have or have not mated with. I suggest you escort yourself out of my prison cell before I begin ripping strands of your nasty, matted, grizzly looking beard out of your chin, braid them together and use them to strangle you.”

  Her breath fanned across his face, making the long strand that hung by his cheeks sway with each exhale. He blinked down at her before erupting with laughter.

  “Oh, genie. I thought, I might get a rise out of you, yet. There is that fire I was warned about. Thought for a minute your spark might have died away, too quickly. Three weeks in and I’m glad you can still be yourself.” Vargan patted her shoulder as she lowered from the balls of her feet. He glanced at the blush that worked over her cheeks with another chuckle. “Have a good night. Enjoy Vaerol.”

  Vargan turned, his hand settling against his chest and he continued his hearty laugh out of the tent. Camila sighed, pulling the seat out of the desk and plopping down into it. She picked up the book he had left, leaning over to take in the decadent scent of the cake before looking down at the title.

  Caged Magic.

  Camila rolled her eyes. What a prick.

  Chapter Six

  Duke, Prince, King

  It had been a long time since Bekket had drank. He had been drunk before, but that was when he was younger, before he took the responsibility of his royal blood seriously. He couldn’t even remember the last day he felt liquor running rampant in his veins.

  He shook his head as he looked up from his seat in their small living room that centered their guest rooms. Zayn had been right. There was something about the human’s liquor that works faster, better, then anything the fae got drunk on. Zayn had led them in a drunken stupor back to the rooms where Queen Norynn, upon Lance’s request, provided the human alcohol. He didn’t want to think about how she got it, but he supposed there was more than one way into the human realm.

  The chatter and drunken talks had long since stopped, even if Bekket wasn’t ready to let go of this easy going feeling. Kade and Zayn where both draped across the couch, their feet by each other’s heads, quietly snoring. Lance watched them, smiling at how peaceful they looked. Reveling in the fact that in that moment they weren’t fighting the constant empty ache they all felt in their chest.

  Bekket glanced at Lance, noting how he didn’t have Kade’s empathy powers but was still so heavily influenced by the feelings of his own men.

  “Where’s Yehven?” He finally dared to ask, stalling to ask the very question that was so hesitant against his tongue.

  Lance sat forward from his slouched position. “He is out in the gardens. He didn’t feel like joining us. Don’t worry, Kym has him under her dutiful watch.” He rolled his eyes.

  “She’s...something.” Bekket nodded.

  “I hate that bitch,” Lance said running his hands through his hair. Bekket laughed, picking up a new bottle to drink from.

  “You know, I wasn’t going to say it like that...but I’m glad someone said it.”

  “I don’t even like her around Yehven, I know he hates it. But I just hate to leave him alone right now. He’s got a rough exterior but when he loves, he loves with everything in him.”

  “Yes, I see that,” Bekket said flatly earning a questioning look from Lance. “I’m not saying its a bad thing. Just that he is destroying himself over this stuff. He should do some self love shit or something.”

  Lance chuckled softly. “Yes, we probably all should. Would that revoke some unspoken man card or something though?”

  “Oh, it most definitely would.” Bekket grinned into the bottle before taking another drink. “But you know what? Who cares?”

  “Yeah, why is our man card based off of how much emotion we bottle up
and how little we take care of our own well beings? That’s some stupid shit if I ever did hear it.”

  “Cheers to that.” Bekket raised the bottle to Lance who had leaned forward with his elbows propped against knees. He continued to examine the sleeping pair, watching them breathe long even breaths. The expensive nature of this makeshift home left him longing for their more laid back house, longing for the memories when they had very few cares in the world. Living how they pleased for the most part in the human realm until they got a call for another job.

  Job.

  Slaughter. That’s what it was. Organized killing. Queen Katrice deserved everything they were planning on giving her just for that alone, not to mention the magic hoarding she had begun doing.

  “How do you handle it all?” Bekket finally asked.

  “Handle what exactly?”

  “Leading them. Leading them even when every fiber of your being is screaming for you to ignore the world just so you can deal with your problems without feeling the weight of theirs too.”

  Tough question. One Lance wasn’t sure he could answer completely, but he went with the real reason he did it all. Why he bore their stress as if it was his own even in his pain.

  “I love them. They are my family. I would die for them as they would die for me.” He paused licking his lips. “No one wanted this job, it was this or die for our crimes. So we choose this for various reasons.”

  “What was your reason?” Bekket asked with genuine curiosity.

  “My sister.” He sighed. “Haven't seen her for the past one hundred years but she’s out there somewhere. I’m just waiting for the time to come that I can see her again. Make sure she is taken care of.”

  “Hmmm, I have no siblings. I have no cousins even. Born and raised with royals who I don’t think would do the same for me as you would these men.” He set his glass down with a quiet thunk. “You are a good leader Lance. I’m jealous.”