Reckless Times
Paragon Society Book One
Michelle Hercules
Infinite Sky Publishing
Reckless Times © 2020 by Michelle Hercules
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Also by Michelle Hercules
About the Author
1
Andromeda
The crowd is clamoring, calling my name. I can feel the vibration of their loud voices and violent energy from the locker room. I’m alone here. After so many victories in the pit, I’ve earned the right to privacy. Little butterflies flutter savagely in my belly. I’m not nervous; these are just the jitters before a performance. I curl my hands into fists, letting the power of my invisible chains run freely through my veins like a surge of electricity.
For a fleeting moment, I wonder what my parents would do if they found out their precious disabled daughter is fighting against the meanest and strongest Idols in the biggest underground tournament in Hawk City. They’d probably have a heart attack. For starters, my family is one of the most prominent and wealthiest in the country. We don’t mingle with the lower classes.
I snort.
Yes, they’d be appalled, but mostly they’d be worried sick. Despite me being a high-level Idol, they think I’m defenseless thanks to my blindness. They know nothing about me, but they never made the effort either.
I push thoughts of my parents to the side and focus on the here and now. I’m the current champion in the pit, and as such, I’ll only step foot in the small arena when all fights are done. This is something new that management implemented. I’m facing whoever wins the rounds.
A smile blossoms on my lips as I remember my first time here. They thought I was an easy target. My disability was all they could see, never mind that I didn’t try to conceal my powers then. Strategy was not in my mind that first night. It didn’t matter. The fight was over before I could break a sweat.
Heavy steps approach from outside my locker room. It’s Dick Santos, the arena’s manager.
He knocks once before he opens the door. “It’s time.”
I jump to my feet, shaking my arms to loosen up. “Who am I fighting tonight?”
“The Boulder. Mean fella. Level fourteen. He can con—”
“Let me guess. Rocks?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah, and he’s faster than most despite his size.”
“What are the odds?” I stretch my arms.
“Six to one.”
“Six to one? That’s it?”
“In his favor,” Dick continues.
My jaw drops, and it’s not an act. I’m genuinely offended. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Our little performance last night worked. You’re the underdog again. But don’t worry, kid. He’s got nothing on you.” Dick puts his hand on my shoulder, which I promptly push off.
“I’m not worried. I’m pissed.”
He laughs from deep in his belly, grating on my nerves. “I’m not. Tonight, I’m making bank.”
Yeah, you and the guys.
I stride out of the room, focusing on the fire burning in the pit of my stomach. What did The Boulder do to make people think he can beat me? I only received a couple of hits yesterday from Stone Man, and that was because Dick told me to.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll show them.
The two security guys at the end of the corridor tense when they see me approach. It’s funny how I can pick up subtle changes in people more easily than those who aren’t visually impaired. Without missing a beat, they open the double doors for me. I usually take a deep breath to get rid of the jitters. Not tonight though. I’m more than ready to do some damage.
When I step out, the crowd roars, “Blind Fury! Blind Fury!”
I don’t bask in the glory. Only one out of six think I have a chance to win. I’m surrounded by traitors everywhere.
There’s only one person I can trust.
Me.
Dick announces my name as the defending champion, and once again, people go wild. But when he mentions the name of my opponent, the cheers are louder. I search for Leroy and Ezekiel in the crowd, my fan club. It’s easy to locate them as I’m already familiar with their auras. At least they aren’t rooting for the other guy.
I let my chains loose so I can get a sense of The Boulder but keep them invisible for now. That’s how I see the world, through my chains. They pick up on the vibrations of everything around me: people, objects, obstacles. It’s not a perfect view, but it’s better than being completely in the dark. Quickly, I understand why the majority of those present think I’m going to lose. My opponent is massive, almost seven feet tall, and packing muscles. Now I know where his stage name comes from.
“This is the famous Blind Fury?” He laughs. “I don’t know how I feel about fighting a helple—”
I shoot my right chain out, wrapping it around his throat and cutting his tirade off. He chokes, clutching at the links in a vain attempt to break free.
“You were saying?” I yank the chain hard, bringing the cocky idiot to his knees.
Dick remains outside the ring. The first thing he told me when I stepped into the pit for the first time was that there were no rules. Losers can either forfeit, pass out, or die, and the choice always relies on the victor. The Boulder’s grunts tell me he must be getting purple by now. I could easily kill him, and no one would think less of me. On the contrary, the crowd would love me more. I’m tempted, and my chains are as bloodthirsty as I am.
This is not who you are, Andy.
At the last moment, I retract them. There’s a collective gasp of disappointment.
The Boulder is still coughing as he staggers back to his feet. But instead of leaving the pit, he pulls all his energy to his core. He’s going to attack again, even though the fight’s pretty much over. Son of a bitch. Some people just don’t know when to give up.
Strong vibrations concentrate around the man just
before the floor cracks right under my feet. A huge mass forms in front of him. The fucker created a rock, which he launches in my direction. I have ample time to move out of the way, but I hold my ground. My chains form a protective circle around me, and in the next second comes the sound of rock shattering.
“What the fuck is that?” he asks, shocked.
I can’t tell exactly what he’s seeing, but when my chains are in full display, awe is the most common reaction I get. They must look badass.
He doesn’t get another chance to attack before I send both chains in his direction. One pierces his right thigh, and the other wraps around his body, squeezing him in a bone-crushing hold.
“Aargh! My leg. What did you do to me, bitch?”
Slowly, I walk in his direction, stopping when I’m in front of his collapsed form. “You should have forfeited when you had the chance.”
“Never. I’d rather die.”
It’s the first time I’ve faced someone with a death wish. I’d never truly considered killing anyone for sport, but today, the temptation is huge.
“Careful, buddy. I’m feeling quite murderous tonight.”
My chains squeeze him until the first crack of bone breaking echoes in the pit. The Boulder screams and curses, but he won’t relent. I won’t have a choice. If I don’t kill him, I’ll never be allowed back. The crowd will boo me out of the pit, if they don’t do something worse like ask for my head.
Suddenly, there’s no more resistance coming from him. Ah fuck. Did I kill him? I listen closely, something hard to do when everyone around is talking and cheering. Then I hear it, the faint sound of his breathing. He’s not dead, simply passed out. Relief washes over me, but I can’t let anyone see. Maintaining the cold mask, I pull away and walk over to my side of the pit.
Dick tsks as he joins me in the ring. When his attention diverts to me, I sense the difference in his demeanor. He’s beaming, probably counting his profits already.
“What an evening, am I right, folks?” he addresses the crowd.
They respond with cheers and hollers.
“How about we make it even more exciting?”
The yelling goes up a notch, making me wince. Sometimes having enhanced hearing is a curse.
“Blind Fury has remained undefeated for five weeks straight. I’m doubling tonight’s grand prize. If there’s anyone here brave enough to challenge her, come forward now.”
Immediately, the noise lowers until only murmurs can be heard. I frown, glowering in Dick’s general direction. I didn’t agree to a final challenge. It’s not that I can’t do it. It’s the fucking principle. I’m not his bitch to do as he pleases. I’d storm out of the pit if that wouldn’t brand me a coward.
Minutes go by without anyone stepping forward. Dick keeps egging on the crowd. I don’t know why he wants another fight so badly, but my patience is wearing thin. I stretch my arms and fake a yawn, ready to get the fuck out of here, when I sense a familiar presence nearby. My blood runs cold. I came here to forget he exists, to unleash my wrath on strangers, wishing it was him.
“I’ll do it. I challenge Blind Fury,” Stephan declares.
A myriad of emotions washes over me. Rage, longing, shame.
Damn everything to hell. What is he doing here?
2
Stephan
Two months earlier
I can barely keep my eyes open as I speed through the empty streets of Hawk City. The old saying that this town never sleeps has proven to be mostly false. A clever advertiser must have come up with that slogan to entice visitors seeking endless hours of entertainment.
After spending the entire night patrolling the streets, I’m ready to hit the sack. Maybe I would have been less exhausted if the evening hadn’t turned out to be a bust. There were no illicit activities besides the usual fare, no signs or any whispers of the Neo Gods, just like the evening before. They’ve been quiet for too long—at least a month—and that never bodes well, not when it comes to them.
I’m about two minutes away from my apartment when my father calls. With the push of a button, his voice comes through the speakers.
“Hi, Dad. What’s up?”
“Are you on your way home?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I need a favor.”
“I’m all ears.”
“A last-minute business trip sprang up. I’m headed to the international airport now.”
“Where are you going?”
“Austria, which means I won’t be able to attend the Belfors’ annual gala tomorrow.”
A yawn sneaks up on me. “Do you want me to attend in your place?”
“Yes.”
I try to avoid stuffy social events whenever I can, but if my father is asking me to take his place, he has reasons.
“So far, the Belfors haven’t done anything to put them on our watch list, but Blake Belfor is one of the wealthiest men in the country,” he continues.
“Meaning he’s a prime target for the Neo Gods.”
“Correct.”
I curl my fingers tighter around the steering wheel. The nefarious organization is in my head 24-7, but every time I say the name out loud, a surge of fury runs through my body. Then I see their faces, Mom’s and Sabrina’s, and the anger morphs into unbearable sadness and guilt.
Clenching my jaw, I shove the bitter memory to the side—out of the way but easily accessible.
“I’ll be there. What’s the plan? Observation only or recruitment?”
“I haven’t been able to get a good read on the man. I don’t know where his loyalty lies—with the Idol supremacists or the equalizers.”
“So, observation only,” I reply.
“Yes, but if you see an opening, don’t waste it.”
“I won’t.”
When my mother and my sister died, my father turned his grief and anger into something productive. He joined the Knights, a secret organization that fights to bring equality to the world. For far too long, my kind, the Idols, have oppressed Fringes and Norms. We were born with extraordinary powers—unlike Norms, who don’t possess an ounce of extra abilities, and Fringes, who were blessed with gifts but aren’t as strong as Idols. Sadly, the vast majority of my race uses their powers for amoral things.
Three years ago, I joined their ranks, and my younger brother, Soren, followed suit as soon as he turned seventeen. Since then, our main job is to patrol the city and keep our eyes peeled. Recruitment is always on the list, but that’s not something we take lightly. To the establishment, Knights are criminals, traitors. We must be extremely careful to whom we disclose our affiliation.
“When will you be back?” I ask.
“In a week or so.”
“You won’t be here for—”
“I know,” he cuts me off. “I’ll try to come back in time if I can.”
A lump gets lodged in my throat. It’s been almost eight years since our family was torn apart thanks to the Neo Gods. My mother and sister weren’t the target of their act of terrorism; they were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time all thanks to me.
The anniversary of their deaths is coming up, in three days to be exact. It’s the worst day of the year for us, but Soren always takes it the hardest.
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Have a safe trip.”
“Thanks. Keep an eye on your brother, Stephan. You know how he gets.”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry.”
The grim conversation takes over my thoughts completely. For the next ten minutes, everything I do is done unconsciously. It’s not until I walk through the front door of my pristine and painstakingly minimalist apartment that the numbness evaporates. Then comes the worst part, the hollowness inside of my chest and the guilt that’s already gnawed my heart out.
Outside, the sky is turning pink. I should try to take a quick nap before I have to head out to class, but there’s no rest for the wicked. My eyes land on the wet bar to my right for a brief moment. It’s stocked
to the gills with the most potent spirits on the market. Idols are usually resilient to the stuff, but consumption of copious amounts of alcohol will eventually get through our system.
With a shake of my head, I continue down the hallway, bypassing the door to the master suite and veering toward the small room at the end. It was meant to be used as a home office or converted into a storage space. I use it for neither. There’s a small window, but it’s usually kept hidden behind the shut blinds. The room is empty besides the brown, coarse rug and the leather whip set next to it.
I remove my jacket, and then I grab the back of my T-shirt to pull it off with a hard yank. My breathing is already coming out in bursts, and my forehead is clammy. I stare at the whip for a few seconds, debating if I should resort to it so close to the anniversary of Mom’s and Sabrina’s deaths. If I use it now, will it be effective when I need it the most?
If it isn’t, so what?
I drop to my knees and grab the leather handle. Indentions on the supple surface match the shape of my fingers perfectly. The whip feels like an extension of my arm.
I close my eyes for a second, letting out a shuddering breath. My entire body tenses as I flex my arm. Then comes the first slap, sharp and agonizing. My nostrils flare, my jaw locks tight, and my skin burns. But the hollowness and the darkness are still there. I repeat the movement again and again, until the pain on my flesh is greater than the one inside my chest.
Reckless Times: A Paranormal Romance (Paragon Society Book 1) Page 1
