Zoey Rogue

by Lizzy Ford

  He laughed harder this time.

  “Why is that funny?” she asked archly. “You don’t want to deal with me the rest of your life, do you?”

  “Oh, my dear, you have brought this old man such peace,” he said. He clasped the hand he held with both of his. “It is not I who am intended for you. But he will come for you soon. He must, within a few days.”

  “That’s not gonna work for me,” she said. “Eric is going to call me back like, tomorrow probably, and we’ll be getting married. I kinda have plans.”

  “If you believed that, you would’ve said yes last night,” the Professor replied gently. “You’re not meant for Eric. You know this.”

  “No, I don’t!” she said, voice rising. “It can still work out. Whatever this shit is about a soul-mate, I don’t have one. If any Incubus comes near me, I’m pretty sure I can kill him. No, I know I can. I mean, I’ve taken on six Cambions alone. I can kill one Incubus. I had a dream I did.”

  “A dream. Recently?”

  “Two nights ago. Really weird,” she said and shook her head. “It seemed real, but I woke up on your porch.”

  The Professor was thoughtful.

  “I bet I could do it,” she said again.

  “I would like to be there when you tell your soul-mate this,” he said. “It would make for an intriguing exchange.”

  “If he exists, I’ll tell him exactly that. No more of this nonsense, Professor.”

  “As you wish, my dear.”

  “Okay. Good.” She eyed him. “I’m going to Vikki’s. I’ll search her room before she gets back.”

  “You’re running away, because what I told you terrifies you.”

  “Any objections?”

  “Only, don’t talk about killing Incubuses to others. It’s a sensitive subject right now.”

  “I’m just joking.” She studied him. “Did something bad happen?”

  The Professor shook his head.

  Unconvinced, Zoey rose and grabbed her jacket from the coat rack near the door. She could hardly breathe right, and the cold air felt good in her lungs. She didn’t believe there were Incubus soul-mates or that Eric wasn’t going to call her. In a few days, everything would be normal. The Professor would stop revealing secrets to her, Eric would welcome her home, and she and Vikki would be out killing Cambions.

  The pain in her chest stopped her in the middle of the street. She bent over and forced herself to breathe deeply. Her whole world was imploding. If anything the Professor told her was true, she was fucked.

  He was always right.

  Tears stung her eyes. She straightened and jogged through the drizzle to the dorms. She had a key to Vikki’s and let herself in. Vikki’s stock of alcohol was second only to a bar’s.

  Zoey crossed to the mini-bar area and pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer. She knocked back a mouthful. She coughed and drank more. Without the Professor there to stabilize her, she needed the alcohol to calm her blood. When she felt better, she began to search Vikki’s room.

  Nothing stood out, except the journal buried in a shoebox under Vikki’s bed. Zoey set the box on the bed and sat, gazing at the journal. Vikki was a tech-junkie; journals weren’t her thing, which meant, this was something of sentimental value or extremely personal. Zoey hesitated to open it, not wanting to find evidence that her best friend was what the Professor believed her to be.

  Hoping it was an old journal from childhood or something, Zoey purposely ignored the near mint condition of the cover and the crisp, white pages that smelled of recent plastic wrapping. The first entry was dated three weeks ago.

  Zoey closed it, heart pounding and hands shaking.

  Not my Vikki, she prayed silently. With a deep breath, she opened it.

  I met him last night. The Incubatti who marked me. What does that shit even mean? He said I had three strikes. When I asked what that meant, he told me he’d tell me after we made love.

  Zoey grimaced at the four pages describing their sex on the first night. She skipped ahead, wanting to know what the three strikes was about.

  He’s worse than fucking Dimitri when it comes to answering questions. He talks in riddles or these weird vague sentences. If I asked him what color the sky was, he’d say it wasn’t red or some shit. I didn’t expect him to answer the question I asked him before we had sex. But he did.

  He said “three strikes, you’re mine.” When I asked him what that meant, he smiled then said “strike one” and left. Are we playing fucking baseball here?

  Zoey snorted, hearing Vikki’s irritation through the words. That ended the first entry. The second was a few days later.

  It’s getting worse. I had the whole fucking football team in here tonight. Nothing sates my appetite. Not killing, not men. Nothing, but him.

  Dimitri said he’s going to transfer me soon after my b-day. I asked him where, but he’s a jackass as usual. I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing. I’m too good for them to get rid of, right?

  The third was written a week before.

  I gave in. I couldn’t take it. I called him and went over. What the football team couldn’t do, he did in an hour. I thought I was dying when I showed up on his doorstep. I got my transfer orders. When I told him, he laughed. I asked him why, and he acted like I was an idiot. Said didn’t I know what happens to Hunters that are “transferred?” I said, duh, they go somewhere else.

  Zoey laughed.

  He’s an Incubatti. He can’t be telling the truth. I can’t do this. I can’t be with him – he’s the enemy, right? But I can’t NOT be with him. I can’t live without him, and whatever this bond is, he’s got to have me, too. What motivation does he have for lying to me? What if what he says is true? I mean, we never hear from the girls who transfer out, and no one who hits their 22nd birthday stays here. I’m next to turn, and then Zoey. What if something bad happens when I transfer, and I can’t warn her? She’s been like a little sister to me. I have to find out.

  Zoey read on, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. She felt dirty for doubting Vikki after the statement about being like a sister to her. Confusion spun through her. Was what Vikki did so wrong? She didn’t have a choice in who she fell for, according to the Professor. So why were the Enforcers coming to punish her when she was bound to one of their kind?

  Dread made Zoey hesitate before turning to the next entry. She’d never thought twice about the girls who transferred out at the age of twenty two. The Benefactors said they went to work at satellite offices across the country or at the hidden Sucubatti headquarters for the Council and the Internal Affairs Bureau. That location was secluded, probably on some island or remote area, because everyone knew the leaders of the society were so powerful, they’d melt humans. Enforcers were said to have magic like theirs. She didn’t know what made them special, but if even the Benefactors revered them, it was because they were stronger than anything Zoey could imagine.

  Not people she looked forward to lying to, that was certain. She wasn’t afraid; she just hoped they killed her quickly. IAB was known for killing off people who broke rules. What would an Incubatti Enforcer do?

  Even worse, what if the Professor was telling the truth that Zoey had a soul-mate? Would the Sucubatti kill or transfer her, if the Enforcers spared her?

  She’d never go down without a fight. The Enforcers would have to kill her. Her own fate was less of a concern than that of Vikki.

  The final entry of the journal was dated today.

  Figured out what strike three was this morning, after Liam came to get me from the fucking hospital. I’m so fucked. They’re sending Enforcers to do to me what they do to everyone else who turns twenty two. I know. I have a choice. I can go to Liam. He’ll protect me. How do I live with myself if I live in the same place as the Cambions who kill girls like me for fun? I don’t know what to do. Liam won’t let me stay here, if I’m in danger.

  I’ll really miss Zoey.

  Zoey closed the journal. She was panicking again. Snatching th
e vodka, she drank until her throat burned then sat on the bed, head in her hands.

  Her phone rang. She ignored it. The caller hung up then tried again. Suddenly, she realized it might be Eric. Zoey dug it out of her pocket to see the Professor’s name on the screen. She ignored it. He’d know, but right now, she didn’t need a reminder not to have a meltdown or to stop drinking.

  He texted. IAB headed to your location to search Vikki’s room before she returns. I have tea ready.

  It was his way of ordering her home. Not wanting to be there when the IAB came, Zoey rose. She grabbed the journal, replaced the shoebox under the bed and left quickly, vodka in hand.

  By the time she reached the Professor’s, she was dizzy from chugging alcohol. She tucked the journal in the band of her jeans and pulled her sweater over it. She hadn’t thought twice about taking the evidence the IAB sought, and she wasn’t about to let the Professor see it either.

  Vikki had no choice. She was hurting, like Zoey was.

  “I’m gonna lay down,” she called into the study.

  “A woman stopped by today. Quite a beautiful one,” the Professor started. He appeared in the hallway as she started up the stairs.

  “Succubus?” Zoey asked.

  “A human,” he replied. “Maybe there is something to your obsession with that race.”

  “It’s not an obsession. It’s what normal people do!”

  “Yes, dear.” He smiled. “She had a very interesting proposition. Are you too drunk to hear it?”

  “Not yet,” she said, waving the bottle of vodka. “I will be in a few minutes.”

  He did not look pleased. She sighed and stopped halfway up the stairs, sitting on a step.

  “What, Professor?” she asked. “I don’t know any human women.”

  “She knew you. Can you guess?”

  She gripped her head. The world was already a bit hazy.

  “Apparently not,” he continued. “She said you rescued her and wanted to offer you her skill set to help you combat Cambions.”

  Zoey gazed at him blankly.

  The Professor frowned. “Friday night? Frat house? You’re unapproved mission?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Zoey thought hard, barely recalling the girl’s face that she rescued.

  “In any case, the girl’s name is Chrissy. She’s a drop out from MIT.”

  “A drop out?” she smiled. “I like her already.”

  “I had a feeling you were a little overwhelmed and took the liberty of setting up a meeting with her. If what she says makes sense, I’ll send her your way. Okay?”

  “What did she say?”

  “She brought a couple of examples of what she can do. They’re on your bed for your next mission.”

  Curious and near-drunk, Zoey wobbled to her feet and ascended the rest of the stairs. She went to her room, puzzled to see nothing more than a pair of high heels and a dress neatly folded on her bed. There was a note with it.

  Zoey:

  This was the least I could do to repay you for saving me. The heels have titanium-reinforced knives. Simply tap your heels together at an angle to engage. You won’t need to buy another pair for a few months, if you keep the blades and hinges oiled. No more buying in bulk! The dress is made of special material that will let you move easily. I believe in what you are doing. If you like what you see, please contact me, and I will be happy to help you.

  Sincerely,

  Chrissy

  Struggling to focus through her alcohol-induced haze, Zoey picked up the intriguing high heels first and examined them. She held them away from her body cautiously then clacked the heels together three times before getting the angle correct. The two-inch thick, stacked plastic concealing the weapons snapped away like wings, revealing an inch-thick knife four inches long on each heel. The knives were sharp and shiny. She pressed the wings back over one heel’s knife, surprised at how easily they snapped into place.

  Next, she lifted the dress. Amazed by how light the material was, she tugged at it to test. It flexed easily, as promised. Zoey set down the dress and grabbed her bottle of vodka.

  If the world wasn’t ending, she’d take up this Chrissy’s offer to help. As it was, it almost seemed too little, too late. She sat on her bed and let the tears come. The vodka was blurring her vision already.

  She couldn’t let anything happen to Vikki. She didn’t know what to do. Eric hadn’t called. Everything was going wrong.

  Chapter Eight: Zoey and Declan

  Fire shot through her. Zoey gasped and wrenched awake, hating the way the Professor woke her up.

  “At least you’re not on the porch this time.”

  She wiped her face and groaned, her head aching.

  “Vikki’s got a mission tonight. You’re going with her,” he said pleasantly. “You need a hit?”

  She held out her hand wordlessly. His magic ripped through her again, soothing the hangover. Zoey opened her eyes. It was after dark. The overhead light was on, and the room filled with all her boxes that Eric had packed for her.

  The sight depressed her. Eric wouldn’t have brought them over if he was considering giving her a second chance.

  “Didn’t we just get poisoned?” she asked, groggy.

  “You need another one.” Her guardian touched her again.

  The third one did the trick. Her head cleared. Zoey swung her legs off the bed.

  “If I was left on your front porch, does that mean my soul-mate knows where I live?” The words flew out of her mouth.

  “Oh, did something convince you I might be telling you the truth?” the Professor asked.

  “I figured my luck has gone to shit. I might as well listen to you,” she retorted. “I’m going to sleep armed from here on out.”

  “On the topic of weapons: Take extras tonight. Dimitri thinks there will be five or six.”

  She watched the Professor leave. He started whistling. How the old man was so cheerful, she didn’t know. She suspected he was happy she was there. Body pulsing with magic, she dressed quickly in clubbing clothes and checked her phone. Messages from Vikki, but none from Eric.

  Nothing but her boxes. Dismayed, she didn’t let herself linger in the room. She used to love her small room at the Professor’s. It was the size of a closet, on the side of the house that never had direct sunlight, and fitted with the only feminine furniture and colors in the house. It was like a Barbie doll’s room. The last person to be considered girly, Zoey had always loved this room, because the Professor went to such trouble to make it different from the rest of the house.

  She finished getting ready and hid the journal in one of the boxes before going down the stairs.

  “Extra weapons?” the Professor asked.

  She glanced up, not expecting to see him at the door to see her off. She did a mental check of her arsenal.

  “Yep. Got everything I need and extras. I’ll kick ass.”

  “I expect nothing less. I’m too old to wait up for you, but our channel is open. If you need help, signal me,” he said. “Stay sober tonight.”

  She nodded. They both knew she had no intention of obeying. Her mood felt brittle as she stepped onto the porch. She hadn’t been able to rid herself of the sex energy from the previous night. It made her skin overly sensitive to the brush of clothing, to the point her nipples ached and she considered propositioning the Professor, who knew a helluva lot about sex after being alive for so long. He aged gracefully as well, and his mannerisms were always gentlemanly. He’d be the perfect way to take off her edge, if he weren’t forbidden from sleeping around.

  Combined with her dread about facing Vikki after reading the journal and the inkling Eric was serious about kicking her out, Zoey was a train wreck waiting for impact.

  Vikki’s car was idling out front. Zoey waved over her head, knowing the Professor was watching like a disapproving father whose daughter was rushing out to the club. She flung herself into Vikki’s car.

  “You look terrific,” she said, startled.

/>   Vikki glowed. Her sex energy seemed more powerful this night. Her eyes sparkled, and her face was bright. No football team ever put that look on Vikki’s face.

  “I mean, considering we were both poisoned,” Zoey added with a hard swallow. This soul-mate shit was becoming too real, and the Professor never said whether or not Zoey’s knew where to find her.

  “You look like shit,” Vikki replied.

  “Rough couple of days. Eric kicked me out.”

  “That’s what the Professor said. I’m so sorry, Zoey.” Vikki offered a small smile of support as she pulled onto the street.

  “Nothing is going right.”

  “Yeah, I get that. The IAB ransacked my room today.”

  “Ugh. They leave your alcohol?”

  Vikki laughed and nodded.

  Zoey’s gaze lingered on her friend’s healthy features. She’d never seen Vikki so happy. Zoey felt horrible keeping secrets from her friend.

  “Which club?” she asked.

  “Same. It’s the new spot for them, apparently. I guess after they took us out last night, six of them showed up to cart off girls,” Vikki said grimly. “I’m under orders to drink bottled water tonight.”

  “I can’t believe we were poisoned. It can’t be the bartender, can it?” Zoey asked, puzzled.

  “I’m not sure. It’s the same guy who’s been there every time we go. I mean, maybe someone paid him off, but aren’t there easier ways to get rid of us? I mean, come on, we’re human. Sneak into our houses and slit our throats while we sleep?”

  “Easy targets at a bar, I guess,” Zoey replied. “You’re right, though. I lived off campus with a human who posed no threat to anyone who tried to attack me.”

  “Which begs the question: if they didn’t want us dead, what the fuck were they doing?”

  “It’s not the first night this week I’ve blacked out,” Zoey mused. “I had nothing to drink Friday night, after our mission. I don’t remember what happened. I was talking to Heidi and then … blank. I woke up on the Professor’s porch the next morning. I think I had a couple energy drinks, but they didn’t work.”