Shackled Serenity

by Leon Logos

  Shackled Serenity

  A Novel

  Leon Logos

  CHAPTER ONE (INTRO)

  “Hurry up, Serenity,” Desmos scowled.

  Serenity tightened the grip on her duffel bag, picking up the pace. The sun was positioned high in the clouds, beaming bright, warm rays upon them. The presence of fall was evident, accentuated by the colorful leaves falling gracefully down the trees. She climbed into the van, making her way to the farthest seat, tossing her bag in the back along with the others. After Kyler finally entered the van, Desmos came last as always, shutting the doors firmly. Nobody sat next to her, which she preferred. All five of her brothers were slumped in the front seats, as an additional display of their superiority (in her eyes).

  There was Kyler, the youngest of the brothers: he was sixteen like Serenity, only a few months older. He was taciturn, reticent in nature, and quite phlegmatic. Everything about him was noncommittal; because of this, he tended to be the ‘nicest’ with her considering he never teased or mocked her. Kyler didn’t care much about anything other than work.

  Cackle was the second youngest at seventeen. Cackle was easily the most obnoxious of the pack. He was perpetually a boisterous boy, factoring in his mischievous nature. Devious, he loved to joke around and play pranks, particularly on her; her suffering was his entertainment. Childish and immature at times, Serenity found him insufferable and annoying. Cackle also had a sadistic side to him, which she prayed never to see again. Then there was Garen. At eighteen, he was the most physically built of the brothers at 6’5” and at least 215 pounds. All of the brothers were above six feet, excluding Kyler at 5’11”; but he would certainly grow taller.

  Garen was easily the most pretentious and haughty of the group; he regularly boasted of his physical stature and tried to assume the role of leader. Garen wasn’t exactly a complete douchebag to her but still took pleasure in seeing her fail. Like the others, though.

  There was Agno. He was also eighteen years old and was pretty much dissimilar to Garen, excluding the physical disparity.

  Agno didn’t exactly have any redeeming characteristics that separated him from his brothers. Unless you counted him as being the “pretty boy” of the group or his English accent. One specific memory Serenity had of him was when he blackmailed her into doing all his chores so that he could have time to meet a girl in town… Or the time Agnos surprisingly credited her with being the most “facially attractive” in the family. She was never complimented by her family. Ever.

  Finally, there was Desmos; he was the undisputed leader and oldest of the brothers, at twenty. Desmos was simply the strongest and held the authority in the family when Gunther was not around. Silent and dominant, with a chiseled face, he possessed that air of superiority that might as well had been palpable. He tended to boss her around, treating her like a child, exposing her shortcomings, and barking orders. But overall, Desmos didn’t chase her around out of entertainment and bully her as Cackle did. Desmos considered her to be a liability and burdensome.

  Then, there was none other than herself. Serenity. She was nothing like them, both physically and mentally. All the brothers were tall, physically built, trained killers with blue and green eyes; on the other hand, Serenity was nowhere near as strong, lacked the fighter spirit, and had gray eyes. She was fairly tall for a girl (5’7”) and a tiny bit skinny. Raised into the family from a very young age, she was brought in by Gunther, her adoptive father. Not one person in the family was biologically related. All of them were of different blood, which was shocking as all the males were virtually the same. Though, that was probably a result of being raised alike while Serenity was undoubtedly raised a bit differently. She didn’t know where she came from, and it was the same case with the brothers. Her life was a conundrum; the origin, the purpose, even the future.

  She could say in all honesty that she hated her languished life. But there was nothing she could do about it; this was her family, and she had to accept it. But none of her family accepted her; she was acknowledged as a failure and the weakest of them all. (Though, as the female, being physically the weakest wasn’t exactly a surprise.) But she was physically stronger and capable than the average teenage girl (and some boys, honestly). Although none of the brothers were exactly abusive to her, Gunther had certainly physically abused her throughout her childhood. Still even now. The word “punishment” was drilled into her head, indelibly planted.

  Serenity knew it was because Gunther, the family patriarch, was trying to toughen her up, but it was not working as it produced the opposite effect. Gunther was the only one in the family she genuinely feared. Her siblings scared her sometimes, but they usually refrained from being violent with her. Serenity’s gentle, passive disposition was perceived as odd, which it was, by the family’s standards. The thought of running away had crossed her mind a couple of times. But she had nowhere to go.

  “How long is this gonna take?” Cackle asked loudly.

  “Bro, stop being impatient,” Agno replied. “The usual. One, two hours max. Best hope this one ain’t agile.”

  “And that’s not counting the two-hour road trip,” Desmos added, who was behind the wheel.

  Cackle groaned in disdain.

  “I hate road trips,” he complained querulously.

  “Like you say every damn time,” Garen said, squeezing a grip strengthener. “But this is the last one for a while. School time is coming.”

  Serenity looked up, hopefully.

  “Which school this time?” she asked earnestly. Garen turned around to look at her.

  “Oh look, the geek is excited,” he gibed.

  Serenity bit her lip in mild irritation.

  “In two weeks, we enter the local high school, Sequim High,” Desmos confirmed. “Don’t get so happy, Serenity. Do some stupid shit again like invite some friend over, and you’ll regret it.”

  “I didn’t—” she mumbled, but her voice faded, aware that she did.

  “Or you could,” Cackle sneered, in his raspy voice, “We could have them play knife-toss.”

  Knife-toss was a brutal and highly dangerous game that they used to play. Once, they forced her into playing against her will; she ended up with cuts all over her hands and had almost lost a finger. She still remembered the tears streaming down her cheeks, pleading for them to let her go. And they only did when Kyler ended the game, out of boredom.

  The only time she looked forward to in her life was school season. Yes, she moved schools frequently and never was stationary. But she valued the opportunity to learn and just be a normal kid for once. She loved making friends, too, though it was never permanent. They never stayed in one place for a long time. They were nomads; they had moved from Florida to as far as California. Once, they even went as far as London. There was no itinerary; it was mostly sporadic. She hated this itinerant lifestyle.

  Each year mostly, they were mandated to attend school from typically fall to spring. Gunther made them do this to give them a sense of normality and make them appear as ordinary kids to the neighbors or townspeople. Another reason was for data-gathering, which facilitated their work. Their work—which was practically assassination.

  Since the dawn of time, their family was in an unending war with a rival family. Serenity wasn’t aware of all the details, but Gunther despised this family with a passion. They wanted to kill him, and Gunther wanted to kill them. From what Serenity observed, they were virtually outnumbered three-to-one. There were seven of them in total; as for the other family, Serenity lost count of the insurmountable amount of lives they had taken. Murder was their source of income. Though Gunther had allies. Affiliations with other families, sharing a common enemy. However, he liked to work alone, exploiting his “children” to do the dirty
work. He didn’t trust anyone but them. She didn’t know how to describe all this. Was it a mafia war? Or a clan war? This was irrelevant. Serenity had learned not to ask questions. Unlike the brothers, she had impugned the purpose of their actions and sought the context. To this day, the answers were still unknown to her.

  “It’s been a minute since we played knife-toss,” Garen said.

  “In that case,” Cackle grinned; his butterfly knife spun into view in a flash of silver. “Hey, Serenity! Catch!”

  He faked a toss, making her flinch.

  Cackle burst out laughing.

  “That’s not funny,” Serenity grumbled indignantly. “I’ve been seriously injured because of that stupid game.”

  “Stop whining,” Cackle replied. “It’s not like you lost a finger or something. Though you should’ve.”

  Serenity didn’t respond, not wanting to instigate or stir up an argument. Invariably, she never won one.

  “Knife-toss was lame. Hide-or-bleed was better,” Agno remarked, referring to the barbaric version of hide-and-seek they used to play.

  “Oh yeah, those crossbow bolts hurt,” Cackle concurred. “Speaking of crossbows—Desmos! Should we use them today?”

  “Probably, considering I hear this one is a runner,” Desmos responded, making a sharp right turn into a nature trail.

  Serenity knew what this meant; their target would bolt at the sight of them. They were on their way to eliminate a target, as ordered by Gunther. The only one who knew all the details was Desmos, who Gunther would always confide in. Desmos was the one most trusted, privy to all confidential. She had never once killed somebody. She was always present and participated in the assassinations, but no target yet had died by her hand. She intended it to keep it this way. However, she had one particular regret; Gunther had forced her into torturing a captured target, in an essay to “soldier-ize” her. She was only twelve at the time, and it was her biggest regret in life. This was a memory she repressed.

  “Is it a male or a female?” Agno asked.

  “Does it matter?” Cackle interjected. “They die either way.”

  “This one’s a man,” Desmos replied shortly. “And Cackle’s right. Disregard gender, as we have for years.”

  “It’s still disturbing killing the begging, crying female,” Kyler said, speaking for the first time.

  “Softie,” Cackle muttered.

  “Say that when you’re capable of at least scratching me,” Kyler said flatly. “I’ll even tie my hands behind my back if it helps.”

  Serenity snickered surreptitiously, but Cackle noticed.

  “What’re you laughing at? You’re the biggest softie of us all. What a shame all those whippings failed to do their job,” Cackle snarled coldly.

  Serenity shut up immediately; she lowered her gaze.

  Nobody laughed at Cackle’s retort, but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t amused…

  As they stepped out of the van and parked in a clearing, Serenity took in their surroundings. Nature enveloped them. They were in a forest. Trees decorated the landscape in all the directions, and the ground was uneven with slopes and small plateaus. She could detect the faded, foggy outline of mountains in the distance, and a stream nearby was audible. For Agno, the first thing he noticed was different.

  “The sun is scorching, but it’s still so cold!” he complained.

  “Since when did it bother you?” Garen asked, grabbing all three of his bags and carrying them over his shoulder.

  “It doesn’t, but the cold naturally hinders the functioning of my motor cortex. If we’re using crossbows, don’t expect me to bullseye.”

  “You blokes and your fancy sentences,” Garen scoffed, alluding to Agno’s British accent (which Garen frequently taunted).

  Serenity crouched down, curiously observing a caterpillar on the ground that was crawling slowly over a twig.

  “We split up, cover all four directions to expedite the hunt. Our target is a male, about 5’10” with ginger hair. He’s a wildlife conservationist, so he’ll be easy to spot,” Desmos ordered.

  “Yeah, with the lame khaki shorts and beige shirts,” Cackle remarked.

  “Don’t forget the hat,” Agno added.

  “I’ll take north. Agno and Kyler, you guys, go west. Garen, go with Cackle east. Which leaves south for Serenity. Meet back here in two hours; let’s go!”

  “What?!” Cackle protested. “Why do you get to go alone, and I don’t?”

  “Because you can’t be trusted, and I work better alone,” Desmos said sharply as if Cackle was an untrustworthy child (which he essentially was).

  “Bullshit,” Cackle murmured, following Agno east.

  “Serenity, move it!” Desmos barked.

  Serenity spun around in alarm, standing up. She had completely zoned out, immersed in the caterpillar.

  “Sorry, what’s the plan?” she apologized.

  “Pay attention!” Cackle said scornfully, turning his head while walking.

  “South!” Desmos pointed patiently. Serenity nodded.

  Though, she wondered why she was being sent alone. Usually, Desmos had somebody accompany her when they split up. This was the first time she was being trusted to work unaided. But she didn’t mind it; this was an opportunity to take a constitutional through the forest without being bothered, pretending to keep her eyes peeled. There was only a ¼ chance that she’d be the one to find the target. This would be the worst-case scenario. After Desmos told her the description of the target, she stepped into the trees, exiting the clearing. Immediately the buzz of insects and wildlife was audible. The breeze was pleasant, and Agno exaggerated about the cold. The weather in Washington was nowhere near the worst climate they had experienced.

  She climbed over a boulder, hopping down lazily. At this point, she was just ambling aimlessly in the general direction she was given. Serenity was aware of the techniques used for tracking, such as searching for footprints, snapped or uneven branches, or calculating lines of travel. But she didn’t bother putting them to use. Instead, she decided to head in the direction of the stream, which didn’t necessarily deviate from her orders; she was still heading south. The towering trees obscured the sun from the cerulean sky, providing unnecessary shade. A gust of wind swept over the vicinity, producing a refreshing breeze as the leaves susurrated while dancing through the air.

  Serenity had always enjoyed nature. She felt that it made her “more human” in a way, serving as an equilibrium to her life of disaster. Perpetual exposure to nature wasn’t exactly rare, considering her migrant lifestyle. She welcomed the sounds of scampering hares, scuttling rabbits, or snuffling boars. It sure beat the grotesque noises and raucous screams that entailed her life regularly. The path in the forest was beginning to wind and spiral, frequently throwing her off track. She reminded herself to travel in one direction. Blue-jays were screeching somewhere up in the trees, interrupting the tranquility of the forest. Serenity certainly enjoyed tranquility, as her name suggested. Though, the origin of her name was also unknown to her.

  The stream came into view as she entered another clearing; a gigantic oak tree sat on the other side of the stream, casting an equally massive shadow. Serenity sighed, taking a seat on a log beside the stream, setting down her green duffel bag. She kept her black rucksack on (which was equipped with a sheathed combat knife), and simply watched the water’s rushing currents.

  She gently felt the icy water with two fingers as they crashed and ran through her skin. The flow of the water was serene and calmed her down. She hoped there weren’t any bears around. Though, she was taught from a young age to hunt animals, not be hunted by them. When they were very young, Gunther had schooled them in the art of hunting, deciding they should be capable of killing animals before moving on to humans. It served as a starting point in their training regimen. Serenity wasn’t very proficient at it, which came as no surprise.

  As she reminisced about the “lessons” she received on hunting, she detected m
ovement from her peripheral vision. A rough, rustling sound followed immediately after. She wheeled around out of reflex, standing up and unsheathing her combat knife.

  “Whoa, whoa!” a man gasped, raising his hands in alarm.

  He had emerged from the underbrush. Serenity quickly assessed the situation. He was unarmed and appeared entirely harmless and innocent. However, his attire caught her eye: he was in khaki shorts, a buttoned-down khaki shirt with an emblem embroidered “Washington Wild Life Federation.” Not to mention, the conspicuous safari hat on his head.

  There was no doubt about it. Her worst-case scenario, the perfect storm, had come true; she had encountered the target first—before the brothers could.

  CHAPTER TWO

  She froze, keeping her weapon raised and her eyes locked. What should she do? The man meant no harm to her. Despite the shock he had received, he was smiling. Serenity came back to her senses, rationalizing. She lowered her knife but did not sheathe it.

  “Cool,” said the man approvingly. He lowered his hands. “So, what are you doing here?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same question,” she replied.

  The man chuckled humorously at this response. He removed his hat, revealing messy ginger-colored hair.

  “I’m working. If you couldn’t tell by my attire, I’m a wildlife conservationist. You gave me quite a fright, young miss.”

  Serenity looked around quickly, making sure none of the brothers were watching or were in the vicinity. Once the coast was clear, she sheathed her knife.

  “I’m sorry, it was out of reflex,” she said sincerely. “When somebody sneaks up on me…”

  “Oh, forget about it!” the man chortled, waving his hand. “You must’ve thought I was a grizzly or something.”

  The man took two steps forward. Serenity refrained from responding and stood her ground.

  “So what brings you here? Did you come alone?” he asked curiously.

  She shook her head.