New Bloods Boxset

by Michelle Bryan

  Jax walks ahead of both horses, leading us toward the soldiered gate of Littlepass. Unlike our last visit here, the gates are far more heavily patrolled than the single guard we'd encountered then. I pull my neck wrapper tighter around my head. I got no worries about being recognized. The dark haired, city-dressed girl in the wanted posters looks nuthin' like the white haired, grimy faced, shite-encrusted hobo riding this horse. It had been Tater's idea to dirty us up, me and Belle. He said the guards wouldn't give us the time of day if we stank to high heaven. So, a little of Cat's dried shite rubbed into our clothes did the trick just fine. Gross, but necessary. The disguise still don't make me any less nervous.

  Mack had insisted he be the one to lead us in, but out of all of us, he was the most recognizable. The one eyed, patch-wearing, ex-captain would be a dead giveaway. At least he had the common sense to acknowledge the fact. And since Jax don't have any intention of letting me do this alone, he's the third in my little plan. After talking 'em all into going along with this idea, I truly hope it works. We pull abreast of the fortified city gates, and a brown robed guard steps outta the shadows.

  “Halt,” he calls out in a bored voice, and Jax pulls the animals up short.

  “'Ello, my good man,” Jax greets cheerily in a terrible imitation of Talbert, and I wince. When had we agreed on that accent?

  “State your business,” the guard ignores any sort of friendliness on Jax's part.

  “Of course, sir, of course. My name is Willis, and I've come 'ere to see if I can acquire gainful employment fer me two sisters.” He jerks a thumb our way. “Ya see, they've become too much of a burden, they 'ave. That one there,” he says, pointing to Belle, “she ain't dealin' wif all her faculties, know wot I mean? She's a 'arm to 'erself as well as to me and me kin.” And as if on cue, Belle flashes her horsey smile and laughs manically at the guard. “And that one,” Jax points to me. “Well, let's jest say she's got way too much attitude than any one single female should 'ave. I pity the fool who tries to take 'er on, I do. I jest wanna wash my 'ands of her.”

  I glare at Jax through the slit in my wrapper. What the hell is he doing?

  “See wot I mean?” He shivers at the guard. “Scary, she is.”

  The guard peers at me and points a dirt-encrusted finger my way. “What's in the sack?”

  Jax pats the long cloth sack slung over the horse's back in front of me.

  “Just their belongin's. Ain't much ‘cause they don't have much.”

  “Open it,” he orders me, and I do as he says. I untie the sack and pull a couple of dirtied items out and hold 'em up for his inspection. It seems to appease him. He turns back to Jax.

  “What kinda work you hoping to get for 'em?”

  “I dunno. I cain't marry 'em off, so I gotta do somethin'. Maybe sell 'em into drudge work. Maybe to the brothel if they'll take 'em. 'Ell, I'd even give that one away fer free jest to be rid of 'er,” he whispers conspiratorially to the guard as if I cain't hear him or see him pointing my way. The guard studies me a bit more closely.

  “You're gonna give her away?” he asks as if this interests him. The guard turns back over his shoulder and calls to his two companions. “Come, look at this. This guy is trying to get rid of his sisters. He says he's gonna give this one away.”

  Shizen, Jax, what are you saying? Stop drawing attention. Jax, as if realizing he's gone too far, tries to backtrack. “Don't even consider it, me good sir. I wouldn't wish 'er on me greatest enemy.” And to emphasize his point, I kick at his head, barely missing him. He jumps outta the way. The guards all start laughing at his misfortune like it's the funniest thing they've seen all day. “See? Too wild to be tamed. If ya could just point me in the way of the flesh tradin', I'll be on me way.”

  One of the newer guards has other ideas, however. He approaches me and grabs my wrist, pulling me down toward his face to have a better look. I guess he don't wanna pass up on a freebie. But then the scent of the devil cat's shite hits him full force, and he backs off, pulling his robe up over his nose.

  “By the gods, she stinks worse than an over-crowded hog sty in noon heat. Good luck finding anyone that'll take her off of your hands.” He gags as the smell assaults him again. “Get them out of here,” he orders Jax, and Jax gives a curt little bow, “Aye, sir. Right away, sir.” He starts leading us quickly past the gate and into Littlepass.

  I stay quiet until I know we're well outta view of the guards, and wait for Jax to turn us into an alley between two crumbling buildings. Sliding offa the horse, I face Jax, hands on my hips. “What the hell was that?”

  “Me trying to be realistic,” he says.

  “Realistic?” I snort. “You almost ruined the plan. And what kinda accent was that, anyway? I'm surprised they didn't suspect you right away with that. It was terrible.”

  “Terrible? It was a sand lands’ accent. A mix of you and Talbert.”

  “Me?” I raise a brow in disdain. “That don't sound nuthin' like me. Did it Belle?”

  The girl startles like I just asked her some secret to the universe. “Uhhh. No? Maybe? I'm not sure. Anyways, it worked, didn't it? We're in. That's the important thing.”

  “Yeah, more thanks to Tater and his idea of the shite. That was the only thing that kept 'em from digging any further. Remind me not to tell him that of course, otherwise he'll never let us forget it,” I say to Jax as I carefully try to remove my stained shirt. Jax grins and steps my way as if to help, but I watch as his nose wrinkles, and he steps right back again.

  “Gotta say, it really does work.”

  Smothering my laugh, I turn to Belle. “Wait here with the horses. If anyone approaches, tell 'em your brother will be back any moment. Your very big, very angry brother.”

  She nods. “Got it. And if that don't work, ain't nothing a swift, hard kick to the face won't take care of.”

  “That's my girl.” I flash her a pleased smile, then turn to Jax. “Okay, Tater said the tavern we're looking for is only a short walk from the gate on the opposite side of the town square, which means we gotta go that way. We need to be quick and get in and out before the tavern opens. Once it fills up with soldiers, we ain't gonna stand a chance. Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I'll ever be,” he confirms. “Let's do this.”

  The inside of the tavern is dank and dark and smells like rotten meat. A little bell above the door announces our arrival, and my eyes still ain't adjusted to the gloom when a voice calls out, “We're not open. Go away.”

  We do anything but. I blink a few times until I can see into the darkness, and I find the owner of the voice. A hunchbacked gnome with a hooked nose glares at us in disapproval from behind the bar. I almost expect him to throw a curse our way; he reminds me so much of the wizards from the traders’ tales.

  “Are you two stupid or deaf? I said go away.”

  “Are you the tavern owner?” I ask as I move into the room.

  A loud snort hits my ears. “Do I look like I'm the owner of this shite hole?”

  “Then is he here?”

  I didn't think it's possible, but he narrows his squinty eyes even more. “Who's askin'?”

  “You don't wanna know. I have business with the owner. Is he here?”

  His glance swivels around the room. “Do you see anyone else, ya daft bird?”

  Before I can respond, Jax leaps across the low bar and grabs the gnome by the front of his shirt, yanking him offa his feet. “The lady asked you a question. Now if I were you, I'd go get the owner before she loses her temper. Trust me, you don't want to see that.”

  The old man's eyes open wide but not in fear. A loud cackling emits from his broad grin, and it takes me a moment to realize he's laughing.

  “You think you can scare me, boy? I've been the property of the devil for years. I don't scare that easy.”

  “We'll see,” I say quietly as my Chi crackles along my skin. It don't act out, though. A door creaks open off to the side, and a big man strides into the room. His stomach p
rotrudes from under the stained shirt pulled tight across the exposed flesh. He rubs at it lovingly as he saunters our way, a small smile flitting about his thin lips.

  “Trouble, Saxy?” he asks.

  “No, Master. Just a couple of idiots. Nothin' I can't handle.”

  I ignore the little man and face the behemoth. “Are you the owner?”

  “I am.” He looks me up and down with a weird glint in his eyes. “Who wants to know?”

  “Don't matter who I am. Do you have a boy here by the name of Conner? A boy you keep as a slave?”

  “I don't have slaves, girl. I have property.”

  “I see.” I keep my voice even, though just looking at his pale, ugly face makes me steamin' angry. “Are you willin' to part with your property for the right price?”

  “You wanna buy the boy?”

  “That's what I said, ain't it?”

  He folds his fleshy arms across his stomach. “Hmmmm, strange. You're the second person in as many months that’s offered to pay good coin for a worthless little piece of shite. Why is that? What's so special about the boy?”

  I keep my gaze steady. “I ask again. Are you willin' to part with him for the right price?”

  “Boy!” he bellows, almost busting my eardrums. “Come here. Now.”

  The door behind the bar opens as a waif hurries into the room. His head is lowered, his eyes staring at the floor, but almost like he feels my presence, he gasps and looks up at me. He stumbles to a stop as our eyes meet, and I know right away it's him. The boy from the market place. The boy whose cry for help I had ignored. I know he recognizes me, too, and his owlish eyes blink in confusion.

  Both of his eyes are ringed in bruises, and a fresh, bloody cut above his brow tells me we just missed the earlier beating. A torrent of emotion battles in my gut: anger, guilt, and hatred for the bastard standing across the room. My fists clench by my sides as I struggle to keep my rage under control. There's still a chance we can do this the easy way.

  “Whadda ya starin' at boy? I said come here.”

  The boy, Conner, shakes his head and hurries to the fat man's side. A beefy hand falls on his shoulder as the man flips him about like a rag doll, studying him.

  “Nothin' special about him from what I can tell. This lady is offering to buy ya, boy. Just like the little man did. Do you know her?”

  Conner shakes his head.

  The thick fingers dig into the thin shoulder, and the boy winces in pain. “Answer me when I ask you a question, boy. I said, do you know her?”

  “No, Master,” the boy says through his teeth.

  “Then why is she offering to pay good coin for a spineless, yellow-belly like you?”

  “I… dunno,” he answers as his lips contort with pain.

  “I guess she don't realize that I don't negotiate, huh, boy? Besides, he don't wanna leave here, do ya?” The fingers dig in even more, and a small whimper escapes, even though the boy bites his lip to stop it.

  “Stop hurtin' him,” I warn.

  The beady eyes look at me in fake surprise. “Hurtin' him? I ain't hurtin' him.” He looks back at Conner. “Am I hurtin' you, boy?”

  The shaved head wobbles in denial. “No, Master.”

  “See,” he says as he releases the boy’s shoulder and spreads his wide hands my way. “I ain't hurtin' him.”

  Quick as a lightening strike, one hand flies back and wallops the boy against the side of his face, sending him flying across the floor. His split lip shoots an arc of blood through the air, and he collides with the wooden table in the middle of the room.

  The big man stares into my horrified face with a grin of pure evil. “Now, that was hurtin' him. See the difference?”

  The shriek of fury comes straight from my gut. I cain't contain it even if I tried. My hand flies up in the air the same time as the big man reaches for the unseen vise that closes around his throat. My Chi shows no mercy as it drags the man, his feet dangling in the air like a puppet dancing on strings, and slams him hard into the far wall. As he hangs there in mid-air, his tiny mouth gasping for air, and his eyes bulging in his red face, I approach.

  “I gave you fair warnin'. How's it feel to be the victim now, huh? Not so good?” He gurgles something unintelligible, and I cock my head to the side. “Sorry, what? I don't understand? Oh, are you tellin' me I'm hurtin' you?”

  He nods, his face turning redder with every passing moment. Just before he's ready to pass out, I yank my Chi, and it releases him. He drops so hard the floor shakes under my feet. I turn my back to his gasping and wheezing and go to the boy and help him stand.

  “Are you okay?” I ask softly as I dab at his bleeding lip with my sleeve. He nods at me, but his eyes stare in wonder at the hum of our blood bond connection.

  “Are you one of them?” he whispers.

  “I'm a New Blood. Like you,” I say, and his grin grows wide. “I'm Tara, Jane and Thomas's kin. I've come to take you to 'em. I won't leave without you this time. I promise.”

  His eyes well up with tears at my words, but he refuses to let 'em fall. It's almost as if he don't truly believe what I'm saying to him. Just as I'm about to lead him away, Jax's cry of “Tara!” warns me. The big man leaps my way, and a knife slashes by my face. I swerve just in time to keep it from burying into my neck. My Chi attacks the immediate danger, and the man screams in agony as his wrist bone cracks, and the knife clatters to the floor.

  I can feel the intense heat radiating from me even though my innards are cold and calm as a sheet of ice. The big man is blown offa his feet like some unseen explosion happened in fronta him and slams back into the wall. He slides down from the massive crack his impact leaves in the side of the building. My gaze falls on the knife. It arcs across the room and impales itself into the man's chest before he can move outta the way.

  I walk his way, his gasps of pain affecting me no more than a dying scorpi-ant. As I approach, his eyes fulla fear stare up at me. Maybe I should feel guilt or remorse at what I’ve done, but all I can think is how no more young'uns’ eyes will stare at him with that same fear. No more. His days of hurtin' are done.

  “You shoulda negotiated,” I whisper. I feel nuthin' as he takes his last breath, and the life dies outta his eyes. I stand there, staring a bit longer. Maybe hoping to feel something at the life I just took. But I feel empty.

  “Tara, we have to go.” Jax's worry rouses me from stupor.

  I turn his way and nod. That's when I notice the gnome, staring at me in a mixture of fear and fascination.

  “If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut,” I warn.

  He then does something unexpected. He flashes me a grin fulla broken teeth.

  “He was like that when I got here this morning,” he says, gesturing to the man at my feet. “Probably robbed during the night. All I know is I'm now the new owner of a tavern. I'll give you time to get away before I call the guards. Godspeed, New Blood.”

  Smart gnome.

  Belle is looking real worried by the time we hightail it down the alley. A huge smile radiates as soon as she sees the boy.

  “You did it,” she says. “Any trouble?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Jax and I say at the same time, interrupting each other.

  “Nuthin' I couldn't handle,” I say. “But we gotta move.”

  I pull the cloth sack offa my nag and yank out all the clothes, hiding them in the dried bushes behind us. I turn to Conner. “We're gonna smuggle you past the guards in this. You're gonna get inside; we'll lay it across the horse like you're a sack of clothin'. Just lie there and don't move a muscle, no matter what you hear, got it?”

  He nods and climbs in without another word. Jax positions him over the horse’s back and I climb up behind it. The boy is thin enough, but I hope to gods the guards don't notice the bag looks a little fuller now than it did when we came in.

  Jax grabs the reins of both horses and starts leading us outta the alley. The gnome is
true to his word; no guards seem to be alerted or suspicious of our presence. The same guard from earlier gives us the stink eye as we approach the gate.

  “Back already?” he says.

  Jax nods and gives a weary sigh. “Aye. The flesh tradin' ain't for another two days, and the brothel didn't want 'em.”

  “I coulda told you that,” the guard says, eyeing me up and down. “What you gonna do with 'em now?”

  “Gonna take 'em back 'ome and—”

  “Atchoooo.”

  The sneeze from the bag in fronta me sounds extremely loud and echoes through the gate’s passageway. The guard's eyes narrow as he stares at me real funny like. Belle panics, and I know her face is gonna be a dead giveaway if the guard glances her way. Thinking quick, I lift the wrapper offa my face and start fake sneezing like there's no tomorrow. I give it my all, honking and sneezing as spittle flies outta my mouth.

  “Ugh,” Jax cries as he backs away. “Wot I tell ya 'bout coverin' yer mouth, ya cow? I don't want none of yer poxy spit flying my way.”

  The guard who had been walking towards me, backs up in disgust as I target him on purpose and my spit strikes his cheek. “Poxy?” he asks, his eyes widening in fright and his gloved hand wiping furiously at his cheek.

  “Well, it ain't been said dats wot she's got, but—”

  “Poxy! Damn you, you moron. If I had known that, you would never have made it through these gates. Begone with you, and take your disease-ridden cows with ya. And don't come back. If I so much as see you anywhere near here again, I'll have you arrested on the spot. You understand?”

  Jax cowers in mock fear, nodding like a madman. “Aye, sir. Thank ye, sir. We'll be on our way.”

  Hurrying past the guards, he leads us through the cobblestone gates into the heat of the sand lands. We don't stop for nuthin', not even once to look back. We head swift to the higher dunes where our people wait for us. Once we are out from under the watchful eyes of the wall and in sight of our crew, I finally allow myself to breathe again.