But these people were different. They appeared to show great emotion. They cared about each other. Seemed to have others they cared about. Maybe they could tell her who she was, who her family was.
For all she knew, they could be family.
She immediately straightened and shoved the questions from her mind. The mission was to eliminate the mark. That was all. She wasn't sent to interrogate marks, to reason with them, or to go off the rails on her own.
Three killed. That was all.
With speed born from whatever unnatural blood ran through her veins, she dropped her blade, smoothly yanking the twin knives from the small of her back. She threw them both, one aimed for the man, one for the woman.
Both landed dead center of their throats.
While they grabbed at the knives and gurgled, Three dropped, scooping up the dagger she’d tossed as she rolled. She dragged the blade through the man's thighs, dropping him. Then she turned her attention to the wide-eyed woman attempting to pull the knife from her throat. Three rose to her feet.
The female yanked the steel out, leaving behind gushing blood and a nasty hole. She stared Three down, hate turning the air burgundy around them, edging toward black. Now that was a color she was familiar with. She didn't have time to wonder yet again why she could see colors for emotions. Instead, Three went low again, bringing her dagger across the woman's gut.
Her opponent jumped back, but not quickly enough. The blood flowing from her throat took her strength with it. But even slowed from many injuries, she was preternaturally fast. Turning to the side, Three glanced up to see the man struggling to his feet. Already healing. She needed to end this quickly, before he came at her.
She'd spent enough time talking and thinking. The ending here was always going to happen. No matter how any of them tried to delay it. No matter the questions bouncing around her brain. The kills had to happen. That was the way of things in her world.
Death and destruction without attrition.
The woman swung her knife, catching Three across the upper arm. Deep. Without pausing, Three dove for the woman, taking her to the ground.
Only one of them would rise.
Digging her knees into the female's shoulders, Three grabbed the hilt of her dagger with both hands and drove it into the same hole where she'd embedded the knife. She twisted as the woman fought, trying to get her hands under Three's knees to propel her off. But Three held tight, clamping down on the woman's chest with her shins.
Then she shoved the blade first right, then left.
A guttural, unearthly roar of agony ripped through the night, drowning out the bugs, the echoing voices, and the music drifting from the bars. The world stilled and held its breath, bowing to the unfathomable grief that sucked the oxygen from the atmosphere.
As the woman's head rolled from her twitching body, Three stood. Slowly. For the first time in her life, afraid of what she might face as the grieved bellow of her mark echoed in her head. Covered in spray from her opponent's blood, she turned to the unimaginable force behind her.
Colors she'd never seen before, couldn't name, swirled in a mist, enveloping the male-turned-force of nature. No one in their right mind could consider the being in front of her human. His long dark hair flew around his head. His eyes glowed an ethereal emerald. His muscles taut, he seemed even taller than his already dominating six and a half feet.
The sound that emanated from his throat was more growl than words. “I do not care who you are, what you are. In this moment, I have no loyalty to the vow I have taken regarding you.” He stalked closer. It took everything Three had to stand her ground, showing nothing of the fear and sheer confusion twisting in her gut. “Know this. Vow or no, you will die by my hand. Painfully. You will pay for what you've done.” He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were a fathomless black. “Ged a chuir mi gealladh a bhith a 'frithealadh na Morrigan, sgriosaidh mi i.”
Three heard the language before. Some of the guards at the facility used it. But she didn't understand it. Yet, something in her knew.
He would try to destroy her.
As the man’s muscles bunched to charge and Three widened her stance, a commotion sounded at the other end of the alley. Both their heads swiveled in that direction. Two drunken young couples wobbled on the cobblestones, straight toward them.
Casting a sorrowful look toward his fallen love that wrenched the heart Three didn't know she had, the man lowered his blade. His eyes, now green again, drilled into hers. “I pledge that before I die, I will kill you.”
He sheathed his blade, then melted into the darkness. From the shadows, she heard a whisper. It may as well have been a roar.
“Mus tèid mi dhan ath bheatha, marbhaidh mi thu. Seo mo bhòid.”
She knew it was his vow.
Three didn't have time to wonder about it. Glancing at the woman’s body, partially hidden from sight by the shadows under the stairs, she sidled to the wall and quietly sneaked up to the first landing of the fire escape.
The four interlopers ambled by, laughing and talking loudly, unaware of the predator in their midst, or the headless body only feet from them.
For several minutes after they wandered back out to the street, Three stayed put. She sat like a gargoyle, perched on the corner of the landing. Too many thoughts ran through her mind, freezing her muscles.
What was the kingdom he spoke of? Why did she keep looking at the corpse on the ground with a sorrow in her cold heart she'd never known before? She felt a kinship to the woman, though they'd never met before tonight.
Never had she lost a mark. Then again, Three had never spoken to one. Never felt anything for them or anyone else. Yet there she sat, wondering what she truly was, why she did the things she did without question.
The odd language, the melody, the words, they all floated around her head, her heart. Something familiar, something that felt like...home. Only she didn't know what home was. Just that if she had one, she imagined the language, the song, belonged there. They seemed almost like a part of her. A part she'd forgotten or never known in the first place.
Maybe it was time to search out someone to give her the answers.
Her musings were interrupted as lithe feet barely touched pavement below. Dropping her gaze, she spied a massive shadow over the body of the woman.
The man returned.
Transfixed by the sight, she watched as he dropped to his knees. Great, heaving sobs wracked his body, shaking broad shoulders that could shield a small country. The man collapsed over the body, pulling it to him. He pressed a kiss to his lover’s stomach, then gently laid her back down.
He reverently retrieved the head, placing it against her body where it belonged. Three tilted her head. She’d never seen anyone mourn. It was unsettling. It strengthened the pang in her heart, the one she’d never experienced before.
He tugged a small satchel from his belt and pulled five glowing rocks from it. One was placed by the woman’s head, then one by each arm and leg. Stepping back, he took a deep breath before chanting in that same language he'd spoken earlier.
What happened next made Three suck in air. A light sprang from beneath the body, blinding in its intensity. She looked away for only a moment, but when she turned back, the body was gone. The man retrieved the rocks, then sighed deeply. With shoulders slumped, he again dissolved into the shadows.
Three stayed still. The strange sensations she’d experienced earlier gave way to numbness as his grief settled into her. A preferable condition over the intense, unfamiliar emotion. Gathering her wits, she slipped down the stairs and made her way to the edge of town using back alleys. Finally, she hailed a cab. Half an hour later, he dropped her off in the middle of nowhere at a large, old sugar plantation. Old, rusty yet strong gates seemed to rise out of the darkness. The driver raised his brows, his shock turning the air yellow, but her glare staved off his questions.
As the cab drove off, Three walked to the massive gates and hit the buzzer. Leaning into
the iris scanner, she spoke. “Three reporting in. Nothing can get into a closed fist.” She'd never understood the phrase, but it was the “all clear” they gave when returning.
The gates creaked open and two guards materialized from the shadows. As usual, one came and stood in front of her. She wasn't allowed to move from her position in the center of the gates, wasn't allowed to cross into the facility.
Three waited, knowing what was coming and hating it.
The guard waved a hand in front of her face. “Faodaidh tu a─nis a bhith a 'cadal, a' ghaisgeach.”
Just like that, she crumpled to the ground. Her last thought before succumbing to the black?
Wondering about a home she'd never known, and what she might have been there.
CHAPTER TWO
Bang Bang Bang
“That's a half point deduction. Next one's a full. Watch it.”
Makenna O'Neill stepped back to observe the sparring session. The young man sprang forward with a flawless combination, setting his opponent up for the ax kick she knew was coming. It was his signature move. Though his sparring partner was well beyond his rank, the guy fell for it.
She clapped along with half the class who had stopped to watch the older kids. The seventeen-year-old, Jamar, was one of her most promising students. She couldn't have been more proud of him if she tried.
A gang member, he'd come to the center with a chip the size of the Mississippi on his shoulder and the bluster to match. Six months later, he was out of the gang, back in school, and helping her teach the younger kids three days a week.
One of the many success stories of the center.
Stretching her neck, Makenna moved to the front. “Cha ryut!” The kids hustled to attention, their tiny bodies in pristine uniforms shuffling for position while forming three lines. “That's it for today. Don't forget to practice your forms, or...” she paused, prodding them for the answer.
“Poomse!” the kids shouted. They were all excited to be learning Korean along with the martial arts.
She grinned. “Right! Now I want to see those forms sharp and clean next Saturday. Don't forget, we've got tournament in two weeks.” A mix of cheers and groans broke out. Laughing, Makenna held up a hand. “You'll be ready, don't worry. As long as you practice.” She dropped the smile. “What are the five tenets of Tae Kwon Do?”
“Courtesy! Integrity! Perseverance! Self-control! Indomitable spirit!”
“The five articles of mental training?”
“Obedience! Respect! Cooperation! Honesty! Compassion!”
She almost winced at compassion, just like every time she had them recite it. That was one thing she'd never been able to display in a fight. But that was a thought for another time.
“Kyung ye,” she intoned. They all bowed with her. “Dismissed.”
The kids were off like they'd been shot from a gun. Several ran to the benches to put on their shoes and grab their bags to head outside to their rides. Some met their parents along the wall, chattering away. The rest stayed on the mat, playing around or practicing, killing time until they absolutely had to leave and walk or ride the bus home alone.
Those were the kids a huge chunk of her heart stayed with.
She'd been them.
Alone. Lost. Looking for something that made them feel in control. Something that gave them the stability they didn't have at home, if they even had a home. They were the ones Makenna had spent part of her rent buying extra gear and uniforms for when the center ran out of funds. She'd had to pick up a few shifts at the local dive bar waitressing and find a few paying fights to make up for it. The fights she didn't mind, though the waitressing she hated.
But the arms wrapped around her waist, shy smiles and thank yous that'd brought tears to her eyes, their glowing faces, had made it all worth it.
Makenna walked to the office she shared with her master instructor and shut the door. After changing from her dobok to ratty jeans and an old Rolling Stones T-shirt, she slipped her flip flops on her feet and grabbed her bag. Tossing it over her shoulder, she shut off the light and locked the door behind her. In the main gym, she rounded up the last of the rowdy bunch and ushered them to the door, wishing she could walk each one home to assure they made it safely.
“Bye, Miss Makenna!” Two gangly arms wrapped around her waist, then were gone just as quickly.
She watched the quiet little dark-skinned boy until he turned a corner at breakneck speed. Her heart went with him, along with a wish for safety, for peace. A wish that he'd find his place in the world and that it would be a great one. Her eyes filled.
Makenna wished for him what she'd never had.
She'd been on her own since she was fourteen and had ran away from that horrible foster home after a short stint in juvie. Truth be told, she'd been alone since she was four. The foster homes she'd been placed in could hardly be called homes. Not that she could remember what a real home was like.
All she had were broken memories and distorted visions of a family that was gone before she really knew them.
Makenna brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand and tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. She guessed she had found her place, in a way. Teaching martial arts and self-defense at the center didn't pay a lot, sometimes nothing, but she got to help the kids who were so much like her young self, and it gave her an outlet for that fire in her blood. The fire and strength and heightened senses she'd never understood. The need to fight.
The very things that had gotten her sent to juvie.
But that hunger for unfettered battle, that thirst for blood, was only truly quenched when she picked up a fight not sanctioned by her dojang. Fights they could never know about. Even then, she craved more.
She often thought she'd been born in the wrong century. That she should've been part of some ancient clan of warriors in a time long gone. That flight of fancy made her feel better than the alternative.
That she was defective.
Wrong.
Evil at her core.
Makenna snorted as she walked to her old truck. Regardless of age, it was in perfect working order and always looked immaculate. She was funny about that.
Looking around to see no one watching her, a smirk graced her lips as she tossed her keys high in the air. She yanked the door open and tossed her bag in, then caught them behind her back. Maybe she wasn't evil, but there was definitely something wrong with her.
With one leg in the truck, she froze. The air had warm fingers that caressed her neck, raising her hair on end. A whisper she couldn't make out rode the breeze.
Someone watched her.
Well that was nothing new. She'd felt like she was being watched for a while.
Strangely this time, unlike all the others, she wasn't creeped out. Quite the opposite. The overwhelming desire to find the source of the voice bubbled in her chest, urging her to turn around. She twisted, still half inside the truck. A hum echoed, not in her ears, but in her soul. A melodious sound that filled her with warmth, completeness.
She raised an eyebrow at her strange thoughts as she scanned the street. Since it was only four in the afternoon, the street was busy with people going about their business. Cheesy shops and broken down buildings shared space in the neighborhood just outside the tourist trap that was Bourbon Street. None of them made eye contact with her. None of them gave her the impression they cared she existed.
Her eyes were drawn to a long-deserted building down the street. There were no shadows in the windows, no one standing near it, yet she knew the source came from there. Her gaze floated to the roof without her conscious thought. Nothing. No one standing there. Though, she couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching. Waiting.
For what?
Makenna shook her head and climbed the rest of the way into the truck. “This is getting fucking ridiculous.”
For the past six months, weird things had been happening. Strange feelings. Eerie “knowings”. She'd even taken a different route home from t
he bar the other night. What felt like a whispered voice in her head had told her not to take her usual way. Chalking it up to instinct, she'd listened.
That wasn't all. Makenna’s strength had increased. Her senses were becoming sharper. And she was having strange urges. She'd been driving out to the swamp more and more. She'd park along the side of a country road and sit on the hood, watching. Almost like she was pulled there, looking for something.
“That's it. You've finally lost it. Time to have yourself committed.” She laughed while starting the truck, but there was no joy in it.
She was changing, but into what? All she knew was she wanted her normal life back. Well, as normal as it got for her.
With one last glance at the old building, she made a noise in her throat and pulled into the street.
Ten minutes later, Makenna lugged a basket through the grocery store, trying to decide what to make for supper. She'd been ravenous lately. It was like PMS every day or something. She tossed a package of hamburger in the basket and tromped over to dairy aisle for her favorite cheese. A big juicy burger. That was what she needed.
Her final stop was the wine aisle. If there was one thing she loved more than a good burger, it was wine. Maybe it was stupid, but she always felt classy drinking it out of the nice stem glasses she'd splurged on. Classy wasn't something she was used to, so she soaked up every little bit of sophistication she could find. Wine, art, jazz. Music was even higher on her list than wine, and she often roamed around New Orleans, looking for a new band or following where her favorites played.
Makenna gave herself a mental shake. Shit, she was distracted today. The swear word gave her a laugh. Yeah, no matter how much culture and class she tried to absorb, she'd probably never lose that mouth.
Her brain screeched to a halt as that hum set up in her chest again. Only this time, it was louder. Intense. And with it came an almost debilitating need to find the source.
“I would suggest this Pinot Noir. It should hold up nicely to your burger and that cheese and mayo you have there.”
Sleeper (Rise of the Fianna Book 1) Page 2
