Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. “A bit of fresh air might do me some good.” She led the way into the front room where Viola, Owen, and Xavier were seated.

  “You two are looking much better,” said Liam, admiring the work of his own healing.

  “Aye, I be thinking I just might do some dancing tonight,” Owen replied, rotating his arm in wide circles. Viola remained quiet, her eyes on the floor. It was obvious to Liam they were hiding something. What happened to them out there? No matter, he would find out sooner rather than later. For now, he had more pressing questions that needed answering.

  After being lowered in the bamboo cage, Assirra and Liam took a stroll. Liam was impressed at how much light the hanging lanterns provided, especially given this time of night. Still, the scene was far from beautiful. Weapons lay scattered about, and even a few bodies that had not yet been recovered.

  “We will be leaving soon,” Liam said, finally breaking the long but not uncomfortable silence. “Within a few days’ time, I suspect.”

  “Oh?” Assirra replied, sounding a bit surprised. “The three of you are welcome to stay as long as you like. Given my offer of protection, I actually thought you wouldn’t be leaving us at all.”

  “And a most generous offer it is,” Liam said. “I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for us already, but we cannot endanger your people any more than we already have. Now that our location is known, we’ll have to keep moving.”

  “And where will you go?”

  “Even if I knew, I’m not sure it would be in your best interest to tell you. The less you know about our whereabouts, the better for anyone involved.” She nodded, considering. “Also, I would like to have a word or two with Orfi, if that’s all right. Um...does he speak my language?”

  “He can communicate,” she replied, an oddly cryptic answer to such a direct question.

  “I see,” Liam replied. “Well, I need to understand how he prepared that serum for Viola so quickly.” Assirra shuffled her feet briefly, a subtle, nervous movement. Liam noticed. “You see, most alchemist serums consist of various herbs and plants, some of which are quite rare. And even if you have such items in stock, two or more are usually brewed longer than a day, often at varying temperatures. That mix is then combined with the remaining components, then together they are brewed even longer. Even then, the first batch doesn’t always take. The correct coloring is the first sign, usually followed by a bit of testing.”

  Assirra stopped walking, suddenly finding great interest in a rather dull-looking plant. She stroked its long leaves, making an excruciating attempt to find reason not to look Liam in the eyes.

  Liam walked around her to face her, forcing her to look at him. “And yet somehow Orfi managed all this in a matter of hours,” he continued. “Most curious, wouldn’t you agree? Since we’ll be without his service, I simply must learn how he defies the laws of time and physics as we understand them.”

  Liam purposely let the silence linger a long while before speaking again. “That serum was not only prepared long before we arrived, but it was meant for another,” he accused, his voice soft and dangerous. “Are we going to play this game all evening or are you going to tell me the truth?”

  Balling her fist, she broke off the top of the plant and threw it aside in frustration. “Yes, we had the serum on hand,” she admitted.

  “And who was it meant for?” he asked.

  “We didn’t think he was ever coming back, but we kept it for him anyway,” she said, now looking Liam right in the eye.

  “He? Are you saying there are others like Viola?”

  She nodded, holding his gaze. “I suspected the moment I saw her. I’m not talking about her obvious affliction. I mean in the same way siblings often look alike. Her eyes, her nose, I just knew I had already seen that face in some capacity.”

  “What? What did you suspect? I need you to start from the beginning and tell me everything,” said Liam, suddenly feeling the urge to sit. He flopped down on the ground.

  With a sigh, Assirra sat down next to him. “I believe...no, I’m certain…that Viola has a brother... And not unlike her, he is in grave danger.”

  The End

  Continue the Tainted Blood Series

  Book two, Of Blood and Blade

  Book three, Winds of Chaos

  Don’t Forget To Subscribe To My Newsletter To Be Notified Of Upcoming Books And New Releases!

  http://eepurl.com/PCipr

  About the Author

  Jeff Gunzel grew up in Chicago Illinois but now lives in Fort Collins Colorado. After graduating from Devry University with an Associate of Applied Science in Electronics & Computer Technology, he started writing fantasy and has never looked back.

  Read More from Jeff Gunzel

  https://www.amazon.com/Jeff-Gunzel/e/B008RBRRRI/

  https://www.facebook.com/gunzelsbooks

  Painting the Roses Red

  Monica Corwin

  Painting the Roses Red © 2016 Monica Corwin

  * * *

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. 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 permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  About Painting the Roses Red

  Notorious assassin, war criminal, spy.

  The infamous Queen of Hearts will take one more job to secure her freedom from the Red Queen.

  Rebecca is pitted against the man she loves after being locked away for five years, and it’s time for revenge.

  Painting the Roses Red

  The knife would pierce his flesh with little effort. Rebecca flipped the blade in her hand over and over, years of practice fueling her movements. She stared out over the helm of the ship whimsically named Alice the only transport to the planet designated WOD5 or Wonderland. It pained her to be in such a confined space for so long, but the pay made up for it. The bounty on Hatter's head would keep her free for another year at least.

  Only an hour more and she could complete the job earning her pay. She supposed a deal could be made with the Red Queen, but the woman had taken everything from her when she was thrown in prison five years ago. Upon her release she resolved to work for no one but the White Queen. Still, she missed home and the tea parties under the stars with March. She bowed her head against the onslaught of emotion. One moment was all she could afford to give herself before she hardened her heart and mind to those feelings once again.

  The captain tinkered with random buttons before addressing her. "We're almost there, madam."

  She didn't look him in the eye but noticed he peered at her knife second too long. "Can I help you?"

  The man blushed from his collar to forehead. "No, madam. I'm sorry, madam."

  A ruthless reputation cultivated by the people she used to work for remained strong even after five years in prison. Thank the Gods for small mercies.

  She sat back in a chair and crossed her ankles, her new boots feeling tight around her calves. No matter, she'd break them in. She closed her eyes and settled in to wait. Outside Moon Prison she'd gotten new clothes and pushed aside any reminder of her lonely stay there. Five years without speaking to another human, five years without food to eat, wine to drink, the feel of clothing against her skin. They locked her up naked and alone, but once she killed the Hat
ter, she could run away to some forgotten planetoid, learn to be a human again, and take down each and every one of her enemies as ruthlessly as they had her.

  No one deserves Moon Prison. In all her time on Earth Prime, it was only been utilized once before...for a cursed cannibal. Her lowly number of contracted kills was nothing compared to such a horror.

  She pushed back the memories again and opened her eyes. Wonderland loomed before the window all green, blue, and shimmering gold. The atmosphere of the planet held traces of gold reflecting the sunlight and making the sky shimmer. Even the moon turned the night sky into a beautiful array of crystal light.

  The captain reached around her to press another button. "We'll be there in a moment, Madame."

  The sparkling atmosphere of the planet beckoned. Usually passengers weren't allowed on deck, but the White Queen made a special request. Here she sat, front row seat.

  Upon landing, she exited first ahead of the regular passengers, but the crew had gathered to watch her leave. Whispers of her old codename, the Queen of Hearts, trailed behind her as she departed the ship. Rebecca smiled, well as much as her wounded soul would allow her these days. Hopefully they would carry those whispers across the galaxy so everyone who wronged her knew their fate.

  She stepped from the loading dock onto a grassy knoll. The bright green stalks reached her knees, but she never had been very tall.

  She opened her communicator and brought up the address to Hatter's establishment. Word in the underground said he had organized a revolution to take down both the White and the Red Queen. It made sense, but she only took this job for the money. Revolutionaries rarely had the extra coin to pay their debts or else she might have considered joining their cause. Rebecca held no love for either queen.

  It was a short walk to his business from the transport. He wouldn't know who she was. She could easily step into the millinery and put her dagger straight through his heart before anyone could stop her. Moon Prison dulled her senses in some ways but the confines only honed her ruthless edge.

  Years of repression surged forward as adrenaline spiked through her blood like an old friend. One she hadn't seen in far too long. It wasn't the killing she loved, this, the adrenaline coursing through her system and the tingle in her finger-tips was the reason she kept to her old profession

  The quick pitter-patter of her heart took her by surprise. She hadn't felt its agitated pounding in quite some time. There were nights on the moon she'd thought she died and didn't realize it.

  She walked faster trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind pulling out those aching pieces and leaving them in the dust to crunch under her boots. As her blonde hair floated on a soft wind as she stepped up to the red door.

  Her target, the Hatter, supposedly bore the scar of the Red Queen's rage on his skin. It was the only identifier she'd been given. The lashing must have been serious because the queen never liked her rage to be public knowledge. No, the merciless bitch reserved her sadistic fetish for her closest friends and family.

  The door creaked open as if the hinges hadn't been tended in sometime. No one had real doors anymore. Most buildings had a retractable atom field designed to recognize specific people. A real door was an unexpected novelty and made things much easier.

  The main room displaying a plethora of colorful headpieces sat devoid of life. A tea room took up space in the back so she squeezed through the small opening and found a handful of tables. One man sat on a thick wood stool with a hat and a tea cup before him. He wore black clothing, and his long brown hair fell halfway down his back with a red ribbon tied in the center.

  She approached carefully intent on not startling him. No honor was served in a backstabbing, either for the victim or the killer.

  He set the glass down with a clink but didn't turn. "I've been expecting you."

  His voice sounded deep and rich like dark, hot chocolate.

  "Well then please turn and face me like a man."

  The man stood and turned. Before her stood a ghost. Even if he'd been marked for death, she wouldn't kill him while he wore someone else's face.

  "How...who?" She stopped speaking.

  His face held an equally stunned expression. "Rebecca?"

  The ghost remained and she blinked a few times in an attempt to reveal her target. "Is this a trick?"

  There was no answer, but he walked forward and embraced her so hard the point of her knife bit into both of their chests. Rebecca didn't reciprocate and waited until he released her. He looked like March but older. He had the same deep gray eyes and five o'clock shadow, but a jagged scar zig-zagged across his throat like he survived a beheading. And he probably did.

  "Rebecca, it's me, March."

  She shook her head. Impossible. "You're not real. You're dead." In Moon Prison they had showed her pictures of his mutilated body on a repeating loop for an entire year. The wall of her prison cell made up the screen. Even now the movie images swam in her mind. Anger reared up. She pushed the point of her blade against his chest directly over his heart until he backed away. He took several steps back and opened his arms to her.

  Every riddle held an answer. Rebecca gripped his black T-shirt with her free hand and ripped the right sleeve off. On the upper portion of his arm a perfect red heart blazed bright against his pale skin.

  She dropped the blade and stepped back into his embrace. If this was a trick, then she didn't care. Her entire body shook with more emotions than she could identify, but she didn't cry. She held her tears back. They would only mar her vision of March and now that she had him she held no plans to let him go again.

  Once upon a time a group of friends joined a fighter's guild which later mutated into an assassin's guild when the Red Queen took power. Each member had been given a code name from a deck of playing cards. The Queen of Hearts always held the role of leader, assigning the assassins to targets. The people learned of the Red Queen's secret army and rioted. The Red Queen made an example of the assassins by capturing the Queen of Hearts and subjecting her to the worst punishment imaginable: Moon Prison. March had been her Ace of Hearts always keeping her back protected. The day they were taken by the queen's guard neither of them were able to fight thirty men with tranquilizers. The memory faded as she inhaled his familiar scent of leather and pine.

  "March, March, March." She repeated his name like a mantra while he clutched her head and rubbed his hands over the length of her hair.

  "I'm here. It's really me."

  A pressure welled up from her belly and pressed against her lungs. She hadn't felt it in years, and as it squeezed her heart she clutched March tighter, afraid to release him. He whispered in her ear, and all she could do was cling to him and pray he never went away again. When she finally pulled away he swiped a finger up her cheek to remove an escaped tear.

  "I haven't cried in four years," she murmured.

  March clutched her face hard and leaned down to stare directly into her eyes. "They will pay for this. They will pay for the five years we spent apart, for the torture, the agony. All of it."

  She reached out to touch him. The fact that should could still a shock. "You're such a drama queen."

  He laughed, a sound so familiar it made her heart skip a beat. "Well how about some breakfast?"

  Breakfast for dinner had always been her favorite meal. She shrugged as March sat her down on the chair he had previously occupied and left the room. Not even five minutes after he went into the kitchen, two men ran into the room shouting. They stopped when they caught sight of her and lowered what looked to be crude clubs.

  One man had long and gangly limbs with a white rabbit on his shirt. He stepped up. "Who are you?"

  "Rebecca."

  He executed a neat bow. "We've heard so much about you, but we were under the impression the Queen of Hearts had arrived to dispatch our compatriot."

  Rebecca snorted. "She did."

  His eyes bugged out. "He's dead?"

  The man in question entered the room with fo
ur plates apparently anticipating the arrival of white rabbit and his friend who reminded her vaguely of a mouse.

  March put the food on the table. "My friends, this is Rebecca. In some circles she goes by the Queen of Hearts."

  She nodded toward them, and they both took a step back. Her reputation evidently did precede her.

  The smell of food rose up making her stomach growl. "I won't be killing anyone today," she said shifting to look down at her plate. The fresh eggs, toast, and dragon bacon smelled amazing. The scent wafted from the plate reminding her she hadn't had a proper meal in half a decade. She already knew from experience to take it slow. The men around the table watched as she ate at a snail's pace taking small bites and chewing slowly before swallowing.

  "Moon Prison," March whispered after a few minutes, and they all looked back to their own plates.

  She ate almost half her plate and stopped when her stomach made a lurch of protest. It would take time to be able to eat normally again. The chemicals they pumped into her in place of food barely kept her alive.

  March stood to clear the plates and looked down at her half-eaten food. "Was it good?"

  "Amazing. Thank you."

  He returned with coffee and the quartet sat staring at each other. A touch on her leg startled her, and she leaned back to peer under the table. March rubbed his boot against her calf apparently needing the reassurance she craved as well. Five whole years had passed, and yet she felt as if they had never been apart.

  She took a deep breath and focused. "What's the plan?"

  March took a sip of coffee before answering. "We're going to take down both the White Queen and the Red Queen."

  Rebecca let out a sigh; she knew that already. "How?"

  The men looked back and forth between one another.