Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two

by E. M. Whittaker

  Heat flushed her face when she tumbled to the ground. Matted hair blocked her sight as she rolled into a set of metal tables, whimpering with each new bruise. Aviere crossed her arms as glass and tools fell from their workstations.

  She yelled when a beaker of acidic liquid spilled a centimeter away from her shoulder.

  The scent of decayed flesh was accented when Demetrius’s tentacle returned.

  She rolled to her right while catching her breath and searching for Travis within the anarchic environment. Sinister energy lurked between her adversary and the agent, spiking Aviere’s heartbeat.

  Somewhere, over the chanting, she swore Travis complained about her horrible luck.

  At this point, I would not disagree, agent. I’m the only shifter left fighting three demonic creatures, and you’re one of them. How do I counter—

  As she scrambled upright and moved her hair aside, searing hands clasped her shoulders. Her eyes widened as she sobbed and her flesh blistered. Once again, air left her as she collapsed to her knees, crawling away from the stranger’s touch.

  Cotton burned from her blistered shoulders when they touched her again, trailing a searing finger higher toward her jugular vein.

  It took every effort to hold her weapon while clawing the darker man, meeping when her fingertips burned. At one point, her nails sunk into bone, setting her panic into overdrive.

  There’s no end to these monsters! Why is Travis—what the hell—no, not again!

  Skin blistered as Aviere dropped her gun to free her trapped hand. When she freed her injured fingers, she reached down, wailing when the handgun slid from her reach.

  “Fuck!” she yelled, tearing from the second and third-degree burns. “They’re right… they’ve always—”

  “Aviere, I hurt enough. Please don’t reject me anymore.”

  The distorted words held remnants of Limere’s authoritative tone, giving her strength in her exhausted state. One knee rose from the floor, but stopped when she touched her injured shoulder to soothe her overwhelmed senses.

  “Forget about Demetrius and Travis for five minutes, Sis. Agent man is learning, but I’m on borrowed time.”

  Limere’s rumbling voice sent shivers throughout her body, aggravating the fresh burns along her shoulders. Once the sensation passed, Aviere stared at the two creatures engaged in their magical battle.

  This is it, Vi, she reminded herself, transfixed by platinum light flickering over Travis’s sooty shield. Everything will end in a few minutes, and you’ll be alone without your big brother.

  “Sis, turn around. Let me see your blazing eyes.”

  Clumps of knotted hair hung around the Poisoner’s face, hiding her resignation as she regarded her older brother. Shock flashed in her mournful eyes while etching the horrific sight in her memory.

  Bright red veins pulsated from neon to maroon, similar to Demetrius when she encountered him at Kilgore Falls. His hair, once shaggy and messy, had turned long and dark, almost matching the color of Jet’s tires, along with his skin. Tattered clothing rested on Limere’s emancipated body, but a red aura covered the darkened flesh.

  When she scooted back, Aviere noticed how the lacerations and leaking blood floated back into the scarlet aura surrounding him.

  Lim, what monstrosity lurked within you?

  Aviere’s shaky legs buckled as her sticky gloves clung to the peridot.

  “It’s wicked, but a one-time deal,” Limere told her while holding out a hand. “I’m almost out of power, though. After this last blow, I’ll—”

  “So… this… all this…was for nothing.” Her aching shoulders slumped as she stared at the ground, tearing at the screams echoing behind her. “Everyone will die. Meanwhile, I feel like a tool for doubting someone I should’ve believed.”

  Heat built near her ears as a thick strand of hair fizzled under Limere’s touch. “The past is irrelevant. I left a letter behind for you, detailing everything about the Metamorphosis Project, Gunther, and us. Take time to read it… it’s long, but it answers a lot of your questions.”

  She stared in morbid fascination at Limere’s brightened, shifting aura. “Limere, you didn’t have to do this. There were other—”

  “I didn’t. Celene snuck around and contracted with the Society after her visions drove her insane.”

  “The Victorian princess?”

  “I prefer that to Soulstealer, but yes. Cel thought being bound to an Arbitrator would be better than becoming Angelique’s newest thrall.”

  Scarlet glowed and Aviere blinked as a rune floated in the air before her. Reformed blood trailed to the arcane object before it pulsated to life. It morphed several times before a familiar tribal mark rested in its place.

  Wait… that cannot be…

  “The only reason I agreed to this asinine deal was because Soulstealer bound the demoness long enough to create my regeneration rune. Now, hold still. I only have one shot, but it negates your partner’s dark powers. If you’re safe, it’s worth disappearing to the astral plane for arcane training with Soulstealer’s bloody demon.”

  Aviere skittered away, covering her heaving chest while glaring at him. “No. No more magic, Lim. Please. I’ll stay as a—”

  The world became a kaleidoscope of light before her words froze mid-plea.

  Chalky alabaster skin burned as she toppled backward, but Aviere never felt her body hit the floor. She willed her arms to move, but her heavy limbs refused to obey. Every second she whimpered and howled, more intense pressure stole precious air from her lungs.

  Her stomach churned while putrid flesh burned through sensitive layers of skin. Something shattered near her chest before fragmenting into pieces. Aviere whimpered when her eyes went wide, then choked as sharpened objects embedded underneath her collarbone. Brilliant light shone once they fused with her skin.

  “This was the only way, Aviere. You’ll forgive me later for destroying your necklace, but I figured using an enchanted object would strengthen its power.”

  She felt no shame when tears poured from her frightened bloodshot eyes, or the blissful darkness and silence that negated the conflict behind her as she sunk into a dreamless void.

  Disjointed voices greeted Aviere the second time she came back to consciousness, but she bolted upright when a sonic boom vibrated through the asphalted street she laid on.

  Stars danced before her as she rocked back and forth, her eyes blazing in tandem with the fire growing from the destroyed pharmaceutical building. Chilled wind blew matted hair off her sweltering neck, soothing her blistered skin.

  The fire represented what her heart felt—torn between bitterness and unbridled rage.

  Once the breeze passed, warmth hit Aviere’s face, emphasizing the injuries she sustained inside the damaged building. While still on one knee, she held the other hand over her bosom, hoping to conceal her flower lace bra from the spectators gathering close by.

  As she dragged herself upward, leather material draped over her shoulders, shielding the breeze, which soothed her blistered shoulders.

  Alcohol stung her nostrils, but she released a defeated sigh and slumped, hanging her head at the familiar stench.

  “I’m sorry, Aviere,” Travis said from behind her. “You understood how tonight would end.”

  “I did.” She winced while pushing one section off her right shoulder. “However, this is the second time I made this mistake. I’m not meant to lead. It was never my place before, but I duped myself into thinking—”

  “You have the qualifications, but every faction loses good people.”

  “Not twice,” Aviere insisted. “Usually people learn the first time.”

  Scuffled footsteps made the Poisoner turn her head at the intruder as their dress shoes clomped closer. Her cerulean eyes shone of weariness as they settled on the crowd of individuals following the fleeing specialist, and she lifted an eyebrow at Shawn Peters’s disheveled appearance. The titanium laptop and matching laptop bag were cradled under one arm as
he stopped beside them and shielded her from the others crowding her position.

  “Give her some fresh air,” he called. “One of you avert the cops while another distracts the news crews. We don’t need them seeing Mye uncomposed. That’s my job.”

  The simple gesture moved Aviere as she gazed at the congregation and found Maurice’s enraged expression.

  Words tumbled in her mind, but nothing passed her lips at his crucifying stare.

  She returned to the fire and wiped snot from her nose, sniffling as shock passed into the grieving stage. The fire blurred from scorching tears as her expression hardened. Time passed while the last building she owned blazed like her shattered dreams and divided family.

  “Aviere, move before the media turns this into a three-ring circus,” Maurice ordered. “We don’t need an underground matter to gain national media coverage, and Raymond should know Lim’s gone.”

  “I’ll leave once the fire dies,” she responded, twirling her hair while brushing it against her cool lips. “It’s the only funeral Lim will have.”

  “Bein’ safe beats a funeral. We’ll hold our own vigil later.”

  “What happened to avoiding my holy crusade?” Aviere asked. “You want Gunther buried in a body bag, remember?”

  “A few people reminded me it’s not your fault a nutjob wants to market your blood as a biological weapon. Lim believes in you… said you wanted to right sendin’ Gunther off. Accepting that weird symbol on your chest was forgiveness enough. Let’s go before the authorities catch us.”

  “I’m staying till the building melts.”

  “Aviere…”

  “Maurice, I’m not desecrating the dead by leaving before Limere’s funeral pyre dies. I’ll hide from the media, but my big brother deserves a moment of silence for the sacrifices he made.”

  She kept her back turned and straightened her posture, disregarding the sharp spasms and cracking joints. Part of the building buckled under the fire’s hot temperatures. One section remained upright before plunging into other debris thirty seconds later, ending its structural integrity.

  There. Everything we built fell to ashes, my love. The blurred lines are gone.

  A bulky object slipped inside one of the deep trench coat pockets and Aviere squinted at the tiny specialist, stopping mid-movement. “What?”

  “Your gun,” Peters remarked. “Travis nabbed it before exiting the building.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Go with Maurice. Keith has to linger cause of the bracelet, but we’ll wrap up later once you’re settled.”

  Aviere jumped when Peters patted her sore thigh. “Stop being nice, I said.”

  “I didn’t like Dalara, but if you choose to stay, we can divert everyone for a few minutes. I can’t guarantee longer than ten, though. News crews get antsy when the cameras roll.”

  “Could you?” Vengeful tears trickled from her misty eyes. “I’d appreciate it. Leave Maurice and Celene, though. It’s fitting they watch.”

  “Fine, but head to the hospital afterward. We need a report on Greene since she was Donahue’s hostage.”

  “Yeah.” Aviere trailed her seared glove toward the specialist’s hand. “I thought you abhorred our species.”

  “For once, you got the shaft.” Before Aviere touched him, Peters backed away. “And you both saved Keith, so…”

  She grabbed the small man, rested her head on his chest and sniffled harder, loosening her grip before she choked him.

  “Mye, save the theatrics for when you’re yourself again.”

  “I want him back.” The statement sounded empty as sirens blared down the street. Her voice broke as a strangled sob escaped her lips. One fist ruffled the specialist’s pressed shirt before using the shirt to wipe her runny nose.

  Whispered voices proceeded, and she registered Celene and Maurice’s muffled voices from behind them.

  “I can’t afford heartbreak again,” she went on. “Not when—”

  “Heartbreak happens, Aviere. It’ll fester, scab, and reform, while leaving behind a deeper scar. Just as you move forward, something else splits the wounds open again.”

  “You’re spewing therapeutic bullshit.”

  “No, experience. I moved on before Sanderson tossed you into my life, hellcat. Now, before you blubber and the police question you, follow me. I’m short on patience, and I’ve reached my quota for political correctness.”

  A warm arm wrapped around her waist before ushering her down the street, navigating through pandemonium as the police and news crews arrived. Once they ducked into the alley, Aviere paused, blinking the tears away while the flames consumed the glass skyscraper.

  She touched her chest and rubbed the leather, mindful of the burns and the insignia she bore underneath. Her fingers tingled as she sighed, but thought nothing of healing when she wiped her tears away.

  Tonight, I’ll grieve. Tomorrow, I’ll regroup. In two weeks, after we’ve recovered, I’ll move forward with your plan, Lim. Nevertheless, I cannot face Armandi or Sanderson until I get my emotions in check.

  Dark laughter echoed in the shadows as the Poisoner scurried down the alley, grateful for the pouring rain lowering her feverish body temperature.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two weeks later, Aviere rolled her eyes when a metallic red Corvette parked next to Jet outside the Tethered Mistress and rolled down the window, hearing the passenger complain about her smoking inside her vehicle.

  The scent comforted her, despite its skunkiness. Each slow hit made her body tingle and release endorphins, eradicating the pain plaguing her. As she brought the aged paper to her lips, Aviere inhaled and rolled her eyes, giggling at a delightful memory of her older brother.

  Once she beamed at the windshield again, Aviere released a soft sigh and fingered the tribal mark underneath her collarbone.

  We’ve seen better days, Lim. I’m not smoking because of you, but the painkillers stopped working and Raymond won’t prescribe anymore because of Peters. You forgot to unpack the tea bags, so now I’ll hear about how smoking marijuana is illegal.

  The familiar nasally voice rose the longer Peters complained. Aviere’s ear twitched when Peters reached a certain pitch and she gritted her teeth, coughing when she breathed in another round of smoke.

  Goddammit, Neuro. Some fantasies never change, like dreaming of strangling you, or poisoning you with cyanide.

  Waving diverted her attention, and the Poisoner stared at Peters’s smooth fingers gliding a knuckle across his throat. In return, she issued her own salute and before resuming and waggled her eyebrows toward Travis when Peters aired another grievance.

  Then again, choking him wouldn’t satisfy me.

  Several pieces of the peridot glowed and Aviere winced, almost dropping the half-smoked joint as vertigo hit her. She gawked at the mangled jewels pulsating within the tribal rune before meeting Travis’s shaded sunglasses from the window.

  Why would this… I understand now, Lim. I won’t need the initiation cup after all.

  “Travis, make Neuro stop whining before I jam my medical marijuana card up his ass,” Aviere swore, driving two fingers to her temple. “Besides, I asked you to leave him behind.”

  “You have to sign paperwork so we get paid again.”

  Explains why my voicemail blew up, Aviere snickered as a fresh tirade started from the Corvette. When it’s anything he needs…

  “Shawn, Mye carries legal documentation. The moment you file against her, she’d turn you in for discrimination easily, even without Sanderson’s help.”

  Perhaps something wonderful came from this tragic incident, Lim, she mused, smiling when Travis stepped out of the Corvette. Travis returned to his charming, snarky self. But why—

  “Look, we follow federal law, Keith! You can’t let Mye break rules because someone’s dead!”

  Her lips puckered before snatching her handbag and storming toward the Corvette, clenching a fist after using her knee to close Jet’s door. “I’m not smok
ing because Limere died, you asshole. My doctor won’t issue painkillers because he’s afraid you’ll steal them, and I can’t get them through another hospital if I have an emergency. It blocks the pain, and he’s all for ‘holistic treatment’ over popping pills.”

  “You’re breaking the law, hellcat. Dalara was bad enough.”

  “Marijuana has restorative properties,” she argued. “That’s why the larger pharmaceutical companies won’t market it. They demand money from sick patients eager for a ‘cure’ that never works.”

  “Funny you mention pharmaceutical companies. The blown-up building belonged to your husband.”

  Brunette bangs covered her eyes while Aviere lowered her glasses and tapped a boot against the blacktop. One eye shot to Travis, who kicked the driver’s side door.

  “I asked you to stop snooping in my private affairs.”

  “The mirrored windows bothered me, and I had trouble securing a building in your name. As for your personal business, it always bleeds into our assignments, so you’re shit out of luck.”

  “It’s for your protection.”

  “Don’t play the martyr, Mye. The tacky building—”

  “Enough.”

  She pointed at Peters while Travis’s stern tone silenced the specialist. “I’m not bringing up pointless topics!”

  “Jesus Christ, woman. I’m not missing paid time off for team-building exercises. If I clock overtime this week, I’m going bounty hunting in New York. They offer higher pay and no one misses criminals.”

  Aviere clutched her wrist, squeezing the silver bracelet underneath her leather glove. “Don’t.”

  “Why race instead of boosting your pharmaceutical company?” Peters interjected. “Your annual earnings tripled by its third, fifth, and seventh year. Had you continued, you’d reach over five million a year before paying your precious Underground.”

  “Mye, hand me the joint.”

  I guess Peters grated Travis’s nerves when I disappeared. Poor guy.

  “No. It’s a legitimate question… one I’d demand an explanation for. He’s asking the right questions, unlike you.”