by Hadena James
There was a moving van outside the Federal Guard Apartments. My meager belongings were being shoved into it with about as much care as someone discarding oyster shells. Nyleena was standing next to me. The day was busy and almost over.
I picked up my cane. They were moving me to my new house. It was conveniently located two houses down from Lucas. Xavier was my next door neighbor. Malachi was about a block away.
“Ready?” Nyleena handed me the keys to my car.
“Ready.” I told her.
We drove in silence. The GPS occasionally telling me where to turn. It took about thirty minutes to get out of the city and into Blue Springs.
The FG Neighborhood was built out here. As we approached, I was reminded of the Fortress. There were guard towers. There was a white, concrete fence completely surrounding it. It was at least twelve foot tall. The brochure told me it was reinforced concrete.
We stopped at a gatehouse. I showed him my credentials. Nyleena showed hers. There was some talking amongst the three men in the house. Finally, one of them handed me a map.
“Dr. Cain, you’re expected. The moving van should be here any minute. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Captain Yosh; if you need anything tonight, just give me a call.”
“Thank you, Captain,” I said. He opened the first gate. I slid my car into the space. The gate closed behind me and a second gate opened. I entered the neighborhood.
I found the street, ironically named “Stonemason Dr,” Nyleena gave a short bark of laughter as she looked at it. I smiled and turned right.
“Look they named the street after you,” Nyleena gave another quick bark of laughter.
“No, after you. I changed my last name, yours is the one that means stonemason.”
My house was the fourth one down the street, on the left. It was a two story house. Not a split level. It had a fortified basement with a panic room. I wasn’t sure what I would do with the panic room, but the basement was a good idea in Missouri.
We parked in the drive. Nyleena hit the button, revealing the garage. There was no door leading from the garage to the house. I didn’t pull in.
“Expecting to need to make a getaway?” She asked as I hesitated.
“No,” I sighed and slid the car into the garage.
The living room was white. The kitchen was white. The bathroom was white. The hallways were white. I frowned as we went room to room only to discover more white.
“I think I’ll have a friend of mine come decorate,” Nyleena said.
“I was told to leave it, it would be decorated to my tastes shortly,” I repeated Xavier’s words.
“We are going to be late to Lucas’s if we don’t hurry.”
She led me outside. I limped along behind her. We crossed the street as Xavier exited his house. We waited for him on the porch.
“Michael’s already here.” Xavier said.
I didn’t have anything to say to that, so I rang the doorbell. A small man, wearing glasses and a flamboyant dress shirt, looking every bit like Elton John, opened the door for us. It was eye-bleedingly bright yellow, but it worked for him. He stuck out his hand.
“Ace and Nyleena?” He asked us consecutively.
“Yep,” I answered, realizing I was right.
“I’m Trevor. Is your house white?” He asked.
“Horrifyingly white.” I agreed.
“Ok, well the next time you go out on a case, I’ll get in there and get it done. Now come off the porch, we’ll talk about it inside.” He didn’t come across as being flaming, but something told me that he probably was.
“Lucas, the others have arrived,” Trevor said it in a sing-song voice. I decided I was probably going to like him.
“Great, come on in, guys!” Lucas shouted from the living room.
“It’s great to meet you,” I said to Trevor as we followed him to the living room.
It was very tastefully decorated. Photos of Lucas and Trevor on the walls. Photos of what I could only assume were their families also decorated the walls and mantel and shelves.
“Ace, you’ve met Trevor. Expect him to be annoying the next couple of days or so. He’ll be determined to get to know you and then decorate your house accordingly.” Lucas put an arm around the smaller man and smiled at him. I envied the secret held in that smile.
“As long as I don’t have to decorate it, he can be my shadow,” I smiled at them. The tension drained from the room.
“I’m also a professional chef; feel free to join us for dinner any night. I stopped working a couple of years ago, but I love to cook. The more the merrier and you are a lot prettier company than Xavier.” Trevor told me.
“Thank you,” I smiled wider and grinned at Xavier.
“Yeah, yeah, I need to shave and I need to pay more attention to my clothes and this and that, yadda yadda yadda.”
“We’ve been working on him for years, but I think he is a lost cause. You on the other hand have lots of potential. I’ll make sure you get a more manageable hairstyle and if you need anything for your wardrobe, I’m your guy.”
“Trevor is our personal shopper, chef, interior designer and friend,” Michael said.
“Awesome. I hate to cook, shop, or decorate!” I told him. “The hair may be an issue though. I keep this style because it requires a brush and a ponytail.”
“Understandable, but when you have dates and things, feel free to come over or call me. I help with clothes, make-up and hair.”
“I haven’t been on a date in years, Trevor. Sorry.”
“Damn, I finally get a girl and she’s more disastrous than you guys.” Trevor joked.
“She’s not a Barbie,” Lucas mockingly scolded.
“I don’t want a Barbie, they have no character and they can’t stand upright,” Trevor told him.
“Trust me, if I ever have a date, you’ll get a call,” I told him. “Since I haven’t done my hair or make-up since I was an undergrad, I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with either now.”
“Oh goody,” Trevor clapped his hands. “Dinner is served.”
Dark Resurrections
(Book 3 in the Brenna Strachan series)
Coming in May 2013
“Don’t you dare give birth in my car!” I yelled at my sister, Rachel as she bore down with another contraction.
“Drive faster!” She yelled back.
The contractions had started less than 30 minutes ago. I was under the impression giving birth took hours. It didn’t seem like we had hours. It seemed like we had just minutes and they were fleeing like rats on a sinking ship. Rachel had gone from “oh, they are ten minutes apart” to “oh shit, they are 45 seconds apart” in less than five minutes. There had been a mad dash made for the doors. Her mate had been left behind in the chaos and was now following us at breakneck speeds. This was their first.
“Just breathe,” our mother coached in the back seat.
“You breathe,” Rachel snapped at her.
“You’re doing fine and we’ll be there in just a minute, Rach,” my mother’s voice was soothing. My sister let out a wordless cry at this suggestion. I understood, to some degree, whatever she was giving birth to, would probably have horns. Her mate, Thomas, was also not Demon, he was a Djinn. So, maybe the baby wouldn’t have horns.
“Breathe Rach, deep and slow.” Our father told her. My car was sitting pretty low on its springs. We had myself, Lucifer, Rachel, Daniel, Nick, and Elise in the car. My mother was the only one who weighed less than 200 pounds.
“Brenna, faster,” Nick told me.
I careened around a corner, nearly flipping the SUV. I felt the tires lift from the ground. My brother Nick tossed himself to that side of the car, while swearing loudly. The tires found traction again.
“Don’t kill us in the process!” Daniel scolded.
“Hey, I rarely get to drive!” I defended myself.
“That is no rea
son to kill us all,” Daniel chided me. I would have turned to glare at him, but I could see the hospital. I put my foot down harder on the gas pedal.
We hit the curb with a noise that was pretty sure meant I had just busted a tire and probably ruined a rim. That could wait. Right now, I had bigger problems.
My father rushed in, wrenching the door open and springing the hinges. I wasn’t sure if insurance covered things like “harried grandfathers”, I would have to ask. My mother was still giving advice as she slithered out of the back. Nick and Daniel were trying to help our sister out.
Several orderlies and a nurse arrived on the scene. They plopped my sister into a wheelchair. One nurse stayed behind, loitering and giving odd looks to my mother.
“No, she’s not ready yet, she just looks like it,” I finally told the nurse.
My mother, also nine months pregnant, had the grace to glare at me. After a good thirty second glare, she waddled into the hospital. I stood outside for a moment, glad it was quiet.
The silence was disrupted by the screeching of car tires. The hospital was turning into an Elder convention. My brother Eli, his also pregnant wife, Hannah, got out of the front seat of his car. From the back flew Thomas, Anubis and Gabriel. Another car was right behind them. Ba’al was driving. Fenrir in the other front seat. From the backdoors poured the rest of my siblings; Olivia, still unmated, Samuel and his mate, Samantha. They looked at me.
“They took her in,” I shrugged unsure what other information they wanted.
“Where?” Samantha asked.
“Beats me, wherever they rush pregnant women to,” I told her.
Anubis gave a quick bark of laughter. He shook his head and wrapped an arm around me. As a group, we entered the hospital.
If Hannah hadn’t been waddling like my mother, we might have caught up with them. We saw them enter an elevator.
“I’m sorry, can you tell me where you took Ms. Rachel Strachan?” Fenrir asked at the desk.
The woman typed it into her computer and frowned, “I don’t have a Rachel Strachan.”
“She’s the whale we just brought in to give birth,” I told the woman.
“Oh, then she will be on the third floor. Just follow the signs.”
“If Elise hears you call pregnant women whales, she’ll kill you,” Hannah snickered at me.
“You waddle like a penguin. I thought whale was nice compared to what I could have said.” I smiled back at her.
As a large and unwieldy group, we walked to the elevators. The doors opened and we all squeezed in. I felt claws dig into my leg. Ba’al had his hand outstretched as much as possible. The weight limit on the elevator said “15,000 Pounds”. I took stock of the beings.
“We are way over the weight limit for this thing,” I said.
“It’s only three fl...” Hannah was interrupted by the grinding of the gears.
“Damn, we are going to get stuck or plummet back to the ground.” I sighed.
The gears grinded away; getting louder. The doors opened. We exited. As the last of us exited the elevator, there was a loud pop and it plummeted back down. This was followed by a crash, the doors closing and an automated voice telling us to “have a nice day.”
“That could have been bad,” I said to the doors.
“Nah, I can fly,” Gabriel replied, he’d been the last one out.
“I don’t see anything marked ‘Pregnant Women This Way’.” I told them.
“It’s call obstetrics.” Hannah sighed at me.
“I haven’t given birth, how would I know?” I shrugged back.
“Your mother has,” she told me.
“I wasn’t allowed at Nick or Daniel’s birth.” I reminded her.
“Oh, well, it’s this way,” she pointed at a sign with an arrow.
We followed it down a long corridor. Finally, my father came into view. He was pacing around the room. He was also slightly glowing. To my surprise, my mother was also in the waiting room.
“Bren, you’re going to have to go in,” Lucifer told me the second he saw me. “They won’t let your mother because she is also due any day. Rachel won’t let any men in. That leaves you.”
“Oh no, we can send in Olivia,” I reminded him of my other sister.
“Been there, done that, not happening.” Olivia told me. “Your turn.”
“Well hell,” I stomped towards the door my father was pointing at.
Carefully I opened it and peaked inside. My sister was in what appeared to be a torture device. Her legs firmly closed at the knees. She was glowing and spewing obscenities at the doctor that was trying to pry her legs apart.
“Rachel?” I asked quietly.
“Oh thank god, get over here and tell this idiot that this is not going to be like a normal birth.”
“I’m sure it’s going to be just like a normal birth,” I lied to her.
“The sonograms and ultrasounds showed horns,” she gave me a look that meant nothing to me.
“Ok, well, we’ll just have to work around that snafu. Look, mom did it several times and we all have horns and she’s human,” I walked over and gave Rachel my hand.
“You’re right, I can do this, I just need to relax. At this moment, I would give anything to be able to take an epidural.” As a rule, we metabolize painkillers too fast for them to be any good to us.
“I have Chimera spit,” I told her.
“Really?” She perked up.
“Really and I’ll share.” I dug out the little vial and put a drop of it on her hand. Her body instantly began to relax. The pain subsiding some.
During the last six months, Gregorian had been to see me several times. Each time he brought me different presents. One had been a large container of Chimera slobber. It worked well as a pain reliever for Elders. I had carefully bottled it into small vials that were mobile.
“Oh so much better,” Rachel unlocked her knees.
“Good, but it is only going to last about thirty minutes, so if you want to give birth as painlessly as possible, I say we get to it.”
“Ok, breathing,” Rachel instructed.
“I didn’t go to any of the classes with you, remember. You’re just going to have to hold my hand and swear at me while you try to remember what to do.”
“Figures,” she grunted. I watched her body tense, her stomach muscles became more defined.
“I see a head,” the doctor informed us.
“Well if you saw anything other than that, I’d be concerned,” I frowned at him to point out he wasn’t being helpful.
“Another couple of big pushes and we’ll have it.”
“Shut up,” Rachel snapped at him.
“Come on Rachel, you can do it,” I cheered her. She grabbed my hand even harder. I felt a bone break. I didn’t cry out or jerk away, but I really wanted to. She pushed again. Harder this time.
“We have a baby,” the doctor cheered.
Rachel let go of my hand. I looked at the child in horror and waited. It cried. I still waited.
“What? What’s wrong?” Rachel asked, noticing my face.
“There isn’t a soul,” I answered.
Elysium Dreams
(A Dreams & Reality Novel)
Coming in July 2013
He pulled the knife from the flame. The blade was blackened by soot and had a ghastly hellish glow from the heat. He paused a few seconds to admire it. He always did. It was his most prized possession. He’d earned it.
His other prize lay on the ground. Her feet were bound at the ankles. Wrists bound behind her back and a cloth shoved into her mouth with duct tape over her lips. She was going to scream. They always did. He could appreciate the muffled noises she would make.
Slowly, he walked towards her. The glow of the knife fading with each step. He picked up the rope that bound her ankles. Her perfect, smooth, manicured feet in front of him. This was the starting point.
With the care a mother takes washing a newborn, he slid the knife into her skin. Her cries, muffled by the cloth and tape, filled him a feeling of euphoria. It was a high that very few people could understand.
The knife moved easily through her skin. It seared the vessels, letting almost no blood seep from the wound. It took only a few minutes to completely remove the skin from the bottom of the first foot. He took a propane torch and reheated the knife.
When he feared it would start to melt, he turned the torch off. Just as gently, he slid the knife into the skin of her other foot. This time the cries were louder, despite the gag. Tears flowed down her cheeks.
He was an expert at this. A few gentle, but solid movements and the skin on the bottom of the other foot came off. He turned the torch back on.
It wasn’t the knife that got the torch this time. He placed it just inches from the top of her feet. The flame nearly touching it. The skin around the toes almost instantly began to blister. Her screams intensified. He knew from experience she was on the verge of passing out.
He turned the torch off. He didn’t need the knife for this part. He took hold of a flap of skin that had crisped up under the heat and pulled. It peeled easily, revealing muscles, tendon and ligaments.
The peeling did it. Her cries stopped, her head lolled to the side. He could take a break now. He sat down on the ground next to her and lit a cigar. He waited. As the ash grew longer, he flicked it at her.
After smoking the cigar, he got back up. His break was over. He attached a carabineer’s hook to the rope that held her feet. The other end lay on the ground at his feet. It was already looped over the branch of the tree.
With one swift motion, he hoisted her up. Her hair brushed the ground. He attached the free end of the rope to a stake in the ground. The torch was turned back on.
The knife was reinserted into the flame. This was the part that took the most skill. He started just below the rope around her feet. The knife entered the skin at an angle, the side laying against the rope. He moved it downwards, steady and even in pressure and speed. If he went too fast or the pressure became uneven, it would mess it up.
Tenderly, he held the skin as it detached from her leg. He managed to get all the way to the knee before having to take it off. He put the skin on the ground and began again. This time on the back of the leg.
For several hours, he worked carefully. Moving with precision, he meticulously removed her skin. Sometime during removing it from her torso, she had died. He had watched the moment, felt he had seen her soul flee from her mangled corpse.
She had been fun. He left her face and hair unmarred by the blade. Gently, he picked up the discarded skin. He went through it like a child carefully unwrapping a Christmas present.
Each piece was laid out on the ground, around her hanging corpse. Each piece was delicately selected to create a symbol on the ground. His symbol, a bow and arrow.
When it was done, he snapped a quick picture with his iPhone. The sun was beginning to come up. He left the torch next to the stake, cleaned his knife with a bottle of peroxide he had brought with him and sheathed it into its holster. His work for the night was done. It was time for him to sleep.
He hiked out of the woods, wondering how long it would take for her to be found. Two days, maybe three. The last had been found the afternoon he had finished his masterpiece. This time, the location was more remote.
It took him close to thirty minutes to follow the path out of the trees. His truck was parked a little way down the road, hidden behind a large, abandoned pump house. He found his truck keys and unlocked the doors.
The engine caught and the truck purred to life. He smiled and took a drink of water. The sun was now racing up the sky, morning was upon him. He drove off.
As he exited the park, a car pulled in. He smiled wider. He’d been wrong, she’d be found today. Probably within the next hour. Good, he could begin looking for a new one.
About the Author
Hadena James began writing at the age of eight. As a teenager, she had several short stories published in literary magazines. She completed writing her first novel at the age of 17.
Hadena graduated from the University of Missouri with a degree in European History with minors in German and Russian studies. She has always wanted to be a writer so she also took several classes in creative writing.
Hadena primarily writes thrillers and mysteries, but dabbles in other genres. Currently, she writes a romantic comedy series (The Dysfunctional Chronicles) and a fantasy series (The Brenna Strachan series).
When she isn’t busy writing or running her business, Hadena enjoys playing in a steel-tip dart league. She also loves to travel throughout North America and Europe. Her favorite cities are Chicago, Illinois and Berlin, Germany. She is an avid reader, reading everything from the classics like Jane Austen to modern writers like Terry Pratchett. One of her all-time favorite books is “Good Omens” by Neil Gaimen and Terry Pratchett. She writes all of her books while listening to music and the bands tend to get “honorable mentions” within the pages.
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@hadenajames
Newsletter
Dedication
For my mother, my father, Beth and Jason, the people that believed in me and convinced me to pursue my dreams.
Also by Hadena James
The Dreams & Reality Series
Tortured Dreams (Book 1)
Elysium Dreams (Book 2)
Mercurial Dreams (Book 3)
Explosive Dreams (Book 4)
The Complete Strachan Series (Urban Fantasy)
Dark Cotillion (Book 1)
Dark Illumination (Book 2)
Dark Resurrections (Book 3)
Dark Legacies
The Dysfunctional Chronicles
The Dysfunctional Affair (Book 1)
The Dysfunctional Valentine (Book 2)
The Dysfunctional Honeymoon (Book 3)
The Dysfunctional Proposal (Book 4)
Short Story Collection
Tales to Read Before the End of the World
