Henchgirl (Dakota Kekoa Book 1)

by Rita Stradling

  Braiden Mc-freaking-Cormick.

  “I'm a freaking idiot,” I said as the minivan’s tires bumped over the cobblestone drive that led up to my school.

  "Not an idiot, but not displaying the cognitive ability I expect from you when on assignment," Glacier said. He parked in his usual spot, a long distance away from the front of my school, to avoid drawing attention.

  "Translation," Bobby said, "you're an idiot."

  "Thanks a lot." I said. I leaned into him, "What is that scent you're wearing? Ode de old man?"

  Bobby just turned forty, he was having aging issues; stupid in my opinion, because he looked younger than some of the seniors in my school. "Get out of here," he said, good naturedly pushing me toward the van door.

  "Have a good day at school Dakota," Glacier said and, as he did every morning, he added, "don't forget your dampener."

  Before I exited the van, I again extinguished my powers by wrapping the bracelet around my wrist. And as I did every day, I wondered if wearing it was worth the emptiness, the void I endured daily, just to attend an all-human school.

  The hill Mabi Academy perched on had long ago been a golf course which had been forgotten and allowed to overgrow. But the gulf course had one feature that the board of trusties found too attractive to resist when choosing a location for their all-human academy: it was surrounded on all sides with moving water. A natural source of moving water encircling an area was about as strong a ward against creatures with fire in their blood as you get.

  It wasn’t moving water alone that hurt the infected and dracons; we could remain in moving water for about twenty minutes without feeling any serious effect, otherwise we would be a rather stinky bunch. There was something about an unbroken circle, a moat, of moving water around a small enough space, known as a ‘water ward’ that kept us out better than any wall could.

  We were all pleasantly surprised—if not shocked—when the charm my father had bought from an east-side island witch had allowed me to cross water wards. My father had been living as a human for years with it, crossing water wards, but it had not worked for any other dracon than my father, until me.

  When it worked for me, my uncle Bobby tested to see if the charm had changed after my father’s death; he braved the nausea, held the charm in his hand and tried to cross the water ward at Mabi Academy at night. The moment he stepped onto the bridge, he was knocked back and knocked out and an electronic ear piercing alarm sounded throughout the school. Glacier and I had to throw him into the van and we fled the scene as if an angry mob was chasing us.

  My dampener was some sort of water charm, I knew that, and for an unknown reason only I, my younger sisters and my mother could touch the dampener without immediately feeling nauseous. My older sister Clara, who had the same mother, but not the same father as the rest of us, could lift my dampener, however, after holding it for thirty seconds she was so nauseous she had to drop it.

  When I neared the front of the parking lot of my school, I heard someone call out, “Morning, sleepy-head.”

  I turned to see Mele Alana kicking off from her poor little sedan, the car shuddered, forced to play rap music this early in the morning. Mele dropped her cigarette and stomped the cherry out with her patent-leather shoe.

  Missy, who had been, what looked like, talking without taking breaths at Mele paused to look at me. “Oh, hi, Dakota,” she said, ever peppy.

  “Missy here is telling me all about how Todd Anderson cheated on Kerry Morgan with two co-eds at a college party last night, at once,” Mele said dryly, raising her eyebrows.

  “If you don’t quit smoking, I’m going to kill you.” I said. “I’m not kidding; who do you think will end up having to pay for your emphysema?”

  “You’re in a good mood. Love you, too.” Mele said. She wore the same uniform Missy and I did; burgundy and white plaid knee-length skirt and a white polo, but her big chest made the outfit look ‘sexy-school-girl’. Whereas my uniform made my close to pre-pubescent body just looked even more childish.

  Missy nervously giggled, sounding unsure.

  I looked back to make sure that Glacier left. “Wanna jump ship?” I asked as we walked toward the bridge that crossed the water ward into the Academy.

  “You’re serious? School hasn’t even started. And, I think Cotton-Head already spotted me.” Nile said, referring to our vice-principal.

  I looked to see Cotton-Head herself standing in front of our fortress like school; her expression always reminded me of the vultures from the Mabiian Zoo. Her cotton-ball hair caught the light as her gaze combed the lot.

  Mabi Academy was an uncomfortable mix between resort and fortress. The tall wall that encircled the campus was clear as glass, not impeding the view, however, it wasn’t glass; glass wasn’t tank-proof. Once a stoned senior drove right through the small river water ward and crashed into the wall in his SUV, or so the story went, and the SUV bounced off, literally.

  Inside the wall was a clear view of the crowds of teenagers, funneling into the cement block classrooms. The architecture and the fact that the school could not be more visible from the highway, shouted a clear message to any infected or dracon passing: ‘look at our children, you can’t have them.’

  At Mabi Academy anyone was admitted, they just had to be human, or in my case, be able to fake being human.

  I rocked back on my high tops. “I need to caffeinate. And if I have to run track right now I’ll probably eat-dirt and look like Mrs. Seed after a bender for the rest of the day.”

  Missy looked around like our teacher Mrs. Seed could possibly have overheard me

  She pouted at me. “I can’t miss first period,” she said, oblivious to the fact I did not invite her.

  “Yeah, okay.” Mele said, changing course. “Missy, go distract cotton-head.”

  “Will you get me a white mocha if I do?” Missy asked.

  “No,” Mele and I said, simultaneously, as we walked back and climbed into the front seats of Mele’s car.

  Half-way to ‘Volcanic Coffee,’ our favorite coffee shop, I made Mele pull off into a residential street. I grabbed the bag out of my backpack.

  “Why are we stopping? Whose house is this?” Mele said, obviously annoyed.

  “My landlord,” I said, counting out stacks of money onto my lap.

  “If I did not know that you loved me, I would be pissed that you’re using me for my car. Holy-shit! How much money is that?”

  “Twenty five thousand,” I said, distractedly. I stuffed four thousand back into my backpack and put it on her lap, “Watch this for me.”

  Even though I hid the strangest, scariest parts of my life from her, I know it was only because we were best friends that she did not point out how screwed up the ‘normal’ side of my life was. All she said was, “This is the kind of shit that makes me seriously hate your mom.”

  My landlord opened the door before I even knocked on his small but comfortably cozy one story. He sighed; I could tell from his expression how uncomfortable the man was to see me. He wasn’t that old, maybe early forties, but deep stress wrinkles creased his forehead above his eyebrows. “I was hoping to speak to your mother.” He said, “I did not want to have to leave the note, or call the police. I just…”

  I handed him the folder. “It’s okay, Mr. Peterson, I understand. Here, three months’ rent, in cash. My mom says she’s sorry, she can be a bit scattered. Now, could you um, un-evict us?”

  He holds the bag far from him, as if it might get him dirty. “The back-rent is five months, and this month is already due.”

  “That’s impossible, she said—”

  “It’s not only possible; I can prove it, young lady,” he said, defensively.

  My eyes stung, my stomach plummeted and I blinked rapidly. How could it be five months unpaid rent plus this month?

  “Um, okay.” I said, “My mom can get the other twenty one thousand, I’m sure, but it might take a couple days. Please, could you give us one week?”

 
I would make the money, somehow.

  “Just don’t call the police again for a week, please?” I reiterated.

  “This whole thing makes me really uncomfortable,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb and not quite meeting my eyes. “I hate doing this; I’m really not a bad man. I know your mother has five kids and no husband; I was worried when I rented the house to her in the first place. I only rented that house out when the bank threatened to foreclose. And now, I still have to make the payments myself- plus rent out this unit. I just can’t do it.” The message was- he was a good man, at the end of his rope, guilty because he thought my mom could not make her rent payments… if only he knew the truth.

  “I have four thousand in the car,” the thought of giving him the rest of the money made me want to curl up on his doorstep and cry- knowing that if I did not pay the electric and water we might live in the dark with no showers as of next Wednesday, but hungry and dirty was better than homeless. “My mother has money,” I lied, knowing she was broke again, but I followed the statement with the truth, “You see, my grandfather is actually the one who pays for our rent, he’s our co-signer…”

  “I called your co-signer—”

  My lungs and stomach clenched- and I was about to run. My mom had to go into hiding…

  Unaware of my panic, my landlord continued, “but after an hour and a half on hold, I hung up. I’ll try again.”

  “Please, no.” I whispered the words to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Let me give you the four thousand now, just give me a week I’ll make— I mean get you the money.”

  He turned to me, and I realized in my moment of panic, I just gave away… everything. Wow, I was an idiot. He just stared for a long time, then asked, “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “You look younger.”

  “I know.”

  “Your name is what, Danielle?”

  “Dakota.”

  “Dakota, keep your college tuition. If you talk to your grandfather and get him to pay the back rent and this months’ rent by Friday, I won’t evict your family. You should be worried about long-division, not rent.” He held the cash back to me.

  I stepped back, backing toward Mele’s car. “That money is from my grandfather, not me, I promise. I’ll talk to him after school. Thank you!” I said, opening the car door before he could object again. “See you in a week.”

  Before turning onto the main road Mele handed me my backpack, overflowing with cash, and said, “Coffee is on me.”

  ****

  We ended up walking into second period with five coffees, since Juliette texted that she told our physical education teacher that we had women issues and had to run to the store, getting us excused from the absence. She threatened us with ‘divorce’ if we did not get her a double iced latte. And you could not get Juliette anything without getting her identical twin Ophelia the same. You know those kids that threw a fit if they did not get a present at their sibling’s birthday party? Ophelia was like that, except she was sixteen.

  The fifth coffee was an unabashed bribe. “One hundred percent Koka, whole milk and one raw sugar,” I said to Mr. Gallagher as I held out the paper cup.

  His lips pursed but he accepted the cup with a world-weary, “You girls.”

  “Tell me I’m a genius,” Juliette said, as Mele handed her and Ophelia their coffees from a tray.

  “Maybe I would if the excuse wasn’t so awkward,” Mele said. “Now coach thinks I had leakage problems or something.”

  “Please,” Ophelia said, “I’m drinking here.”

  “You’re welcome,” Juliette said.

  The soft glow of the touch screen desks lit up sporadically across the classroom as I slipped between rows to my desk. Maneuvering into my seat, I took my first sip of my mocha and it was pure milky heaven.

  I took out the stylus for my digital desk and found my favorite one was broken and thus I had to use my old janky one.

  Clearing his throat, Mr. Gallagher called our attention to the front where he was busy writing: ‘Dracon Monarchy and Dominion on New Anglo’s Government Today. What does this mean for you?’

  Turning around to face us, he pushed his glasses up his nose and surveyed us. Mr. Gallagher always had a harried, unkempt look about him; he was probably in his late thirties. He appeared to be the kind of guy able to recite the original New Anglo constitutions verbatim, while still needing his wife to remind him to put his shoes on each morning. He said, “I’m opening this up to discussion. Let’s hear what you think.”

  A halfhearted hand rose in the first row.

  “Travis,” Mr. Gallagher said.

  “Wait Mr. G, I’m confused, isn’t this supposed to be a history class?” Travis said, with his affected wave-rider drawl.

  As my broken stylus bounced off of Travis’s head, I was rewarded with a satisfying, “Ouch, what gives bra?”

  Mr. Gallagher either did not see or pointedly ignored my stylus. He said, “You bring up a point that helps me tie this discussion topic into the big picture Travis—thank you. The reason we study history, guys, is to?—understand current events.” He wrote the last part across the board as he said it. “Now, we always focus on the negatives of having a Dracon king and having the dracons outnumbering humans and holding the highest positions in New Anglo government—for obvious reasons. Can anyone think of any positives?”

  Ophelia raised her hand. “There are dracon law-enforcers who can actually prevent Vampires from killing people,” she said when called on.

  “Yeah, maybe on the Mainland,” Travis said.

  “Thank you Ophelia,” Mr. Gallagher said while writing: ‘legislation protecting humans and enforcement of laws restricting all supernatural creatures.’ “Great. Yes, people always forget that these supernatural creatures existed before the dracons completely dominated the government—dragons were the cause of these creatures, it is true, but dracons also are the only creatures strong enough to keep vampires and other nastier infected in check. In some Europan and Eastern countries where humans still control their governments, humans are killed by vampires frequently and often with no repercussions. Great, anything else?”

  As other students around the classroom continued the discussion, my gaze wandered to the cement block walls. The inset lights and sharp lines must have been an attempt at industrial elegance, whereas they just made it feel like we were having class in a cinder-block.

  My thoughts kept catching on the enormity of my problem. Three month’s rent was twenty-one thousand and after I pay bills and buy food, I would only have fifteen hundred left of the four thousand in my bag. So, I had to make nineteen and a half thousand.

  Back-up and reconnaissance work for Deagan would pay five hundred dollars a job; so I needed to do… thirty-nine jobs in the next seven days. There was no possible way…

  And yes, my grandfather was like a quadrillionaire so we would get another place to stay if we were evicted from this one. But eviction wouldn’t just be ‘eviction’ for my family. My grandfather gave my mother the rent money plus living expenses. My best guess was he gave her about twelve to fifteen thousand a month. She told him that she paid all our bills, I heard her say this; if we were evicted, he would realize that my mother took all of the money instead.

  All of it.

  She did not even pay for our groceries, I did.

  My mother wasn’t even married to his son anymore, barely family in his eyes. Her only value in the family to him was her ability to care for his granddaughters.

  My grandfather was not known for his compassion toward humans who in anyway harm the family; and if he found out, I had a pretty good idea about what my grandfather would do to my mother.

  “Dakota Kekoa, you usually have something to contribute,” Mr. Gallagher said, waking me from my ruminating. “Anything you would like to share?”

  I scanned the digital board in the front of the classroom, there were new comments on the board but it did not look like they had ch
anged topic.

  I cleared my throat and smiled at Mr. Gallagher before answering, “Because of the population restrictions in so many countries, resources are no longer scarce?”

  “Petroleum and Vervaris for everyone. Great,” Mr. Gallagher said, “Though it is important to note that worldwide there are only population restrictions in humans. Okay, anyone else have anything to add?”

  “Mr. G—” Travis said, interrupting Mr. Gallagher from writing my comment on the board. “I’m feeling morally composed by this conversation, like dracons kill people every day- and you’re saying it’s a good thing?”

  “It’s morally compromised not composed, dumb ass,” Mele said. “And Mr. G isn’t saying it’s a good thing, he’s just asking us for unbiased opinions. Seriously, don’t raise your hand if you don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Mele,” Mr. Gallagher said in an even tone, “I am perfectly able to regulate my own classroom without the use of swearing. And Travis, I apologize; I brought up this topic knowing that it was controversial. Why don’t we move on to the negatives of living in a dracon controlled government?”

  “Can I answer? I’ve had my hand up for ‘like’ five minutes?” Juliette said. “I agree with Travis that there are no upsides. The only reason that there is ‘protective legislation’ is because humans make dracons so rich because they tax humans so much.”

  “Very good, Juliette.” He paused with one finger up and then said, “Money. Can anyone name another reason that it is in the dracon government’s best interest to keep humans alive? Yes, Alana.”

  Alana, whose dyed black hair, choker necklace and black lipstick screamed ‘I wanna be vamp food,’ said in a dramatic voice, “Infected and dracon women can’t have babies. Only dracon boys and human girls can have more dracons. They’re keeping us alive to be their baby factories.”

  “Great,” Mr. Gallagher said, his enthusiasm making the statement even more awful. He scrawled across the board, ‘for breeding.’

  “That’s not true,” I said, before I thought better of it.