by Holly Hook
THIN HOPE
By
Naomi Hook
Co-Authored by
Holly A. Hook
SMASHWORDS EDITION
PUBLISHED BY:
Holly A. Hook
Thin Hope
Copyright © 2011 by Naomi Hook and Holly A. Hook
This book is also available in print at Amazon.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
* * * * *
THIN HOPE
* * * * *
Chapter One
August 19th, 2017
Kiki fanned herself with her tank top as the temperature in the study climbed another few degrees. It suited her mood. Once again, Delainia’s forces had moved closer to the Keilaran border, and this time, their army was situated only fifty miles to the south of where she was sitting. Darren Storm wasn't reacting well to the trade ban her father, King Morris, had imposed on Delainia last month.
In the next room, her twin brother and sister, Ryan and Riley, argued over something. Their muffled voices floated through the walls and the tall bookshelves. Ryan had probably used one of Riley’s drawings for target practice by accident again. The last one, a nice drawing of the royal garden, now sported a big bullet hole right in the middle, thanks to the palace guards fetching him an easel instead of a cardboard bulls-eye. The yelling only served to up Kiki's tension more as she gripped the corner of the newspaper and fingered it with a sweaty hand.
Fifty miles. Fifty miles away from her family. Fifty miles from her boyfriend, Damon, and her. Kiki's desert eagles felt heavy in their holsters as the headline of the Keilaran Chronicle started to blur on the table in front of her. Possible War Looming, Delainian Forces on the Move. A photograph of the Delainian president, Darren Storm, stared out at her from below the text. He walked along the hallway of some lab, judging from the clinical hallways and the white coat he wore around his suit. Beside him stood his wife, Gracie, in an identical lab jacket. Both stared out at the camera with eyes that seemed blacker than normal somehow, Darren's from behind his glasses. Kiki wasn't surprised. Anything weird seemed possible in her neighboring country since their secret human experiments had started. Whatever the CDV virus had done to its people, it looked sinister.
Sudden movement tickled the corner of her vision.
Kiki’s training kicked in. Her hands automatically shot down to her holsters as she sprang from the chair, whirling towards the threat. Darren Storm. The Delainian army. They’d come to kidnap, no, kill her. She was the oldest princess. Of course they would want to take her down first.
No. Her uncle Patrick leaned in the doorway, smiling, decked out in the green Royal General's uniform. Medals and lines of rank decorated the front of his shirt.
Kiki didn’t dare let go of her breath. She felt as if cockroaches were crawling all over her, because Patrick had a slimy smile on his face despite the fact that she still had her desert eagles pointed at him.
“I like a woman who can handle a gun.”
“I hate a man that won’t give up.” She held the pistols steady, suppressing the urge to gag. When would her father believe her about all of this? “A married man can’t seem to keep his vows, can he?”
“Not when the marriage was a mistake.”
A sick feeling bloomed in her stomach like a poisonous flower. Kiki backed towards the door to the east hallway. There were plenty of guards stationed down near the corner. She couldn't shoot at her uncle like she'd dreamed about countless times, not without the evidence to back up her claims. Patrick had never done this with any other living soul around. The barrels of her pistols pointed at his chest, trembling just enough for her to notice. If there was anything she’d learned at the Academy, it was never to take your eyes off your target. Patrick wasn't infected with any CDV virus, but he was more dangerous than any Delainian.
Her uncle took a few slow steps into the room. He wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t giving up. Stalkers never did, not until they decided they'd had enough and moved on.
“You know, when a marriage doesn’t work out, there’s a nice solution called a divorce,” Kiki said, repeating the word she'd rehearsed in her mind countless times. “Then, there are dating sites. You know, for women who have no relation to you. Maybe you should try that, instead of leading Ashley along. Do you even care one bit about her?”
Patrick stopped and rested his hand on the newspaper she’d been reading, blocking Darren and Gracie from view. “I want to make sure I can have your heart first. Divorce is an ugly situation. I'd hate to go through it without something to look forward to."
Bile rose into her throat. She swallowed. “My heart already belongs to someone else, and you've known this for a while. Damon isn't amused by your attempts, either.”
A caped figure appeared in the doorway. Tall. Dark green suit, the color of the Keilaran flag, with red hair streaked with gray on the sides.
Her father. Kiki could run over and hug him, but lowered her pistols instead. But it was too late. He’d seen, judging from his wide eyes and the frown lines on his face, which were getting a lot more numerous lately.
“All right. What's the meaning of this?” His smooth, calm voice filled the room as he looked back and forth between his daughter and his brother-in-law. His baggy eyes, however, told a different story, one of shock and a realization that he hadn’t wanted to make. But he maintained his calm demeanor. “Patrick, what did I just hear you say to my daughter?” The king glared down her uncle, shock and disgust rising to the surface of his eyes.
Her uncle paled. “I have done nothing to harm the princess, my lord.” Patrick tipped his head in respect, a ruse that usually helped dispel the situation pretty quickly.
“Bullshit,” Kiki said. “Now you've heard this for yourself. Do you believe me now?” She had none of her father's calm, thanks to her mother's blood. Even if she did, there was no way she could handle this with civilized conversation.
“My lord, I believe that what she has told you is all in her head.” Patrick stood tall and folded his arms behind his back, standing in traditional Keilaran military posture, but the uncertainty in his voice told her he was worried this time. "We are all under a lot of stress lately, and I think it's getting to her."
“It isn’t, though. Why would ever I make something like this up? At a time like this? You know it is not like me."
King Morris’s turned his gaze back to Patrick. “I heard what I heard,” he said. His hands were trembling a little, Kiki noticed. “I’ll keep my eye on you. In addition, you need to move our forces ten miles closer to the border, which, I notice, you have neglected to do this morning. Where were you, anyway? Shut inside your house, browsing the Internet? I fear an attack from the Delainians any day now.”
“Yes, my lord.” Patrick bowed once again, not daring to look in her direction.
“Stay the hell away from me,” Kiki said, holstering her guns and stalking out into the East Hallway. The sick feeling only moved deeper inside her. Patrick was only going to get worse, despite her and her father’s warnings. She'd heard
horror stories about stalkers only getting worse after being confronted.
Obsession was an ugly thing.
* * * * *
Patrick was left alone in the study. The grandfather clock ticked on the wall as shelves of books towered over him. He walked over to a window and looked down upon the royal gardens that were below. Sunlight beamed down on him, making his eyes glow. Amongst the flowers sat Riley, setting up with one of her easels, most likely ready sketch the hummingbirds zooming around the blooms. Kiki’s younger sister wore a dress like a traditional princess today, making her cuter than usual. Cute didn't cut it for him, though, even though Riley was nearly eighteen and legal. It wasn't his thing.
He sighed. Browsing the Internet. He was using his time more effectively than that on the computer. Things were about to hit the fan, and he had lots of last-minute planning to do with his contacts. Patrick let his thoughts wander as he made his way down the hall.
Admiring Kiki wasn’t shameful at all, only natural. Sure, it was a bit uncommon for someone to love another relative in that way, but things were different with royal families. Past relatives had married each other, and many ruling families in other countries still practiced marriages between relations to keep the blood royal. Queen Fellina on Morris’s side had wed her own half-brother, Quentin, to avoid an arranged marriage to Emperor Ivan of Lateine about two hundred years ago and saving the country of Keilana from his tyranny. Why couldn’t he woo Kiki? It seemed no one wanted him to enjoy the good things in life. He was living a lie.
Ashley sure wasn't helping the situation. She'd been a complete, controlling bitch lately, insisting he spent too much time on the computer. She'd never understand the plans he'd made with his…other relatives over the years. Every day brought a bigger urge to be away from her for good.
Do you even care one bit about her?
About Kiki, yes. One day, he would have her and she would love him back, even if he had to force her.
* * * * *
Kiki needed a hot shower to calm down and relax. Patrick’s presence made her feel like washing invisible dirt off her skin. She couldn't see how her father let this situation go for so long. He was always so caring, but maybe the tensions with Delainia were catching up with him. It showed in all the wrinkles forming on his face. But he was finally convinced, and she secretly thanked the forces of the universe for making sure her father had stepped in at that moment.
The closest bathroom was the Garden Bath, added to the palace by her grandfather, King Scott, fifty years ago. It overhung the garden with walls made of glass, though the gardeners made sure thick vines grew over it at all times, maintaining privacy. And privacy was exactly what she needed right now.
Kiki passed a pair of green-uniformed Royal Guards stationed outside the wooden door and ducked inside. The door made a satisfying slam behind her as she let out a breath. Green surrounded her on three sides, letting tiny spots of sunlight shine on the marble floor. A huge square bathtub waited on the other side of the room, and a glass shower stall stood in the corner.
Privacy. At last.
Her guns made a heavy thump on the floor as she dropped her cammo pants next to the shower stall. At least, she hadn't needed to wear an uncomfortable dress today. That wouldn't be until the Professors' Ball tonight. A chill rushed over her skin as she took off her clothes, making an army of goosebumps rise on her arms. Kiki rubbed them to warm them, but the chill feeling didn’t release its hold.
She finished undressing and stepped into the stall. The water would warm her up in just a minute. It seemed weird that it was so cold in here in the middle of summer, and in a glass room, too. She’d have to let one of palace custodians know about it later.
She turned on the shower and hot water poured out of the shower head, massaging Kiki's chest and soaking her long mane of red hair, which hung heavy down her back. The water dispelled the cold as her muscles started to relax. Her tension melted away with the shampoo as it ran down her body and onto the shower floor.
She opened her eyes and reached for the soap, but caught something in the corner of her eye.
Patrick stood by the shower door.
Kiki’s heart stopped as she turned off the water to clear away the steam. She blinked. Patrick was no longer there. Only her heap of clothes sat on the floor next to the stall. The spots of sunlight faded as a cloud moved over the sun and the room dimmed. It couldn’t have been. She’d locked the door, and there were two guards stationed right out in the hallway. Patrick didn’t have a bathroom key, either, at least not to this one--she'd insisted to the custodians that those were kept out of his reach.
“I must be seeing things.” She eyed her holsters on the floor, then shook her head.
She turned the shower back on, and once again hot water sprayed onto her body.
Movement touched the edge of her vision. Once again, Patrick’s figure appeared outside the door.
Kiki couldn’t help it. She yelped and turned the shower off a second time, but when she looked to confront him, he was gone.
“What the hell is this?” Kiki said. Her heart hammered in her chest. Patrick was gross...but he couldn’t be that disgusting...could he? Kiki suppressed the urge to vomit. There was only one reason he’d violate her privacy like this, a reason she didn’t want to even think to herself.
She opened the shower door and peeked out of it slowly to see if anybody was in the bathroom, but she saw no one. No one, unless they could knock out two trained, armed guards, and then pick the lock without anyone noticing, could’ve gotten into the Garden Bath. Kiki stepped out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor with wet slapping noises, and wrapped a towel around herself in near record time. Wait. The guns. If Patrick was hiding in here, she’d need them. She knelt down to her holsters and grabbed one of them, cautiously looking around the room. But no one was in here with her. There was nowhere to hide.
The lock, then. Kiki jogged over and twisted the doorknob. It didn’t budge. It was still locked from the inside, all right, just as she’d left it.
A sigh escaped her. It was stress. The coming war, Patrick...it was all catching up with her, just like it was catching up with her father. Perhaps she should dry off and go take a nap. Afterwards, she’d think more clearly. Kiki turned to fetch her clothes and get out of here about as fast as she could.
She almost slipped on the water she was dripping, but braced herself on the wall just in time. Patrick stood in the middle of the bathroom, arms folded, smiling his smile, staring right at her barely-covered figure.
Kiki’s training took over once again. She raised her gun and squeezed the trigger. Then, she noticed something that made her pause.
Patrick’s eyes were a dark violet color instead of green.
Kiki backed into the door, every muscle a spring ready to go off. She'd thought this would be easy, to shoot Patrick if she had to…but it wasn't. It wasn’t her. Her arm trembled as she steadied her weapon. Patrick stared back with those strange eyes, merciless, heartless.
He took a step towards her, and then another.
It was decided. She had to do what she had to do. Kiki fired a shot, and a deafening bang filled the bathroom.
Glass shattered. Shards sparkled in the sun as they fell to the marble. Vines parted and slapped back into place.
And Patrick dispersed as if he were a ghost. Gray vapor swirled to the corners of the bathroom and dissipated into the steam that had filled the room.
Kiki couldn’t move. The bathroom stood empty again as the sound of a distant lawnmower floated through the jagged hole in the far wall. An eternity passed as the pistol trembled in her hand.
A frantic knock on the door behind her shook her out of her trance. The Royal Guards. “Your Highness, are you okay?”
“Y...yes,” Kiki managed. Buzzing filled her head. “I...I was seeing things, is all.” Maybe she was. Nothing else made any kind of sense.
The guard said something else, but his words fell into the background as
Kiki scanned the bathroom, heart racing like a terrified animal trying to outrun a predator. She seized the gun in both arms and crept over to the middle of the bathroom, where Patrick—or the hallucination of him—had stood seconds before.
A cold breeze once again wrapped around her body, soaking through her towel and sinking down to her bones. But it was too cold to be coming in from the sweltering day outside. The back of her neck prickled. Prickled, like—
She whirled around and pointed her gun at the space behind her. A disgusting smile. A pair of dark violet eyes, staring into her own. Patrick, blocking the only safe exit from the Garden Bath.
A yelp formed and died in her throat. No. This couldn’t be real. But her trigger finger didn’t listen, and another deafening bang rang in her ears. Wood splintered behind Patrick, but he failed to flinch, failed to fall. The bullet had gone right through him.
Patrick smiled wider...and slowly drew closer.
Kiki lost it. She couldn’t help it. She dropped the gun in disbelief as Patrick closed the distance between them. Her chest hurt with the beating of her heart. He reached for her, and her foot landed on the puddle she’d dripped onto the floor, causing her to land hard on her butt.
“Get out of here! Get out of here!” Kiki yelled.
A lock clicked somewhere. The door swung open with a squeak, and footsteps thudded into the room. Patrick dispersed once again, turning into mist and dissipating into the fog of the steamy bathroom.
* * * * *
King Morris bolted across the wet floor of the Garden Bath, the two Royal Guards on his heels. Kiki lay wrapped in a towel, curled up in a puddle, doing something that he’d never seen her do before.
