The Mark of Kane (A Thaddeus Kane Novel Book 1)

by LW Herndon

  But Itzel had cared, and that was why I was here. I was fifteen years old, and because of her death, I deserved this. I didn’t kill her, but I couldn’t save her. My fate was to die here. If I tried, perhaps I could see her beautiful young smile before me while I died.

  Life didn’t let me go.

  The cave sounds diminished. The pain from my dislocated shoulder pulsed hot and red behind my eyelids. The darkness had no effect on the colors of pain. I shifted and rolled to my only unbroken side to spit blood into the dirt. I think a tooth also, but I couldn’t see to confirm that.

  It might have been minutes; most likely it was hours. I’d lain there and realized that while blackness surrounded me, shades of gray and dirty white shimmered in the distance.

  I could almost make it out. I ground my face into my arm to wipe the blood from my better eye and tried again to focus on the layers of darkness. Focus and shift, focus and blink. It shouldn’t have made any difference, but I could make out distant pinpoints, bizarre stars in the far end of the cave. Given no hope if I remained at the sealed entrance, I crawled my way towards the points in a stupid, hopeless drive to survive.

  Shuffles and scurrying sounds met my ears and gave me the impetus to pull myself up. Wounded with a few broken ribs and immobile arm, at least my legs were still functional in spite of the blood that ran from my open wounds. I dragged myself along, and the sounds shifted from ground level to above my head. The cave had elongated and widened. Sounds echoed, and though the light didn’t change course, it stayed always before me. Only the texture and angle of the ground altered.

  I headed down slick rock instead of dry dirt. Somewhere, moisture was able to enter. Hope sprang for a way out.

  I scrambled far enough through the passages and followed the light I never reached that I lost stability and fell several feet. I flung my arms wide in a hopeless attempt to brace myself. My injured shoulder and broken arm hit first. I rolled, fighting the sick wave of pain that threatened to swallow my brain and landed in a small stream of water. The dank smell of the water rose as it trickled beneath me, but I wasn’t in a position to be choosy. The water circulated around my body, coolness turning to blissful, icy numbness. I could die this way without much pain.

  I didn’t get that lucky.

  Noises had followed me. I lifted my head from the shallow pool. Opening my good eye, now free of blood thanks to the water, I saw the gray lights flicker in the distance. My body wanted to stay, to stay immobile and drift away.

  My mind just couldn’t disengage hope. My spirit wanted to try. It wanted me to fight. My brain heard the sounds clear and loud and urged me to the lights that beckoned. I pulled to my knees and sat back on my heels, broken arm cradled useless in my lap. With resignation, I jostled forward on my knees, for the roof of the tunnel no longer allowed me to stand.

  I pushed forward; one hand and my elbow kept pressure off my broken arm. I crawled along with the water, my body chilled and shaking from the damp. The wounds and bruises that were free of the water stung and ached; the ones submerged beneath the iciness had ceased to feel. My muscles and the rest of me ached from the tension of fighting the cold.

  I moved forward for several hours at a time, occasionally finding wider sections where I could crawl out of the water and rest. Fatigue fought with hypothermia to put me under, but the noises and light invaded my peace. I drank the water because I had no choice. I would retch it up yards farther along, but some worked its way into my system.

  Days after I had been left to die in the cave by the Hunta, I crawled into the dead-end niche.

  Finally prepared to give up, I’d fallen into the edge of Shalim’s farthest reaches.

  The demons didn’t speak to me or acknowledge my presence except to toss the jacket over my body. The jacket’s stench and vibration wouldn’t let me rest, but I hardly had the energy to push it aside and throw up.

  “Humans, so fragile with their repulsion to blood.” The rasp of the voice ended in a low-pitched laugh.

  What little bit of pride I had lit to life. I turned back and ground out my words, trying to override the pungent stink of tar. “Not blood, evil…”

  When my eyes opened again, it was to Shalim’s radiant obsidian eyes. “Bring him water. Let’s see if he can repeat his trick.”

  The car door slammed closed and so did my connection to Jez. I could barely shake the nearness of my past. I hadn’t returned to these memories in years, and now, in the course of several days, I’d relived this twice.

  Anne looked at me. “You okay?”

  I let out a sigh. “Thinking of…acquaintances.”

  “You have friends. Good to know.”

  I laughed. Whether I had friends was debatable, but I could count the few people on one hand who weren’t officially endeavoring to kill or possess me. You had to look on the bright side. “What did you find out?”

  “I didn’t know what to expect. It took me a while. You know, to wander through him. I even tried it on another—” She gave me a startled glance. “I mean, I tried it on a conscious patient afterward so I could be sure I’d done it right.”

  Risky. I nodded for her to continue.

  “I’m not sure what I found, but it wasn’t part of his physiology. It shouldn’t have been there.”

  “A little help here?”

  “He was transfused several times. He should have had sufficient levels of blood to at least maintain him, and he should have had active antibodies in the areas of the wounds.” She tapped her fingers to her lips in thought. “The blood count was surprisingly low, and the antibodies are almost nonexistent. Strands ran through his body that shouldn’t be there. Not muscle or fibrous tissue. It was like something had hatched and was eating through the blood and antibodies. And while I’m saying something, the thing was one long…”

  “Organism.”

  She nodded. “It’s eating him from the inside out.”

  Sol wasn’t their first guinea pig. I refused to think there were others.

  “You’ve seen this before?” she asked.

  “Something similar. I think it’s possible the organism is tailored—to individual victims.”

  She leaned away in shock. “Why?”

  “I think the people who are targeting you are very specific about who they kill and what it takes to accomplish that. I can’t rule out that they can control the organism and control the person until they are ready to use them.”

  “How would they tailor something so specific?”

  I shook my head, not having even a hypothesis for that.

  She mulled that over for a second. “So we strike first?”

  “Whoa, grasshopper. How about we take baby steps? No preemptive strike, just handle reconnaissance.”

  She looked puzzled but settled back in her seat. “So what, then?”

  “I think we need a way to counteract that parasite. How is your chemistry? We need to understand how to retard the infection. I’m not ruling out that they used magic to generate the organism. So we may need to consider similar options for elimination.”

  Her eyes widened with a concerned purse to her lips. Seemed just when she’d developed a modicum of comfort with her new skills, I pulled the rug out from under her.

  ***

  I turned off my car as the signal of the security door in the garage flashed from red to green for locked and secure.

  “And where have we been?”

  I’d detected the chill from Decibel a second before she spoke. With a quick effort, I cleared my thoughts and blocked my mind. It wasn’t enough to shake the feeling of constant surveillance. I tired of the battle to stay one step ahead of an ancient demon who could pop in and out at will.

  “What secrets do you have, Kane, that you hide them so tightly?”

  “You asked for my help, not marriage. You aren’t entitled to my secrets.”

  She gave me a raised brow in silence and followed me to the elevator cage, though she could have more quickly shifted her wa
y to my loft than ride with me.

  “What did you find out about Sol’s attack?” I asked her.

  “Nothing.”

  That was a surprise.

  “Well, almost nothing. The site of Sol’s assault is gone.”

  “Define gone?”

  “The building had been incinerated. Outside, along the perimeter, the essence of the henchmen still prevailed. The Consortium’s lackeys are careless.”

  “They can force servitude but not intelligence.”

  “Exactly.” She nodded. “I followed the signs to the rail yard.”

  “Near the storm culverts?”

  “Yes,” she agreed distractedly. “Then again farther on toward the foothills.”

  “That’s a portal we didn’t know about.”

  “Perhaps.”

  I looked at her for more information, but she seemed reluctant to share. We’d reached my loft, and I reached for the security panel, realizing it was deactivated. I flung back the gate. “Jez?”

  She didn’t answer, but I could see her from the foyer. She was on the couch in front of the open laptop and appeared unharmed, though incredibly still.

  “Did you leave the security off?” I asked.

  She turned to me, and I could see the tense pull of the muscles across her cheeks. The images I’d sent her had more than knocked her off guard.

  “I turned it off when you pulled into the garage.”

  Okay, I’d delivered too much information. I’d only intended to give her a glimpse of the power of a bond, the ability to walk in someone else’s shoes, and show her that demons weren’t the worst of life’s creations. Her experience, though horrible, wasn’t anywhere near the worst end of the spectrum.

  Frustration on my part hadn’t been an excuse to overload her with images from my past.

  “What have you done, blue-eyed boy?” Decibel spoke in a whisper. She didn’t need to ask. She could read Jez’s thoughts, could see the images I’d sent to Jez, could feel the scenes I’d made Jez relive.

  I wasn’t proud of the images. They’d revealed betrayal at the hands of humans who had rescued me as an infant. Their final actions had left me feeling culpable and tarnished. While I’d revealed my escape through the fault lines to Shalim’s clan, I’d left out my harsh endurance of life in his team, of the indoctrination and ultimate acceptance I’d gained there.

  Jez had summarily received my earlier terror in the matter of a few minutes, images of life from within the husk of my body and what was left of my soul.

  I walked over and squatted beside her. I ran a hand across my head and struggled for the right words, searching for anything to make any of this more palatable for her without providing a false sense of security.

  After taking a deep breath, she just looked at me. “So whatever happened with Shalim’s clan was better than what went before?”

  I had no intention of expounding on my life with the Hunta. I looked at the floor but found no answers there. “Shalim’s demons feed viscerally on human emotions. They aren’t blood-crazy terrors.”

  She looked confused. “When you first found them, they didn’t attack you?”

  “Attack? I couldn’t even move. I wouldn’t have provided entertainment for a kitten.” I walked over to a chair and sank back into its comfort. “Don’t get me wrong; they’re not sweet innocents. Later they tried to invade my mind, my dreams, and my every waking moment. But for some reason, that apparently doesn’t work on me. They tried to push all of my buttons, but by then I provided necessary services to keep the clan safe. They have some limits with me.”

  She thought about that, and I realized the assumption she’d leapt to, before she voiced it, and the anger riding its crest. “So the demon fight today was all a play?”

  “No. Shalim was pissed. He doesn’t share my skills or my time with anyone. Your presence escalated their suspicions. They would have killed you for the threat you posed.”

  She paused, confused. “But not killed you?”

  “That doesn’t really work with me. Not impossible, just hard.” I looked away from her, not wanting her to catch on to the fact that they would have killed her, painfully and slowly, as a lesson to me, the end result being much worse than my own death. “They used to physically push me around. That only lasted for a while. I learned how to withhold traits that made me vulnerable, and they learned to fine tune the talents I have.”

  She still looked confused.

  “Boys eventually grow up,” I said. “And boys who have demons for sparring partners grow up a lot stronger than most.”

  “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” she said with a scowl.

  I took pity on her. “It wasn’t all bad.”

  At Jez’s sharp intake of breath, I could see she was off-kilter again, her arms wrapped around her. To fend me off?

  “I just wanted to know how the bond worked.” She dropped her gaze from mine with the lie. Her guilt gave me some hope we’d made progress between us. “No, I was angry to be forced into it.”

  “Now you know.” I gave her a second to regain a measure of self-control. “I appreciate your honesty, but I didn’t force you into this arrangement. And Shalim’s clan had nothing to do with Sol’s death or the death of your foster family.”

  “You need to think before you act, child.” Decibel’s comment was directed to Jez, but her look of admonishment was to me.

  “Yep. Actions, consequences. I get it,” Jez said.

  “Yeah, well…it doesn’t have to be a negative connection.” I rubbed at a nonexistent spot on my jeans, or maybe it was blood from Shalim’s punishment. “Sometimes pain is easier when shared, and faster communication with someone more seasoned can be a help. You’re not on your own, Jez.”

  She shook her head and glanced from me to Decibel. “You didn’t even know I existed a week ago. I’m just dropped here, and you expect me to trust everything you say.”

  “No, I’ll give you proof.” I moved back beside her to grasp her hand. “Ready?”

  She shrugged but left her hand in mine.

  I opened the channel and sent her the images of my conversation with Sol, images of her father. I waited while her eyes closed and she sifted through the dialogue. She must have run through it several times based on the amount of time she remained quiet.

  Thick tears coated her dark lashes and finally spilled over to track silently down her cheeks. Whether it would have helped if Sol had told her earlier, I don’t know. When she finally blinked several times to see me clearly, the backlight of anger was gone from her eyes. She pulled her hand from mine, wiped at her face, and looked at the wound on her hand then to mine.

  “He really was my father.”

  I nodded. “He knows we’re your best shot. That’s all that mattered to him.”

  She glanced at both of us, and Decibel gave a slow nod.

  I looked away, embarrassed at the raw need in Jez’s eyes. She was nineteen, but she was still a kid. My only saving grace was that the images I’d sent from the car were a small portion of my early life. She most likely knew that. So did Decibel.

  They both knew the warning I’d sent and why. They both knew what I was capable of and what I could withstand. Jez now knew I wasn’t a playground for her to exercise her frustration and anger. It had not been my intent to break her, only to make her aware. It seemed I’d succeeded in the latter. The former was yet to be determined.

  “What webs we weave, Kane.” Decibel’s voice, still low and strangely soothing, intruded on Jez’s somber mood, for she took a long, deep breath.

  I put my hand on Jez’s shoulder, and she didn’t move away. It was a start. “There are ways to shield your mind.” I glanced to Decibel pointedly. “And your thoughts. We can teach you if you wish.”

  Jez made one more wipe at her face and nodded, then turned back to the computer. “I also think I’ve found some more false leads.”

  CHAPTER 16

  No success with the organism but some with th
e fluid.

  Anne’s message was sketchy, but even sketchy was better than nothing.

  I arrived down the street from her house and waited for her neighbors to finish putting out their trash before I undid the wards and went through the back gate.

  She looked up from the computer and a microscope on her kitchen table. “That was quick.”

  “Speed is next to godliness.” I possessed neither, but had only been several blocks away when she messaged me.

  “Yeah, right. So look at this.” She moved aside and allowed me a view through the microscope.

  I gave it a quick glance and then opened my hands gesturing for some information, because looking at the blood slide didn’t offer me insight.

  “The parasites’ remnants are different with each host,” she said.

  “And you were able to figure this out how? I’m not seeing anything different through the microscope than I can with the naked eye.”

  “Actually, I have a friend at a biotech company downtown who I shared some of the blood samples with and he confirmed our suspicions. I also shared one set of your…Samuel’s blood and some blood from the shirt wrapped around him when you brought him to the hospital. Their samples were different.”

  I nodded. Back in the warehouse, I’d come in close contact with both boys, the first one already beyond help.

  She held a hand up to hold off my questions. “I’ve found abnormalities.”

  “Like?”

  “Like the reaction of the parasite to stimulus.”

  “It’s still active?” I should never have brought her into this mess.

  “I don’t think so. It’s not regenerating, and the blood doesn’t appear to feed it, but I’m being very careful anyway.” She picked up two slides, holding one in each gloved hand and moved near a lighted candle she had on the table. The light from the candle expanded and split. One wick, two flames. As I watched, the flames elongated as Anne maneuvered the slides, one slide to each segment of light. Interestingly, the strands of organism in the blood responded to the candlelight—retreating—the organism seemed to cringe at the edge of the blood sample.