She spots a packet of cigarettes in his chest pocket. “Ah! Just what I needed.”
He lets her try.
He says nothing as she closes in on his pocket and attempts to claim the goods.
Then …
He stops her. He engulfs her tiny hand beneath his palm and presses his bloodstained fingers against hers. Before she can gear up her razor sharp tongue to object, her wrist is in his firm grip and he pulls her arm away, forcing it behind her back.
“If you won’t come willingly, I will take you by force.”
He wrenches her arm almost out of its socket, but she won’t let him see her wince.
“Ooh, I bet you will, Mr. King. Please, don’t hold back; I like it a little rough.”
“So I’ve heard. The last Hunter your father sent to retrieve you was only just released from hospital.”
Ella grins at the memory. “Don’t listen to the rumors. He fell.”
“His leg was shattered in three places. You were evading capture.”
“I was testing his co-ordination.”
“And he failed?”
“Dramatically.”
Alex reinforces his grip on the arm behind her back, and pulls her free arm around to keep it company. Jerking her shoulder to the very limit of its flex, his controlled strength sends the first twinges of dislocation rushing through her nerves.
“So, tell me, how am I doing so far?” he growls against her ear.
Ella grits her teeth and bears the pain. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of, sweetheart.”
He marches her back to his truck and tries to force her into the back seat while the rest of his unit elect to watch from a safe distance, none of them wishing to become entangled in the war effort. Especially not Grinstead and his dented pride. At the edge of the truck, Ella lifts up her legs like a cat and forces her weight back against Alex. Planting her feet on either side of the truck doorway, she resists his best efforts to try and angle her inside.
“This is brutal kidnapping!” she yells.
“You don’t like it? Talk to the Hunter General.”
Finally, Ella succeeds in pushing herself away from the truck. Using Alex’s shoulder to support her neck, she manages to arch her back and get one foot on the roof of the truck and the other on the top of the open door. As she pushes herself upwards, getting herself in position to perform a back flip, Alex releases her wrists and stumbles backwards.
Perfect.
She flips her legs up and over his head, getting just enough air to be able to place her palms flat against his strong shoulders in order to complete the mid-air tumble with precision and ease.
Landing on her feet behind him, she breaks into another grin and lights up a cigarette. Confused, Alex checks his chest pocket.
Empty.
And he is speechless.
Instantly, the three other Hunters draw their guns on Ella’s back. By the sounds of the loading mechanisms—every unique click and snap like an audible fingerprint—she reckons the weapons aimed upon her are two PP-2000 sub-machine guns and an HK 417 assault rifle.
She glances over her shoulder and is rewarded with her accuracy. Full of disdain, she looks back at Alex. “Bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”
Alex snatches the packet of cigarettes back from her. “I hope your papa beats the shit out of you when you get home. You deserve it.”
Unconcerned, Ella checks her wrist for an invisible watch. “Speaking of which, it’s getting late and I’m hungry. Let’s stop for pizza on the way home.”
Without further protest, she gets into the back of the truck and slams the door shut behind her, leaving all four Hunters in a confused silence. Seconds later, the window whirrs as she winds it down and looks out at them.
Watching her dangle her arm out against the side of the truck, the cigarette held between her index and middle fingers, Alex notices the dried blood on her hands for the first time.
She’s not your average fifteen-year-old girl, he reminds himself. She’s going to be a Hunter.
“Umm … we should probably get going.” She takes a drag from the cigarette. “It’s after midnight on a school night, and you don’t wanna keep my papa waiting.”
If Alex could, he’d smack her. His jaw tight and his muscles tense, he orders his men back into the vehicle and approaches her door. Taking her wrist in his hand, and applying only a little more pressure than necessary—just enough to make her twitch—he pries the cigarette out of her fingers and puts it between his own lips.
“You’re underage.”
“You’re a spoilsport,” Ella pouts.
By the time they arrive at Hunter General Gabriel Maydevine’s ground floor apartment in the heart of the Sentinel District, she’s handcuffed and angry. Forcing himself to appear calm, Alex rings the doorbell.
Three seconds later, a rather gruff Maydevine opens the door. He’d returned home from work two hours ago, had found Ella’s bed empty, and immediately sent a Hunter unit out to retrieve her. He’s still wearing his emblems, and his uniform is covered in dried Chimeran blood.
He’s forty-six years old, and although gray is beginning to slowly invade his once jet-black hair, increasing age hasn’t made him any weaker on the line. He’s strong and fierce, and his body is still in incredible shape. He matches Alex in height, but carries an extra ten pounds of muscle.
Looking down at his daughter, he notices the handcuffs immediately. “Why is she handcuffed?” he addresses Alex.
Alex, itching for another cigarette, doesn’t want to give Ella the satisfaction of his annoyance. “She bit one of my men.”
Maydevine scowls at his unapologetic daughter while Alex releases her from the cuffs.
“Go to your room,” he orders her. “Now.”
“Papa …” she protests.
“Your room, Ella. This second.”
Glaring defiantly, she storms off into the apartment. An unseen door slams shut moments later.
“She’s feisty,” Alex remarks.
Maydevine sighs. “She’s a pain in the ass.”
“She’s a teenager.”
“That ends soon, right?”
His eyes happen to fall upon something in Alex’s hands.
A pizza box.
“You didn’t?” He looks disappointed.
Alex ruffles his hair nervously, running fingers from front to back through thick, dark locks. “Don’t judge me.”
“Do you learn nothing from me? You never give in to a terrorist’s demands.”
“She was hungry.”
“She’s like a feral animal. She senses fear and weakness and she preys upon it. She knows your soft spot now, and she knows that you’re susceptible to her manipulation.”
“She’s just a kid.”
Maydevine laughs. “You won’t even know that she has you under her thumb until it’s already too late.” He points at the cigarettes in Alex’s pocket. “Shall we?”
CHAPTER TWO
Meanderings
On the private patio outside Maydevine’s kitchen, he and Alex each light up a cigarette. The summer table is cluttered with gun parts, and Alex moves aside a stripped PP-2000 to make room for the pizza box.
“Hobby?” he enquires.
Maydevine shakes his head. “Not mine.”
Alex is quietly impressed. “Other kids her age are out on the street, doing kicks and drinking liquor, and she spends most of her free time disassembling and reassembling weapons in your backyard. I’d say you’ve got it lucky.”
“Did you find her in my backyard tonight? No. You found her in the Belt, pissing away her time with a bunch of wasters.”
“She’s not like them.” Alex investigates the leftovers in the pizza box. “She’s got more going on in her head than that.”
“Oh, yeah? And what gives you that impression?”
“Tonight wasn’t just about getting wasted and breaking curfew. I’ve seen plenty of kids like that—heck, I used to be one of them�
�and they all have one thing in common: they don’t give a fuck. For them, the sudden appearance of a Hunter Division unit is an aggravation. For her, it was the highlight. I saw it in her eyes: she was waiting for us. It was some kind of test.”
“A test of my patience.” Maydevine puffs on the cigarette. “I swear, the better she thinks she is, the less she tries.”
“Maybe she’s feeling stifled in the Academy. If you ask me, she’s just eager to be out in the field. She’s functioning way above the level of her peers, and you can see that in her report cards and monthly assessments.”
“What I see in her report cards is a cocky little brat who needs to learn how to control herself if she wants to be anything more than a swift draw in a bar fight.”
Alex picks a slice of pizza that’s loaded with Chimera meat and takes a chomp out of it. “She turns sixteen in a few weeks. She’ll be an adult, and eligible for the Hunter Division internship program. A taste of the real world might—”
“Get her killed,” Maydevine cuts him off. “She’s too impetuous, with no real sense of her own mortality.”
“Perhaps the experience could give her one. Spending three days a week out of the classroom and into the field with a third line Hunter unit was invaluable to me. The internship program did me the world of good, and gave me an extra year of seniority over the rest of my graduating class.”
Maydevine chews on that, eager to alter the direction of the conversation. “Speaking of experience, how are things working out in the new unit?”
Alex shrugs. “It’s difficult, given that I’ve only been in the second line for six months and already I’m in line for promotion. It’s sparking some tension, to say the least.”
“Well, they’ll have to suck it up. I’ve completed my assessment of your performance, and the job’s yours if you want it.”
“You trust me?”
“I shouldn’t?”
Alex turns his attention back to the cigarette that’s slowly smoldering in his fingers. “I’ve always hoped that you would.”
“You’ve never given me any reason to cast you with the same dye as your parents, Mr. King. Any discoloration you may be suffering is entirely of your own doing, and might I suggest that a warm bath may cure the problem.”
He beams a rare smile, trying to coax the lines from Alex’s brow, but the praise only makes Alex self-conscious.
“I appreciate the opportunity, sir. I won’t let you down.”
Maydevine crushes the butt of his cigarette against the tabletop. “Good. Now fuck off home. I’ll see you bright and early in the a.m..”
Alex nods. “Goodnight, boss.”
“Goodnight”—Maydevine pauses before adding—“Commander.”
Alex’s lips finally turn upward. He could get used to the sound of that.
*************************
At the crack of seven a.m., Maydevine knocks on Ella’s bedroom door.
Nothing.
He checks his watch, confirming that his timing is accurate.
Another round of knocks.
Still nothing.
“Goddamnit.” He sighs. “Ella, it’s time for school.”
Silence.
“Ellie Bean? Are you up?”
Receiving nothing affirmative, he pushes open the door.
An empty bed.
“Fuck!” He stomps into the kitchen to retrieve his cell phone.
Just then, he hears the front door click open and shut. He darts back into the hallway and finds Ella, sweaty and out of breath, wearing Academy track clothes.
Stretching her legs, she looks up at him, perturbed by his staring. “What?”
Maydevine remains silent, his anger quickly fading into guilt for his mistrust.
“Papa?” she tries again. “What’s wrong?”
He forces away the last dregs of stress. “Nothing.” He checks his watch again. “It’s time for school.”
“I know. I’m not late, am I?”
Her chipper attitude has Maydevine thrown for a loop, until he realizes what this day will bring for her class of Hunter Division Academy Cadets.
Fieldwork.
For the very first time, she and a group of her peers will be let loose in a controlled Second Reclamation Territory environment, which is a step up from the organized killings inside the safe confines of the Academy’s purpose-built arenas.
“You’re going to be careful out there today, right?” he fusses.
“Same rules, just different architecture, Papa.” Ella laughs at him. “I get to run and jump off buildings and walls, instead of precision built ledges and ramps.”
Maydevine winces. “Exactly my point.”
Although Ella often fights him on it, she enjoys being on the receiving end of his concern. “Send one of your loyal little watchmen out with me, if it’ll make you feel any better. They can personally document my outstanding success for you.”
“There’s a fine line between confidence and foolishness.”
“Send that pretty boy, King, from last night. He was nice to look at.”
“Don’t expect the pleasure of his company any time soon. He was too quick to acquiesce to your whims.”
“Better find a new one fast, then. You’re running out of men.”
“My men are not your toys.”
“Then why do they all so like to play?”
Maydevine has an answer to that, and it’s got nothing to do with Ella’s skill at manipulation. It has more to do with her big, sparkling eyes and the woman’s body that’s unstoppably emerging from behind the boyish clothing.
Nevertheless, he lets her believe that she’s outwitted him, and he gathers up his things for work while she showers and dresses for school.
Another day.
More worry.
More violence.
CHAPTER THREE
One Shot
Ella stares out the window of the Academy bus as it passes through the checkpoint at the Sentinel District boundary and makes its way into the Second Reclamation Territory.
The bus is hot and it smells like fish.
When picking a place to sit, she’d been careful to avoid any of the seats with suspicious staining on the cushions. She’s aware that some of the older Cadets have been known to sneak into the transport bay in the middle of the night, and that they fuck in the Academy vehicles. Sometimes, even the teachers partake in the same illicit pleasure. Last semester, a teacher got caught eating out one of his students on the back seat.
The girl had just turned sixteen, but the teacher still lost his job. He was placed on the sex offenders registry, and banned from Academy premises. In turn, the girl was kicked out of the Academy for gross misconduct. If she’d have been three weeks younger, the teacher would’ve been banished for statutory rape.
Two careers ruined, and one of them hadn’t even started yet.
As Ella contemplates the gross unfairness of that, her boot squelches against something on the floor.
A used condom.
Yuck.
She kicks it away and it splats against the back of the chair in front, sticking there like glue. Turning sideways in her seat, so that she doesn’t have to look at it, her left wrist clinks against the back of her chair.
A metal bracelet is clamped tightly around her skin, and every Cadet on the bus has one. They’re designed to jam the signals from the Cadets’ existing blue tags—small microchips inserted beneath the skin of the left wrist, identifying them as Sentinel District residents—and replace them with temporary, generic platinum tag broadcasts, allowing them to leave the confines of the city.
Until today, none of them had ever left the Sentinel District—a chunk of reclaimed Old World land once known as Brooklyn, New York City—but now they’re about to venture beyond the city walls and into the Second Reclamation Territory: Old World Queens, soon to be an expansion of the Sentinel District, currently a war zone.
In a few short minutes, the bus pulls up at the entrance to a rec
ently reclaimed sector. Reclaimed, but untouched since, this sector is just one of many in an area nicknamed Purgatory: a strip of land left in limbo between ruins and rebuild.
A number of Academy staff are waiting there for them, and when Ella catches sight of some Hunters in their midst, she knows exactly what their presence means: babysitters.
When Hunters are injured, they’re forced to complete a back-to-work program before they can be released for duty. Part of this program entails working for the Academy, teaching and assisting classes. In this case, babysitting the Cadets to make sure they don’t get into any trouble.
Some of Ella’s enthusiasm wanes.
Stepping off the bus, she compliantly forms a line with the rest of the students and waits her turn. They’re each handed a standard issue PP-2000 sub-machine gun and assigned their own personal Hunter.
A babysitter.
“Each of you will go out there with a Hunter by your side,” the lesson instructor explains. “They’re a shadow, and nothing more. They’re with you only to observe, to make notes on your performance, and to make sure that you adhere to the rules. They’ll also bail you out if you should happen find yourselves in trouble, or at any risk of severe harm.”
Ella glances over her shoulder at the Hunter appointed as her shadow.
Not Alexander King.
Any disappointment she feels is quickly swept away by the realization that this Hunter is not unknown to her. She has a vague recollection that he may be one of her papa’s former errand boys, but the specifics elude her. All she has is a name, embroidered on his Kevlar vest: Lockie McKean.
He’s in his late twenties, and looks as though he weighs about fifteen pounds too much for his height. Ella has a suspicion that it’s not all muscle, and that he might be hiding a bit of a belly behind the thick Kevlar vest.
“We might be about to let you loose in a three square mile sector of Purgatory,” the teacher continues, “but make no mistake: you’re not Hunters. You’re not even adults. If we sent you out there alone, you’d all come back in body bags—I guarantee it.”
Ella peaks an eyebrow. “How much do you wanna bet?”
Inamorato Page 2
