Severance (The infernal Guard Book 3)

by SGD Singh

  The Infernal Guard

  Book Three

  Severance

  SGD Singh

  Glory Press

  2017

  Copyright ©2017 by S.G.D. Singh

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Glory Press

  For more information about this and other books by the author, visit www.sgdsingh.com.

  Print ISBN 978-1547128075

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events herein are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, is wholly coincidental.

  For Summer

  A woman of unfathomable courage

  Chapter 1

  For as long as she could remember, Brandy Holt had been a liar.

  In fact, Brandy Holt wasn't even Brandy Holt's real name. And as soon as she could afford cosmetic surgery, Brandy Holt had indulged in so much of it that the face she now wore wasn't even Brandy Holt's real face.

  The truth was, Brandy had been a greedy and selfish child, and she was an even greedier and more selfish adult. Luxury was what mattered most to her, and Brandy was willing to do whatever it took to surround herself with the best of everything. Indulgence, as far as she was concerned, was what life was all about—what made life, well, life. Her philosophy was: If you don't take what you want, you're a fool.

  Brandy Holt prided herself on being a person with no qualms.

  She liked that word. Qualms.

  Even when the monsters first visited her, Brandy didn't decide to acquire any qualms. After all, the monsters were less scary than most of her business associates. And they groveled so beautifully. Besides, why shouldn't everyone, including monsters, want to help her?

  They made such delicious promises, and they made so few demands. All Brandy had to do was help them on rare occasions. Go places they couldn't go. Perform little frivolous favors. Nothing too taxing, they assured her.

  And in exchange? The monsters promised to make every one of her dreams of decadence come true. They would show her that what she thought was luxury was just the beginning.

  Brandy knew that when a deal sounded too good to be true, it probably was. She was greedy and selfish, but she was no fool. She made no promises that first night.

  Only after they exceeded her wildest dreams, and then some, did Brandy Holt agree to help them.

  As promised, the monsters didn't ask for much. Go into a synagogue one day, or a church, or a mosque. Leave a bag in a restroom, forget a purse under a bench.

  Did the buildings burn down afterwards?

  Maybe.

  But how was that Brandy's problem? Was she expected to acquire qualms just because a few religious losers got slightly singed and were left with nowhere to waste their time?

  Fuck that. Brandy could not be expected to think about insignificant people and their insignificant lives, especially when she was finishing her new beach house in the Hamptons, designed by the most sought-after architect in Manhattan—and decorated by the only interior designer on the planet worth knowing.

  If only her stupid sister hadn't tracked her down and insisted on visiting, to try out some kind of shrink-advised “sibling healing” bullshit. And if only the monsters hadn't decided to appear just as they were sitting down to dinner in the most exclusive room in the most exclusive restaurant in New York, where Brandy was successfully proving just how much she didn't need a family for “support”. If she'd been left alone like she wanted, she wouldn't have had to put up with the embarrassment of having a sister so freaked out by a little supernatural demonstration that she runs off and becomes a nun, like some hysterical idiot.

  Of course, the embarrassment only lasted a fifth of a second, which was the time it took Brandy to lie.

  Oh, didn't you know? Everyone has been talking about it. My sister's traveling the world in search of rare art. Just wait until you see what she found in Bali last week! It's simply divine, darling!

  As the months passed, Brandy started to believe her own story, and people stopped asking.

  Eventually, as she knew they would, the monsters started to ask for bigger favors. At least, favors that took more effort on her part. Sure, they made up for the hassle. Brandy would never again have to pay for airline tickets. Or gasoline. Or a single restaurant bill, anywhere.

  Still, one never knew when the monsters would pop up. It was beginning to be a bore.

  This time, they told her to go to Rochester, of all places, and work in a fucking hospital.

  She had to pretend to be a nurse for two weeks, blend in with losers until September 1, when she would be required to do whatever the monsters wanted her to do. Then she'd be free to go on an all-expense-paid vacation anywhere in the entire world.

  It was an inconvenience. The hotel the monsters arranged in Rot-chester was dreadfully subpar, despite having a spa. But Brandy Holt wasn't a quitter. She could suffer through anything for two weeks if it meant building her empire of luxury.

  And besides, she looked adorable in a nurse's uniform.

  The papers waiting in her hotel room directed Brandy to report to the maternity ward, and she felt a momentary stab of anger. No one had said anything about any goddamned babies.

  But the next morning Brandy realized she shouldn't have worried. Working in the maternity ward was a cakewalk. All she had to do was gossip with brainless drudge-workers about meaningless shit, laugh enthusiastically at the right moments, and pretend to know what she was doing during the occasional breaks from the vomit-inducing complain-fests in the break room.

  The only downside to the job, other than the barbaric working and living conditions, was having to speak to the other mon-ster-employee.

  The woman was insane. As far as Brandy could tell, she seemed to be an actual doctor, complete with bad nails and awful skin. She acted as if she had waited her entire life to work with a fellow “familiar” as she called it. She'd done hundreds of jobs for the “Underworlders,” which was what she called the monsters. Judging by her hideous wrinkles, Brandy could believe it.

  This doctor seemed to think their common employ entitled her to drag Brandy into corners and speak to her whenever she pleased, laughing and practically rubbing her hands together with glee over their “mission”. She exaggerated her shock at Brandy's ignorance to the reason they were there, and took great pleasure in rubbing it in her face that, as a superior familiar, and doctor, she knew every detail of their “important and crucial task”.

  The woman was so fanatical it was a little scary.

  Brandy still hadn't developed any qualms, but she was glad when the last day of the job approached. She told herself it was because she missed her private chef and personal masseuse, and that she desperately needed to go on one of those fancy retreats to get the smell of Eau de Hospital out of her hair.

  On the night of August 31, the monsters arrived.

  Brandy was relaxing in the hotel's sauna, trying to ignore how dreadfully minuscule the place was, and almost didn't notice the black smoke taking shape next to her through the steam until the temperature dropped.

  In that annoying whisper-growl voice of theirs, the monsters—there was never only one—told her about her role in the “mission.”

  It's possible that was when Brandy developed her first qualm. At least, she felt a little sick, and her mind flew to her idiotic sister for a tiny instant. She told h
erself it was because the monsters smelled particularly terrible in the small, hot, enclosed space.

  She didn't let it bother her, though. A fraction of a qualm was nothing an extended stay at an exclusive resort in Fiji couldn't fix. She forced herself to think about the extremely hot, accommodating employees, only half listening as the monsters droned on about the young woman who would arrive at the hospital within the next twenty-four hours. They told her this girl would be the only person in labor admitted within that time, so Brandy was sure to recognize her.

  Brandy's job was simply to wait until the baby was born, and then deliver it to the gardens just beyond the hospital's grounds. Where someone who looked exactly like herself would meet her.

  The monster proceeded to transform into a perfect reflection of Brandy Holt, and Brandy noted that she looked good not only in her nurse's uniform, but also sweating in a towel.

  They assured her that once she delivered the baby, that was it. She could go wherever she wanted after that, free of all future obligations to them.

  Brandy knew better than to ask stupid questions like, What about the mother? What about her family? What will happen to the baby?

  Because who gives a fuck, anyway, right?

  Absolutely.

  Brandy nodded, determined to think only of herself and her precious luxury.

  But still, that fraction of a qualm remained.

  The weirdo “familiar” woman didn't make matters easier when Brandy arrived at the hospital for her last double shift. The doctor practically danced with excitement when the patient—a girl who looked like a teenager—arrived, and insisted on spending more than an hour at the patient's side, playing the sympathetic grandma as she milked the girl for every detail of her situation.

  Inevitably she cornered Brandy in the break room afterwards, with her yellow teeth gnashing and gross wrinkles twisting in delight as she said, “I like to know as much as I can about a person before I… you know.”

  The hungry gleam in the woman's eyes as she thought of killing another person caused Brandy to grow another qualm.

  The girl, according to Doctor Psycho, had fallen in love with a boy she claimed wasn't human.

  As if.

  When her family found out she was pregnant, they set her up in a cheap apartment, found her a job working as a music teacher for blind kids or some shit, and then disowned her. The “magical” boy, in predictable fashion, vanished without a trace. One day he told her he wanted to marry her, and the next, poof! he was gone. No calls, no texts, no nothing. The pathetic sap still loved him though, and believed he would come back for her any day now.

  Blah, blah, blah.

  The doctor laughed, practically choking on her coffee, as she told Brandy, “You want to know the best part? The Infernal Guard scum was wiped out before he even got a chance to tell anyone about his brainless civilian girlfriend.”

  Brandy had no idea what ‘The Infernal Guard’ meant, but the look on the doctor's face was beyond creepy when she added, “She won't have to wait for him much longer, though.”

  Brandy's qualms were adding up.

  In the early hours of the morning, as the new mother's corpse cooled, the machines in her dark hospital room purring as if she was sleeping peacefully, Brandy arrived to perform her part.

  But then the baby opened its eyes and looked at her, and Brandy experienced a feeling entirely new to her. She stood, her arms still frozen in the act of reaching for him, and she looked at the baby, and the baby looked at her. And Brandy knew she had found something better than all the luxury in the world.

  For the first time in her life, she wanted something that wasn't for herself.

  Brandy Holt felt herself smile.

  She had found something worth dying for.

  Once she made up her mind to double-cross the monsters, taking the child to safety was as simple as putting her deception skills to good use. A fellow hotel guest and spa enthusiast named Philip had left his company car at the hotel for a few days while he attended meetings in Manhattan, and Brandy never let little things like keys and valet parking lot attendants get in her way.

  She drove most of the forty-eight hours to Arizona without stopping, used only cash, slept in the car, and avoided cameras easily enough.

  The convent was somewhere between Nowhere and What the Fuck Land, but Brandy finally found the place. Her sister refused to come to the gate to see her, of course. Brandy expected nothing less from a person who was so delusional, she would take a vow of silence in some lame attempt to find God, of all things. But still, this was the safest place for the child that she could imagine.

  Brandy handed the baby to a startled and sleepy obese Mexican, asked her to take good care of him, and then she left. She wasn't even sure the nun understood English, but knew once the woman saw the child she wouldn't require the advice of a greedy, selfish liar to know what to do next.

  After that, it was an easy matter of putting the monsters on the wrong trail.

  Brandy bought a plastic doll and blankets at a rest stop, drank more coffee to stay awake, and drove to California. Once she'd cleaned up and changed into new clothes, she went to the fanciest dealership in Beverly Hills and bought a Mercedes E300 sedan. She negotiated ruthlessly for a discount and insisted they throw in a top-of-the-line car seat for her new baby. Just because she'd hardly use the thing was no reason to let the slimy little excuse for a salesman rip her off. Plus, she needed to be noticed.

  Brandy used her ID and credit card to check into the most expensive hotel in Santa Barbara, making sure to coo at the bundle of plastic in her arms with ostentatious adoration, then used her credit cards again to buy as much expensive baby crap as she could carry.

  Then, after one last luxurious bath, Brandy wrapped herself in newly acquired silk, ate a dinner of salade niçoise, followed by canard laqué and pâté de foie gras, topped off with deliciously fresh profiterolles with a side of fresh fruit and cheese.

  She took a few minutes to savor the luxury surrounding her, really appreciating it.

  Then she dissolved about fifty Tylenol into a glass of Chateau Margaux, used it to swallow five Ritalin, and then chased all of that with an entire bottle of Russo-Baltique Vodka.

  Her qualms finally satisfied, Brandy Holt smiled to herself one last time, and went to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  Zaiden couldn't bear to look at Lexi lying so still, as if all her fire and wrath had turned to stone. So he watched Nidhan instead. The towering boy had lost weight in the week and a half they had been in Tapas, only leaving Lexi's side for a few minutes at a time for a quick shower or a rushed meal. He even slept in the healing room—which was what Zaiden was watching him do now.

  Nidhan lay curled on the too-small-for-his-bulk, moss-co-vered bench along one wall, his turban askew, the lines of worry Zaiden always saw in his face finally relaxed in sleep.

  “You need to get him out of here,” Sashi said, appearing suddenly at Zaiden's side, and he jumped. “His constant hovering over her isn't good for the healing process. Plus, it's irritating.”

  “I'll try.”

  Maybe it was some instinctual part of the male psyche to want to protect and defend the female. Maybe it was natural to feel this deep-rooted and constant regret by the fact that Lexi had been attacked and nearly killed by Underworlders in a dark, cold, corpse-infested cave. Whatever natural instinct it was, it left both Zaiden and Nidhan determined never to leave her side again, even though she was safe now. And even though they both knew logically that when she was conscious, Lexi Hewitt was more than capable of taking care of herself.

  Yet logic seemed to have deserted Zaiden where the blonde warrior was concerned. In fact, since he'd been told what happened in Atala, Zaiden had experienced recurring nightmares of giant spiders snapping every bone in Lexi's body while he stood by, completely helpless to stop it.

  Sashi scowled at him. “You'll do more than try if you don't want me telling father you spend all your time watching an
unconscious Satya Guard.”

  “I'm—”

  “Yeah, okay.” Sashi slapped his shoulder. “Whatever. Just get the giant kid out of here, all right? If I have a moment of peace, I might make enough progress to wake her today.”

  Zaiden turned away to hide the excitement he knew showed all over his face.

  “What's the matter with you?” Sashi said to his back. “Never mind. Don't answer that.” She moved to inspect Lexi, who lay suspended within a fog of green light. “Just take him and leave me alone.” She met Zaiden's eyes through the green light. “Now would be nice.”

  Zaiden moved to Nidhan and tapped the Tvastar's massive shoulder. When he didn't wake up, Zaiden shoved once.

  “Nidhan.”

  “What?” He sat up so fast that Zaiden stumbled back. “Is she awake? What's happening?”

  “Sashi's kicking us out. She said today might be the day, if we let her work in peace.”

  Nidhan nodded, straightening his turban. His gaze never left Lexi, and Zaiden watched his now-familiar expression return to his face—a mixture of dread, hope, and longing. He wondered if he had the same ridiculous look on his own face every time he looked at the blonde Jodha.

  Probably. But in his defense, that blonde Jodha's feelings bled into his own like ink in water, her very existence making his soul feel confined, like it was threatening to explode from his every cell.

  “C'mon,” he told Nidhan, as an idea formed in his mind. “Let's get some breakfast. There's something I want to show you.”

  Nidhan took a step toward Sashi, opening his mouth to speak, but Zaiden pushed him toward the door. “I wouldn't pester her just yet. Sashi's never been a morning person.”

  “Breakfast?” Nidhan was beginning to perk up.

  “Uh, maybe a shower first.” Zaiden could smell the moss from the bench on the giant boy's clothes.

  “Right. Sure. Okay.”

  Twenty minutes later, fed and bathed, Nidhan followed Zaiden as they walked between pastures of kanuk, which Nidhan called “weird blue wheat”. The morning sun wouldn't rise for another half hour, and in this light the fields reminded Zaiden of a Satya realm ocean, the sound of the breeze through the stalks almost identical to the rhythmic sound of salty waves.