by Jessica Roe
Grumbling, he stood aside to let them pass. When Gable entered last, he grasped her wrist to keep her behind while the others disappeared into the living room. “You gonna stay after?” he asked, his voice seductive and his eyes positively smoldering.
She looked him up and down, smirking. He was wearing only a pair of running shorts and no shirt. No guessing what he'd been hoping for. “Not a chance.”
He pouted. “Please? You know you had a good time when you came by last.”
“That was a one time thing,” she said, trying and failing to keep her voice stern. “Go put on a shirt.”
He ran his hands up and down his perfectly chiseled chest. “You know you don't want me to cover this up.”
She laughed as she passed him by to follow the others.
The Guardians were all standing in an awkward huddle in the center of the room, like they were expecting more vampires to jump out of the shadows and bite them in the ass. The expressions on their faces were comical.
“Sit down then,” Francis said, staring at them like they were a bunch of idiots. Which, well. . .yeah.
The room was small and dark and there was barely enough room to seat them all. Nicky sprawled in an armchair and eyed Francis.
“What?” Francis demanded.
“Are you really a vampire?”
He shot down his fangs and bared them in response. To his credit, Nicky didn't jump, but his eyes widened. He was still so green to the Outcast world. “Where's your coffin?”
Francis raised an eyebrow at Gable. “Really?”
“We're here for information,” Charles interrupted before Nicky could ask any other stupid questions.
“I know what you're here for,” Francis drawled, cocking his head towards Gable. “She knows how it goes.”
Sighing, Gable moved to sit next to him on the sofa and held out her wrist. Walker didn't bother to hide her sound of distaste.
“Wait,” Nicky called out, sitting up to attention. “What's going on?”
“Blood for info, bro,” Francis explained, picking up her wrist and bringing it to his nose. He inhaled deeply.
“No way!” Nicky protested. “Gable-”
“It's just how it's done,” she told him impatiently. He needed to realize that he didn't have to protect her all the time. Or at all. “It's a fair trade.”
“But-”
“Let it be, Nicky,” Charles instructed, though he didn't look all too happy either.
Nicky sat back in his seat, shooting daggers at Francis. His hand moved unconsciously to the gun hidden underneath his jacket though he made no move to pull it out.
Francis' eyes turned red as his fangs came down. He bit into Gable's wrist and drank deeply, closing his eyes in ecstasy. She tried her hardest not to flinch while everyone except Nicky turned away uncomfortably. The taking of one's blood, it was an intimate thing.
As Francis continued to drink, Gable began to get warmer and warmer until she was just. . .hot. Too hot. Too flushed, too excited, too everything. Images of her and Francis flashed through her mind; their bodies entwined in his sheets, thrusting, panting, growling-
She kicked him hard in the shin with her boot. “Stop it! Do it normally.”
He somehow managed to smirk even with his fangs buried deep inside her vein, but the lust mercifully vanished. She was grateful – that was exactly how they'd ended up sleeping together six months before. Not that it hadn't been a lot of fun, but she wasn't looking for a repeat.
Nicky continued to watch, equally curious as he was disgusted.
When he'd had his fill, Francis made a show of licking her wound until it healed, waggling his eyebrows at a pissed looking Nicky to antagonize him. “God, you taste good.”
She leaned back, weakened, but more than ready for answers. “You better have something for me after that, Francis.”
“I asked around like you wanted but I got nothing on those missing Outcasts, 'cept that no more seemed to have vanished in the past couple weeks. But I did hear those little shits, Zebb and Uang, are back in the city. You're looking for them, right?”
Everyone sat up straighter at this news. “Do you know where?” Walker demanded, her dislike forgotten.
“All over, though mainly here in Queens and The Bronx. They're looking for someone, I guess, leaving a trail of seriously fucked up Outcasts behind them.”
“Dead?”
“Not quite. Beaten to hell, though.”
“Which Outcasts?” Gable asked.
He blew out a puff of air and glanced up at the ceiling as he thought. “You know Edith, right? The water elemental? And...oh, the Shellson twins-”
“I know them,” Zay interrupted. “Fire elementals.”
“Yup. Then there was...” He scratched his head as he tried to remember. “...another water elemental, I think. What was his name? William something.”
“Even I can see the pattern here,” Nicky spoke up.
Charles nodded. “Elementals.”
“As far as I know,” Gable said. “Pablo never got his earth elemental. It sounds to me like that's what they're looking for. I guess whoever's running the show now wants one too.”
+++
“I ache for the injured Outcasts, but this is good news,” Terelle mused an hour later when they'd explained their findings to her in the living room of her luxurious tent. “This means we now have a way to draw Zebb and Uang out.”
“If we knew an earth elemental,” Walker reasoned. “Which we don't. And finding one – especially one willing to essentially risk their lives for our cause – will be hard. They're the rarest of all the elementals.”
“Actually we do know one, and I'm certain that he'll be more than willing to help.” Terelle smiled deviously at Gable. “Ward.”
Gable grinned back at her. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Ward.”
“Who's that?” Nicky questioned, looking between the two women with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
“An earth elemental, dummy.”
“If you don't mind me asking,” Zay started. He seemed uncharacteristically awkward so Gable could guess which direction he was going in. “If you already knew another earth elemental, why didn't you tell Pablo?”
“I think we've already established that I didn't tell Pablo a lot of things.”
He nodded, accepting her answer.
“Talking of Pablo,” Terelle said quietly to Gable. “We should talk to Cadby about that thing before he goes to bed.”
Ignoring the curious glances from the others, she nodded. “Call Ward first, though.”
Terelle promised to let them all know when she'd talked to Ward and the meeting came to an end. The Guardians began to leave, either towards home or outside to join the other Outcasts. Dinner would probably be over, but some of the younger Outcasts had started a bonfire which meant there would be music and dancing.
As he'd done every other time he'd visited, Nicky asked Gable if he could stay with her. And like every other time, Gable said a firm no.
“Ah, Gable,” Charles called out before she could leave to find Cadby. He cleared his throat, something she'd already learned he did whenever he had an uncomfortable topic to talk about. “I was wondering if you might spare a moment for a quick word?”
She stopped, raising her brow in surprise. “Sure, I guess.”
He waited until everyone was gone and they were alone before starting. “Your apartment. . .”
“What about it?”
“I wanted to let you know that it is indeed your apartment. Now that Pablo's death has been announced publicly, his assets are being dealt with by Guardian Officials. They discovered that the apartment is in your name. I wasn't sure if you knew this?”
“No, I didn't.” The nervous excitement building inside of her now they had a possible lead to getting back the Outcasts, getting back Sacha, vanished. Her stomach hollowed out – she hated being reminded of how much Pablo had cared about her. It was easier to remember him as a villain, an evil monster
who'd hurt people she cared about, because it took away some of the guilt about what she'd done to him. But it was moments like this that she was forced to confront his love for her, and her love for him, and it just. . .made her die a little bit inside each time. “I don't want it. Tell them to do whatever they want with it.”
“I understand your feelings, but you may want to take the time to think this over,” he said softly. “You don't have to live there. You could sell, and you'd have enough money to tide you over for a very long time, or. . . Well, it's up to you. But the Guardian Elders wanted me to assure you that it belongs to you, and after everything you did. . .no one will be taking it away from you. Just think it over, at least until after we've found the missing Outcasts.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Charles.” Her voice sounded empty, even to her own ears.
Seeming to sense her sadness, he let out a long suffering sigh. “Would it make you feel better if I let you call me C Man?”
She smiled despite herself. It was the first time he'd ever shown any kind of warmth towards her. “Maybe.”
“Not in front of Nicky,” he warned. “I'll never hear the end of it.” He touched her shoulder comfortingly before walking away.
Chapter 3
Fortune
Fortune ran his stub of chalk along the cold cement floor in yet another short line.
655 lines.
655 days.
It had been 655 days since he'd been hauled down to his underground prison cell, 655 days since he'd last felt the fresh breath of freedom.
He tried to remain cheerful and positive, he really did, because he was just a generally positive kind of guy. Always had been. But even he was seriously mourning the loss of his old life, though he tried not to let it show in front of the other inmates; there needed to be at least one person down there to keep everyone's spirits up.
He missed his family – his overbearing but well meaning parents, his four very loud, very high pitched sisters, their pet dog, Chow.
He missed his travels. He'd been born to travel, it was all he'd ever wanted to do. He'd given up working for his father's business to travel. He needed to roam, to be free. Which was why being stuck underground in a tiny cell was his worst nightmare. Or at least it had been until the scientists had started their experiments on him and then he'd developed a whole brand new set of nightmares, except he was really living them, every single day.
He even missed jolly old England, his home country, the place he'd been so desperate to get away from. How naive he'd been. He'd give anything in the world to go back to London, to feel the drizzly rain on his face, to breathe in the smell of fish and chips and sausage rolls, to get pissed down the pub.
But most of all he missed his freedom.
However, he would try to remain positive. What else did he have left but that? Pablo Nunez had taken away everything else.
Fortune had always been an anomaly, which was perhaps why Pablo had sought him out specially instead of one of the many others of his kind. A fire elemental born to a family entirely of humans. A fire elemental with complete control. A fire elemental who was calm and cheerful instead of angry and overly passionate and emotional.
There were only two times when he would have slipped had his powers not been temporarily stripped by leeches – when Pablo had kidnapped him during his travels, and then again when his least favorite prison guard, the sadistic Merche, had gleefully informed him that his death had been faked and that his family believed him drowned at sea. He'd wanted to burn that day. He'd wanted to burn them all, especially her. But looking back, he was grateful for the power sucking leech, just that one time. Murder was never the right way. He needed to be better than that. And he had to believe he'd be reunited with his family again one day, that he could somehow let them know he was still alive.
But if there was one thing that could truly bring Fortune down, it was worry for his cell mate.
Sacha was beginning to lose all hope of ever getting free, and losing hope was a dangerous thing. He was fading away, slowly, piece by piece. That was always how it started. Soon he would lose his mind to the madness of their unjust incarceration, like so many other Outcasts down there with them had.
Fortune couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let that happen. Sacha was the closest thing to family he had these days. He was his brother, his best friend. They'd been cell mates for a year and instead of breaking and driving each other crazy, they'd forged a strong bond, one that not many outside their hell hole would ever be able to understand. They'd helped each other survive. And if Fortune had to remind him of the girl, Gable, every hour of every day just to keep his eyes from growing dull and lifeless, then so be it.
It was strange, in a way. He'd never even met her, but she'd become kind of a symbol to Fortune too. A symbol of hope in dark times.
He sighed and glanced over at Sacha. He was sleeping in his cot, his tall frame too big for the tiny bed.
In the next cell over on Sacha's side, Xahlia reached through the bars, quiet as a whisper, and stroked Sacha's dark brown hair with a bony hand.
Xahlia had been with them for six months. She'd been beautiful at first; blonde and provocative with sexy curves in all the right places. But like all of them, time and neglect had worn away at her. Her once shiny hair was thin and yellow, her eyes sunken into her pale skin, her curves gone, replaced by protruding bones and sharp angles.
“Stop that,” Fortune snapped impatiently at her. He didn't normally lose his cool with people, but she liked to push her limits when it came to Sacha, liked to touch him when he wasn't awake because she knew he wouldn't allow it otherwise, and as far as Fortune was concerned, that was taking advantage. He was sick of telling her off. “You know he doesn't like when you touch him.”
“He might like it if he'd just let me,” she replied. She may have lost some of her looks, but her voice was as sultry as ever. “I could make him feel real good.”
He shook his head. “Don't be disgusting.” Fortune missed sex. Of course he missed sex, and luckily the bathrooms (and he used the word bathroom lightly, considering it was just a hole in the ceiling for the shower and a toilet and metal basin) in each of their cells were private enough that he could. . .sort himself out every now and then. But what was she suggesting? Giving Sacha a hand-job through the bars where all of the prisoners could see her? Pathetic. “You sound sad and desperate.”
Xahlia glowered at Fortune, though she pulled her hand away. He knew if she could use her powers she'd be plotting just how to use them on him.
She was a dream walker, able to enter people's dreams and alter them at her own will, give them good dreams, or scare them with nightmares. That was the extent of her power. Before being locked away she'd used her gift to scare people into giving her information or door code numbers or safe box codes, anything she could profit off. It had made her a rather good thief.
But now she was nothing. Just a hollow, empty, powerless Outcast, thanks to the leeches that guarded their cells alongside the human thugs.
She was in love with Sacha. Or at least she said she was. Fortune thought is was probably more of an obsession. But Sacha barely even noticed she was there, despite them being neighbors In his mind, there was only one woman in the whole world that mattered, and she wasn't there with him. It made Xahlia bitter; she would never be Gable.
Fortune had pitied her at first, but she was just so. . .unlikable.
“I'm the one that's here,” she muttered, laying down on her cot with her back to them. “One day he'll realize his little bitch isn't coming for him.”
“I hope he doesn't,” Fortune replied honestly, though she'd probably already stopped listening. “I really hope he doesn't, because the day he stops believing in her would be a very sad day. For us all.”
She didn't answer.
He leaned back on his heels and ran a hand through his golden hair. It had always been messy and wild, growing out in random directions like a lion's mane, but now it was too short. A
barber came in to cut their hair and shave their beards once a month, though most weren't exactly comfortable being tied down to a chair while someone came at them with a sharp blade. But it wasn't like they had a say in the matter. Maybe the scientists didn't like experimenting on dirty, unkempt creatures, though Fortune thought it was probably something more to do with Pablo. From what he remembered, the man was as neat as one could possibly be.
It had been almost two years since Pablo had first approached Fortune, but he remembered it like it had been only days. He'd been twenty three at the time, sat in a tiny beach bar on a small Greek island, just chilling out and flirting with the locals. And then Pablo had shown up and told Fortune he had a job opportunity for him if he would just come along, but Pablo had given him a bad feeling and Fortune had always tried to listen to his instincts so he'd respectfully declined. Turned out his instincts had been right; Pablo's men had kidnapped him from his bed that very night.
Xahlia's cell mate, Jaana, popped her head up and rolled her eyes playfully at Fortune. He liked Jaana – she was a kindred spirit. She always had a smile ready, even during their darkest hours, which somehow made her so much more beautiful than Xahlia had ever been. And not only that, she had a musical Finnish accent that Fortune was immeasurably attracted to – he'd always been partial to accents.
He winked at her and she blushed almost as red as her hair. Fortune was a handsome kind of fellow, he knew that. He was tall and slim – though leaning more towards pasty and lanky after being cooped up for so long – with his facial features all in the right place. He'd never had any problems attracting women.
Fortune and Sacha's neighbor on their other side, Gelasius, shoved him through the bars. “Stop with your flirting,” he teased in his thick Greek accent. “I might hurl.”
Fortune grinned at the shadow guide. “Jealous?”
They laughed as he moved to push his cot back over the chalk marks on the floor.
Gelasius watched him do it, a contemplative look in his eyes – eyes that were still black and blue after the beating he'd been handed by a couple of the guards a few days earlier for going on a no shower strike. Before that, Fortune had been desperate for the smelly bugger to take a shower – especially as their beds were so close together, only a set of bars between them – but he hated to see his friend in pain. He thought he'd rather have the stink back, honestly. “I don't know why Merche keeps letting you have the chalk.”
