The Dawn of Dae (Dae Portals Book 1)

by Anderson, Trillian

  At least I had learned one very important thing from eavesdropping. The elite wanted me back. I could escape and return to the life I had worked so hard to build for myself. I still needed to deal with the problem of Terry Moore, but I’d have the time to do it.

  I could keep moving forward.

  Relief swept through me, leaving me breathless and shivering in its wake.

  I still had a lot of problems, but instead of insurmountable, they were merely difficult. Escaping would prove the most challenging. My hands were still torn up from climbing out of the warehouse. I had no idea how damaged my wrist was, but it hurt like hell, and I doubted it would hold my weight if I tried to use it when I climbed out the window.

  I crept my way back to the bed, knelt on it, and peeked outside.

  The sun was close to setting. I’d run the risk of meeting Arthur on the streets again after dark—or one of the other hungry dae. I had two choices: I could stay or I could go. If I stayed, I’d find out what Arthur meant to do with me tomorrow.

  There was no way I was going to let him keep using me, not like he had already. Donald was right.

  I wasn’t going to choose to join Arthur’s cause, not after he treated me like a piece of meat prepared for his benefit. While I wanted to protect the kids and stop them from being used as tools for the elite, I wanted a choice in the matter. I didn’t want to be used, at least not without my consent.

  I shivered.

  What had Arthur done to me while I had been unconscious? The more I thought about it, the less I liked it. Maybe I wanted to experience what other women could at their leisure, but I wanted to be a part of it.

  I didn’t want some random man touching me. I wasn’t property, but what I had heard through the door made me feel like it. I shivered.

  The evidence of Arthur touching me was branded on my skin. I itched everywhere, proof he had been thorough running his hands over me. It was reinforced by the boxers I wore, which belonged to a man—probably Arthur. It was there in the way even my feet were covered in red marks. How far had he gone when I hadn’t been able to defend myself?

  I wanted to crawl in a hole and hide. Worse, I wanted to cry. Rape was a reality of the fringe, and a fate I had avoided by being smart—or had I avoided it? I couldn’t tell.

  No one had told me how sex felt, only that it would hurt the first time I slept with a man. None of the other women I knew claimed to like it, except for Lily, who went out of her way to get it, and she wasn’t all that picky about who she got it from, so long as they satisfied her.

  Most didn’t, and she complained about that bitterly the few times she talked to me about it, venting about how her latest conquest had disappointed her.

  If I believed what I had been told, men were much happier with sex than women. It didn’t change anything for me; I wanted to know for myself what it was like, which was made all the worse by the fact sex was impossible for me.

  I never understood Lily, although I smiled and nodded for her sake whenever she spoke about who she slept with. I had always believed kissing would be enough to kill me. What would sex do, if anything at all? Had Arthur raped me when I hadn’t been able to fight him?

  I didn’t know, which only made things worse. What had he done to me?

  My helplessness smothered me, and I shivered. First, I needed to escape and get as far away from Arthur as possible. Once free, I would come up with a plan. It would take days before the rashes covering me from head to toe faded.

  I couldn’t face anyone until then. I’d hide until the marks of what Arthur had done to me went away, turning into yet another invisible scar I could hide in silence. After I healed enough no one would ask questions, I would manage to rejoin society.

  As long as no one knew what they could do to me with a touch, I’d be all right.

  First, I would wait until after dark. I would wait for when the streets were quiet. As soon as I was certain no one would notice, I would escape through the window. If I fell the three stories to the pavement below, so be it.

  It was better than waiting, knowing I’d become a victim the next day.

  By the time night fell, I was a nervous wreck. When I wasn’t anxious over Donald or Arthur returning, I wondered how many others were in on their plan—or were lurking somewhere else in the townhouse. I wanted noise, at least a little to help me gain my bearings. I couldn’t believe I’d been left entirely alone.

  Then again, most people would’ve been deterred by a three-story fall to the street below. In my condition, only a lunatic would try the climb. Still, who left their kidnap victim alone and unsupervised with a way out? The window was plenty large enough for me to wiggle through.

  There wasn’t much of a point in making a plan and thinking it through, but I did it anyway. Getting to the ground without breaking a leg or killing myself would be the most difficult part. I’d have to do it with one hand. I pressed close to the glass, peering down at the street. Like the warehouse, the townhouse was fashioned of uneven brick, offering me a lot of hand and foot holds. I couldn’t tell if there were any other windows beneath mine, and I wouldn’t know until I found them with my feet on the way down.

  I waited until the city was dark. In the distance, a werewolf howled, and the beast was answered by a deep, rumbling roar I felt as much as I heard. Was it a dragon on the hunt again, flaming its prey?

  I preferred when the fantastical nightmares remained within the pages of a book instead of haunting reality.

  It took all my courage to unlatch the window, slide it up, and secure it. If I didn’t want anyone knowing how I had escaped, I would need to close the window behind me. The thought of balancing on my toes, pressed to the side of the building so I could use my hands, frightened me almost as much as the thought of smacking into the asphalt below.

  My fear welled up, tightened my throat, and froze me in place. I stared out the window at a distant light.

  If I stayed, I’d remain Arthur’s victim. If I made that choice, I would deserve whatever he did to me. Part of me wanted to stay so I could meet him again, wrap my fingers around his neck, and strangle the life out of him. Watching the life die in his eyes would be worth the blisters and scars.

  Revenge would have to wait.

  Shivering from the cold, I eased my way out the window, sliding over the sill on my stomach. The frame, like so much of the rest of the house, crumbled beneath me. The bandages spared me from the splinters, but I hissed at the pressure on my ribs and bruises.

  I searched the brick for solid places to rest my weight, trembling as I tested for the best spots. When I was as secure as I could make myself, I reached up and eased the window closed. It latched with a faint click.

  While I couldn’t use my left hand too much, I was able to grip the bricks enough to help balance. During a normal climb, I relied on my arms and upper body strength as much as I did my feet. To make it down, I’d have to compensate for my injured left wrist.

  That frightened me almost as much as what would happen if I fell. I closed my eyes. Staring at the ground wouldn’t help me. Neither would imagining the moment of impact, but I ran through each and every nightmarish way I could splatter myself on the ground as I eased my way down.

  While the inside of the house was a mess, the outside had been maintained, likely to keep the entire thing from collapsing. I had no idea how far down I was when one of the bricks shifted under my weight, and for a stomach-churning moment, I dangled from my right hand. I scrambled for a new foothold, and once I found it, I clung to the building and shook.

  Tears burned in my eyes, and I fought to control my breathing.

  I was so sick and tired of being afraid. For a long time, I couldn’t force myself to move. My legs and arms burned from exertion. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to lower my foot to take the next step.

  My foot touched the ground, and with a strangled cry, I slumped down, my hands sliding over the rough brick. I leaned against the townhouse, unable to stop m
y shaking.

  I had to keep moving, but my body didn’t want to cooperate. With the help of the building, I lurched to my feet. The alley was too small for cars, and like so much of the fringe, it had been relegated for use as a dumping ground. Trash scattered the street, and the smell was worse than the water.

  There were probably bodies hidden in the larger piles. Where I stood was clear enough of filth, though I had no idea how I was going to get anywhere without having to step in something.

  I was going to catch my death just from walking down the alley. I lifted a foot and stared at my abused soles. Years of running around without shoes had done a lot to make my feet tough, but Arthur had managed to leave me with blisters. While the ground near his townhouse wasn’t as bad as the rest of the alley, I was begging to get an infection if I tried to walk anywhere.

  I hesitated long enough to glare up at the third-story window. One day, I’d pay Arthur back for every last stroke of his hand and every scar he left behind. I would find a way to ruin him.

  I’d find a way to extinguish his flames. When I finished with him, he’d endure the same fear I did, which tightened my chest and threatened to choke off my breath. I’d make sure all of my shame and pain died with him.

  Clenching my hands into fists, I limped into the night, not caring which direction I went, so long as it took me far from Arthur’s reach.

  I had no idea how long I had been with Arthur, but the quiet night unnerved me. While werewolves howled, their cries came few and far between. Lights glittered in the distance, and the tallest of the downtown skyscrapers glowed as a beacon to guide me away from the fringe.

  When I had broken out of the warehouse, Baltimore had been a far darker place. Had some semblance of normality been restored in the time I was held captive? I crept my way through the alleys, avoiding the larger streets when I could. When I couldn’t, I darted across as fast as my throbbing feet allowed.

  I needed to find a place to hide and hole up, but I wasn’t familiar with the section of the fringe I traversed. All I could tell was that I was far from the Inner Harbor. My normal roost wasn’t far from the ruins of Dundalk, which had been absorbed by Baltimore.

  Judging from the direction of the skyscrapers, I was likely somewhere on the south shores of the city.

  If so, Arthur was either a lot braver or dumber than I thought. I avoided the south shores; the last thing I wanted was to be caught while sniffing around by the military, and Gibson Island wasn’t too far away.

  The elite living there didn’t like dock rats near their mansions. I sucked in a breath, my eyes widening.

  Gibson Island was perfect. So close to winter, the elite left the place to take up residence in the city proper to avoid being snowed in. Its close proximity to a military base ensured sane dock rats avoided the place.

  If I got caught by the elite or the police, I’d tell them the truth and swallow my shame. I wouldn’t tell them how I had escaped from Arthur—twice—but if what I had overheard was true, at least they wouldn’t kill me right away.

  With the Dawn of Dae causing mass chaos, it was entirely possible the elite had left the mansions unattended. A few weeks without anyone watching the estates wouldn’t hurt them much, and if Arthur and his cohorts were any indication, the elite were too busy dealing with a potential uprising to worry about their summer homes.

  If the police and military were busy controlling the populace, it was entirely possible I could slip by the installations on the route to Gibson Island. The real problem would be making it that far without collapsing.

  Gibson Island was over twenty miles away from the Inner Harbor. I pressed my back to the bricks of the alley, glancing both directions—and up—in search of anyone lingering nearby.

  All remained quiet.

  While there were entries to Kenneth’s tunnels in the south part of the fringe, I didn’t know them very well. Most I’d only seen once during the daylight. I had no chance of finding them at night without solid landmarks to rely on.

  It’d be easier to find Gibson Island. All I had to do was head south and east along the shore until the fringe made way for the countryside. I’d have to dodge the military base, but if I could deal with walking through the alleys of Baltimore barefoot, I could handle a walk through a park.

  Twigs and stones beat refuse. Dirt I could deal with. I tried not to think about what I was stepping in as I resumed my slow limp across the city. Instead of aiming for the skyscrapers, I checked over my shoulder to make sure they remained behind me whenever I emerged from the alleys.

  I would either make Gibson Island or find somewhere to hole up. All I had to do was keep out of sight and avoid where the dae were.

  How hard could it be?

  I giggled, and unable to stop myself, I clapped my hands over my mouth to muffle the sound. For a long time, I huddled in the alley, struggling to control my mirth. I was a human in a world turned insane, full of monsters, nightmares, dragons, and unicorns.

  How hard could it be, indeed.

  I laughed until I cried, and when I finally managed to control myself, I staggered south and east in search of a safe haven.

  Time lost all meaning, and I lost track of the number of alleys I traversed on my way towards Gibson Island. My world narrowed to the pain in my feet, which stabbed up my legs with each and every step. It took every bit of my willpower to remember to check for dae.

  The streets remained quiet, and as I crossed the fringe, my worries grew.

  Had the curfew become so enforced no one dared to defy it? The infrequent howls of werewolves and the deeper roars of dragons reassured me there was still life in the city, but despite the distance I had travelled, I hadn’t run into anyone, living or dead.

  If there were bodies in the alleys, they were buried deep enough I couldn’t spot them.

  I needed rest, but until I found somewhere safe, I didn’t dare stop. I didn’t dare break into any of the buildings on the fringe; without knowing who or what was within, I’d be asking for trouble. I already had one dae who wanted me to fuel his powers.

  I was in no condition to fight off anyone. I wouldn’t even count as sport. A child with a stick could beat me into submission without working at it.

  It amazed me I was still on my feet and moving.

  The fringe made way for a nicer neighborhood; the presence of working street lamps clued me into the change. The alleys remained a mess, but the main streets were clear of debris. While the roads were still paved with asphalt, the sidewalks were of cobbled stone, a nod from the elite to the residents of the district.

  I leaned against the wall, peeking out of my alley. Unlike the fringe, the flower boxes hanging from windows were filled with plants still clinging to life. With so many lights, I wouldn’t be able to cross the street without running the risk of someone seeing me.

  Then again, the dae could probably see in the dark, especially the werewolves. Did they even need the lights to get by? I scowled.

  Any other evening, I would have found comfort in the flickering glow. When everyone had been human, the risk of being caught breaking the law was enough to deter most people. I had a feeling the dae didn’t care very much if they were caught, as long as they were bigger and badder than their opponent.

  I couldn’t fault Arthur for his reasons, but his methods left me sick to my stomach—and likely scarred for life. I ducked back into an alley, leaned my shoulder against the wall, and closed my eyes.

  Unless he had been following me from the start, I was likely far out of his reach. Once I reached Gibson Island, I could disappear until I no longer felt—and looked—like tenderized meat.

  I drew deep breaths until my heart rate slowed and I ceased panting from exertion. When the dae had been fighting in the streets after dark, hiding was a lot easier. All I had to do was let the brawls draw attention from me.

  How was I going to cross a middle-caste district without being seen? I pinched the bridge of my nose to ward away my growing headache. My sto
mach growled in demand, and I sighed.

  Unless I lowered myself to breaking and entering, food wasn’t an option. Even if I had cash, which I didn’t, I didn’t have a credit chip embedded in my hand like those of the upper castes, granting me access to the stores outside of the fringe. If I could find an outlet belonging to Kenneth, I could swing something, but the south shores weren’t my turf.

  Even if I was willing to risk tipping off my boss about my location, I didn’t know where to find his dealers. It was a mistake I’d have to rectify and soon. It hadn’t mattered so much before.

  The few times I had visited the south shores, I had left without needing to use any of Kenneth’s contacts or tunnels.

  Things had been a lot simpler before the Dawn of Dae.

  I sighed, cracked open my eyes, and peeked around the corner. The street remained deserted, illuminated by the lamps. While the alley I was in was strewn with garbage, the main street was clear of debris.

  If I could dodge the glow of the lamps flanking the alley, I could hide in the shadows where the lights didn’t quite reach the storefronts and homes. I’d have to be careful, watch for people looking out the windows, and dart across where I couldn’t avoid the illumination.

  I had my doubts I’d be able to go any faster than a pained limp. Walking was bad enough; I didn’t want to imagine trying to sprint.

  I wasn’t brave enough to check my feet to see how much damage I had done to myself walking across the city. That I had made it so far without collapsing astonished me. Until I found a safe haven, I didn’t dare stop.

  I once again glared at the well-lit street. Retreating and trying to find an alleyway through the district would only take me so far; after a couple of blocks, there wouldn’t be any alleys at all. Instead, there would be groomed lawns, driveways, and suburban streets.

  The change in the streets offered hope, though. Like Dundalk, Glen Bernie had been absorbed by Baltimore, but instead of decaying into the fringe, it had thrived, serving to house those who had dodged the poverty-ridden lower castes.