by HK Khan
Hawks lips move silently for a moment, and I wrap my arms around him in a tight hug.
“A few minutes after she locked the door, she and my father were shouting. Then I heard the gunshot. Seconds later, he was pounding on my door, screaming it was all my fault she was gone. He ranted for over an hour about me being the reason she was dead, and that I was his biggest mistake. I was terrified, and hid in my closet, clutching the folder to my chest until morning. At that point, the house had been silent for hours, but I was afraid to leave my room, afraid of what I knew I’d find.”
I sob into Hawk’s shoulder, and we desperately cling to one another.
“As soon as enough daylight came through the window, I opened the folder and read the letter from my mom…my stepmom, that is. A picture of me standing side by side with Ash fluttered out, one she stole from my father’s wallet. She left a letter detailing how she found out about him separating us. After reading that, the memories rushed back, and I knew I had to find my brother. She had found Auntie May’s posts on a forum for missing children, and included the contact address and a bus ticket in my name. I grabbed a bag and stuffed as much as I could into it, including my weapons, and scrawled a horrible note to my father, disowning him and telling him not to search for me. I knew if I went out through the house, there was a chance I’d find my stepmother’s body. There was no way seven year old me could face that, so I climbed out my window and set off to find Ash.”
Hawk pulls out of my grip and turns away from me. “I know how horrible it sounds. I’ve never told the whole thing to anyone before. I’m sorry to burden you with it.”
The hollowness of his voice pulls me out of the sorrow I feel on his behalf. I get up and walk around until I stand in front of him. Crouching, I hold his face between my hands. “Don’t you ever be sorry for sharing yourself with me. I’m sorry you had to go through that. You’re home now, Hawk. You found your family.”
“But I forgot him,” he whispers.
I shake my head forcefully and his eyes widen. “No, I don’t think you did. You were three-years-old, and terrified about what was happening. Your toddler brain locked your mother and brother and May up safe so you could survive. You remembered as soon as your new mom wrote about them. You were waiting for someone to tell you it was okay to miss him.” I close my eyes against my own grief. I exhale almost inaudibly. “Forgetting isn’t the worst thing you could’ve done.”
“Nothing’s worse than forgetting your other half,” he rasps.
I shake my head and open my eyes. Sadness fills me at his bitterness. He teeters on the edge, and I’m afraid if I don’t do something drastic right now, he’ll break.
I sit back on my heels and swallow my fear.
“No, Hawk, believe me when I tell you there are much worse things.” My words escape, barely audible, and his eyes plead for me to ease his guilt before it drives him insane. “I’ve done worse.”
His earlier openness retreats, and my heart breaks.
“I find that hard to believe,” he sneers.
For once, my temper doesn’t rise to the challenge, and I take a seat on the floor, pulling my knees up tight. I lower my forehead onto them and speak softly into my temporary cocoon.
“When I was twelve”—I choke on my words and have to gather myself to go on—“there was this girl at the compound. She was beautiful, and she always wore ornate red gowns. In my head, I called her Scarlett.” I’m not even sure he listens, but I know I’ll continue if it helps. “She always made life difficult, but this one particular morning, she was hell-bent on tearing me down. I was on kitchen duty, and when she confronted me, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window. She came at me with a pair of scissors, and before I could understand what was happening, I somehow managed to get them away from her and stabbed her in the heart.” Tears slip down my cheeks, and my stomach clenches in revulsion. “I killed her because she caught a glimpse of my tattoos glowing. She might have ended up hurting me with the scissors, but it’s not like it would’ve been any worse than what the vamps did. She didn’t deserve to die.” I lift my head and glare at Hawk’s open-mouthed stare. “So, yes, there are worse things than forgetting. You could have become a murderer like me.” I spit the words out as I jump to my feet.
I race out of the armory and run blindly through random twists and turns of the labyrinth, tears streaming down my face all the while.
When my head clears, I stop and glance around. I’m in a new hallway. A steel reinforced door stands to my right, with nothing but more hallways on my left. Cautiously, I approach the new threshold and open the door slowly. Inside, I find a row of clear-walled cells, two of which hold seriously agitated vampires.
“Let me out of here, blood-bag!” Zane yells from the chamber on the right.
Eric spins around and grins evilly when he spots me standing in the doorway.
Everything from the last four years boils up and combines with my raw emotions. I take two menacing steps forward, only stopping my advance because a hand clutches my shoulder firmly.
I whirl on the person behind me, struggling to keep the Huntress contained.
“I can’t let you at them, Kitten,” Genji’s silky voice apologizes. “We need to find out what they know.”
In a blink, I have Genji’s sword in hand, and rage colors my vision red.
“Do you know what they put me through?” I shout, stabbing the blade in the direction of the suddenly silent prisoners. My pitch rises when I get a better look at their accommodations. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I scream, and two pairs of footsteps hurry toward us from down the hallway. “They have pillows and blankets when I was lucky if the patch of floor I was given was carpeted?”
My tears still flow, and I bat them away with the back of my free hand.
Kent and Ashton skid to a halt before me, and Genji carefully reaches out for the sword. His long fingers gently circle my wrist, and I let him take the blade from me when I recognize the shadow of fear in his eyes.
I’m woozy and being dragged by my hair through the hallways of the new manor. Master and Mistress decided to move, so on Monday we were in the snowy outskirts of the Great Lakes, and by Wednesday morning, we were setting up house in the humid foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
They’re slow to find the local donor center, and the household vamps use me as their sole means of sustenance. I should be mad, but I’m too weak to care. We’ve been here for three weeks, and I pray today’s the day they finally let me die.
A harsh yank pulls me out of my macabre reverie, and I lift my foggy gaze to the dead black eyes of my current tormentor.
“You’re useless to me like this.” Zane smacks me hard enough to see stars and slams me against the wall, holding me by the throat. “Mistress said we can’t take your blood anymore.” He licks his lips. “But there are many different types of appetites.”
I go limp in Genji’s arms, and I catch a glimpse of his expression changing as he glares in the direction of the prisoners.
“Kitten,” he growls, and his harshness startles me. “We need these two parasites for information, but I promise you they’ll never again be free.”
I turn my head to Ashton and Kent and see matching expressions of vengeful determination. Kent nods with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Guine, if you can keep your temper in check, I’ll even let you help with the interrogations.”
Chapter Fifteen
I close my eyes and check my temper.
Can I control myself?
God, I hope so.
“What exactly do you do to get answers?” I ask warily.
Ash presses his palm against an outlined square on the wall, and it glows blue. A panel slides open, revealing an assortment of tools, and I can only imagine how they’re used in regards to my question. Ashton nods somberly at my understanding.
“If it’s any consolation, Kitten,” Genji says, placing a hand on my shoulder, “we ask nicely first.”
“Th
e Hunters trained us in advanced interrogation techniques, and we try to employ all of our resources before resorting to these tools. However”—Kent focuses on me—“given what you know about these two, will they willingly give up information?”
I shake my head, unable to speak yet.
“That’s right, blood bag. You’re not getting anything,” Zane sneers from his cell.
Kent raises an eyebrow, and I shrug. He walks over to the wall and picks up a few different instruments before choosing a wicked looking belt with barbed spikes protruding around the outside of the circle. When he tests one of the sharp points with his thumb, it draws a bead of blood.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks.
I shake my head, and he brings it closer.
“It’s an ancient Mesopotamian relic. You wrap it around any part of the body and hammer the spikes through one at a time.” He shows me how they can be pushed through the belt to pierce whatever it encircles. “Tiny barbs ensure it can’t be removed without massive damage to the wearer.” He adjusts the size from about six inches in diameter to big enough to fit around his entire torso. “If you don’t think they’ll answer our questions, we’ll skip ahead and pry it out of them.”
The idea sickens me, but these two monsters are our only lead. I swallow and nod. “Do it.”
Genji steps over to Zane’s door and holds his sword aloft. “I’ll decapitate you if you move,” he warns.
“Traitor,” Zane spits.
Genji grins even wider, fangs gleaming in the stark lighting. “I’m happy to be opposing one such as yourself.”
Kent approaches the cell with the torture device in hand, and Zane, the coward, backs as far away as he can. Kent adjusts the loop to the right size, and the vampire pales.
“D-don’t!” he cries as Kent punches in the code for the door lock. “I’ll talk! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, just don’t put that thing on me!”
Kent stops and stares directly into Zane’s eyes. “Tell me what you know about the missing girls, and if it’s good enough information, I’ll put this away.” His icy voice gives even me chills as he holds up the spiked apparatus.
Zane nods furiously and begins to talk.
~
Once the bloodless interrogation finishes, I’m a mess of emotions. Genji senses what I need and escorts me to the kitchen. My mind whirls with information overload, and my adrenaline is crashing. He hands me a couple of the leftover waffles and orders me to eat.
“You need to stabilize your blood sugar,” he explains. “I promise you’ll feel better once you eat.”
I do feel drained and strangely wired. We sit in silence while I eat, and I slowly return to normal.
“Better?” he asks with a kind smile.
I finish the bite in my mouth and nod. “Thanks, Genji.”
He sits in the chair beside me and turns so we face each other. A furrow pinches his brow, and deep scrutiny shrouds his warm, hazel eyes. His tongue absent-mindedly worries at his left fang, and after another minute of silence, I place my hand on his arm.
I pull out his medallion and place it on the table. “Penny for your thoughts?”
He runs his thumb around the perimeter of the coin, and a slow smile crawls across his face. “I should never have taught you that phrase.”
I bite my lip to hold in my laughter and wait for him to continue. The silence stretches, and finally, he sighs.
“You’re going to keep me on my toes.” He runs the unique medallion across the backs of his knuckles in a mesmerizing display of dexterity. “Fine, I’ll tell you what’s on my mind, Kitten, but only because you’re so damn cute.”
He places the coin back in my hand. “This is a family heirloom from my mother’s side. It’s supposed to bring luck to whomever holds it, and it’s a reminder that the truth’s always the better choice, no matter how difficult the path.”
I gasp and force it back into his hand. “Then why did you let me keep it? I could lose it!”
He places the priceless piece of his family history on the table and spins it while searching for the right words.
“I knew you’d keep it safe, and it was only fair to let you have it. You did answer me honestly when you barely knew me. Trust flows both ways.” He stares, and something more than trust flows between us. “I’m truly sorry I haven’t told you how I became a member of this family. I promise”—he lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles like a gentleman of the old south, causing something deep inside of me to squirm with delight—“I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you.”
“Well…” My stomach flutters when he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, “We’ve got time right now if you want to talk. I don’t know enough about my own past to have something to share, but I’d love to listen.”
Genji keeps a hold on my hand and pulls me up out of my seat. “Come with me.”
He gently leads me through the living room and down the hallway. We enter his bedroom, and he motions for me to take a seat. It’s similar to my room, but touches of Genji are everywhere. The warm, honey-toned wood finish reminds me of his smile, and all of the satiny fabrics are a blend of deep red and purple. Stepping over to the bookshelf, he picks up a small frame before sitting beside me on the bed and handing it to me.
“This is my mother.” He smiles fondly at the picture of a beautiful brunette with glittering eyes. She wears a white lab coat, and her arm surrounds a miniature version of Genji. “I must’ve been five when this photograph was taken.” He puts his hand behind me, and I’m surprisingly comfortable with the move. “She was a doctor in Memphis when she met my father. He was an Old One feigning interest in human medicine, and he pursued her relentlessly for weeks. She rejected his advances repeatedly, unaware of the danger. He decided she was going to be his, and after pursuing her didn’t work, she was taken from her bed and brought to him in the middle of the night. He kept her for months, and when he made sure she was carrying his child, he locked her away and moved on to other amusements.”
I shiver in his arms at the memories his story invokes, and he pulls me in tighter. “My conception wasn’t one of love or passion, but of obsession.”
Snuggling into his embrace, I glance down at his mother’s smiling countenance.
“It was a mistake to leave her unattended, because my mother was intelligent and resourceful. She escaped and sought refuge with a Hunter she had patched up a couple of times. He took her to a safe house across state lines, and when she and I both survived my birth, we were given new identities and a home. Grateful to the Hunters, she took a job with them as a medic. As you know, hybrids develop mentally much quicker than humans or vamps, so even as a toddler, I trained by her side. By the time this picture was taken, I’d already read all her medical textbooks and journals, and I loved helping her heal people.”
Genji’s eyes mist over, and my heart clenches at what I suspect will not be a happy ending.
“About a week before my eighth birthday, she caught a glimpse of one of my father’s underlings in the hospital waiting room. She jumped into action and took me out the back. To my horror, she stole the body of a young boy from the morgue. But there wasn’t time to process anything before she pulled up to the Hunter’s local headquarters. The decrepit warehouse was more than it seemed, with tunnels running beneath the building and leading to the actual offices. She explained what happened, while drawing four vials of my blood.”
Tears tumble down his cheeks, shocking me. Until this moment, I didn’t know vampires could cry.
“She begged me to be brave, and said she loved me but had to leave. She told me to trust the Hunters, and made me promise to never forget my roots or the things she taught me. She gave me the medallion and explained what it meant, telling me to keep it close. She said it would remind me to be honest with myself, that I’m human as well. I’m not just vampire; I have a family with history and a mother who loved me.”
He takes a deep breath, and I wipe his tears away. “Sh
e left after that. They paired me with Kent immediately, and sent us to live with Auntie May within the week. When I tried to run away to find my mom, Auntie found me and kept me safe. She showed me her home, and that she and my new brothers would always be there for me. I learned a few days later that the vamp my mother saw had killed her. Before she died, she took the body of that little boy, injected my blood into it, and burned it so he was unrecognizable. When the vamps caught up to her, she told them she’d killed his son, and she’d die before letting them take her.” He laughs as I wipe my own tears on his shirt. “Guine, she fought savagely and took two of them out before they got her. She died protecting me from them, and I honor her by taking up her profession. She was an incredible woman. I wish you two could’ve met.”
I hand him the photograph and tuck a stray lock of his hair away from his eyes. “Genji, don’t be sad. So much of her is in you. You’re kind and intelligent, and you’re fighting against the very people who drove her into hiding in the first place. She’s proud of you, wherever she is.”
He smiles, and his expression lifts. “You really are remarkable, Kitten.”
“Thank you for sharing your story,” I say, and truly mean it. It amazes me that he trusts me enough to tell me about himself.
