Swaying with the motion of the cargo ship, which looked identical to the one we had arrived in Australia on, I wondered if it was the same one, and if it was specifically used for carrying Mysticals from country to country. We were on our way to the States, and I reclined the seat in my Hummer, sitting on the driver’s side while Bonnie sat on the passenger side and Isa slept in the back on her child seat. And, like normal when no one was near, I closed my eyes and tried to remember. Antonio, Felix, Aros, and Bindi were watching a movie on the small television that sat on the rickety old wooden table at the end of the cargo hold, so I wouldn’t be disturbed.
Well, I would be disturbed, but only in my mind.
Thoughts ricocheted, making my head ache, but I tried focusing on a simple memory rather than all of them at once, trying to push past that black void of nothingness. But only chilling anger met my attempts, and I growled softly, rubbing a hand over my face. Then I tried again, focusing on another blacked out section. With only the same results.
Opening my eyes, I stared at the ceiling. Being mind raped, having someone sift through your most intimate experiences, see them, and pluck your life from your mind, leaving gaping holes, could only create a monster out of what was left. I wasn’t afraid — never afraid — to admit freely that I had become a terror at times. And I was content with the monster, which someone else had made by stealing from me, traumatizing my very soul. I was a jaded individual whom my younger self wouldn’t recognize. I had grown up and now saw life as the cruel reality that it was.
Life was not pleasant. Life was not kind. It only gave you sips of joy when you were parched. And when it handed you a full glass, it stole it from you when you turned your head, only the remnants of condensation on your palm left to let you know it had been there in the first place.
Life was harsh, leaving not even a bitter taste in your mouth. Instead, it left a burning acid. That acid consumed you when you finally swallowed down the blissful ideals your parents had fed you.
Unsure of how long I had zoned out for, I shifted and grabbed one of the files from Elder Harcourt that had been delivered — having just appeared— for me to review the camp’s officials. Flipping through the files, I didn’t need to see the cliff notes on the front stating the head officials were Vampire. Hell, more than half their Commanders were Vampires. No wonder Elder Harcourt wanted to switch things around. Was I guilty of the same thing back in our camp? Maybe. But still…I glanced at the name of the camp again. King Shadow. I snorted, even though I didn’t really feel the humor, the action mindless. The name was a dead giveaway that the most powerful of the group was a Vampire. And the notes at the top of each chosen Commander proved as much.
Elder Zeller and King Zeller ran the show.
I had never met the two Kings and other Queen, but from what I heard around the camp through passing gossip, they were just as hardcore as I was. I could respect that, but it was still daunting to know I was to meet one of my co-Rulers, to go onto his turf. It would have been much easier to have him come to my camp where I was already known and feared. Now my duty was making me deal with the King Vampire, who I already knew — though I didn’t know how I knew that. I also knew by my Vizoac that he was the most powerful of the four Rulers. I wasn’t intimidated or scared; it more gave me a headache, like an irritation, knowing I would have to put up with someone more powerful than I was. Antonio was enough, the other Elders at my camp having left me alone, but now I would have to deal with another male — make that two because of Elder Zeller, King Zeller’s father — on a daily basis.
Did I honestly care?
No.
I would deal with it like I dealt with everything else, excluding my daughter or fighting.
By just doing it.
And pray that my free time wasn’t completely occupied so I could spend time with Isa, and hope there were enough Coms to slaughter so I didn’t completely lose it.
Chapter Three
“Where are you going?” Antonio asked as I kissed Isa’s warm forehead as she slept.
“Reconnaissance,” I stated. “You know I don’t go anywhere without knowing the layout first.”
His eyebrows rose. “You’re going to sneak into King Shadow?”
“Yes.” I lifted my dark brown hair into a ponytail. “All I know about the place is it’s chock-full of Vampires. I want to know the lay of the land and see their normal routine when we’re not around.” I threw on my hooded black fur coat over a simple tight white t-shirt and black leather pants. The coat hid all of my weapons well. A quick head tilt toward Isa. “And you know I’ll be given grief about her since they don’t know and respect me yet. I need to have escape routes in case I get cornered.”
He watched me for a moment, then he nodded. “Just be careful, and call if you need help.”
I felt nothing even though I scowled at him. “Of course.”
He pointed to Bonnie. “And take her with you just in case.”
“I was already planning to.”
Sneaking in hadn’t been too hard. Even though we were on the outskirts of Kansas City, Kansas, the place was set up identically to my camp back in Australia, but with more vegetation; the leaves that were still on the trees in the nippy fall weather were reds and browns and golds. Elder Zeller and King Zeller had set up camp on farm land, which was genius really because food could easily be grown to supply the ranks. I had ordered Bonnie not to wander too far away from my Hummer, which I had parked in the woods about a mile away from the golden protection dome. Then I had jogged the rest of the way and scoped the place out from the branches of a bare tree.
It appeared what these people did when we weren’t around was party, because that was what was happening from what I could see.
There were multiple bonfires, Mysticals playing what sounded like bongos and guitars and possibly flutes, each to their own tune, but oddly, the sounds came together all around King Shadow to make a hypnotic melody. The rest of the Mysticals drank and laughed and danced around the fires, or went in and out of each other’s tents where it appeared the party continued on, some tents overfilling.
It wasn’t like we never had parties in Australia, because we did. I just never attended.
I watched a bit longer, memorizing how the tents were laid out. The set-up appeared to be multiple circles of tents starting from a center point — headquarters, in a black tent — and gradually working out, each circle of white home tents just a bit larger than the last, encompassing the previous ones. Sparring fields were off to the right, and to the left was a large red tent, their dining hall, where people continually milled in and out. Cocking my head, I noticed the majority of Mysticals had spelled hair, like mine was, to appear as Coms, which would work in my favor.
The party also meant that they were, more than likely, celebrating a victory. There hadn’t been anything in the files about current missions, but what I was watching was definitely a celebratory gathering, not just a drunken kegger.
Hopping down the branches, I slipped through the Mage ward on the backside of the red tent, and yes, helped myself to some of their grub while keeping my head down and staying in the darkness, which was harder than I expected thanks to all the damn bonfires. The only thing that really helped was that the majority of the Mysticals were already half lit, so while they partied to the enthralling beat, I watched and learned. It was difficult to detect which Mystical was of what faction with their hair as it was, and having to stay far away meant that all their power signatures were mixed before reaching me. Since I was masking completely, keeping all of my own power under lock and key, I had to go on their size and skin tone alone.
Tossing the bone of a chicken leg aside, I finally decided the camp was heavy on the Vampires as the files had indicated. It wasn’t as bad as what I had suspected, but being run by King Zeller and Elder Zeller, they definitely had their favorites. Moving on, I slipped silently between tents, memorizing the ones where the spaces between them were smaller, knowing those would be
my best chances for escape if I was ever in trouble by a large group. I paused, waiting for a group to pass by that were laughing and talking about the battle they’d had tonight with a nearby air force base, confirming my assumptions.
Shadowing silently, I followed the drunken group to a tent, which was full of more inebriated Mysticals. I stood outside in the shadows listening to them brag of the Coms they had killed or taken as hostages, and even the airplanes they had captured. From what they said, it sounded like King Zeller and Elder Zeller had run an excellent operation. And that was when I got fucking trapped as four groups came at all angles. Gritting my teeth, I knew I couldn’t just stand there because the place was Vampire heavy, and any one of them would be able to hear a heartbeat lurking in the shadows, so I slipped inside what appeared remarkably similar to my own tent, though decorated in a silver-and-black color scheme. I used my short height to advantage as I hopped behind tall men on the outskirts of the room, using them as shields. Beautifully, they were all wasted enough on alcohol and, from the smell of it, marijuana, so no one noticed as I glided soundlessly through another flap at the back of the room just as the other groups entered the tent and made the crowd in the room surge backward, cutting off any other direction to move.
I stopped, eyes quickly scanning. This section of the tent was a bedroom, so it was constructed just like mine. It was dimly lit, with only one lamp turned on beside the black king-sized bed. The golden glow was only barely on, as if the lamp had a dimmer — unlike mine. I made a mental note to ask Antonio about it because it was kind of calming. The black-and-silver color scheme continued here, so instead of cherry wood dressers, they were black.
Those items took up the right side of the room, and on the left against the tent’s wall there was a long, black leather couch, which looked damn comfortable, made to be reclined on. A bizarre coffee table made of marble and steel sat in front of it, with a litany of drugs showcased in a small compartment in middle, which would have been hidden if it wasn’t open. On the edge of the table was a large ashtray with a blunt still burning inside, sweet, perfumed smoke billowing up from it, making the entire room smell heavily of marijuana and throwing my senses off inside the smoky confines of the intimate room. There were large bottles, some empty and some full, on a marble bar next to the couch, and the back of the room had a small flap, which I was positive was for the bathroom.
No exit.
Sighing, I glanced around the room again, which was empty of any Mysticals, and decided I might as well have a seat and wait it out, and hope the owner didn’t return from the festivities any time soon. The room’s walls had a Mage’s sparkling privacy spell on them, so even though I could still hear the riotous partying and mesmerizing music, no one would be able to hear me in here. Because sadly, I had pretty much imprisoned myself in the damn place.
Sitting on the couch, I stretched my legs out on the coffee table’s edge and perused the drugs in the middle compartment of the table. Green pills. White pills. Black pills. Rolling papers. More blunts. A brick of marijuana. I wasn’t sure what the long strips of thin paper were, but I could see there were other little bags filled with drugs that I had never seen before. In other words, it was a druggie’s treasure chest. Not really thinking much of it, since Mysticals couldn’t become addicted to drugs physically, I rested further on the couch and eyed the blunt. I had never smoked weed before, but it had been tempting in my moments of insanity.
That was when I heard a rustling to the left. Startled, I snapped my attention to the back of the tent, my eyes instantly glowing blue. Ah, shit. I hadn’t even thought to check the damn bathroom.
I was now staring at an enormous, six-and-a-half-foot Mystical male with spiked purple hair and glowing green eyes.
He stared back.
A couple of ticks went by, then he raised an arched black eyebrow in question.
Clearing my throat, and quickly thinking on my feet since he was masking as completely as me — and by his size, he was most definitely a Shifter — I stated, “It’s too crowded and loud out there. I enjoy the silence.” Truth. “I was only resting for a moment.” Slowly, I scrutinized his face, coldly studied it, for his reaction. He had skin like chocolate milk, mocha, his vivid purple hair was about three inches long, and his features were perfectly sharp, with arched black eyebrows, high cheekbones, a straight nose, wide red lips, and an angular jaw. God had given this man the best of everything. He was easily the most beautiful Mystical I had ever seen, and I didn’t even include the way his black thermal shirt molded to his rock solid, kickass pecs and biceps, his waist tapering perfectly to the pair of black army cargos he was wearing, which were tight against his muscled thighs. “May I stay for a bit, if I promise to be quiet?”
His head tilted as he crossed his arms, assessing me, as I was him. “Lower your hood.”
It was an order, but I didn’t mind; I had broken into his room.
After I lowered it, again his eyes evaluated me. “I would think you a Com if your eyes weren’t glowing.” His own glowing gaze met mine. “You’re masking.”
I nodded once. “As are you.”
“Practice.”
Again, I nodded, unable to say I was doing it for practice because it wouldn’t ring true since I was past the practice stage, the action easy now for me. “Do you mind if I stay awhile?”
He turned his attention to the tent flap at the entrance to his bedroom. “I don’t normally allow people back here.” He started moving forward, and I decided he was some kind of cat Shifter by the way he stalked so fluidly, and probably a high-powered alpha by the way he carried himself. “But, what the hell? If you promise to be quiet you can stay for a while.”
I nodded, eyes cold, stopping their glow. “Thank you.”
He grunted, fluidly sitting on the other end of the couch, his own eyes ceasing to glow as he glanced at me. They captured mine. Although their color was gorgeous, like spring grass, vivid against his complexion, they were empty. Ruthless. He wasn’t a man to be messed with. And he was letting me know by his silent stare.
Which was fine for me since I wasn’t a woman to be messed with, my own gaze just as empty.
I saw he had gloves like I wore as I watched him pick up the still burning blunt and a few sheets of paper I hadn’t even noticed past all the drugs. The gloves were black leather, to grip a weapon better, but cut at mid-finger to be able to fire a gun easily, pretty much like all the fighters at my old camp wore. Kicking his feet up on the other end of the coffee table, he rested back like I was and took a drag off the blunt while reviewing the papers, which were slightly wrinkled. Decided he was going to leave me in peace, I lay my head back and stared at the sparkling ceiling, not feeling much of anything. I fingered my thumb ring under my black glove, and again, I closed my eyes, trying to remember in semi-solitude.
As happened every fucking time, nothing came.
I tried again…and nothing.
Except for chilling anger that vibrated through my veins, threatening to drive me crazy.
Sighing softly, I blinked my eyes open, unsure how long they had been closed for. And blinked again, seeing the blunt in front of my face. He wasn’t watching me, or saying anything, but his arm was extended across the space between us, offering to share while he read his papers. I stared at it, wondering if it would help, temptation gnawing. From the sounds outside, the party was still in full swing, so it appeared I was going to be here for some time unless I wanted to risk going out there and be caught trespassing.
Head tilted, I slowly lifted my hand and took the blunt just as mutely as he had offered it. He took his hand back, flipping his sheets. I rolled it between my fingers, my nostrils already filled with its cloying aroma, the room so filled with hovering smoke it was all I could smell.
Well, hell. At this point, I was willing to try anything, and I had time to kill. I took a drag, inhaling heavily and holding it in as I had seen so many others do.
I instantly started coughing, or hacking,
more like.
Pounding on my chest, I quickly glanced at the man, but he was ignoring me, so I turned my watering glare to the blunt. Maybe I had not done it right. The people I saw smoking the stuff never coughed. Rolling it around, I bent to ash it, studying it. It was possible I had taken too much in. Trying again, I took a slower, steadier, drag…and didn’t cough this time as my head fell back on the couch, my limbs instantly feeling a little looser, not so stiff as my shoulders relaxed. I sighed as I blew the smoke out, but I didn’t want to be greedy, so I held it across to him.
This was how the next half-hour passed.
Puff, puff, give.
Both of us silent as we shared the fat blunt.
My insides purred in warmth and languid relief by the time he ground it out. He stood from the couch to lift items from the bar, placing two glasses on the edge of the coffee table and a bottle of whiskey between them before retaking his seat.
As I poured my third glass of whiskey, I decided the guy wasn’t half bad, feeling all kinds of relaxed.
Still studying his papers, reading them repeatedly, he rumbled, “You do silence well.”
I snorted, taking another sip of my drink, my head falling to look in his direction. “And you were doing so well, too.”
He grunted. A glance at me, his eyes assessing. Back to his papers. “You’re stoned.”
Yep, I most definitely was that. “That would be an affirmative.” I eyed my almost empty glass, then filled it again. “Close to drunk, too.” I tipped my head to him. “Thank you, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” He lit another blunt, eyes on his papers. “You must be new here, since I haven’t seen you before.” He took a drag before passing it to me. “Do you have a name?”
“Yes, I do,” I slurred, blinking at my glass as I took two drags before handing it back.
King Tomb (Forever Evermore) Page 3
