Halfblood Legacy

by Rheaume, Laura

  “I was trying to find more on interference factors, but I keep spacing out,” she said, reaching up and patting his shoulder. “Hey, I have been meaning to ask you a question about this pile over here.” She got up and walked to the little table next to the door.

  The short table that was usually empty was covered with envelopes and several boxes. There was another pile of assorted boxes and thick envelopes underneath it. This was where the mail was placed for Scythe to review, and it had stacked up in his absence.

  “That’s the mail. I’ve been pulling out the things that needed to be addressed and left his personal things alone.”

  “He gets that much mail?”

  “Well, it’s been over two and a half months since he left for the original assignment, Mers. There have only been a few things in the last couple of weeks. Most of this is from before then.”

  “What is all this stuff?” She picked up an envelope and looked at it. “It’s not even addressed to...who is this?”

  “That is one of Hap’s family members, a cousin I think, who lives in Lotera. Scythe uses her address for low security mailings. The name is misspelled. It is actually spelled with two T’s and AI, not IA, so when Renaitta gets her mail and finds something spelled like this, she passes it on to Hap. Some of the other stuff we picked up at our box at the mail station, and a few others were delivered here.” He held up an envelope that had been split open along the top.

  “You opened them?”

  “Of course. I open anything that might give us a clue to where he is, but so far nothing has been helpful. This is just a flyer for an auction that will be held next month in Lotera. I know he gets a lot of our equipments second hand, since there is a much smaller paper trail and the prices are better, so he must be on the mailing list for this company. This one is addressed to Hap, because he is the one who does the bidding for us.”

  She looked over the pile. “You’ve checked all of these, already?”

  “Yeah, except for the obvious ones.”

  “You didn’t open this one,” she said and held up a small box.

  “He gets books from that vendor regularly. That’s what the pile is below. I checked out the first few. They were just his personal interest readings.”

  “But, when were they ordered? This one came last week.”

  Ian shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe it was on back order. Most of them are older books, not new editions. I already opened at least seven from that company, and there was nothing, but it doesn’t hurt to check. Why don’t you open that one up?”

  “It’s probably nothing. I guess I’m being stupid.” She put the box down, moving her fingers over some of the other envelopes, and then pushing them aside to read the addresses of those below.

  “Honey, that’s not stupid. We’re wracking our brains trying to find a direction to move in. I didn't investigate this one completely, so let’s check it out.” He picked up the box and pulled the easy open tab. He tipped the box and out dropped a green, hardcover book without a jacket. It was titled merely, Pharmacology and looked like a college textbook. Slipped between the cover and the title page was the shipping order. “Just another one to add to the pile.”

  “Is...okay maybe it’s a long shot, but is there anything written inside?”

  It pleased him so see her as animated as she was, so he checked the book thoroughly, even though he had already been through the very same steps before with the other books and knew that he would not find anything.

  He flipped through the book, scanning for any markings, “Nope, but that’s a good idea. Maybe tomorrow you should go through all the rest of the unopened ones and check them.”

  “Can I see the shipping slip?” She asked, putting out her hand. He pulled it out of the book and held it between them.

  They both stopped breathing. Mercy’s fingers moved in slow motion toward a set of numbers. “Wasn’t this…?”

  The order was placed one and a half weeks before, according to the date at the top of the paper. It originated at the company’s main branch in the Capital.

  Chapter 29

  Scythe sat motionless in the shadows and watched them go by. There were only eight, not including the one that stayed behind to guard the door.

  “Think they saw me?” Scythe asked, his words so quiet they were merely ghosts on the wind.

  “Definitely. They’re not Humans.” Smoke whispered faintly from behind the partition.

  “Good.” He shifted forward, but paused when he heard Smoke’s shht, the signal to wait and listen.

  “Hey. Don’t die.”

  Scythe nodded at what was undoubtably a message from Smoke’s wife and completed the movement which sent him over the edge and falling through the air for enough feet to shock his knees and make him use both hands to steady himself when he landed. It jarred him a little, but it also gave him a nice boost to spring forward with. He sprinted across the twenty feet to the shelter of the opposite building. The alley swallowed him, wrapping itself around his dark skin, dark hair, dark clothing until the only evidence of his existence was the diminishing sound of his feet hitting the ground.

  He didn’t have to check to know that Smoke was already on the move as well. He would have been gone before Scythe hit the alley. His job was the important one, so the better man had been given it. Scythe had a different, trickier objective, one that matched his talents.

  At the end of the alley he whipped around to the right, smacking his hand against the wall so that he wouldn’t have to slow down. The two guards, one on each side of the door, had almost no chance to react before he was on them. He bowled directly into the first, who went down instantly after his head was knocked into the wall, and then he pivoted, bringing his arm around behind him in a wide arc aimed at the second’s face.

  The man ducked and brought an arm up in a tight punch to Scythe’s abdomen, then followed up with a second that didn’t connect. He had shuffled back two steps, and then delivered one quick, powerful kick. Two down. He didn’t waste any time going through the outer door and then the inner one.

  His jaw tightened, he had barely started and he was running late already because the patrol had not been on time. Almost immediately, he shrugged it off and directed his thoughts to completing the task. In the foyer he leapt over the counter and took the wrist of the hand that was raising a gun and held it out while his momentum carried him and the security officer back and down. He started taking the man’s mind before they had hit the tile. He held him for just a second and then jerked himself out, holding onto the man’s consciousness just a little bit when he did. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to the headache the other guy was going to have when he came around.

  He crawled under the desk, unplugged everything that was in the sockets and then yanked on them really hard for good measure. Several came loose from whatever component they were connected to but everything on the desk above flew toward the hole in the center and crashed into each other. He carried the ones that had come free with him when he left the desk and ran the short distance to the unlabeled door next to the stairs.

  He knocked.

  Inside, a voice snapped, “Don’t open the…!” It was already too late.

  A woman in a dark green and black uniform opened the door, stepping back when she saw him and raising her hands, even though he wasn’t threatening her with a weapon.

  “Back,” he said, moving into the room with his intimidating bearing and determined, aggressive expression.

  She gasped and moved back so quickly that she bumped into the guy just standing up behind her, knocking him against the desk. He heard the door swing shut and lock automatically behind him. These weren’t hands-on security people, they were technicians, or at least one of them was, so they got the easy treatment.

  “Down on the floor,” he said, encouraging the man with some individual attention. As soon as he complied, with his fingers laced on his neck, he handed one of the cords to the woman, “Tie his hands.
”

  While she did that, he gave his attention to the screens.

  “Hey,” he barked after a moment. “What’s the password?”

  “I’m not going to…”

  Scythe didn’t even turn around when he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man. When he didn’t answer fast enough, Scythe pointed it at the woman. She gasped and Scythe grinned at the screen. That should do it.

  “UR6PF8.”

  “Good man.” When he was done, he stood up. “Okay. You two, out.”

  He opened the door slowly and found exactly what he expected. Three at the desk, plus the one with his head in his hands, two on the wall by the elevator, and at least four at the exit; he knew there were seven in various spots outside as well, thanks to the excellent surveillance system they had spent a ton of money to set up. Too bad the one place they didn’t have covered was the place he happened to be heading toward. He sent the man out first. With his gun to the nice lady’s head, he put the woman in front of him as a shield and stepped out of the room.

  Scythe put his back to the wall and slid sideways to the door labeled, “Stairway.” Then he used his other hand to reach down and unlatch the metal canister hooked to the side of his pants. He flipped the top and threw it into the room beyond, listening to the hissing and the sounds that the frantic movement of just under a dozen people made. A lot of smoke and a little irritant, but that was all. Of course, the people out there didn’t know that yet. He turned and ran up the stairs behind the woman. They were nearly to the top when the smoke alarm went off. The first was the evacuation bell, and then, in the affected area below, the extremely expensive halon gas would begin to discharge into the room. That should have kept anyone but the most dedicated from crossing the room and charging up the stairs behind them.

  At the second floor, people started flowing into the stairwell. Most were panicked and didn’t pay attention to the two people going in the wrong direction. A few shied to the side when they noticed Scythe, but they quickly and wisely kept moving out of the way and down the stairs.

  Soon they were at the top, and the woman pushed through a group of people who were trying desperately to get past her; she craned her head and surveyed the hall. Keeping his body out of view behind it, Scythe held the door open as if he were the doorman, and waved people by. One man even thanked him without looking on his way out.

  Anora said, “One on the left, directing. Two straight ahead.” She strode forward, through the crowd, lowering her tall frame enough to be lost in the mass of bodies.

  Scythe stayed behind the door until she gave him the signal and then pushed past the very few dawdlers who remained. He turned left immediately and came at the woman in a security uniform who was just then walking to the exit, her hand on the back of the last employee. Scythe held his gun out and they both raised their hands immediately.

  “Stairs and down,” he ordered and they obeyed very nicely. The two Anora had taken care of were not in a position to go anywhere, as they weren’t conscious. That gave them the floor to themselves.

  “Time?” she asked.

  “Two more minutes, then we’re done,” Scythe answered.

  She nodded, “I’ll hold the stairs. You secured the elevators, right?”

  “Yes.” The password had allowed him to do that, and a few other handy things as well. His fiddling with their security system would keep them from being monitored, too.

  Then they both heard the sounds of a dedicated employee, someone who didn’t think twice about scaling the exterior wall in the one place that would get him access to the second floor.

  Damn. Dedicated employees were a problem when you were trying to keep the injuries to a minimum.

  Scythe started running down the hall. By now, Smoke would have Alondra, an old acquaintance of his, her halfblood children and whatever family members had elected to join her in her self appointed exile, to their van; if Smoke had done his job well, no one in the clinic where they were “encouraged” to reside would be the wiser until they were well on their way home.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” the man said from beside the window of the room at the end of the hall. He stepped forward, his gun already trained on Scythe.

  “Rend,” Scythe said, astounded. He hadn’t seen his mentor in years. That at least explained the appearance of someone extra troublesome; he was a Blade, an elite soldier who worked for the next governor of Poinsea. “You’re not a patrol grunt…”

  “My son had an appointment at the clinic. I was just leaving when I saw you sprint by.” Rend’s wife’s son was a halfblood like Scythe and was one of the reasons why they weren’t brothers anymore. They disagreed on one important issue: whether or not it was acceptable to experiment on children for the good of the community. “You’ve grown well.”

  Scythe nodded at the traditional Kin compliment. It was often given by family members, and it carried with it the implication that the child’s excellent growth was due in part to the efforts of the person speaking. Scythe accepted that Rend was justified in using the saying; he had learned a lot from his old friend.

  A quiet little corner of his brain completed a count that had started when he had dropped from the roof minutes ago. His time was up. They needed to go. Scythe decided to test Rend, even though the last time he had tested his determination, he had been sorely disappointed to find that it was as strong as iron. He started backing up, angling himself out of the room.

  “Stop.”

  “Are you going to shoot me?”

  “Maybe.” It was the truth.

  Damn.

  From the hall, they both heard gunshots.

  “Who is with you?”

  “I need to leave, Rend.”

  Rend looked at his empty hands and then asked, “What are you after?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing.” He mulled that over for a few more of Scythe’s precious seconds. “Distraction, then?”

  Scythe didn’t answer.

  “You came for one of the halfbloods? Keyrin will not like that. That’s why he has the patrol assigned here, to keep them under his thumb. He resents the ones that you already have.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks or resents.” After a slight pause he added, “I noticed that Serena’s son doesn’t stay there.”

  “No.” Naturally, Rend’s adopted son would live with him. Being the governor's nephew had its benefits. The Blade shifted uncomfortably, “I can’t let you go. You’ve assaulted people, destroyed property. And even if you hadn’t done that, there is an imperial warrant out for your arrest. You are a criminal.”

  Scythe started walking forward, and the feeling of dread got stronger the closer to Rend he got. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a choice. He did. He could have chosen not to attack his friend, and accept being captured by him, but he wasn’t going to do that. His family needed him. So, he chose to fight, to purposefully act against his beliefs.

  Rend raised the gun until it was pointing at Scythe’s face, and Scythe slowed down, but didn’t stop. He already knew that Rend had what it took to pull the trigger. He had accepted that and the possibility that he might die. If he were arrested, he would die for sure, probably within hours. This way, at least, he had a chance.

  He tried to reach Rend with his power, but it was still too far. If he got out of this, he was going to work on extending his distance. Fervently.

  He stopped when saw it appear on Rend’s face: the moment when he knew he’d have to kill his friend and ex-student. Scythe saw him regret it, a flash across the eyes, a crease between the brows. Then he saw it smooth out, as the man resigned himself to it. Scythe stopped. He didn’t want to hurt his friend that way. He didn't really want to die, either.

  They stood in a stalemate a few more seconds before they heard her coming down the hall.

  “Anora,” Rend said, looking beyond Scythe to where she stood in the doorway. Scythe knew that by then her weapon would be trained on the man who stood beside the window the
y had planned to escape through.

  “Blade,” she said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your reunion, but we need to leave...about two minutes ago. As it is, things will be much harder for us. Oh, and you are not to kill him, because if you do, Scythe’s wife will be very angry with me for not bringing him home.”

  “Wife?” Rend’s astonishment wasn’t surprising. He didn’t believe that any woman would accept a halfblood as a mate. No one did. Scythe watched his determination waver.

  “And his children, also, will be very hurt.”

  Anora had decided to act as the matchmaker between Scythe and Mercy’s family and had already declared them married, even though they weren’t and hadn’t even discussed it. She was the only one who could truthfully say that Scythe had a wife, because she believed the match was already complete. As for his children: they called all the halfbloods his children, as he had been responsible for bringing them to safety years ago. He had become their honorary father, since most of them didn’t have real fathers themselves. So, with half-truths worthy of a Human, Anora saved Scythe’s life.

  Imperial warrant or no, Rend was not going to be the one to destroy a family of someone he had been close to. Rend lowered his weapon, and they passed him on the way to the only viable escape left to them, the window he had used to get in.

  “Thank you, Blade,” Anora said amiably, clapping him on the shoulder. She had to have learned it from Lena, since it wasn’t common among the Kin. She quickly boosted herself up, over and out the window. Then she dropped from sight.

  “I am in your debt,” Scythe said sincerely, bowed and then stepped up to the window.

  “Scythe,” Rend said, turning toward him as he prepared to climb out.

  Scythe waited.

  “I am protecting my son, and the others as well.”

  “Others?” The way he said it made Scythe think there were more than the ones he knew about. Only one other woman besides Serena had elected to stay in Poinsea with her child and a baby whose mother had died in the hospital. Alondra was bringing with her the second orphaned halfblood, which she had adopted. Scythe didn't know of any others.