“What? Who's he?” Tommy frowned at Vincent, who watched us, one arm draped casually on top of the car, the other resting on the door.
“My ride home,” I said, hugging him before descending the three steps.
“Looks like government issue. You in trouble?”
I stopped at the bottom step and looked up at him. He was still frowning at Vincent distrustfully.
“No,” I said, “no trouble,” and made my way to the sedan.
Vincent waited until I seated myself on the passenger side before climbing in. I didn't turn to look at Tommy as we left.
“You have anywhere else to go?” Vincent asked.
“No. That's all,” I told him.
“So, you followed me here, or do I have a transmitter implanted?” I asked him after we reached the airport.
“Sort of. Phone GPS. Roland freaked when you went to the airport. I promised I'd keep an eye on you, see if you're trying to bail out.”
“Thank you,” I said after a moment.
He raised one eyebrow. “For what?”
“For letting me do what I had to do.”
He nodded, and we went the rest of the way in silence. Tomorrow was the beginning of my new life.
Epilogue
Logan
From afar, I watched Roxanne board the Hunters' private jet. Guilt, rage and regret ate at me, not because we had been captured, but for the outcome. Outwardly, none of it showed.
The Council were the ones supposed to have come rescue us, not the goddamned Hunters. Being Archer's only heir and second in command should have gotten them moving in like a bloody hurricane on the Scientists, but no, Vincent had to do it all officially, formally, like a fucking Boy Scout. And look what I did, I practically gave Roxanne the pen and forced her signature on that contract.
I should have left her behind like Rafael had told me.
But no, cold-blooded me had given in to her plea and brought her along, confident that those same people that didn't come for Archer would have come for us, for her.
How fucking stupid.
And that bitch Alleena. Alleena, vice fucking council. And there I was, delivering Roxanne to her doorstep for safekeeping when her home had been infested with the Scientists' watchdogs. Exposure my ass, I thought, thinking of the tongue lashing awaiting her.
She would have known I'd go after Roxanne, after Archer, and yet, she did nothing. Scheduled a meeting after three weeks.
Then again, I would do them a favor if I happened to just disappear or croak, wouldn't I? Archer would be forced to provide an heir, this time of his lineage. Or name someone else. Like Alleena. Not counting her automatic ascent in the council if Archer, tragically, was never found. I should have considered the possibility that my death, or capture, would come in handy for the High Council.
And, now that I had considered it, I'd have to keep checking on it. I'd keep my eyes open on the clan's affairs, stop diddling on the side.
I had delivered Roxanne to the predator den myself.
I should have known better, damn it!
My only satisfaction was the knowledge that Alleena had to answer to Archer now. Big time.
She was supposed to have determined how much of Fosch Roxanne had inherited and to protect her in case she was more fee than human. She had failed. She had failed to protect a rejected child, because, despite the fact Roxanne had never been able to shift or that her aura had always been human blue, she was obviously more fee than human.
All the experiments and lab work the Society had done… all that knowledge… all those years.
Archer had tried to retrieve it but was denied—very politely—the work and labor of government officials. A quick side glance at Archer's clenched fists and jaw told me how much trouble Alleena was in.
The jet began moving slowly, maneuvering to the take-off exit.
“She can't go with them,” I finally snapped. “She needs guidance, not to be thrown with those goddamned wannabes. They'll exploit all her vulnerabilities—and she's got plenty.” Archer just stood beside me, passively watching the jet takeoff.
“Vincent is a good kid. He will take good care of her.”
“Kid is the operative word here.”
“He was alpha among his peers. He is Mackenzie's second. He's smart, strong and good. He'll take care of her.”
“If he's so good he should have responded to my summons. Instead he brought his superiors and trapped the victim of this cluster fuck into a worse fate.”
“He was on his way when you started blowing the place apart.”
“Which I wouldn't have done if he had deigned to answer my summons,” I retorted, not telling him it was Roxanne who blew up the building, not now anyway.
Archer shrugged and rubbed his still-raw wrist absently. “What is done is done. The Hunters will be good for her. If nothing else, it will give her a purpose.”
“She needs more than that.”
“Indeed. Do you know how many times she came close to almost burning herself dry?” He slanted me a sideways glance. “Ever heard about Jacob Black? Angelina Hawthorn's scion? He's a merc from overseas.”
I frowned, raking my mind for an image to go with the familiar name. Archer didn't wait for a reply. “She was able to kill him in less than ten seconds. Psychically. Put everything she had, all her energy and fear combined.” He closed his palms together, then hollowed an enclosed ball inside, before separating his palms and miming a bomb going off. “From what I understood from the silent footage, he tried to maneuver her psychically, and things blew up in his face when the process was reverted. I'm not sure what exactly she did since the things that happened, happened only inside their minds, but it didn't take long. I was shown similar occurrences in the hopes I could replicate, or at the very least explain the process.” He frowned, the lines more pronounced, as if he'd gained a few decades during these past weeks.
A memory of her stricken face after she had done whatever it was she had done to make me feel so weak back on that desert road came to mind. I still wasn't sure exactly what it had been, but having Archer confirm she could manipulate brain synapses psychically probably meant she had been playing with my head. She hadn't even known, if her stricken, horrified expression had been anything to go by. I clenched my jaw. It was another reason she shouldn't—couldn't—go with the hunters.
“Can you do what she did to Jacob Black?”
“It's rare for a Dhiultadh to develop this ability, but it's possible. Still, it takes a long time and a lot of practice for one of us to gain enough control of the right hemisphere of the brain to be psychic enough to kill someone with it… without killing oneself, that is. Most of us never master it. My brother was very good with it, and I suppose that's a trait Alleena overlooked.” Jaws clenched, then unclenched with a conscious effort. “Can I do it? If I don't care about killing myself in the process, probably. I've never used it on anyone, for obvious reasons. What it took her? Raw, undisciplined power. That's what she has.”
“That's not normal for a human hybrid?”
“No. I've never seen it. But again, no one ever let a scion get that old without rigorous discipline, the same as you had, maybe a little less intense. But Fosch, he wasn't a pure blood either, and his mother… she was an earth witch. There has to be something of Odra in his daughter, and Alleena missed that too.”
“So, you send her with them in hopes she… will what?”
“Learn to control what she has. Learn to master it. She has potential, a lot of it, and it's in desperate need for discipline. After a deed like that with Jacob Black—and a few others, I might add—she should have burned herself dry. But she's obviously stubborn and she's got a strong sense of survival. I can see my brother there.” He paused for a moment then added thoughtfully, “She wouldn't have survived past the Scientists otherwise. That, combined with what she's already proven she can and is willing to do to stay alive proves how much she needs discipline, and soon. The Hunters—Vincent—will be go
od for her.”
I grunted noncommittally. I thought that, aside from a strong will of survival, she was stronger than Archer thought—than she herself knew. I also had a feeling Archer would come to regret letting Vincent take her with him. Good or not, he was still a kid. Reluctantly, I consoled myself that for better or worse, Doug would be there too, and I could keep an eye on her through him. “What about Mr. Drammen? What will happen now?” I asked.
“It will take time for him to gather himself.”
“How long?”
He shrugged. “Let's be on the side of caution and expect him back in a few months.”
“What about Zantry and Arianna?” I asked in a low voice, knowing the subject wasn't one to be brought up lightly.
Archer made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Still nothing. It's been twenty-six years, Logan. Do you think they're coming back?”
“Shouldn't someone tell Roxanne? Drammen will come back for her. She needs to be prepared.”
“Vincent will take care of that,” Archer said, his certainty infuriating. I clenched my teeth to keep myself from snarling at him, but he noticed it anyway.
“You got to know her.” It was a statement, a fact.
“Sir, as much as she let me.” Archer studied me with his glittering black eyes.
“Do you think Drammen wanted her just to provoke a reaction from the Council?” Even as I asked, I doubted it.
“Possibly. She's young, shunned by her own people. And, even though she's a half breed, she's also a rejected. She's bodily and spiritually able, and ignorant of her own potential. I can see why he went after her.”
“Then why did you let those jokers hook her to the circus?”
“Because she needs discipline. The Hunters will be good for her. Give her a perspective of the world she has never met. She will learn, and Vincent will be there to guide her steps.”
“But the clan?”
“Won't accept her so easily.”
I snapped my mouth shut. He was right and arguing would only make me look like a kid who couldn't accept a simple fact. “And when Mr. Drammen comes for her? Or someone just as vicious? You know the Sidhe will be curious now that they've seen her. They'll pursue.”
He was quiet as he watched Rafael approach in the rental Vincent provided for us. “She will be prepared. She'll fight if necessary. She'll evade and lie. Whatever the situation calls for.”
“And if she's not ready? What if they come sooner than later?” I insisted, steamed at his casual dismissal. I had promised her anonymity. Freedom.
Archer turned to watch the jet disappear in the evening horizon. “If so, I will be there.”
I turned and looked at the speck on the horizon and made a vow to myself.
Mr. Drammen would never get to her.
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Jina S. Bazzar and the Creativia Team
Who am I?
A wanderer in this vast world, I’m just another body with a passion for the written word. There is no boundary I can’t cross, no limit I can’t push; my mind is my passport, my thoughts my mode of transportation. I’ve travelled to many planets, seen plenty of civilizations, old and new, both in this galaxy and others.
On this earth, my name is Jina S. Bazzar. I’m a freelance writer, a blogger, a mother, a baker, a chocolate fiend, a coffee enthusiast, and sometimes a poet– but those are only informal titles. I have many traits, some contradictory, others complimentary, depending on the circumstance. If I were to ever describe myself, I’d say I’m a pragmatic idealist, a sarcastic cynic, a curious adventurer, a joker, and upon occasion, a cautious realist.
Like most writers out there, my love of books began at a young age, with comic books and alphabet poetry two of my favorite and earliest memories. Growing up, I wasn’t an awkward kid, and I didn’t prefer books to people. Unlike most writers, I never aspired to author a book, never enjoyed writing essays, and although I had intended to one day become a surgeon, my first attempt at creative writing happened during my senior year in high school, a pastime project that wasted plenty of A4 papers and the ink of multi-colored pens. The story had an Indiana Jones theme with a touch of humor, and I was nowhere near finished when patience ran out and those few thousand words were tucked in some dusty drawer and forgotten, taking a backseat to finals and SATs.
Soon after graduation I developed a chronic disease that caused gradual vision loss. Dreams of med school was put on hold for ‘a later’ time, and eventually, during my twenties, I became blind and med school was no longer an option. Reading also became just a fond memory, and writing not even that.
That is, until I started working for a non-profit organization for women with disabilities and became acquainted with screen readers.
After I quit my job, I picked up reading with vengeance, but soon realized it was no longer enough, and so I started writing, this time with an aim to pursue a career. Heir of Ashes is my debut novel, a creation born from my love of anything fairy, of action-packed stories and a touch of romance. Besides fiction, I’ve written dozens of articles for Conscious Talk magazine, on topics of health, food, poetry and the writer’s life.
When I’m not writing or networking on social media, you can find me in the kitchen, listening to loud music while baking (often misshapen) goodies, or cooking favorite dishes and adding new touches to them. Upon occasion, I enjoy travelling, and with a real passport, I’ve been to the U.S., Dubai, Jordan and Sweden, and hope one day to travel around the world. Currently, I live in the Middle-East.
On my blog at www.authorsinspirations.wordpress.com I talk about all those hobbies and passions, as well as funny mishaps and contemplative musings about children and sometimes about disabilities. I also enjoy connecting with people from all walks of life, all around the world.
I speak Portuguese, English and Arabic fluently, as well as passable Spanish, and lately I’m contemplating learning Italian or Greek.
I was born and raised in a quiet, small town in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, where I’ve had a happy and fulfilling childhood. I literally played in the middle of the street, climbed tall trees and hiked worn trails, biked to the top of mountains to have picnics, swam in small lakes with murky water, surrounded by wild flowers. I’ve played pranks on cranky neighbors, cried over lost pets and climbed electric poles when no one was watching. My inspiration comes from most anything, a discussion, a friend, an animal or plant, events, memories, music, etc – in other words, from life itself.
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