Rebels and Realms: A Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Heather Marie Adkins

  Where Phee’s energy exuded from her, demanding space, Marie’s seemed to shrink and disappear altogether. At the thought, Elliott inhaled sharply.

  Phee caught his eye. “Indeed,” she said. She put an arm around Marie, cuddled her close. “Marie is a gentle soul. I’m looking for a safe house for her, one that is far from here.”

  Marie’s big eyes seemed to take over her face, until that was the main feature he knew he would remember. “Is there a safe house, other than this one?”

  Phee’s lips pressed tight. “I’m looking.”

  Elliott gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Hello, Marie.”

  The despair seemed to lift from Marie’s eyes, and her lips curved upward briefly before she shrank into herself again.

  Inwardly, Elliott shook his head. This was a disaster of a group.

  Phoenix coughed. “Yes, well. Marie, can you clean the two kitchens for me?” The girl nodded, slipped past the others to the door and through it. “Shawn, Tigger, you’d better finish packing. If there’s anything you need that we haven’t thought of, please let me know and I’ll make sure you have it with you before you go. Gavin, please practice your meditation to calm your mind. I can sense your anger from here, and Elliott is not your true target.”

  Elliott noticed again the compulsion in her words, but this time focused on Gavin. The man glared at her.

  “I guess.” His voice was rusty, perhaps from disuse. He left, banging the door shut behind him.

  Elliott leaned against a wall. “Well, that was informative. As an army, it rather sucks.”

  Phee dropped to the floor and stretched her legs out in front of her. “You’re not kidding.”

  “Can you tell where Marie is? When she’s invisible, I mean.” Elliott joined her on the ground. “She’s dangerous, in that she is in the position of being able to know everything.”

  “Usually, but not always.” Phee shrugged in apology. “I put a tracker on each of them. I didn’t have to put a tracker on you, though. I seem to just know where you are.”

  “Gavin. You’re not certain about him.”

  “Not at all.” She sighed and spread her legs into center splits, leaned forward on her elbows. “He left the Compound the same night you did. What are the odds?”

  Elliott frowned. “That night. I’m still not certain why I left.” Even as he spoke the words, memory crashed into him.

  Blood trickled down his cheek. Elliott rolled over with a groan, sat up, and leaned one shoulder against the rock wall, the air in his lungs stale with pain. The skin of his back itched, the blood drying and getting crusty. The whips had done their work.

  Damn it. Getting caught leaving hadn’t been a part of his plans. And now they’d deleted his passcodes to get out of here. No more freedom, limited as it had been, for him. No more guard duty. No more pretending he had a fucking life.

  He’d so thought he could just…walk out of there.

  Molly…he had to get to Molly.

  Elliott touched the shallow wounds on his neck and wondered how quickly a vampire bite would kill him. Then again, Borgati hadn’t drunk deeply. He’d been furious at Elliott’s betrayal, and had gone in to change him. After he bit Elliott’s neck and took a few sips of blood, the vampire had backed away with an odd look on his face. That’s when he’d called in the man with the whip.

  Soft, swift footsteps came down the hallway to the cell where he’d been tossed. He tensed, did a quick sensory scan of the air. Not Borgati, but Griffin. Elliott snarled, and the beast linked on a cellular level with him prowled his body, moved away from the new stripes of the whip, and settled again on his chest. The demon seeped into old scars and went quiet.

  “Elliott.”

  The word was barely a sound, but he heard it. He turned his head toward the opening in the wall that led to darker corridors. People only whispered when they didn’t want to be overheard, especially in this part of the compound. Borgati wasn’t the only monster that prowled the caverns.

  He grunted softly. The last time Griffin had come to him after he’d been whipped, he had pierced Elliott’s nipples. He wondered what Griffin wanted from him this time.

  The other man hunched down beside him, his lips close to Elliott’s ear. “It’s time you left. If you stay, he’ll either kill you or do worse. Can you handle the powers you have?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You’ll notice you’re not chained up. Borgati believes you are his, and after he bit you, he’s got no reason to think otherwise. So here’s what you need to do.”

  Elliott listened to Griffin’s calm, dispassionate whisper giving him the details of his escape. He smiled wryly into the dark and lifted his hand.

  “He’ll be watching me more closely than ever. If I try again, he’ll have me killed for the sport of it.”

  “And if you stay, he might give you to the Mother to play with.” The whisper was dry. “If you leave now, you’ll have a chance at survival. This is your best chance of getting away clean, as the, ah, security system is down in the caverns. You can’t get out of here going up – you’ll have to go down and around, first. Which means you’ll have to pass by her lair.”

  “What about her? The Mother?” She haunted the lower levels. Killed and drank from any and all she found, without mercy. Elliott had been formally introduced to her, decades ago, and still had the occasional nightmare about her.

  “She has a new playmate, and will be busy for a bit. You need to go, now. Find Molly. She’s going by the name Raven, and has a safe space.” Griffin straightened. “There are clothes next to you, and money, an address and an envelope. If you choose to leave, go within the hour, and no later. You know the way out. Hell, you built it. Remember the employee diner. Go. Maybe we’ll meet again.” He left then on silent feet.

  Elliott winced as he leaned more fully against the rock wall. As Borgati’s muscle man, Elliot had done his fair share of damnable things; now his soul writhed between the addictive desire to stay and the visceral need to escape.

  Molly. He found himself on his feet, the urge to go to her strong within him.

  Elliott focused on his surroundings, listening for traps. He could hear Her, the Mother, breathing, and the odd cackle, a reassuring sound. It was when you couldn’t hear Her that you needed to worry. Another set of Borgati’s eyes and ears, with power that could kill, as he’d found out.

  He reached for the pile of clothes and dressed rapidly, grateful for the wad of bills he found in the pocket of the long leather coat. His back would just have to itch. He took a deep breath; felt Malachi wind his way up his body to his neck.

  Leaving, are we? It’s about time.

  “Elliott?” Strong hands gripped his shoulders. Shook him.

  He pulled himself out of the past and locked his gaze on her. “I left to find you. You are why I left.”

  She backed away then, her concern draining away. “You found me.” She settled on the floor and bent to stretch once more. “The first night you spent at Alexandria’s, Shawn found Gavin wandering a few streets away, here in Hollywood. Dazed, and with stripes down his back…he’d been whipped badly at some point, but the marks were already healing. Shawn brought him here, as there is a look about us that is easy to recognize. I’m sure you saw it among the four of them.”

  “As if they’d seen enough of darkness and enclosed spaces. Tigger needed out of this room, and no one was comfortable here. Except Gavin. And you,” he added.

  “Except Gavin,” she echoed, nodding. “The rest you can see in his eyes, when he lets his guard down. But yeah, this room doesn’t bother him. I wonder why. And before you ask, it doesn’t bother me because I created this room. I can transform it at any moment into a thing of beauty, or comfort, rather like a blanket fort.”

  “I vaguely remember those.” He scrubbed his face and sighed. “So we need money to outfit an army of misfits. I need to get access to my parents’ funds. I guess I’ll start with…damn. I don’t know.”

&
nbsp; “Did your parents have any relatives? Anyone you could do a search on?”

  “My mom was an only child, but my dad had siblings. I can look for them. Maybe a cousin, or something.” He shook his head, troubled. “I’ve got some money with me, and some stashed away. But in order to get operations up and running here, we’re going to need some serious cash.”

  Her brows twitched together in a frown. “Operations?”

  “You want a place to do your scent work, right? Plus living space for yourself and your merry band of survivors.”

  She sighed. “It seems out of reach.”

  “We’ll get there. We just need to focus. According to you, it’s not time to bring down Borgati. Therefore, we have time to get ourselves up and solvent, with enough room and firepower, if necessary, to house and protect those we find.” Elliott stood and stretched. “Show me your perfumery.”

  She rose with fluid ease and led the way to the downstairs kitchen. “Currently, I’m using essential oils that other people create. But I want to source my own ingredients, make my own oils.” She pulled out several bottles, chose one, and opened it. Sniffed, then held it out to Elliott. “Here.”

  Elliott took the bottle, curious as to what he was about to scent. Before he ever brought it to his nose, he felt the welcome. Subtle, but there, floating on the air to him.

  Wary now, he lifted the bottle up and took a slow inhale. Moved the bottle away, and blew out his breath. Closed his eyes and thought for a moment.

  “I smell the welcome of dark, moonless nights. A bit of woodbine, right? A gemstone…lapis, maybe. A scatter of starlight and the hint of moss, just very faintly. A scent to lure a creature of the night. Or perhaps to lure sleep.”

  He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, a slight frown gathering between her brows. “What?”

  “Yeah.” She took the bottle back, sniffed it before she re-capped it.

  “There’s a compulsion there, too. One of welcome, rest, relaxation.” He tipped his head to one side and studied her. “For your strays?”

  She shrugged and turned slightly away. “They need to feel welcome, and also they need something familiar. The dark is familiar. It takes time to get used to the light.” She pulled a notebook to her and wrote a note in it. “You can smell the lapis?” She shook her head. “Maybe I should back off on it. Lord knows it’s expensive.”

  Elliott folded his arms. “I made you nervous just now. Why?”

  “No one’s ever smelled the lapis before,” she murmured. She flicked him an uneasy glance. “This one is my most experimental scent.”

  “Have you tried it out in the house yet?”

  “No.” She nibbled on her full bottom lip. “I suppose I could put some in an aromatherapy burner. Put it in the hallway near the stairs, and see how it goes.”

  “What’s the worst that can go wrong?”

  Phoenix shook her head, her braids dancing, at odds with the sober light in her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Hm.” She fascinated him. He shifted his gaze. “Do you have a computer? I need to see if I have any living relatives. I suppose I should open a bank account at some point.”

  “Living…right. It’s been thirty years.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No big.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the small wad of cash, and the bank draft. “Here, for my keep while I’m in your house.” He passed her a thousand dollars in hundreds. “I’ll need to hit up this bank. Apparently there’s a safe deposit box somewhere with my name on it.”

  She took the cash, folded it and put it in her pocket. “Griffin.”

  “That’s what Alexandria said. That’s what I remembered.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “So, a computer?”

  “Yeah. Computer, then the bank? Then shopping. Do you need clothes? Anything?” She led him to her bedroom upstairs. In one corner sat a small desk with a laptop on it. The rest of the room was taken up with a queen-sized bed.

  The room was as lush as the downstairs, but this time done in satins and silks. Filmy material in a blue-violet swathed the windows; the bed was a deep lake of midnight blue, spangled through with silver thread. Pillows were stacked three deep against the headboard, and not the tiny, useless, decorative pillows, but big, king-sized pillows.

  Elliott found himself yearning to stretch out. He yawned.

  Phoenix laughed. “Maybe you need a nap, instead.”

  He grinned at her. “The couch…well. It’s not the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had.”

  “But it’s not this fantasy bed, either.” She nodded. “I get it. It’s fine, go ahead and sleep. I’ve got work to do. We’ll have time to hit the bank this afternoon.”

  The bank held a chill that financial institutions always seemed to have. Elliott ignored the cold and focused on the man across from him.

  “So as you see, Mr. Jones, there is plenty for you to work with, money-wise. Would you like us to liquidate any of your investments at this time?” Daniel Frank, the bank manager, folded his hands. “And may I say, I am very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Elliott’s head still spun. “I guess the first thing is to open a checking account. I have this.” He pushed across the bank draft for fifty grand. “And I’ve been thinking of investing in some real estate.”

  “Would you be wanting a loan, or to pay cash?” Daniel turned to his computer. “I’ll have your bank account set up in a minute.”

  “I guess it depends. I’m investing in a small business, and space is a priority. Small manufacturing of medical-grade perfume oils,” he added.

  “Oh? An interest you picked up overseas?” The words were polite, without any real interest behind them.

  “You could say that.” Elliott was still shocked at the level of detail Griffin had managed. “While you’re setting up the account, I’d like to open the safe deposit box, see what my parents left.”

  “Certainly. Just a moment.” Daniel picked up his phone, pressed a button. “Yes, Gail. Could you please show Mr. Jones his safe deposit box? Thank you.” He turned back to Elliott. “Gail will be happy to help you out.”

  Access behind a locked door, a walk down a quiet corridor. They stopped at a wall of boxes, similar to a post office. Gail showed him the number, he inserted the key into the box, turned it, and the whole thing slid out into his hands.

  She showed him to a small room, with just a table and a chair. She gestured to a stack of bags on the end of the table.

  “Anything you wish to remove, feel free to use one of those bags.” She smiled and left, closing the door behind her.

  Elliott’s heart pounded. He lifted the lid of the box, which was about the size of a file folder, and stared at the papers on top.

  His birth certificate. Life insurance policy on his parents, worth over a million dollars. Their death certificates. Would the insurance company pay out, after so long? Not that it mattered. The investments alone had him sitting pretty, more than a millionaire. He’d be able to live on the interest in a comfortable manner, should he choose.

  Letters written to him, one from his mom, one from his dad. He didn’t read them. Instead, he stuffed them into his back pocket.

  There were stacks and stacks of hundreds. He put several stacks into the inner pocket of the jacket he wore, and left the rest in the box. Emergency cash, just in case. A photo album, which he resisted looking at. Newspaper clippings, a family tree, a jewelry case.

  He opened it up, saw his mother’s pearl necklace, bracelet, and pearl and diamond earrings. He caught his breath. He remembered the year his dad had given them to his mom for her birthday. Carefully, he shut the case and returned it to the box.

  He dug to the bottom, and froze. A folder labeled “Borgati Pharmaceuticals” stared back at him. He took a breath and opened the folder.

  It was a stock summary, dated forty years prior. His parents had somehow obtained Borgati Pharma stock, and not a little. At the time, they had acquired fifty thousa
nd shares.

  Elliott shook his head. Money, it seemed, was not going to be a problem. But owning shares in that company bothered him at a visceral level, so the first thing he needed to do was see about selling those off. Either through the regular channels, or privately.

  He grabbed a bag and put the stock folder, the jewelry case, and the photo album inside, along with a few more stacks of bills. The rest, including his birth certificate, he left in the box, reordered it neatly, and closed and locked it, keeping the key.

  Walking back to the bank manager’s office, his mind whirled. He had funds. He could buy that warehouse Phoenix needed. He could help coordinate efforts to find others like them. He could…

  Daniel Frank stood as Elliott came into his office. “Well now, I have everything ready for your checking account. I just need you to sign these pages, and I need your thumb print, then we’re good to go.”

  Elliott signed, inked his thumb, took his drivers’ license back.

  “Here are some blank checks to tide you over, though I believe you’ll be happy with our electronic banking.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” They shook hands, and Elliott added the paperwork to the bag he carried.

  “I hope your deposit box wasn’t a disappointment,” Daniel said. “So often, clients come in thinking they’ll find treasure, and most of the time it’s a photo album or something.”

  Elliott opened the bag and pulled out the photo album. “Bingo. But my mother’s pearls were there, as well, so that made it all better.” He nodded. “Thanks again. I’ll be in touch regarding the investments.”

  “We’ll be here.”

  Elliott walked out of the office to the main portion of the bank, where Phoenix waited. At the look on his face, she merely slipped her hand in his and didn’t say a word as they headed to her car.

  Once safely inside and on the road, Elliott blew out a breath. “We need to go shopping.”