Vindicta (The Liquidator Wars Book 1)

by Kindra Sowder

  She took a step toward Creed, Bayn, and Terran both taking her arms in their heavy hands to hold her back in a show of protectiveness.

  “Let go of me. He will not harm me. Not if he wants to make it out of here alive.”

  “But Brynn…” Bayn began.

  “Enough,” she interjected, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. “If you cannot do as ordered I will make you watch from the sidelines as well.”

  Creed began to laugh then, his melodic voice becoming even more so as it caressed her flesh and played with her heart strings. She refused to let it get to her, but then he spoke, and the amusement in his voice changed her reaction toward him altogether.

  “That’s right, monkey. Dance for the Daughter of Electi. You make a fine pet,” Creed instigated, his laugh only growing louder and more pronounced, showing just how amused he was by the fact that such a large vampire of his line bowed to the whim of a female.

  “You fucki…” Bayn said as he took a step toward the prisoner.

  Brynn placed a hand on his chest with just enough pressure to stop his advance, and turned back to Creed, attempting not to let the situation get out of control.

  “Quiet. All of you, take a step back. I’ll take care of him.”

  In that instant, she knew exactly what was necessary. She placed the tip of the Karyx wand on his bare flesh just over his heart and looked up at him with a sly grin on her face. This way he could not avoid what terrified him because it would be forced into his mind with no way to stop it unless she removed the thing from his skin. And, even though his face twisted into a mixture of terror and agony, he held strong and didn’t give anything up. So maybe what she was trying just wasn’t enough to break the male.

  She sighed, backed away, and placed the Karyx wand back where she had removed it from.

  “Normally this works.” She turned to the twins who were now at her back. “I have an idea.”

  ***

  Brynn had to hand it to the half-breed. He was made out of even stronger stuff than she had realized and, despite the terror he had shown at the appearance of the Karyx wand, he had not wavered under the stress of his ultimate fear. So she knew she would have to push him even harder and, if the mental torture did not break him, then physical would have to do. But she wanted to steer clear of all of that until she was certain she couldn’t force the information out of him without an even more brutal weapon in her hands.

  From the look of him from the outside of the cell, it was going to take extreme brute force to get the information they wanted. Even if it was only a name. A name held a lot more power than most realized, and she was hoping that, if they could gain the information from him, this name would bring the Liquidators to their knees.

  Again, she placed the wand on his skin, this time against his neck. His eyes, which had been so focused on her the entire time, began to stare off into the distance. A look of absolute horror appeared on his face, as he reached outward at something unseen and shouted hoarsely.

  “Mariel. No. Get away from her,” he cried, swatting at the air, his voice filled with anguish.

  Brynn was delighted.

  “We may have our answer, gentlemen,” she threw a look back over her shoulder at the twins.

  A quiet voice came from outside the cell. It was Natalia, her face all but obscured by the hood of her velvet cloak.

  “No,” she murmured, “That was his sister. But you’re getting closer. Keep up the pressure, Daughter of the Electi.”

  Brynn was about to reply when she felt something around her ankle. Somehow the shackled brute against the wall had managed to get hold of her boot, trying to pull her down.

  Even with all the torture, she had inflicted, his eyes gleamed defiantly up at her beneath the tangle of hair over his brow.

  There was a gasp all around. No one was allowed to touch a Daughter of the Electi without permission for any reason. To Brynn, it was an affront to the highest order, as well as a mocking challenge that would have to answer swiftly.

  She threw the wand to the side. Bayn caught it deftly in mid-air as Brynn quickly twisted her entire body in a vertical spin in one direction and then the other, forcing Creed to lose his grip.

  Once loose, she was still furious, and she spun again and kicked him in the head. Then she backed away a short distance only to attack again, a somersault that ended with a concise kick between the captives legs.

  All of the guards cringed at her move, automatically placing protective hands over their own privates while Bayn and Tarren shifted their weight and grimaced.

  The captive doubled over on his side.

  “That will teach you never to touch a Daughter of the Electi,” Brynn spat at him, swinging up with her foot just once more to catch him under the chin.

  The kick sent him backward and into the wall behind him, his back hitting the cement with a distinct slap. She stalked toward him and kneeled before him, wiping her hands clean on her pants even though they were soiled with her sweat as well as her captive’s from being in such proximity to him during his torture.

  “Brynn, do you think it wise to get so close?” Terran asked as he took just one step forward, worry flickering across his face.

  “Now Terran, he wouldn’t dream of touching me again. Would you?” she asked Creed in a mocking tone.

  He breathed heavily, his eyes flicking up to stare at her. A smirk crossed his lips that she hadn’t expected, her breath catching in her throat at the sensuality contained in his expression. His hair hung over his eyes, but she could see the smoldering heat inside of them as it peeked out at her under thick lashes. Brynn’s heart fluttered in her chest at the sight, but she held the air of superiority as she stared at him, her crimson eyes never once wavering.

  “I don’t care who you are. I will not betray my people,” he muttered, his voice shaking only slightly as a small stream of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  She reached her hand back without looking away from him. “The wand, Bayn,” she ordered.

  Bayn stepped forward and placed the rod into her open and waiting palm, his fingers grazing her flesh with heat. Taking a step back, he took a deep breath to slow his rapidly beating heart at the slight contact. Brynn could hear it in her ears, the image of their brief kiss during the Victory dinner flashing into her mind for the briefest of moments. She shook her head, choosing to ignore the sudden flutter in her chest at the thought. She reached forward with the wand, letting the tip hover just over his slick and bruised flesh. From what she could see, it was already beginning to heal even after only being inflicted just moments before. This also piqued her interest. The thought of what he could be intrigued her. Granted, they knew he was a Liquidator for certain, but he was also a half-breed, which could be a rather vast array of combinations. That was putting it lightly.

  “I don’t like doing this, Creed.” Even as she said it she knew it was a lie. She reveled in the torture and the pain more than most, and some even told her it was an unhealthy obsession. But what did they expect from a Daughter of Electi that had been raised by the sword? Brynn had been able to spare her younger sister from such a life and mindset, but Gwenyth had already expressed an interest in training, and Brynn knew the time of her sister’s innocence was coming to a close. “So, if you just tell me what I want to know this will all be over.”

  Creed began to laugh, low and melodic. Beautiful. “You mean that you’ll kill me.”

  “I never said that,” Brynn replied.

  “Of course, we’d kill him,” Tarren insisted, taking a step toward the two of them.

  “Quiet,” Brynn shouted, never looking away from Creed as she kneeled before him. Just waiting for him to give in. “When I want your opinion Terran, I will request it. Until then, would you kindly shut the fuck up?”

  Again, she held the wand over his skin, this time between his sweaty, well-defined pectorals in the direction of his heart.

  As he again fell under the spell of its powerful magic, he l
ifted his head to stare at the far wall. Brynn knew instinctively that he was being transported back to some torturous recollection that he had buried in his subconscious for a long time.

  As the group watched in spellbound fascination, he raised his shackled hands upward, kicking out with his legs at the same time.

  “Noooooooooooo,” he moaned, his eyes filled with terror. His voice had changed timbre, sounding more like the voice of a young boy. A child.

  “Get off of her. Get off. Stop. Stop. Noooooooooooo! Don’t hurt her! I will kill you!”

  Curious, Brynn stepped closer, shrugging off Tarren’s hand on her shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to restrain her from approaching Creed. She saw Creed’s body go limp for a moment, and his eyes roll back in his head.

  Fearful that he might indeed slip away, she withdrew the wand. Others subjected to the same form of torture had been known to die experiencing the dark things the wand was capable of conjuring up. The prisoner had revealed so much more than he had meant to already.

  Brynn was naturally brilliant at analysis, and it was evident to her that the greatest fear her subject had experienced was bearing witness to the injury of those he cared about. All of his fears and dark memories seemed to center around that scenario.

  She stepped back as Creed began to return to himself, thinking. Perhaps this well-formed creature she captured was worth sparing after all. Obviously, he was capable of devotion on some level, which meant that he was not a complete reprobate.

  There was something else she could not place, a piece of his essence not accounted for. Something she sensed rather than saw the evidence of. She turned and caught Natalia’s eye.

  Natalia, seemingly pleased, nodded as a smile crept along her lips. Leave it to Brynn to pick up on the one salient fact about the prisoner Creed that could provide the very key to his cooperation.

  He had angel blood. She was sure of it. Just by the way, the light shone on his skin. His fear of harm coming to others. In that context, his inconsistent behavior made more sense.

  Still, she had no reason to trust him. He had attacked with his forces, and even after torturing him she still had no idea why.

  She turned. Even though she was the shortest individual there, she could seem formidable, and her voice was thunderous as she spoke.

  “Leave us,” she commanded her entourage, enjoying the looks on their shocked faces. “I wish to question the prisoner alone.”

  “But Brynn--,” Tarren and Bayn said in unison, their expressions instantly as thunderous as her command had been.

  ‘Leave us, I say,” Brynn thundered back, shutting them down.

  She could tell by the way their muscular shoulders sagged that they knew how serious she was and were resigned to carry out her orders.

  As soon a she was sure that they were a sufficient distance away, she took a seat on the stone flooring, her legs crossed under her long skirt. She sat with her back against the opposite wall, and as she addressed Creed, her voice took on a friendly tone.

  “Now, Creed,” she told him, “You and I will begin a real conversation. You may ask me a question that has nothing to do with the security of the Electi, and in turn, I will ask you a question that you must answer to the best of your ability. It will be a version of the modern game Truth or Dare. Do you understand? The only caveat being that we both must choose truth for the first question.”

  Creed chuckled.

  “And what will the dare be? The consequence?”

  “Oh, I think I have that covered,” Brynn smirked, holding up the wand, “but this wand will never be used on me because I will always choose, to tell the truth in answer to any question you should ask me.”

  “I cannot believe that I am about to play a game with a Daughter of the Electi. No one would believe me if I tried to tell of it.”

  “Well, you are wrong about one thing already,” Brynn told him, leaning forward. “This isn’t really a game, though it has all appearances of one. And I am glad that you have decided to play it with me, because if you had refused, I would have freed your beautiful head from your neck immediately.”

  “I believe you, Daughter of the Electi,” Creed answered, situating his massive, muscular and nearly naked body so that he was more comfortable. “So, you said you are willing to go first, and you will be choosing the truth. I am allowed to ask a question now, correct?”

  “Correct,” Brynn said briskly. “Now you may begin.”

  “Why I am I still alive?” Creed asked.

  Brynn almost laughed at the obviousness of the question.

  “Because we are seeking information,” she answered simply, seeing no reason to elaborate any further and wondering why he had asked that particular question. She had expected, given the opportunity, he would have asked something of a more personal nature.

  “I’m not sure that is the entire truth,” Creed responded, never breaking his gaze from hers. “I think that there is something more to it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that you are lying, Exalted Daughter of the Electi. I know that in your mind you told the truth. But I believe there are many reasons why I am your prisoner rather than one of your ‘kill trophies.'”

  Brynn shrugged.

  “Nevertheless, you’ve had your question, and I told the truth. Now it is my turn. Truth or consequence, Marauder?”

  “Consequence,” he answered without hesitation, brushing his curly thatch of dark hair away from his forehead and surprising her.

  Inwardly Brynn frowned. She knew he hadn’t enjoyed the torture the wand had inflicted, yet he would rather endure more than give away his mission.

  He was certainly a stubborn one.

  “Very well, then,” she said briskly.

  She allowed her gaze to travel for a few seconds up and down his well-muscled body until they rested on a scar just above his left knee. It extended up to his inner thigh. With the vampire blood that was so obviously a part of his heritage, there were few ways that Creed could be wounded that would leave a permanent mark. Placing the wand near the scar would cause him to relive that particular moment of torture.

  She decided to go for it.

  Reaching out, she held the wand over the irregularly shaped scar, which looked almost like a shark bite. He immediately convulsed and began making the feral noises of an animal in pain.

  “Aaaaahhhhhn!” he said, spittle flying in the air between them, “Uuuurggggg!”

  Brynn kept up the pressure a few seconds longer, and then withdrew the wand. Creed opened his eyes, blinked twice as the sensory recreation faded, and sat up, looking at her warily.

  “Well that was a nasty one,” he commented, still somewhat out of breath, “You must have gotten started early learning the dark arts of torture, Daughter of the Electi. Other little girls might have had tea parties or played with dolls, but not you. I think you begged to learn how to inflict the most exquisite pain, and I believe you enjoyed it.”

  Brynn ignored the aspersion. “You were trapped before, I see,” she stated as she realized what his scar meant, “and damn near took off your own leg escaping. You must have been the possessor of some sort of power even still to accomplish that. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  Creed leaned forward toward her. He looked angry and had a leering look on his face.

  “Show me a glimpse of those beautiful tits, and maybe I will,” he said.

  Automatically Brynn jumped up and whirled around, kicking Creed soundly in the side of the head.

  “This game is over,” she said, walking out.

  Chapter Eight:

  Truth & Consequences

  Trace Vexo wanted so badly to speak to his Guardian. While he heard around the Electi ranks that he had been busy guarding the older Daughter of Electi while she questioned an unknown prisoner, he hoped that Terran would see him. He hadn’t been able to say much after the Ignatur Ceremony but wished he had. He wanted to be confident that Terran knew he hadn’t meant for him to endure such torture.

>   As he walked within the walls of the Electi mansion, he couldn’t help but imagine the danger in progress just below his feet in the sub-basement cells of the manse. Regardless, he pushed himself faster toward his Guardian’s bedroom where he was confident he waited while Brynn, their fearless warrior Queen, used her masterful hand against the fiend captured inside their walls.

  Before he knew it, he stood in front of the dark wooden door to the room that housed is Guardian and mentor. He raised his small fist and rapped on the wood, jumping on the balls of his feet as he waited for the twin to reply.

  The door swung open, and Tarren stood on the other side looking as if he had not endured the cruelties of his childishness at all.

  “Oh, Guardian,” Trace stammered as he nodded his head with respect to the brother. “I have come to speak with you.”

  Terran smiled weakly, showing that the last day’s events had indeed tired him despite how much of an act he put up.

  “Trace, yes, please do come in,” Terran exclaimed as he took a step backward and motioned for the youth to enter his private chambers.

  Trace made his way into the room hesitantly, stopping just inside the door.

  “Oh come on, Vexo. I won’t bite, and there are no hard feelings,” Terran joked. “And make it quick. The Daughter of Electi could need me at any moment.”

  The young male nodded and walked into the room a little faster than when he had first strolled inside. The room was large, the walls covered in elegant black and white wallpaper that looked somewhat like lace, white carpet covered the floor, and the bed was so large Trace thought for a moment that four men the same size as the twin could fit on the mattress.

  “I wanted to apologize for my behavior, Terran. I acted foolishly, and it cost you so much more than it did me. I can’t stop thinking about your injuries,” Trace stated vehemently.

  Terran closed the door and dismissed Trace’s apology with a wave of his large hand, looking at him with eyebrows raised in amusement. His smile grew, and he laughed softly as if Trace would not be able to hear his delight.