Vindicta (The Liquidator Wars Book 1)

by Kindra Sowder

  “Of course,” she told him, smiling because she had echoed his very words, “Now go Ryder! Quickly!”

  He kissed her again, but not on the lips, on the forehead. He had found that his ardor for her was only an adjunct to playing the game he had had to play to win her. Now that the match was over she seemed almost distasteful to him. He couldn’t wait to get away.

  He turned and strode away, never looking back until he had reached the shelter of the tree line. When he was far enough away that he could dare to, he flew toward the West.

  He started laughing to himself. Brynn, Warrior Queen, and Daughter of the Electi was in for a shock. Gwenyth was a horny little fool that he refused to feel guilty about--she probably would have given it up for the first pimple faced Warrior schoolboy from Natalia’s school if he hadn’t come along first. Definitely a hosehound, as hot as her older sister was cold.

  Now that he was free he wanted to bang his usual buxom tavern whores who knew their way around a man’ body. He would be rich and beyond Brynn’s reach. He was leaving, and he owed them nothing for all their haughty airs and disparaging looks.

  Fuck the Electi, he thought, fuck them all.

  ***

  Natalia yelled out in utter frustration and anger, flipping the nearest table and sending trinkets to shatter on the wooden floor beneath her bare feet.

  “No,” she shouted once more. “Seems fate has stepped in once more despite how strong my magic has become.”

  She said all of this to herself, as she preferred to practice her magics alone. Brynn hadn’t known just how powerful she had become not only in the sciences they practiced to further the race’s survival but in ritual as well. Except, when fate wanted something specific, it always got it no matter what was done to ensure a different outcome.

  Natalia reached out and uttered one syllable, fire sparking to life in the very center of her outstretched palm. It burned, suspended in the still air just above her delicate flesh.

  “Oh, destiny, I will not be beaten again.”

  ***

  Gwenyth slid through a crack in a seldom-used access door set into a corner of one of the stone studded manse walls. It was fresh and dark as she slid in. Not even the guard paid much attention to this hidden door beneath its ivy bower, and she knew most of them had no idea that it existed, concealed as it was in the shadows of the climbing ivy and the overhanging trees.

  To her right, she could hear the shouting and bustle of the manse kitchen as the cooks prepared the evening meal. Instinctively she turned away from that part of the passage and to the left, which seemed to dead end after about 10 feet into a cupboard.

  She opened the door. It hadn’t been opened for a while, and she made a face as the rusty hinges attached to the wooden door squealed in protest. Stooping, she got down on all fours and crawled into the dark space under the last shelf.

  It was open, and she felt a draft as she crawled along for about five feet until it opened up again into a very narrow corridor that led to an even more narrow circular staircase.

  As far as Gwenyth knew she was the only inhabitant of the manse that knew the hidden staircase existed. She’d discovered it while exploring one day and nearly told Brynn about it. Then her older sister had pissed her off again and Gwenyth decided it would be her secret way in and out no matter how many of the Electi Guard Brynn assigned to keep her captive.

  The staircase went up all the way to the penthouse floor and the back of Gwenyth’s closet. Gwenyth suspected that there was a similar staircase on the opposite side of the front of the manse that probably opened into the back of Brynn’s closet. But one of the first things Brynn had done after buying the mansion was have the older closet dry walled in so that she could create a room sized walk in closet within the space of her large chamber.

  Gwenyth had been offered the same renovation but had refused. She loved the nuances of the old building, with all of its strange passages and creaks, and she also liked the idea that she could sneak out anytime she wanted to if she was careful.

  Having reached the top of the stairs, Gwenyth pressed her shoulder to the wall to open up the hidden door to the back of her closet. To her immense relief it opened soundlessly, and she brushed past the couple rows of her clothing, mostly dresses mixed in with modern attire for outings, and opened the door into her room.

  As soon as she did, she froze. Standing right in front of her not three feet away was Brynn, still in stained battle attire, and Bayn, looking agitated and perplexed at seeing her emerge from her closet.

  The two sisters stared at each other for a long moment. Gwenyth’s mind was racing as she tried to formulate some explanation for both her disheveled appearance and why she was inside her closet.

  Brynn seemed to be sizing Gwenyth up, a look of suspicion on her beautiful face. Her crimson eyes were mere slits. Her eyes traveled down Gwenyth’s body, at last coming to rest on Gwenyth’s feet.

  There was dried blood on the inside of both her younger sister’s ankles.

  Brynn opened her mouth and screamed.

  ***

  “Well,” Natalia said, as she returned to her quarters at the school, and laid her large black leather medical bag on the granite counter underneath a row of test tubes. “That was rather unexpected!”

  “What, Natalia? Tell me. Everyone knows that something is going on. Lady Brynn was heard screaming less than an hour ago--and no one has EVER heard her scream. Other than a war cry or something! You have to tell me what happened!” her PA and apprentice Nellye said breathlessly, her huge brown eyes wide with curiosity.

  Natalia turned back her hood, staring at the assistant contemplatively for a few moments. It was the kind of look Nellye had dubbed, “the Natalia Stare,” and it seemed to pierce right through to her soul every time Natalia did it.

  After sighing deeply, Natalia relented.

  “I cannot tell everything, but I can say this: the sanctity of the Princess Daughter of the Electi Gwenyth has been somewhat compromised. A part of her is missing.”

  Nellye gasped and covered her mouth.

  “I knew that snotty little bitch was fucking Ryder Perkins! I came upon them one day in the labyrinth, and he had his head underneath her gown!” the young woman said animatedly. She knew Natalia was not overly fond of Gwenyth on a good day, so she felt she could comment freely.

  Natalia waggled a beautifully manicured finger in the air at her.

  “No,” she said, “Gwenyth is still technically a virgin. She has not lain with a male. If she had, she would have been forced into marriage with him immediately, as they would be considered husband and wife under Electi Law.”

  “No,” she continued, “But she will probably be considered ruined all the same. And Brynn has always had her work cut out for her as it is because of Gwenyth’s withered arm. It is certainly a sad turn of events.”

  “And what of Ryder?” Nellye asked eagerly, “Is his head on a spike at Brynn’s order?”

  Natalia shook her head, amusement in her eyes.

  “No, I am afraid he has deserted the Electi. Brynn is so bitter over it she will kill him on sight if she ever has the chance. Apparently, the story is spreading like wildfire.”

  “Oh yes, it is, High Oracle Natalia,” Nellye said, her eyes still full of glee from being privy to the juiciest bit of gossip to fill the walls of the manse in years. “In fact, some of the young warriors were heard singing a rather derogatory song about the scandal.”

  This time Natalia’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Really?” she said, genuinely surprised for the first time in a while. “What are they singing?”

  “Well, if you don’t mind my repeating it I can tell you,” Nellye told her, looking around and closing one of the doors. “But you know our Warrior Leader Brynn would have my head for even repeating it. So listen carefully the first time,” she joked.

  The young woman cleared her throat and began to sing in a sweet voice that was high and clear:

  “
Once a quiet afternoon

  Where few words are spoken

  Gwenyth lay on Ryder’s knee

  With her hymen broken

  She shamed herself that very day

  They hunted him, but he got away

  Her reputation he did flay

  Foolish Lady Gwenyth!”

  “That’s the song they are singing,” Nellye finished, looking pleased with herself.

  “Catchy little tune, I think.”

  ***

  Terran leaned against the wall just outside Gwenyth’s bedroom, his twin brother Bayn leaning just opposite of him. Terran had heard Brynn’s cry and had come running as quickly as he could thinking the Liquidator chimera had done something to the Daughter of Electi, but no. Something more terrifying and scandalous had happened. Something none of them were prepared for. Gwenyth had never been one to cause trouble or even act out in response to her older sister’s strict rules, but now that had all changed. And it had all changed with Ryder Perkins.

  “I knew that man was no good,” Terran muttered, not even realizing he had spoken out loud until his brother’s eyebrows rose in interest.

  “Well, it seems your point was proven, brother. I’m sure you want to look Brynn in the eye and give her the big ‘I told you so’ speech, huh?” Bayn answered with obvious irritation and anger in his voice even though it did not show on his face.

  “No, I would never,” Terran replied. Then a thought struck him. “Where were you two when this happened? Just before the battle was over you and Brynn were nowhere to be seen on the grounds. Where were you?”

  He watched as Bayn lowered his eyes to the ground and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks, a small knowing smile spreading over his lips.

  “Something happened, but it is private and really none of your business,” Bayn answered as his face hardened at his brother’s intrusive behavior.

  “Did you,” he paused and swallowed, not believing he was about to ask his brother this question. “Did you claim her?”

  Silence for all of a moment and then Bayn shook his head.

  “No, I did not,” he replied in a regretful tone.

  “What do you mean?”

  Bayn looked up at him, something in his face that Terran couldn’t make out as his lips set in a straight line.

  “She asked me to, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It was as if something stopped our union, Terran, and I am not certain what to make of it.”

  Terran took a step forward but, just as he was about to open his mouth to shout at his brother for betraying him as well as to ask him about this force that got between the two of them, Brynn shot through Gwenyth’s door. Tears streamed down her face as she stopped and registered the two large men standing in the hallway, apparently brimming with anger.

  As soon as he saw her, Terran couldn’t be angry with her, but he was going to speak to his brother once the entire scandal was over. Or as soon as they were alone again. But the urge to beat his brother to a bloody pulp was still ever present within him, slithering under his skin as an image of Brynn writing beneath his twin came to the surface. He shook it off and turned to Brynn, knowing she would need the both of them now more than ever.

  “Brynn, is she alright?” Terran asked as he reached out to touch her shoulder.

  As soon as his hand met her flesh he felt her shaking with despair and fury, her fists clenched at her sides as if she was trying to keep herself from throwing a punch at the first available person to cross her path.

  “She is, for now. That is until I get ahold of Ryder,” she answered, her voice shaking with fury at every syllable.

  Her eyes unfocused for a moment and then flicked to the stairs that would lead to the floor where her room was located. To where she was keeping Creed. Then she looked at Bayn.

  “We’ll need to talk,” she said to him.

  Bayn nodded as Terran shot him a look of pure rage. “Alright.” he pushed himself away from the wall.

  Brynn put her hand out in a gesture telling him that he needed to stay put.

  “Later. We will speak later. Right now there is something I need to do.”

  With those words she took off and took to the stairs, leaving them to wonder.

  ***

  Creed had heard the battle outside, and then the high feminine scream that he recognized as Brynn’s. In a flurry of motion he opened the door and attempted to leave the room he had been placed in, but the Electi soldiers just outside his door stopped him as others all dressed in red came barreling down the hallway and up the nearly hidden staircase down the way.

  Now, he was sitting in his room biting his nails and waiting to hear whether she was all right or not. Creed had found some clothes that fit him in the drawers and covered himself in the black cotton t-shirt and pants.

  His leg bounced up and down with anxiety as the commotion finally ceased, and orders were shouted through the mansion. One name struck him multiple times. Gwenyth. Something had happened to her, but he was perplexed as to what. He knew that since he had gone missing his father would most likely send a horde of Liquidators to collect him and that they would kill a Daughter of Electi if they had the chance. He hoped that wasn’t the case. He hopped up from the bed and shot toward the door.

  “Fuck this,” he muttered to himself.

  Just as he approached the door, Brynn came bursting inside, her face covered in tears and black streaks from her mascara and eyeliner. It didn’t matter to him that she was a mess. She was still beautiful, even if afraid. And this was definitely a visit he hadn’t expected after what had happened between them. Brynn still wore her blood-drenched clothing from where she had been bitten by the enchanted Hellhound, but now she was also coated in the black blood of the Liquidators. He smelled something else under the surface, a kind of male musk that wasn’t his, and had to stifle a growl of possession.

  “Creed, I need your help,” she said as she glanced at him and then began to pace, clenching and unclenching her fists as he watched her in abject terror.

  “I heard you scream. Is everything okay?”

  She stopped and stared at him, anger taking the place of fear on her face. Her crimson eyes stared daggers into him that nearly caused him to stumble backward as the cold wave of anger moved through his body.

  “You fool, of course, it’s not okay.” She took a step toward him. “I’m going to kill him. I am going to kill Ryder Perkins as soon as I can get my eager hands on him.”

  “Ummm…” was all he knew to say.

  “He took something that did not belong to him, Creed. Now she is bound to him for as long as he breathes and I need your help in making certain those breathes stop. Can you help me, Creed?”

  Creed placed his hands on her slender shoulders and bent down slightly to look evenly into her eyes.

  “Brynn, what are you talking about, love?”

  She took a deep and shuddering breath to steady herself and replied, “Ryder has taken her purity and ran off. I believe I know who he is working for, but I am not certain, and I will see him dead.”

  Creed’s eyebrows stitched together in utter confusion.

  “Who do you believe he works for, Brynn? How can I possibly help you?”

  “I believe he is working for your father, Creed, and you will help me gain the information I need to find him. You can move among them, and I will have your back at a moment’s notice. I couldn’t think of anyone else to come to because, if the entire House of Electi kicks in their doors, we can be certain they will move in on my house and kill everyone inside our ranks, moving from house to house to exterminate us all. That has been their ultimate goal since creation, but I will see to it that they do not reach their aim.”

  “You’re rambling on, Brynn.”

  Creed backed away from her and ran his hand through his hair and down his face as he sat on the corner of the bed.

  She shook her head and continued, “You will help me find out where Ryder Perkins is, and you will take me with you. I want him kneeling
before me. I want him to fall to my blade.”

  Chapter Twelve:

  Interrogation & Battle Wounds

  Brynn had changed her clothes as quickly as possible, washed the dried blood from her body, and stole some pieces from Bayn and Terran for Creed. Seeing as they were all relatively the same size she had a feeling that their pants and boots with fit alright. And sneaking past the guards and friends were easy enough, using the back stairway that she had caught Gwenyth using after her unholy tryst with Ryder Perkins. She didn’t need any of them trying to talk her out of her current course of action. She would find her answers and then come back to collect them for the finale.

  She didn’t need the grief of taking their prisoner out where he could either harm her or escape, but she trusted him. And she wasn’t even sure why? Was it the vision Leo spoke of? Brynn shook the questions away and continued to walk beside Creed.

  Now, Brynn and Creed were striding in downtown Los Angeles, looking for the club that Creed had stated was an underground for the Liquidators. A place where those like her weren’t just meant for death but were slaves up until that moment, so they learned who the true masters of the human race were. The pair weaved through the people, no one paying attention to them in the night while they hustled to their destinations.

  Creed had informed her of how she was supposed to act once they entered the club. Subservient, docile even, but she doubted she could act such a way when surrounded by her ultimate enemy. Especially when some may recognize her as the eldest Daughter of the Electi. Their ruler, their leader, and enemy number one.

  She turned her head to look at him while still weaving flawlessly through the throng.

  “So, Creed, what is the name of this place again?” she asked him, her voice higher pitched than usual from the anxiety she felt roiling within her gut.

  Creed smirked and replied, “The Underground, Daughter of Electi.”

  She nodded. “How appropriate.”’

  Creed laughed that quiet, melodic laugh that made her insides tighten. As if her body wasn’t already tense enough. And she was dressed to the nines in a skimpy black dress that hugged every curve of her body and knee high black leather boots to match. She had hidden a blade within the very top of her boots, and the sword she usually loved to carry was left at home, the small blade, as well as a small handgun tucked into the other boot, were her only weapons. She hated not having her precious sword on her, and she detested guns, but it would have to do. She just hoped she had hidden them well enough to keep them from being taken from her at the door.