Heir Of Doom

by Jina S Bazzar

  Gently, she touched a lock of my hair, the gesture belying the threat of her next words. “Killing you would anger so many, but I suppose a little fun won't hurt.” She chuckled. “I can't speak for you, though. I do want you to hurt, agonizingly so.” She tugged hard at my hair and the bite on my neck twinged. I could feel blood oozing from the puncture, warm and sluggish. My hands morphed into talons – I had no clue when the talons had shifted back to fingers – and I prayed for an opening. I remembered how fast Jacob had been and I knew Angelina would be faster, smarter.

  “I will keep you somewhat whole, I promise, for I don't want to lug you throughout our journey.”

  “I'd rather die than be taken to your master,” I croaked. God, it hurt to speak.

  Angelina laughed. “Oh, but I have no master. I have business associates, many of them. No one owns me. On the contrary; I'm the one who owns people. Maybe I can make you one of mine. Hmm-mm. Maybe I should turn you.”

  The thought was terrifying, and I knew I was running out of time. I had to move, now.

  “Where's Vicky?” Though I already knew. Either she wasn't here or she was already dead. I refused to believe the latter – not without any proof.

  She tsked, clearly amused. “You're in no position to make demands, my dear.”

  “Just tell me where she is. Is she alive?”

  Angelina leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I'll tell you this. You'll find out if your friend is dead or alive soon enough.”

  She stood and the other guy stepped forward, picked me up and slung me over a broad shoulder. I dangled for an instant upside down, blood flowing freely along my neck, my ear, before plopping to the floor.

  The guy inhaled, and I mustered strength, heaved up, braced a hand to his back. His hold tightened on my leg, keeping me anchored to him. Teeth gritted against the coming pain, I twisted to the left and dug my talons deep into his neck, and pulled– all in one swift movement. I put a lot into this motion and felt, even as I started falling, unconsciousness dragging me under. How much blood had Angelina drank?

  I dropped with a wet splat, my arms too weak to prevent my face from making acquaintance with concrete, and I think I blacked out for a moment because the next thing I knew I was upright, with Angelina's fists clenching the lapel of my coat, her face inches away. I could sense her rage, a hot wave of buzzing electrical wires.

  “I'm going to kill you,” she hissed and pushed me away, hard enough that I was airborne for a whole second or two. I hit the wall hard, cracking my head and elbow. My teeth clacked, and a piece broke loose.

  Incredibly, I fell upright, but the effect was lost when my knees buckled and I went down. God must have loved me because I didn't black out again. Or maybe he hated me. Angelina rushed at me in a blur of fury and punches, and I tried to fight back, to slash at her. She batted my hand away with her fist and I felt – and heard – the bones of my hand break on impact, and couldn't help but scream at the sensation of things no longer in their proper place.

  With a roar loud enough to be heard above screeching horns, she picked me up again like a wrestler and threw me against the next wall. I tried to brace myself against the impact, but I never hit it, never fell to the ground.

  I opened my eyes, not sure when I had closed them. I was in someone's arms. Feminine and fragrant, the sweet, citrusy scent something I recognized.

  “This is not your fight, fee,” Angelina spat from a few feet away.

  I tried to stand, and was placed on my feet. I braced a hand on the filthy wall beside me, the other pulsating with pain, glanced sideways, already knowing what I was going to see.

  Leon Ora Maiche, aka Lee, the enforcer of the Seelie court. It was just a shadow really, but the tall, proud fee warrior was unmistakable, the silvery glow of her aura one I'd hoped never to see again.

  “On the contrary,” Lee said, her voice cold and unfeeling, “this Dhiultadh owes me a favor. Until the bargain is met, she belongs to me.”

  I felt Angelina's eyes on me, an odd heavy sting of speculation. “She killed two of my scions, she owes me a blood debt.”

  “Ay, she did.” Lee shifted her body in my direction, though her face stayed turned toward Angelina. “Did you kill her scions unprovoked, daughter of Fosch?”

  “No. I was attacked first,” I croaked. It hurt to speak.

  “It is settled, then. This Dhiultadh owes you not,” Lee concluded.

  Angelina didn't say anything.

  Lee shifted. “She owes you nothing. Leave now, before I decide mercy is not worthy of you.”

  Angelina hesitated for a second before she turned and fled into the night.

  I felt Lee's eyes on me and shivered. Aches that had been muted awakened with vengeance, but my mind was clear of any fog. “I don't owe you for saving me today,” I said hoarsely in lue of thanks.

  “You should go before she returns. Stay away from the dead.” With that said, she disappeared.

  It took me forever to take off the dead vampire's jacket and replace it with my bloodied, ripped coat. It was huge on me, but it was better than walking into the street looking like I'd been attacked by a pack of rabid wolves. There was nothing I could do about my battered face save for wiping the blood with a linen handkerchief I found in the pocket of the big jacket. I zipped it closed all the way, the scent of gardenias overwhelming. At least he had good hygiene.

  I weaved out of the alleyway, flipping the collar up to cover my neck and ears. I got some dubious looks from a few passersby, but most ignored me.

  The moment I stepped into my apartment I headed for my cell phone, lying on the counter where I'd left it. I dialed Vicky's number from memory and waited. It rang once, twice, three times. “Come on, come on, come on.” It went to voicemail.

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head, a prickling sensation burning the corner of my eyes, clogging my aching throat. I sank down to the tiled floor and braced my aching head over my knees. Frizz appeared and leaned against my side just as the cell phone started ringing. I jumped to my feet with a boost of energy I didn't know I still had and grabbed for the phone. The display read V, with an image of her profile smiling at something.

  “Hey,” I croaked.

  “Roxy! You won't believe what happened today.”

  I sank back down to the tiles, hugging Frizz as I listened to my friend talking.

  I didn't go to base the following day. Instead, I extended the weekend and drank lots of orange juice, trying to build up strength as fast as possible. No one called to inquire about my absence, and although I was relieved I wouldn't have to explain myself, I was also hurt that no one noticed I was missing.

  Later that evening I was locked in an internal argument on whether I should call Roland or not. On one side, how could I explain Lee to him? On the other, Angelina had known where to ambush me, had known about Vicky – enough to use her against me. Could she have gathered information about me on her own? She'd mentioned business associates. I didn't put past a few of the Hunters to hire someone to get rid of me. At the end, it was that same possibility of a Hunter hiring after me that prompted me to make the call. I knew Roland wasn't going to put up with someone offing me after he went through the trouble of releasing me from the PSS.

  Within thirty minutes of my call, he was knocking at my door.

  He took one look at my grayish complexion and ushered me to the sofa, then started rummaging in the fridge. Without a word, I watched as he prepared a bowl of salad with lots of tomatoes and lettuce, lemon and olive oil, and sat to listen to my story, told between bites of salad.

  There was no impatience or annoyance as I took my time explaining what happened, starting on that rainy evening in Marian's B&B, leaving nothing out. I'm sure he'd seen the PSS's report of the vampire's – Jacob – attack anyway. Okay, I did leave out a few details of Angelina's attack, like the fact that Lee had saved me. Because the fee would have never saved me if not for our bargain, and I was not going to tell him about that.

  I
admit I hadn't been prepared for all the detailed questions Roland threw at me, and could read the what-a-fool look he quickly concealed when I told him I had followed her into the alleyway of my own freewill.

  Once all the questions were asked and answered, Roland cleaned up the dishes and started making calls, dispatching Hunter members to search for Angelina and pick up a dead vampire from the alleyway – if there was still a body. I felt guilty, because what if someone else, a human, stumbled upon the scene?

  Once that part was dealt with, He called Harry, a member of the Cyber team, and asked that all information available on Angelina Hawthorn be ready on his desk by Monday morning. I felt guilty here too, because Harry would be spending the turn of the year stuck on desk duty.

  “Would you like assistance healing?” Roland asked before leaving.

  I almost said yes, before I thought better of it. I knew from previous conversations with Vincent that being able to shift to an alternative form meant instant healing. Only Vincent and Roland were aware of my inability to shift, though Vincent was hopeful I'd be able to one day soon, given that Dracha – the alternative beast with six legs and glowing yellow eyes – was a dominant trait and I already had the talons.

  If I accepted the help of a member to heal me now, I'd never be able to gain their respect.

  “No, thank you,” I said. “The worst was a broken hand, which healed when I shifted my hand a few times,”—and hurt so much I passed out—“and the loss of blood. Nothing some rest and orange juice can't heal.” And a dentist, I thought, poking my tongue at the chipped molar. “I'll be back for training on Monday morning.”

  I must have sounded convincing because Roland nodded and left.

  The weekend brought the end of the year and beginning of a new one, and again I spent it watching TV beside Frizz and listening to countdowns and fireworks. In a few hours, Vicky would be safely cheering with friends on the other side of the country. I wished I had asked for the week off and gone down with her.

  Awake and with nothing else to do, I checked e-mails and Facebook, finding that Vicky had posted tons of photos of herself, Tommy, and a lot of people I recognized but hadn't seen in years. I also found an e-mail from Vincent from last Sunday, detailing the same instructions Valerie had handed me on Monday. There wasn't another one for this coming week, and I presumed it meant he'd be there to pick up the training again.

  Chapter Four

  The following Monday arrived with Vincent still down south. That's what I guessed his absence meant. Not wanting to repeat last Monday's mishaps, I headed straight for the schedule I'd stored in my locker and memorized the entire session for the day. I changed into yoga pants, hesitated between a tank top and the turtleneck I had on. After a moment, I left on the turtleneck, deciding I didn't want to flaunt the bite marks on my neck. If someone from the Hunters had sent Angelina after me, my presence here today was enough of a rub.

  The moment I stepped onto the mats, I regretted it. Out of the twenty-six field members, only a handful took advantage of the fully-equipped gym. Since the day I'd arrived two months ago, I've only had the misfortune of sharing the gym with two or three other members at a time, but today was no such day. There were at least ten in attendance, not including me. With dismay, I realized that all my not-so-favorite people were present.

  The air inside the gym felt stifling, thick with challenge, the predatory pheromones like a live current in the atmosphere. It was loud, with shouted conversations from all directions, the sounds of weights hitting the floor and punching bags being jabbed, the combat rink in full use, all layered with the pungent odor of sweat and blood, old and new. I hesitated at the door, wanting desperately to turn and leave, knowing I wasn't tolerated, much less welcomed, especially with Vincent gone. But that would have made me look weak, and weak was not the image I wanted to portray. I surveyed the room once, noticing with an inner groan that all the machines were occupied and that I wouldn't be able to follow the schedule in order. Apparently crime in the preternatural world was slow at the beginning of the year.

  I straightened my shoulders, ignored everyone and the snickering flowing my way, and marched stiffly, head high, to the edge of the mats and as far as I could be from everyone. Aside from their names – I had been introduced the first week to most– I knew what they were from the color of their auras. Nothing else.

  So there I was, an outcast, even among the monsters.

  And to think that I'd actually tried to befriend some of them. It wasn't only the dislike that filled the air with cold and disdain, no; some of the members were abrupt and rude, others downright hostile. Like Barbara, a were-hyena who had had the misfortune of calling me a weakling and a human hybrid during my first week on base. Vincent had heard and dressed her down in front of other members, unknowingly making things worse with the intervention, indicating that I needed protection. And now that Vincent was no longer here to keep the Hunters at bay, I was subject to their sneers and whispers. Was the fact that the attack happened when Vincent was away from the base a coincidence?

  I eyed the treadmills and the ellipticals. My training was supposed to start on either today, but all four machines were occupied. Jack Bellemeir was there too, another were-hyena and Barbara's counterpart, the same guy I'd first seen in the MGM Casino the night I was caught and trapped by Remo in his penthouse. I was so beneath Jack, he didn't even notice when I entered or left a room.

  I searched the people present, trying to spot a friendly face, finding none. Figures. The urge to turn and leave kept getting stronger, almost compulsive, and I gritted my teeth and started my warm-up.

  Only a few of the Hunters didn't have anything against me, or didn't act like I'd killed their puppies and bathed in their blood, but most were from the Cyber team on the second level and they seldom interacted with us, the field members.

  I had once asked Tony what the Hunters had against me, and she'd explained that it wasn't so much my human-hybrid status, but the fact that Vincent had exposed an eighteen-month operation to draw Remo away from the penthouse that day in Vegas to give me a chance to escape.

  Seeing that the guy was dead now, killed by yours truly, I didn't see why they were so wound up about it.

  There was nothing I could do about my human hybrid status, however, but if I could prove to them that I wasn't the weakling they liked to call me, that I didn't need Vincent or anyone else to look after me, maybe I could gain their respect, if not their friendship. And maybe I'd grow wings and fly.

  * * *

  One hour into training, Diggy walked into the gym.

  I could tell, even from where I stood at the back that his posture was stiff, his jaws clenched. He scanned the room once, his eyes settling on me before he began making his way to where I stood, his steps long, precise. I straightened, realizing his destination before anyone else did. Truly, I'd expected this confrontation to have come earlier. It'd have been a well-deserved tongue lashing, and I had no real excuse for being at his front door besides the fact that I'd been curious.

  I watched his powerful legs crush the distance, his air of indifference reminding me of Rafael, Logan's other friend. Although I didn't get to meet Diggy before arriving at base, Diggy's dislike of me, according to Rafael, had already been established. Still, I'd never been subject to any unfriendliness from him, or anything at all. In fact, that day in the apartments was the first time he'd acknowledged my presence.

  As Roland's third, he was a well-respected and well-feared member of the Hunters. His entrance into the gym had brought everyone's head up, including Bellemeir, gaining respectful nods of acknowledgement. When everyone realized his destination, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look, anticipating a confrontation.

  I assumed, because of his stiff posture and the hard set of his jaw, he was pissed. So it was no surprise that I believed he was here to give me the earful I should've gotten last week.

  I was wrong.

  He explained in a short and clipped
tone, that the situation south with the gang was more complicated than Vincent and Roland had predicted, and given Vincent would have to infiltrate the legion, he'd be gone for an indefinite period. I heard what he was saying, but couldn't really focus on his words. I'm not sure if the “message boy” role was as awkward to him as it was to me, so I just nodded politely, thanked him for keeping me updated. And if the tightening of his jaw was any indication, I'd just managed to insult him. I ignored the snickering that followed my gratitude, not knowing if there was a protocol I was supposed to have followed, or if it was proper for me to turn and leave in the presence of a superior without appropriate dismissal. And it didn't help that everyone's attention was focused on us.

  Or the fact he was assuming the lowly role of a messenger.

  And in my head, manners nagged me to apologize for spying on him last week.

  I cleared my throat when silence stretched, “Umm,” I began, cheeks flaming with embarrassment, “I – I apologize for intruding on your privacy last week?” it came out as a question, and only made my cheeks grow hotter.

  Diggy eyed me up and down, assessing me, and by the look in those hazel eyes and tightening lips, I wasn't measuring up.

  For what, I didn't know and didn't care. He was a rejected from the other line, prone to hate me from the moment he was conceived. I had said my piece, he had said his. I told myself I shouldn't be offended by his disapproval. And yet I stood and waited for him to say something else.

  Unlike Vincent's silvery-blue aura, Diggy's aura was as green as a were's, and although I could sense some kind of animal lurking under the surface, I couldn't tell what kind. No doubt it was some deformed beast like the Dracha.

  Still, I didn't like the way he was looking at me, as if he were measuring me for what I was worth, and was coming up lacking. I clenched my teeth, aware of the not so subtly muffled chuckles coming from the other side. Vincent may not be here to keep everyone else at bay, but this didn't mean I should tuck tail and lower my head to insults.