Heir Of Doom

by Jina S Bazzar

  It was the general mood of a fancy restaurant, spiked with the menacing pheromones of savage, dominant predators. I had been introduced around the table, and after everyone determined I was just a lowly mixed breed, I was cast aside without a second glance. No one talked to me, and I took the opportunity to study those present. I did, of course, search for Angelina, but she wasn't present.

  A serious-looking waiter placed a huge chunk of roasted herb-infused meat and roasted vegetables in front of me, and I dug in, finding it delicious. Every now-and-then I stole glances at Logan, talking and smiling at the redhead a few tables away. Behind them sat Archer and Elizabeth, their eyes focused on the room, their expressions as if they'd tasted something sour, their food untouched.

  Mwara's face came back to mind, the fear, the defiance. “I'll run,” she'd told me. It had been the week before Christmas. Could she have been missing ever since?

  My mouth went dry with worry I didn't want to feel, and the food I'd swallowed turned into led. I pushed my plate away, my appetite completely gone.

  Diggy raised a brow, but I ignored him and picked up my water.

  Where did you go, Mwara?

  After dessert was served, vanilla-bean Crème brûlée, which I ate with gusto, the band began playing in earnest. The vocalist, who'd been playing the guitar to that point, put the instrument down and stood, to the delight and encouraging cheers of the crowd. His voice was strong and pleasing. The song was one I'd never heard, but it seemed to be popular among this particular group, since a lot of the guests started singing along. A few grabbed their partners and pulled them to the dance floor, to the claps and cheers of others.

  Even Diggy grabbed his drink and leaned back to enjoy the song, a faint smile playing on his lips when petit Xandra dragged an uncomfortable Boris to the center.

  It was a new side of a community I'd learned were nothing but barbarians with penchants for blood.

  How long would it take to become part of this community? Would I ever manage to belong, or would I stay an outcast forever?

  * * *

  I'd expected to be leaving soon after the meal, but Diggy still wasn't satisfied with our lesson, so we mingled. My teacher was nothing but a thorough pain in my ass. And feet. God, my feet. How could people be willing to put on such mockery of footwear and march to their jobs from eight to five, five days a week? What was wrong with the women of the world? If my feet had a voice of their own, they'd be raising the dead by now.

  Diggy dragged me across the room, back and forth like a serial killer searching for the best mark. The crowd had loosened up after the meal and music, so it was easier for me to stare and send my awareness without being sensed.

  And then my mentor decided I should find and identify disguised auras. It wasn't an easy task, given the fact that most of the time the aura was exactly what I thought it was, no disguises. Born vampires, made ones, shifters – there were only three in the entire crowd that I could find – mages, magic wielders – also called sorcerers – witches, a lot of weres, and the basilisk couple. And an elemental called Iris. Diggy explained that Iris was a human who had been raised in the Seelie court – a promised child – and that now carried the element form of a banished fee, a Seelie warrior who once defied queen Titania. It was a symbiotic bond between both souls, giving Iris youth and immortality while allowing the banished fee, Storm, to manifest.

  It was after midnight when Diggy decided we'd had enough and called it a night.

  By then I'd developed an annoying low-grade headache and my feet… oh God, my feet were killing me! My arches felt stretched thin, ready to snap at the next step; my little toes were numb and the balls of my feet were a mess of painful agony.

  We drove in silence, both lost in our thoughts. My mind played over the entire evening, snagging over and over on Mwara, taunting me with horrible scenarios where she was being tortured by the PSS, or taken by some other monster. I had to keep telling myself that she was fine and safe, just “running” whenever she sensed someone from the clan closing in. But a part of me, a more logical one, pointed out that she was just a kid, and no matter how clever she was, if she was running, someone from the clan should have found her by now.

  By the time Diggy parked in front of my building, I decided to call Roland in the morning and tell him about Mwara.

  * * *

  I awoke to the insistent sound of the doorbell ringing. Groaning, I glanced at the bright-green digits on the bedside clock.

  “Go away, for God's sake,” I called out. Burying my head under the pillow, I imagined myself ripping the ringing box off the wall and hammering it into tiny little pieces.

  Ding-dong, ding-dong.

  Smash-boom, smash-boom.

  Ding-dong, ding-dong. Ding-dong, ding-dong. On and on and on it went.

  “For fuck's sake!” Outraged, I threw away the covers and got out of bed, promising myself if it was a salesperson I would punch him, then sick the police on them for disturbing the peace at 7:30 on a freaking Sunday morning.

  Driven with the urge to do violence, I moved with purpose down the hall, my arches still smarting from the previous night. I wrenched open the door, only to hiss in shock when a gust of freezing wind hit me square on. It slipped through my thin oversized shirt and flannel pants and seeped deep into my bones.

  “Good morning to you too,” Logan said, his gray eyes twinkling with amusement. “You should put on a robe before opening the door in such freezing temperatures. It's bound to be very uncomfortable.”

  “Logan,” I said, surprised.

  “Hello. I see your night attire hasn't changed.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The smile around his eyes faded and he glanced behind me. “I thought I'd come and see how you're doing since I was already in town. I didn't get to talk to you last night.”

  No, you were too busy with that redhead.

  “Come in,” I said, opening the door wider.

  “I don't want to interrupt.”

  I snorted. “You already did. Might as well come in.”

  He hesitated. “Are you alone?”

  I frowned. “It's too early for company. I was asleep.”

  “So what did I interrupt?” he asked, following me into the kitchen.

  “My dreams,” I replied, glancing back in time to see the glint of humor in his eyes.

  He was dressed in black jeans, a leather jacket zipped all the way up and worn, sturdy boots. His hair was tousled, either by the wind or design, his cheeks shadowed with stubble.

  Unsure about what to say or what to do next, I moved to the coffee machine, deciding coffee could never be wrong. I measured the beans, filled the boiler with water, then filled Frizz's dish with ground meat, sure Vicky had returned the bowl I had prepared him last night and fed him plenty of grease and sweet junk instead. I sighed. She'd have taken him home with her if she could.

  “Have your carnivore tendencies grown in these past months?” Logan asked with a bewildered smile.

  I chuckled, shook my head, and started having second thoughts about feeding Frizz while Logan, a stranger, watched. But it would be more awkward now if I left the bowl on the counter or returned it to the fridge. After warming it some in the microwave, I placed the bowl on the table where Frizz usually sat. For a second I thought Frizz wasn't going to show himself, no doubt picking on my hesitation, but when I sent him an encouraging thought, he blinked into existence, not even twitching when Logan swore and jumped back. “You have a mother-fucking gargoyle!”

  “A what?” I asked, startled. I glanced at Frizz, at the small wings, the clawed hands and feet, the pointed ears.

  A gargoyle? A bright bulb went off in my head.

  “Gargoyle, huh?” I repeated, amused.

  “When did you…” His eyes narrowed and I saw the second he'd realized when, and how, I'd acquired a gargoyle. “Why don't you just ask him for something and let him go back to whatever hole he crawled out from?”

  I stiffene
d at his callous words, but he didn't notice. “I thought you used him to help you back that night in the Society?”

  “You knew about him?”

  He shrugged. “It was kind of obvious.”

  He'd known that day going into the PSS that I had a shadow. That reminded me. I skipped to my room, picked up the bracelet and handed it back to him.

  Logan took it, expression unreadable. His finger traced the dark rock, devoid of the magic it had once contained.

  “I didn't know how strong it would be,” he said, glancing up.

  “It was…” I trailed off, unsure what to say. I knew the bracelet hadn't been strong enough to shatter building B alone, but I didn't know what had really happened that night. What I'd felt awakened within.

  “You should keep it,” He said, placing the bracelet on the counter.

  I frowned down at it, said nothing, turned and opened the cupboard.

  I poured black coffee for him and another with sugar for me, and thought about all the chaos I'd left behind that day in the PSS, all the lives I'd had no right taking.

  Handing him a mug, I leaned back at the counter. “So why are you here?”

  His eyes searched mine. “I wanted to check on you. See how you were fairing.”

  You could have asked yesterday. I shrugged. “I'm doing fine.”

  He placed the mug aside without taking a sip. “You weren't supposed to sign an agreement with the Hunters. They'd have gotten us out of there with or without it.”

  There it was: guilt.

  “You and Archer, maybe Rafael. But not me.”

  “You included,” he insisted. Frizz's ears flicked, but he didn't raise his head or pause eating.

  “Archer was caught because he was searching for you.”

  “No. He knew about me all along. When he went to investigate the rumor about a scion captured by the PSS, he hadn't expected it to be me.” I was the scapegoat because my father fucked up, something Elizabeth had admitted to when I'd gone to confront her.

  “When I was born, I…” I swallowed and looked down at my hands, the words still hard to speak. I was the reason my mother had died. “I was born with talons. The Scientists had their eyes on my parents by then, and my birth only spotlighted me as dangerous. There was some legal issue as to who would raise me after my father died. During one of the council's meetings, it was decided that I'd be raised by a member of the clan, and that periodic blood work would be done to determine how much of my father I had inherited. Once puberty came along and I had nothing but talons, extra strength and endurance, the clan gave the PSS their blessings. I was supposed to stay until I turned twenty-one, then be let go.” I finished with, “Elizabeth told me so herself when I confronted her.”

  Logan clenched his jaw, but didn't voice whatever thought churned in his head. He picked up his coffee and blew on it before taking a sip.

  I went on, feeling the resentment I'd tried to suppress bubbling to the surface. “When you took me to Elizabeth, you knew who she was, what she was to me. Didn't you?”

  “That's not true. I mean, I knew about her, what she was, her position in the clan. But I've been out of the game for a long time, long enough that I was surprised to find that Fosch's daughter – a girl I'd vaguely heard about – was running from the society, and that no one was trying to protect her” He drew a deep breath. “I was surprised when you told me the society had been waiting in Elizabeth's home for you, that she watched them take you and did nothing about it, and very surprised when you told me you'd been a captive in the PSS for nine years and that no one in the clan seemed to notice your absence.”

  “That's because I wasn't a captive. They had guardianship over me.”

  He clenched his jaw again, his eyes cold, his anger wafting like cold waves, a refreshing tang I'd once tasted. “When I realized you were looking for a Dhiultadh in that general area, I recalled Elizabeth and a few others from the clan were living somewhere out there. So I snuck out, took a few photos, brought them so you could confirm or deny.”

  I angled my head. “But shouldn't – wouldn't,” I corrected, “You have known if Elizabeth and Fosch had had a daughter together?”

  Logan nodded. “I knew she wasn't your mother, yes.” He raised a hand before I could cut him off. “But when I first heard about Fosch and his bargain with the Seelie, some years had already passed, and honestly, back then, I didn't care. I was told the daughter had been hidden away, and I knew a clan member would be taking care of you. So when you said you were looking for your mother, I presumed it was the person who'd raised you. There are only a few clan members in that general vicinity, and all go by different names among the humans, so I snuck out and brought you some photos.”

  “You once said Archer was your mentor. Shouldn't you be better informed about clan affairs?” I asked, my suspicion not appeased.

  “Yes, but at the time I wasn't in the right frame of mind to really question anything. Someone mentioned to me that the daughter was going to be sent away, told me about the bargain and Fosch. That's it. Maybe I was told about who'd be responsible for your upbringing, but if I was, I can't remember. I never asked about details, never questioned the reason, how or why.”

  “Yeah, no one really cared to know,” I murmured, regretting my words the moment pity entered his eyes. He took a step forward; I took one back, not wanting anyone's pity, much less his.

  “I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry you went through all you did. Believe me when I tell you Elizabeth took a lot of heat from Archer because of you.”

  I recalled the way Elizabeth had looked last night, the tension in her expression. Maybe that hardness had nothing to do with Mwara and everything to do with the heat she'd taken from Archer. Maybe Mwara was home, and the missing scion was someone else.

  A hope so awful and selfish filled my being and I prayed that the missing scion was someone else's kid. I was a terrible person for feeling this way, but I couldn't help it. I needed to know, though, to be sure, to banish the worry and guilt. I'd planned to talk to Roland this morning, but I knew Logan would be better informed.

  I took in a deep breath. “I need to ask you something, Logan.” I'd have rather asked Vincent, but Vincent was still out of the grid. The slight quiver in my voice didn't go unnoticed, and Logan straightened, eyes concerned. “What is it?”

  “It's not anything. I mean, it's something, but it's another topic. It doesn't have to do with me and Elizabeth.” I frowned at my word choices. “No, it has all to do with Elizabeth, and probably me.” I fell quiet, trying to predict the way Logan would take the news.

  “Did Elizabeth do something?” he prompted.

  I shook my head. “Well, maybe.” I didn't need to interpret his furrowing brow to know that I wasn't making any sense. I sighed. There wasn't really a way to go about this. “It's got to do with the reason you're here in New York.”

  Logan tilted his head. “What do you know about the reason I'm here?”

  “I heard you were looking for a missing scion?” When Logan neither denied nor affirmed, I plowed on, “Is it – is it Mwara?”

  Logan stiffened, his eyes chilled. “How do you know?”

  I felt all the warmth leave my body at the ferocity in his eyes. He looked like a lion about to pounce on prey. The person standing in front of me was no one I had met before.

  “I don't know anything, I didn't know she was missing. I only found out yesterday,” I hurried to explain. Logan didn't relax, but the frost in his eyes thawed a bit, his forehead creased. “But I did see her a while back. About a week before Christmas,” I confessed, hoping beyond hope that she went missing last week.

  “Where did you see her?” he demanded.

  “When did she go missing?” I asked instead.

  “Was she alone?” he asked next, not giving an inch.

  I clenched my jaw. “Yes, she was alone. She came to see me and intercepted me one evening when I was walking home from base.”

  “Where?”

 
; “About a block away. Tell me, when did she go missing?”

  “I want you to take me to where you saw her last. Relate everything she told you, anything you remember, and leave nothing out.”

  “Ok, but tell me: when did she go missing?”

  “Around Christmas,” he replied and I felt something akin to grief deep within.

  “What did she want? Did you talk to her? How did she get here?” Logan fired one question after the other, either indifferent or not seeing the stricken look in my eyes. Could she be in the PSS, suffering through Dr. Maxwell's ministrations? And if she wasn't there, , how could she be missing all this time and still be safe out in the world, alone?

  Chapter Fifteen

  I told Logan everything. From that moment I felt eyes on me to the moment I watched Mwara walk away.

  When I fell silent, Logan's gaze grew distant, his expression troubled.

  The guilt I began feeling yesterday intensified ten-fold. “I didn't think she would run. I told her not to,” I said quietly, knowing my remorse meant nothing.

  Logan placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “We'll find her. We have the best trackers searching for her.” But we both knew if they were going to find her, they would have done that already.

  “Are you part of the search team?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me change so I can take you to where we met,” I said, straightening.

  Logan straightened as well. “In a moment. We need to talk about some things first.” There was an intense, serious look in his eyes that told me the important part had yet to be told.

  After an awkward pause, I cleared Frizz's bowl from the table and sat down.

  “I heard Doug took up your training.”

  “He did.” I studied the polite expression, trying to figure him out. What are you gearing up to say?

  “He's a good instructor.”

  I grunted, took a sip of my warm coffee and waited.

  “He said Zantry Akinzo approached you yesterday.”

  I paused, my eyes scanning his calm expression, leaned back on my chair and frowned at him. “Diggy gives you an update about everyone who approached me?”