Charissa Dufour - Misguided Allies (The Void Series Book 2)

by Unknown

  Gently, he nudged her chin up to look at him. Sam flinched, jerking her chin away from his touch.

  “You enjoyed my touch a moment ago.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Will you not trust me?” he asked in a seductive whisper.

  “No more than you trust me,” she said before shouldering past him and escaping his room.

  Chapter Three

  Sam scurried down the multiple flights while simultaneously donning her ruined t-shirt and leather jacket. She was just yanking the zipper up to her neck when she pushed through the door and stumbled into the admin building’s foyer. The night clerk gave her a knowing smirk which brought a hot blush to her cheeks.

  The worst was that his insinuations weren’t far from the truth.

  What had she been thinking?

  Sam continued through the foyer and out onto the street, letting the frigid wind wash over her, cooling the heat of her skin. She had never been tempted to participate in a one night stand. It just wasn’t her style. Sam had spent too much of her life being rejected by her fellow inmates. She didn’t want to bring that same rejection into the most intimate parts of her life; therefore, she had only ever slept with Chad and not until they had begun discussing marriage, and even that had failed. Now she regretted ever getting that close to Chad considering how their relationship had turned out.

  The humans might call her a prude, but she was okay with it.

  No more sex until she was married. No more rejection.

  Sam just didn’t have enough of a heart left as it was.

  It was the magic, she told herself as she trudged back into the Reservation. Roman’s magic called to her, thrilled her. It was just his magic.

  She let out a sigh as she forced her mind to consider where she should be going from here. It was still hours before dawn. She couldn’t stay outside in the biting wind. There was only one place left to go.

  Sam flipped up the collar of her leather jacket to protect her neck, and headed south toward Carl’s apartment. At least Carl lived on the first floor. She snuck behind his apartment building, reached the correct window, and gave it a gentle tap. Another tap brought the glow of a lamp being turned on, followed closely by the window being pushed open.

  “Sam, is that you?” Carl asked as a shiver ran up his spine; he was simply too skinny.

  “Yeah. Can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  Carl stood back and let her fall through the window, landing with a gentle thud. They both froze, waiting to see if they had woken his mother. The sound of her breathing faltered before returning to the rhythm of a deeper sleep. Any other parent would have been woken by Sam’s noisy entrance, but Carl’s mother worked too hard to keep them afloat. She slept like a rock—a really tired rock.

  Carl pushed the window shut.

  Sam glanced over Carl’s slim body, absently noticing the boots laced to his feet.

  Had he fallen asleep fully dressed? she wondered.

  “What are you doing out at this time?” he whispered.

  “Reynolds released me from Solitary in the middle of the night. Tried to go to Amber… but she wouldn’t…” Sam trailed off, unsure how to finish her thought.

  Carl let out a long sigh, as though he wasn’t surprised. “Amber’s really upset with you. She thinks you’ve turned your back on your people.”

  Sam glanced away. She couldn’t look at him. There was no way to explain to him that she was working with the vampires to save him from himself. Carl, being a fae who could create his own electricity, had a fascination with technology and his single mother indulged him. The technology he possessed was enough to get him thrown into Solitary for the rest of his life, or maybe even executed. And what would become of his mother if that happened?

  She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaustion making it hard to keep her mouth shut.

  “Sam, the vampires in the Reservation are dangerous, and you’re working for them now. Can’t you see, even a little bit, why Amber would be upset?” continued Carl.

  “She’s free to think whatever she wants,” she finally mumbled.

  Sam took a seat on Carl’s desk chair, wincing as the pain in her back began to return. The magic she had pulled from Roman was beginning to fade and the effectiveness of his poultice with it. All the same, it was hard to sit still when her blood raced with power. It felt a little like being exhausted but hyped up on three energy drinks all at the same time.

  “You hurt?” Carl asked as he sat on his bed.

  Sam began to shrug as the movement pulled on the burn.

  “Accidentally touched some iron. Burned my back pretty badly.”

  “Where were you at that you were around iron?”

  Sam refrained from pointing out that the humans had slipped iron into many of the buildings throughout the Res. It had always been a sore subject between various factions of the fae, and neither of them needed her famous sarcasm at this moment in time.

  “The Fae Manufacturing warehouse. I found a dead fae in the alley. Feds almost caught me standing over the body. Had to hide,” Sam said, leaving out the feds’ suspicion that it had been killed by a vampire.

  “Sheesh, Sam. What have you gotten into now?”

  “Hey, I heard a scream. I went to help. I was too late. So sue me.”

  “All right, all right. Just… just don’t go investigating.”

  “Why?”

  “Last time you stuck your nose in it, you got recruited by that vamp. Please, just let it lie.”

  Sam nodded, lying with the movement. If her friend knew her at all, he would know she couldn’t let a fae getting killed go unexamined. Not only was she too curious to leave a mystery go unchecked in her backyard, but she loved her people too much.

  Then again, he actually thought she didn’t care about her fae brothers and sisters.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “Did you hear about the new residents?” Carl asked.

  Sam shook her head. When they had been children, new residents caught out in the great wide world and brought to the Reservation was a normal occurrence. As the number of mystics living on American soil outside the Reservations decreased so did the number of new neighbors.

  “Yeah. Evidently the FMB caught three vampires fighting a mage. They were all brought in a few days ago.”

  “Three against one?”

  “Yup. Evidently he’s crazy powerful.”

  Sam frowned, considering Roman. The young man was indeed extremely powerful, but if he had been found out, they would not have housed him in the guest rooms of the administration building. He would have been slumming it with the rest of the inmates.

  “Have you met the mage?”

  “Yeah. Amber’s all over him. Says he’s super-hot. I wouldn’t really know,” Carl said with a chuckle.

  “What’s he look like?”

  Carl shrugged. “Long brown hair keeps tied back. Brown beard. Big guy.”

  Sam laughed softly at Carl’s description. It wasn’t Roman. She let out a little sigh of relief.

  “Get some sleep, Carl,” she finally said.

  “What about you?”

  “I can sleep in the chair.”

  In truth, she was so tired she could have slept standing up. Sam lowered her head to the desk, cradling it in her arms, and drifted away before Carl could take off his boots.

  Sam woke just as the sky was beginning to turn gray. The long burn across her back throbbed with the beat of her heart. She stifled a groan as she sat up, stretching her neck back and forth. Carl was still fast asleep, snoring as though he hadn’t seen his pillow in days. She knew how he felt.

  She took off her boots and tiptoed out of the cramped room, down the hall, and out of the apartment. If her movements brought Carl’s mother out of her room, she would likely assume it was just the neighbor when she found no one awake in her own apartment.

  Sam slipped her scuffed boots back on, tucked the laces inside, and left the building
. She could have slept the day away given the opportunity, but she wasn’t up to facing Carl or his accusations in the cold light of day. He might not have said it out right, and he might have let her into his room, but he clearly wasn’t happy with her. Then again, who was?

  Dragging her tired feet and trying her best to ignore the pain in her back, Sam trudged up northward to Heywood’s house, weaving in and out of the vampires hurrying home before the sun finished rising. She had intended to visit the leader of the powerful vampire gang when she first got released.

  Better late than never, she told herself as she wrapped her arms around her chest.

  For the thousandth time, Sam considered getting a transfer to the Florida Reservation, the only difficulty being she didn’t know how to fish, and she was an unmarried women. The Federal Mystics Bureau were still stuck in the Neanderthal era. No unmarried woman could live outside her parent’s home or transfer to a new Reservation.

  Sam rolled her eyes as she turned off the main street onto the narrow sidewalk—all that remained of the old road now filled with plastic studio apartments. She stopped at Heywood’s door and knocked.

  Somehow, Heywood had managed to take over an entire row house. Usually they were divided into apartments, one family per floor. A guard opened the door and ushered her in. Sam dragged herself up the long staircase and into the room Heywood tended to use as a living room.

  “Sam,” he said by way of a greeting.

  Whatever expectations she had had concerning the leader of the most prominent vampire gang within the Reservation, Heywood did not meet them. The seemingly-young man looked as though he had read about vampires in a romance novel and tried to mimic them. His hair was trimmed in a faux-hawk and streaked with raven-purple dye. His eyes were lined in black makeup and his nails were painted to match. Today he wore black, skin-tight jeans and a silver t-shirt.

  The thing was, Sam knew it wasn’t his attempt to intimidate anyway. Heywood actually liked the faux-goth look. He liked putting on make-up and styling his hair. She also knew fifty years down the road he would likely latch on to some other strange fad, and fifty years in the past he likely wore his blue jeans rolled alongside his letterman’s jacket.

  Sam wasn’t surprised to find a werewolf lying unconscious on an unusually fancy feinting couch, his arm still seeping blood from a recent bite wound.

  Sam had never heard how Heywood convinced non-vampires to work as walking blood bags for him, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Chances were he used their secretes against them, just as he had done with her. Wisely though, Heywood had never suggested feeding off her after their first meeting. They had fed off each other, in essence. Sam had taken his powers as a demonstration of her abilities and he had recovered by drinking her blood.

  “Hey,” she replied, sounding nearly as tired as she felt.

  “You look awful.”

  “Long night. Sorry I couldn’t make it here sooner. I was on my way when I heard someone scream. Found a dead body,” she added as she collapsed into a seat. “The feds showed up a second later so I had to hide. Heard them say it was done by a vampire. Know anything about that?”

  “No. And what were you doing investigating it? That’s not your job.”

  “It was a fae, one of my people. What did you expect me to do, look the other way?”

  “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. You’re no good to me in Solitary, and poking your head into fed business is just gonna get you put back in the box.”

  “Funny how you’re okay when I’m in there on your account,” she said, sounding a lot angrier than she had intended.

  “You stop getting caught and you’ll stop going to Solitary.”

  “Noted,” Sam grumbled, accidentally leaning back in her chair.

  Her breath caught in her chest as the bandaging rubbed against the burn.

  “You hurt?” he asked.

  “Touched some iron. Don’t suppose I could have a little help with this.”

  Vampire’s healed quickly. If she took his powers, even just a little sip, her back would heal itself in record time.

  “Not today, Sam. Maybe this way you’ll learn not to go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  Sam glared at him but didn’t say a word. It wouldn’t do any good to argue with him when his mind had been made up.

  “Can you at least tell me if you ordered the hit on the fae?” she finally asked, trying her best to sound submissive.

  “I did not order a hit on a fae.”

  Sam nodded.

  “You have to work today?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she groaned.

  “Fine. Go to work. When you’re off, come back here. I need you to do a pick up tonight.”

  Sam fought against the tears pressing against her eyes. Fatigue, pain, and the prospect of a long day and night before she could rest were beginning to push her past the brink.

  Chapter Four

  Whether human or fae, a twelve hour shift cleaning cloth diapers by hand would wear anyone out.

  Sam, working on nearly no sleep and an injured back, was ready to drop when she finally emerged from the fumes of the Organic Diapers’ warehouse. They worked out of the Reservation because no self-respecting human—illegal immigrant or otherwise—would take the work the company had to offer without steep compensation. The mystics, on the other hand, were forced to take whatever job they were offered.

  The one benefit of the long day of work was the gossip. Via the whispering of the people standing over their long sinks, Sam had learned the identity of the murdered fae. Brian Stevenson had lost his life the night before and, according to the woman standing at the sink next to Sam, he was the keeper of the artifact Erȍ, a powerful ring.

  A few of the older fae still possessed the relics of their ancestors. Even her father held one or two relics. Anything with a name was old and powerful. Now Sam knew why the workers were in such a hubbub. If someone had been after Erȍ then they may face real trouble.

  Sam tried to obey Heywood and keep herself out of the discussion. She tried. She really did.

  Sam stopped outside the warehouse, taking a deep breath, relieved not only to be out of the smelly sweatbox but also to be free of temptation to involve herself in Brian’s murder.

  As much as she wanted to go home and collapse in her own bed, Sam obediently passed her parents’ apartment building to continue on to Heywood’s house.

  “Sam,” a voice called from behind her. “I thought that was you.”

  Sam wasn’t sure what her brother was talking about. She was the only white-haired woman in the Reservation who didn’t walk with a cane.

  “Ryan,” she said as she turned to look at him.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded.

  “What do you mean? I’ve been in Solitary. You knew that.”

  “You got out last night.”

  Sam sighed. Of course Reynolds would lie to her parents as to when she was getting out. “Yeah. In the middle of the night. I didn’t want to wake you all so I stayed at Carl’s.”

  It was mostly true.

  She had gone to Carl’s apartment, just not until the wee hours of the morning. Still, her cocky older brother didn’t need to know she’d spent half the night crawling around the Res as she ran from the feds, and the other half in the arms of an outlaw mage.

  “And where have you been all day?” he demanded, placing his fists on his hips like an old house wife.

  “I had to go to work. I’ve been cleaning diapers for twelve hours.”

  “You couldn’t even deign to visit your parents before going to work?”

  “Right. Like my parents wanted to see me.”

  “Fine,” Ryan sighed. “Your mother. Mom was worried sick.”

  Sam felt the first wave of guilt wash over her. Despite the fact her father seemed to think she was a parasite within the family—similar to how most of the fae felt about her—her mother loved her deeply. Whether she wanted to admit it or no
t, her brother had a point.

  She glanced up at the sun, wondering if she had time to visit before going to Heywood’s. The problem was if she went home her mother wouldn’t want her to leave.

  “Look, I have an errand to run. I’ll come round tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow. Really? This errand gonna take all night? You sleeping with Chad again?”

  Sam balked as she looked up at her older brother. He was serious. He assumed she was just running around having sex?

  “Or is it that Heywood character you’re sleeping with?”

  “Neither. Think what you want, Ryan, but believe it or not my legs are crossed. Tell Mom I’ll see her tomorrow,” she snapped before storming away, losing herself in the flowing crowd.

  Sam felt the hot tears begin their tracks down her smudged face. She didn’t have much left to give, and yet no one seemed to appreciate the effort she was making.

  Then again, they don’t know what you’re doing or why, a logical voice in her head reminded her.

  She ignored herself and trudged forward.

  No one noticed the tears running down her face, or no one cared enough to stop and inquire. She saw numerous women look at her and avert their gaze. A Void was not worth their concern.

  And to them she was nothing more than a Void. She wasn’t Sam, she wasn’t a young woman hurting for friendship and understanding. She wasn’t an overworked, underpaid employee. She wasn’t an under-appreciated friend or even an outcast. At least an outcast was shunned. She was just a Void, a nonentity. If they saw her, they looked through her, beyond her.

  Sam pushed those thoughts away, focusing only on the now, on her feet pounding against the pavement, on the pain in her back, on the beat of her heart. It was a trick she had not fully mastered despite all her practice, but she used it whenever she needed it, and the more her life sucked the more she needed it.

  Sam had just reached the entrance of the row house neighborhood when another voice stopped her. She turned to see Chad jogging up to her side. Chad was a thin young man with high cheek bones and a soft face. His longish black hair was gelled back into little waves turning to tighter curls at the base of his skull.