All the King's Men (The Turning Series Book 1)

by Krys Janae

  “Dani…” Morgan rose from his chair and immediately assisted her, bracing his hand against her back and easing her against the mattress. His insistence on keeping things civil instead of using her methods of ancient savagery made her roll her eyes. Franco had tried to kill her, possibly not knowing her healing properties. She had time to go over all of the ‘what if’s’ in her head, and the fact of the matter was, she was supposed to die out there.

  “Sorry, ‘arrest’ him.” Danika weakly raised her hands to use air quotes.

  “He’s a ghost,” Morgan said, his voice heavy with exasperation. “Other than what the military records have publicly available, Franco Serra has no other footprints. No trails to follow. No records, on public or Powered registries.”

  Ghosts.

  Danika was a fan of horror flicks, but unlike the boogedy-boogedy hauntings on the big screen, she was tired of these ghosts. Renegade, rogue agents. Vigilantes in the Powered world were just thorns in their sides. While it suited his persona, the Rook being a ghost was going to make it near impossible to find him so she could extract her revenge. Danika would have to keep that last part away from Morgan, because he wasn’t much for retribution, but he had to understand that she wasn’t going sit around and let King’s elite walk away. Especially if his MO was to kill, not maim. She had questions. Then she’d kill him.

  “Well that’s fantastic. Some super sniper with killer instincts just leaves me to suffer and probably die, and we can’t do a damn thing about it?” She scowled.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Morgan replied.

  “Yeah. We will.”

  Paved with Good Intentions

  “Careful. There you go.” Aldo encouraged her across the platform.

  Nearly two weeks had passed, but Danika was walking again, holding herself up on her own, with very little assistance from the bars at her sides. She’d been told that the caliber of bullet used had a low survival rate, but she was still breathing, functioning and standing upright in no time, thanks to her Powered nature. It was also a good sign that his meds and healing powers were aiding in the mend of the injury. Unfortunately, it was still too early to celebrate. A pinched nerve flared up in her back, causing Danika to trip over her own feet toward the end. She cursed multiple times on her way down, but Koa was there with his arms out to catch her.

  “Oof!” she grunted, the pain blossoming further up her back and radiating outward. Danika pat him on the shoulder, her eyebrows raised at the solid muscle. “T-Thanks, big guy.”

  As usual, Koa didn’t speak, he just nodded as he lifted her to stand and carefully placed her onto the platform.

  “Just one more round, Danika,” Aldo said, as he strolled over to the opposite end of the path to wait for Danika to make her return. He firmly planted the bottom of his walking stick on the ground, gesturing out for her to continue. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  She breathed out heavily, letting her shoulders sink down to the worst possible form, to which Aldo shook his head. It was the only way she could relax the muscles around her ribs, but she’d been warned that letting her injuries settle like that would develop a bad habit, and it would be a bad idea for the long run.

  His walking stick slapped against the platform, the assisting bars whirred as they trembled, and the sharp snap of it made her ears ring. “Stand up straight. You’ll thank me later.”

  She grunted. “Think we can just call it here, Doc?” She’d felt a sharp sting in her legs when Koa set her back down, which had traced up to loiter in the middle of her spine, the epicenter of the excruciating pain.

  “One more pass. Your legs need the work, since you’ve been down for a while.” Aldo replied, with a grin that told her he was probably getting some pleasure out of watching her learn how to walk again. He was right, though. Being confined to a wheelchair for transport or pinned to a bed when she wasn’t scooting along, meant that her legs were weak. She was a long way from kickboxing with Erik anytime soon, but this was progress.

  Inhaling a sharp breath, Danika wore her determined face and started to make the final trek across the platform.

  Right…left…Riiiiight…

  Her balance was still a little wobbly. Danika kept her hands out to her sides and they hovered over the assistance bars in case her back sparked with pain again or her legs decided to give way. She hissed with disapproval as she stumbled along the way, but Danika kept on, showing off drive and tenacity as she made it across without assistance. Thank God. She praised herself in thought, as she crossed the invisible finish line.

  Aldo excused her, after what felt like a year’s worth of hiking uphill—though it had been less than an hour of physical therapy—and Danika was wheeled back into her room. Her workout hadn’t completely incapacitated her, but Koa hoisted onto her bed with ease.

  “Thanks,” She said as she patted him on the shoulder. Since he didn’t react, she tilted her head to try and make eye contact with him. “Not so much with the words, are you, Big K?”

  For the first time, she saw him crack a smile, but that was all he did before walking out of the room.

  She was grateful that her surroundings were homey. It wasn’t the typical hospital-style room, it felt more like a hotel room or a guest room in someone’s home. The upper level to the Ward had three rooms that served as private cells or isolated care. Danika’s suite was fashioned to hide a lot of the monitors and wires that freaked out most people, and while she didn’t mind that whole setup, it was rather convenient not to worry about tangling herself in wires and tubes.

  She had a comfortable queen-sized bed that inclined or reclined, fresh sheets and fluffy pillows, though she thought the rails on the sides to make sure she didn’t roll off were overkill; Danika vaguely recalled telling Aldo and Koa she wasn’t going to roll out and didn’t need gutter bumpers like Ten Pin Lanes had on kid’s night. Paintings lined the walls, placed beside some artsy pictures taken around Augusta. Shelves, vases, candles, and other decorations were in place to make it comfortable. Recently, it had been upgraded with a flat-screen television which had been mounted on the wall opposite the bed for some entertainment. If only it wasn’t set to basic network…but, she couldn’t be picky. Danika rarely watched television, and when she did, she usually didn’t pay attention to it as it was just for the hum of white noise ambiance. However, today she’d found herself turning up the volume on the TV when Koa left the room.

  The news station was rolling footage of the councilman with his motorcade scrambling to get away after the commotion from the shot that night. “…Alton King’s numbers rise in the polls, after an assassination attempt at the Grand Regal hotel is…”

  “Assassination attempt? Like the bullet was anywhere near him… fuck off, pansy.” She rolled her eyes.

  King, his army of bodyguards, his wife, and his colleagues were all on the opposite side of the building when the shot was fired. No one was around Danika except Charlie, then Olivia, then Sloane. The bullet had her name on it, and it had found her.

  “I get shot and this fucker’s pulling sympathy votes from the brainwashed masses. Fuck all.” She grumbled.

  “Knock knock…” The door had only been pushed open a crack, and she could see the crown of russet hair and dark sunglasses peeking through.

  Danika turned down the volume and looked up at the door, but Charlie was peeking in and didn’t enter. “Are really you really gonna make me ask: who’s there?”

  Charlie grinned. “It’d be nice if you played along.”

  Danika glared.

  “But you don’t play along. Got it.”

  “Bingo.” She softly chuckled, though it still somewhat hurt to laugh.

  When he pushed the door open, she could see a white bag hanging from his elbow and he carried two different flowerpots that were immediately set on the nightstand.

  “Wow—you a vampire much?” he asked, moving towards the window.

  Danika held her hand up to stop him, and winced when he cracked them
open to let some of the rays into the room. It looked like it was mid-afternoon. Using minimal effort, she pushed the curtain over to keep the shade over her. “Aldo said my meds required low sun—wait, what are those, orchids? Charlie…”

  One of the pots contained a brilliant purple bouquet, a mix of a couple of flowers she hadn’t seen in this region, and the second one was set with the orchids she immediately recognized from home.

  He gave a wily smile, exposing that charming little dimple in his cheek. “What? I couldn’t leave them at your place. Stopped by while I was in town to make sure everything was in order and everything’s still in its place. Don’t worry.”

  They were the ones he’d bought to replace the ones he destroyed when they first met. While the sentiment was appreciated, Danika was skeptical of this entire setup. Maybe the nerves were hitting her hard because she hadn’t been on a proper date in some time—but that’s not what this was, was it? Nobody had a date in a hospital bed, for Christ’s sake. And the stunt at the Grand Regal? That was a job. She couldn’t count that either.

  “What about those?” Danika sniffed the air, taking in the sweet notes lingering around the bouquet.

  “Hm? Oh yeah…” Charlie laughed, almost embarrassed at the query. “It’s an old habit of mine. Have you ever heard of the flower language?”

  “The what?” She couldn’t hold back her snicker when he said that. “Flower language? Alright, now you’re starting to sound all mountain-town hippie on me. What are you talking about?”

  “It’s the Victorian Flower language; each flower has a meaning. Xeranthemums are for cheerfulness under adversity. Snowdrops are consolation…and hope.” Charlie seemed rather proud of his choices, but the two of them complimented each other pretty well. “I had them imported from a florist in Europe, one of my senior partners has connections and that was the only place I could find them this time of year. The snowdrops, that is, since they’re a winter bloom.”

  Danika couldn’t help but smile at this extravagant gesture. She felt that weird tingle in her chest again, and the only way to deflect these odd feelings were to give that unladylike snort for which she was well-known. “Shit…you really are old-world, aren’t you?”

  “I guess you could say that, sure.” Charlie chuckled, nervously. “Oh! I picked up your favorite, since Doc let me know you can actually eat solid food again.”

  Not that the flowers weren’t a sweet gesture, but this is where Danika’s eyes really lit up. She’d been stuck on liquid lunching for so long, this was one of the best gifts a girl could ask for. “Charles Matthews, you beautiful man.”

  “You know you love me,” he gloated.

  “Oh, how I love you so very much,” she said flatly. Everything was a straight line—her eyebrows, her lips, her cadence. But she couldn’t hold that expression too long, and they both erupted in a fit of laughter.

  “Ow, don’t make me laugh!” Danika complained, clutching her ribs, though a smile still lit her face.

  He pulled up her dining tray and dished up some of the garlic pesto and fettucine from the box, making sure to give her a decent helping of the chicken and fresh vegetables since she’d been lusting over those.

  “Seriously thank you, I’ve been craving this—”

  “I know.” He winked. “I was going to go to Gordon’s, but…”

  Danika was already digging in, but stopped as he trailed off. She slurped up the last bit of the noodle and shrugged. “Can’t take it back now.”

  Again, they both laughed and she reached up to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, keeping it classy, as usual. Gordon’s was her favorite burger joint within walking distance of base, but she was craving anything that didn’t taste like mashed up oatmeal, blended peas and dry meatloaf, so Charlie made the right call no matter what it was.

  Charlie stabbed one of the pieces of chicken with his fork. “Aldo says you should be up and running again in a few more days.”

  Swallowing the bit of food, Danika nodded eagerly. “Good. I’m getting tired of how it smells in here.”

  “Like… sterile and clean?”

  “Something, I guess. It’s gross.” She made a sour face.

  “Fair enough.” Charlie nodded.

  The room wasn’t that bad, but she missed her apartment and the privacy in those four walls, and her whiskey, of course. She couldn’t wait to detach from the wires and machines.

  “So how are things going at Brightman, Bullock and Co., dear fiancé? Lock up the bad guys? Find your catchphrase in your bad-ass opening statements?” Danika had succumbed to civilized eating and proceeded to pace herself with her meal using her utensils properly.

  “No no, nothing like that.” He set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, straightening out his tie as he did. The burgundy really brought out the reddish tones in his eyes and hair.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m the bad guy. Defense. I stand for the innocent ‘til proven guilty. Gotta give them a fighting chance.”

  “You sound like my dad. Defending the people like some hero.” Danika said, though her tone went from proud to somber by the end of her statement. He was Powered, but was valiant in his own sense of heroism, as he played guardian to the Augustan citizens by day, and had fought the criminals by night.

  “Your dad was a lawyer?” Charlie asked, side-stepping that last comment altogether.

  “Yeah.” She nodded, and opted to cover her mouth with a napkin as she chewed on the bite of food that was lot larger than anticipated. After a couple of dabs to her lips, she set it down. “Sorry. Fought fires for a few years then went to law school after mom graduated—Did I not mention that to you?”

  “Not at all.” He stated with a goofy grin that bloomed when he realized she was actually opening up to him. Charlie slid the bits of chicken and pasta from his fork with his teeth. “Danika Carlisle’s been this woman of mystery. Things I know about her: She can fight—er, no. She can kick my ass.”

  “Nice save.” Danika snickered. It hadn’t been so long since their first encounter, and it was burned in her brain quite vividly. Frost hadn’t stopped giving her shit and teasing her about it either. “Go on.”

  “…She has a home with a view. She can drink me under the table, especially if it’s whiskey.”

  “See, now you already know too much. I might have to kill you, Charles.” Mischief took over and Danika aimed the prongs of her fork at him with a playful glare.

  “She calls me Charles when I feel like we’ve been through too much together for full names.” He narrowed his eyes but it was borderline teasing.

  There was a brief pause in the conversation, a lull that held long enough for them to realize they were staring deep into each other’s eyes. Danika had lowered her fork to her plate and Charlie stopped chewing but in those few seconds, something clicked. That same warmth and closeness that she remembered from the party returned, and she admitted to herself that she rather enjoyed his company—which was rare for her to say of anyone, since…

  After a beat, Charlie cleared his throat, before stabbing the next piece of chicken in line for devouring. “Well, who else do you have in the Carlisle Army that I don’t know about?”

  A thoughtful pause made her eyes settle somewhere in the upper corner of the room. He was right, she hadn’t told him too much about herself, and rightfully so. Not too many folks were privy to her personal life, but as he’d pointed out, they had been through a gauntlet of sorts together, so she figured she could spare some of the details. “Let’s see…”

  “Oh—before I forget to ask? Your uncle Morgan. Your mom’s brother or dad’s?”

  “Dad’s. Though they’re actually half-brothers.”

  “The English half of the family…?”

  She picked up on his insinuation, “Yep. My grandparents split up soon after my Dad was born, and he grew up in England with my grandmother. My grandad came to the States, got remarried a couple years later, and Morgan was born. My grandmother passed when
Dad was eleven or twelve, I forget. After that, my grandad brought him over to live in the U.S., where Morgan and he quickly became thick as thieves. They were quite a pairing, those two, prim and proper Englishman with the grim and improper military man.”

  Charlie sensed a hint of discomfort in her speech and didn’t press further if she didn’t want to discuss it. “Ahh, I see.”

  She cleared her throat and continued: “And then there’s my mother Riza. Lots of people say I look just like her, and they’re probably right, even though she’s about four inches shorter than me. Boldest laugh that could fill a room…Bad-ass cook, but I hate to break it to anyone that I wasn’t blessed with that level of domestic charm.”

  “Shame.” Charlie clicked his tongue.

  “Brat.” Danika gave him a mock glare before going back into it, “My older brother Brice, you probably would have liked him. I think he would have liked you too, quizzed you on all that lawyer jargon, just to see if you knew your shit.”

  “Oh, really now? You make it sound like I’d have to go through some interview process.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Charlie huffed. “Did your brother have a screening process for all of your friends?”

  “Yep,” she said, tucking the food into her cheek as she spoke. “I had two more brothers and a sister, and they each had their own way of vetting people in my life.”

  “Had?” His dark eyebrows pulled together as he tugged at that thread, though not too aggressive with his approach.

  Danika slowly nodded, as she realized the mistake in letting too much flow too fast. For a long time, she avoided phrasing it that way because the names Kenneth, Tyler, and Brianna were carried with her, since the Turning. Voices, hearts, and personalities that once filled her family home were all gone now, in some form or another. Despite their blossoming friendship, she wasn’t ready to tell him any of that. “Yeah.”

  Charlie sat back with an apologetic gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” Danika brushed it off. “Nothing to blame except nature.”