by Chant, Zoe
Hector stared at him. Myrtle saw his eyes flicker, before a look of confusion crossed his face.
“My griffin –”
“Slow on the uptake, aren’t you?” The man shook his head. “Your griffin’s gone – at least for now. So you can either sit there quietly and accept it, or throw yourself out of the helicopter and see for yourself. Your choice.”
“We’re coming in to land any moment now, anyway.”
The voice of a man who Myrtle assumed was the pilot crackled over her headset.
Myrtle was still having trouble processing what she was hearing. She looked down at the empty syringe lying on the floor.
He gave Hector something that suppresses his ability to shift? Is that even possible?!
One thing was for certain, however: Hector wasn’t about to tell her to jump out of the helicopter to find out.
“I’m sorry, Myrtle.”
Hector’s voice was strained. She stared at him wildly, to find him grimacing in pain. Her stomach clenched. She wanted to run to him, but at the same time she felt frozen in fear – and knew that making any move would probably just make things worse.
“Sorry that I – I –”
Myrtle cried out as Hector pitched forward, collapsing face-first onto the floor of the helicopter’s hold. Finally, she felt terror release its hold on her limbs, and she dropped to her knees by his side, reaching out to cup his cheek with her palm.
“Hector! Hector!”
“He can’t hear you, so don’t bother,” the man leaning against the wall sneered. “He’ll be fine, though. For now, anyway.”
Myrtle looked up at him, her brain refusing to comprehend what he was saying, her eyes wide with fear.
The man’s own eyes narrowed cruelly.
“I can’t make any promises about what’ll happen once we land, though, and she gets hold of him.”
Chapter 10
Hector tried to focus his sluggish mind, but he felt like the world around him was slipping through his fingers – almost as if he were only half awake, and not sure what was real and what was a dream.
Myrtle…
He wasn’t sure if he’d spoken her name or just thought it, but the sound sent a surge of renewed strength through his body.
I have to protect Myrtle…
He struggled against the feeling that he had leaden weights tied to his limbs, and that they were dragging him down to the bottom of a deep, dark body of water. Every movement felt slow and difficult, as if his muscles weren’t listening to him.
And even worse than that, when he called to his griffin – the source of his strength and power – he got no response whatsoever. It was as if it had retreated within him, hiding itself away in some corner of his mind he could no longer access.
The thought should have terrified him, but his mind was so lethargic he could barely comprehend the idea.
I’ve got to… got to…
It felt like reality was slipping further and further away from him with every breath he took. He felt hands gripping his upper arms and hauling him to his feet. He struggled, but he could barely move, and he knew he wasn’t making any impression on the people who were restraining him.
“… Hector… Hector please, are you…”
The words washed over him, hazy and indistinct, like an echo. He tried to answer, but found he couldn’t, his tongue heavy in his mouth.
Myrtle. It’s Myrtle. I’ve got to save her.
He could feel rage tearing through him, but once again it was as if it wasn’t a part of him – as if he was observing his own emotions taking place from somewhere else far distant.
It would have been an odd feeling anyway, but for Hector, who had had to learn to be in control of his body at all times, it was an utterly foreign sensation. Shifters needed iron control to live with the other halves of themselves, and those who couldn’t deal with it sometimes ended up being stuck in either their human form or their animal form, unable to shift back. Either the animal completely took over their minds, or they had to suppress it so thoroughly they could never risk letting it out, even for a moment.
For Hector, such disconnection from himself was a strange and horrible feeling.
If I get out of this, he thought vaguely to himself, as he felt himself being dragged across rough concrete, I swear I’ll never snap at my griffin or tell it to shut up ever again.
He felt his knees being banged against a series of steps and heard Myrtle’s voice again, before there was the sound of a door being slammed shut and it cut off abruptly.
The urge to fight rose up within him once more, and this time he managed to yank his arm out of the iron grip of one man, swinging his fist toward his face.
“Hold him – for fuck’s sake!”
“I’m trying – I told you to give him the full dose! Fuck!”
“I did.”
The men continued to argue as Hector struggled against them, which told him all he needed to know about what a pathetic job he was doing. It was like one of the awful dreams he sometimes had, where, no matter how hard he tried to lay a punch on someone, nothing would land, and they just continued to laugh in his face as he flailed against them.
He growled. Whatever they had jabbed him with was strong, and clearly, it wasn’t about to wear off anytime soon.
He felt himself thrown backward, the wind knocked out of his lungs as his back hit a hard surface. He thought it was the floor for a moment, until his swimming head registered that he was still upright, his hands resting on armrests. No – not resting. Strapped in.
There had never been a good situation that started with someone strapped to a chair, Hector thought – well, maybe some, but they were a world away from what he guessed was about to happen now.
“Wake up, arsehole.”
Vaguely, he felt a slap to his face.
“You gave us a lot of trouble, shithead. Good fight. You put up more resistance than we thought you would. So sit back and relax now, all right?”
As sluggish as Hector’s brain was, he could still detect the sharp edge of malice in the man’s voice.
“Is he secure?”
The next voice he heard belonged to a woman. There was something different about it, though, and it took Hector several moments to realize that it was because she had an American accent.
Before he had time to think – though think was probably a generous description of what his mind was doing right now – he felt another jab in his shoulder.
He rose back into full consciousness as if he was rising to the surface of a murky lake, filled with weeds and stagnant water. He heaved in a gasping breath the same way as if he’d been submerged under water for too long as well, his head clearing, almost painful in its sudden clarity.
Instantly, he snarled, straining against his bonds, reaching for his griffin.
But it wasn’t there.
“What the fuck have you –”
“Oh, shush.”
The woman spoke up again, and Hector twisted his head, trying to see her while taking in his surroundings. He was in some kind of sterile, completely white room – like a dentist’s examination room, or something along those lines. A counter ran along one wall, with a stainless steel set of drawers resting on it. There was no carpet on the floor, only white linoleum, and the smell of antiseptic filled the air.
Again, nothing about this boded well at all, but it wasn’t as if Hector was expecting anything pleasant at this stage.
He heard the tap of high heels on the floor as the woman who’d spoken earlier walked around in front of him. Hector took her in as she stood before him. She had an air of complete self-possession, cool and calm. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she wore what was obviously an expensive pinstriped suit and silk blouse. Her pale blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her eyes were an unusual silver color.
Hector clenched his fists as he stared at her, but he could feel that without his griffin’s strength, he wouldn’t be able to break the bo
nds that were restraining him.
The woman looked him over, her gaze appraising.
“Well. They said you gave them a bit of trouble, and I can see why.”
Hector felt his lip curl in disgust. What the fuck?!
“Oh, don’t look like that,” the woman said breezily. “We’re going to be friends, all right?”
She paused, her extremely white teeth flashing between her extremely red lips as she smiled.
“Or at least, things will be much easier for you if we’re friends. So keep that in mind, won’t you?”
Hector stared at her.
“Who are you?” His voice was like sandpaper against his throat, and his tongue still needed to be forced into co-operating with his brain.
“Cecelia Marsden,” the woman said. She held out her hand as if to shake his, before withdrawing it, laughing to herself. “Oh, wait. No. That’s not going to work, is it? Never mind.”
“What have you done with Myrtle?” Hector asked, snapping the words out before he could stop himself. “If you’ve hurt her or Ruby –”
“Oh, are those their names? I’ll make a note of that,” Cecelia said. “Ruby’s especially. We’re going to need to know what to call her, after all.”
Cold fingers of dread clutched at Hector’s stomach, and he jerked against the bonds on his wrists once more, calling desperately to his griffin.
Where the hell are you?! C’mon…
“There’s no need for that,” Cecelia said smoothly. “Remember what I said about us being friends. And if that’s not sufficient incentive for you, then I can tell you it’ll also be easier for – what did you call her? Myrtle?”
Rage pulsed in Hector’s throat.
“Don’t you even dare fucking say her name,” he growled out.
“No need to get snippy.” Cecelia’s voice was crisp. “It was just a piece of information for you. Something to consider. We’re not in the habit of involving civilians in what we do if we can help it, but if we find there’s no alternative then naturally, we do what we have to.”
Civilians?
Hector frowned.
“Who are you? Who’re you working for?”
“Business interests,” Cecelia said. “I’m not going to tell you the name of the company, but you probably know us. In fact, your agency – well, your international affiliates, anyway – have been causing us quite a few headaches lately. It’s hard to expand your interests if you’re constantly being thwarted by silly things like ‘international law’ and ‘Geneva Conventions’ – those things really make it hard to turn a profit, you know.”
Hector stared at her. At first, he couldn’t think what she might be talking about, before sudden realization dawned. “Hargreaves.”
A twitch of a smile crossed Cecelia’s lips. “Got it in one. Good to see the agency recruits for brains as well as brawn, I suppose.”
Hector couldn’t keep the snarl off his face. He should have known – and in fact, he wondered if his superiors at the agency had already had some idea of who they were dealing with.
Hargreaves Incorporated definitely had deep enough pockets to pay any price for the egg of a creature thought to be extinct – even if it was likely to be fake, they’d probably still have no problems paying for it on the off-chance it turned out to be real. That was how it was when you made your money in the highly profitable business of arms trading and supplying private armies to international trouble spots.
“You’re a mercenary,” he growled. “War for profit.”
Cecelia flicked a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I’m a lawyer.”
“For Hargreaves,” Hector spat out. “Who are mercenaries.”
“We prefer ‘private security’.” Cecelia cocked her head. “And you’re making it very difficult for us to provide any security to anyone lately. Everywhere we go, there’s the agency, poking its nose into our business. Not very market-oriented of you, I have to say.”
Hector didn’t even try to keep the disgusted expression off his face.
‘Security’ was the last thing Hargreaves Incorporated was interested in providing. In fact, it was strongly suspected they were involved in the exact opposite: stirring up conflicts in parts of the world that were teetering on the brink, and then selling arms and hiring their soldiers out to both sides – with sky-high profits, of course.
And then there was the other part of their business: mining and drilling. Whichever side won the conflict had a funny way of cutting a very lucrative deal with Hargreaves Inc. to extract their country’s resources – again, with sky-high profits.
But no one could prove anything.
Hargreaves were notoriously careful about covering their tracks, and while there were plenty of eyewitness accounts and intelligence reports that suggested what they were doing, solid proof was hard to come by.
But what the hell do they want with Ruby?
“I won’t let you harm her,” he spat out, staring at Cecelia levelly. “Either one of them.”
“Yes, yes, heroic speeches, blah blah blah, get it out of your system then,” Cecelia said, sighing heavily. “I’ve heard it all before. Usually right before they accept a massive cash deposit into a Swiss bank account, but occasionally we get the nut that’s a little harder to crack.” She looked at him, her silvery eyes flickering oddly. “You’re not going to be one of those, are you? It’d be a pity to waste all that… talent.”
“I’m not interested in your money,” Hector said, and he wasn’t. He didn’t give a flying fuck about money, and never had.
If he’d wanted money, he would have become a mercenary himself: shifters could command high prices as soldiers for hire, assassins, and freelance intelligence gatherers. They were hard to trace and difficult to counter, they healed fast, and were far stronger than ordinary humans. Hector knew of shifters who’d worked as soldiers of fortune or something similar for a few years before retiring in luxury. But it wasn’t the kind of life he’d ever wanted – money was nothing if you couldn’t look yourself in the mirror at the end of the day, and know you’d lived your life the right way.
Cecelia stared hard at him for a moment or two, before shaking her head. “No, I don’t believe you are. That’s irritating. I thought we could be better friends.” She sighed. “Well, no matter. The offer’s there if you change your mind. We could even throw in a bit more, since you’ve saved us quite a significant sum of money by bringing that fascinating little creature right to us.”
Ruby. She means Ruby.
“If you touch a hair on her head –”
“Oh, relax. We have no intention of harming her – she’s much too valuable for that. No, your little – Ruby, was it? – is going to be brought up in the lap of luxury, like a little princess. We can’t have her turning against us, after all. We’ll be needing her.”
Needing her.
What Cecelia meant, Hector realized, was that they’d be needing Ruby’s powers.
They know what she can do.
Somehow, they knew about the extra powers she had already begun to display.
Hector could only imagine what an organization like Hargreaves could do with a shifter who could control people’s minds.
Despite the fact he’d never heard of pegasi having the kind of powers Ruby had already displayed, he couldn’t deny what had happened to him back at the emergency evac point. Ruby’s innocent desire to overstuff herself at breakfast had totally overtaken his mind for a moment.
But what could she do if the bigwigs at Hargreaves were the ones controlling her?
Hector shuddered to think about it.
After what Cecelia had said about Ruby being brought up in the lap of luxury, things began to slot into place in his mind.
It was a terrifyingly simple plan, and terrifyingly effective. Raise Ruby as one of their own, indulge her every whim, bring her up to believe that they were the good guys – or at least, that they were the ones taking care of her, who had her best interests
at heart. Make her believe she was even doing good, if they had to. Ruby was such a sweet and trusting thing that Hector had no doubt she’d want to believe the best of these kind people, who’d only ever been good to her.
Later, once she’d learned how to shift into her human form, she would be able to pass unnoticed almost anywhere. No one would know she was a pegasus – and no one would know about her powers.
With her mind control powers, she could influence anyone to do anything, Hector thought, a chill running down his spine. Lawmakers, prime ministers, presidents…
“I see from your face you’ve figured out our little plan,” Cecelia said. “Good, isn’t it? It’d save us having to get around laws, if they’re tailor-made to suit us. Not to mention how much time we’d save on trying to stir up trouble, if all we have to do is suggest to someone that a war might be something fun for them to try.”
Hector shook his head. Hatred welled up inside him, both for Cecelia personally and for everything she represented. He stared at her, teeth bared, fury pulsing in his heart. “I should’ve known.”
“You probably should have, yes,” Cecelia said calmly. “Though I have to say, you almost threw a real wrench in the works when you reported that the egg was fake. I had to argue my boss to death to convince him I was onto the genuine article.”
Hector stared at her. How had she known what he’d said about the egg? Had Hargreaves managed to crack their encryption codes? He’d been mistaken about the egg being fake, of course, but he’d never had the chance to correct his initial report. Cecelia must have been totally convinced the egg was real to ignore that and send her own men to infiltrate the pickup anyway.
She chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest.
“So, this has worked out very well for me,” she said. “I see a bonus and a promotion in my future. I’ll be able to get that beach house in Majorca. Good news, right?” She cocked her head, raising a pale eyebrow. “What do you see in your future, I wonder? I see two possible roads. Either you can get on board with this, line your pockets, and help us out, or you can be difficult. It’s really up to you.”
