by Cara E Holt
The vehicle moves at speed and as it turns a corner, I veer into the shoulders of the male on my right.
“Pull in here,” One of them shouts and we come to an abrupt halt. A hand wraps around my elbow and guides me to my feet. We walk a short distance and come to a stop. I hear the sounds of a metal shutter lifting.
“Otis, get over here. I need you to remove the chip.”
I am guided down into a seat, and my head pushed forward. One of them lifts the hood up slightly so it exposes the back of my neck.
“This might hurt,” an unknown voice with a strong cockney accent tells me.
I hiss as I feel pain across the back of my neck and then I feel something being inserted and manoeuvred around. They were looking for the chip the prison guard injected into me when I had first arrived. It held a tracker. I shift uncomfortably when I feel the foreign object being pulled from my flesh.
“All done.”
Someone pulls the hood back down over my neck, and they haul me to my feet again. I hear the metal shutter lifting again and then a vehicle pulls up, and they push me inside.
“Done?” A male voice asks that feels familiar to me. In my confusion though, I can’t place why I recognise it.
“Yep, let’s get to the portal as quick as we can.”
We drive for what feels like a good twenty minutes. We come to a stop and they haul me out of the vehicle again. I hear the whispering of an incantation that I can’t quite make out and then we are on the move again. I have a feeling we have just portalled somewhere, as the air around us changes, becoming much cooler. I hear the groaning of what sounds like heavy stone moving against the floor beneath us and then the air turns warmer again.
“Hey, Cort. Who you got there?” an unfamiliar female voice laced with curiosity asks.
“This one’s being taken straight to the boss,” he informs the girl and we continue on our way. As we walk, I can hear the noise of people chatting and walking by us. Were none of them curious why a girl would be walking past them with a hood thrown over her face?
I am guided down into a chair and I flinch when the hood is lifted off my head. The bright lights in the room hurt my sensitive eyes and I wince and cover them with my arm.
“Dim the lights, idiot. She’s been down in that hell-hole for weeks,” says the voice I now know to belong to the mysterious Cort.
The lights soften, and I slowly move my hand away. I squint as I try to take in the surrounding room. I am in some kind of holding room. There are no windows and only one way in and out of the room. I turn my attention to the other male in the room and I inhale a sharp breath when I see someone I know standing before me.
“Rafe?”
Rafe stands there grinning at me. “Hey there stranger,” he leans in and hugs me tightly. “I missed you.”
My eyes then move to the other male in the room. He has a mop of dark brown curls that flop into his eyes and olive skin. His pale brown eyes scrutinise my face. He was about six foot and was lean. He looks dangerous, he just had that look about him.
“Who are you? And where the hell am I?”
Cort scoffs and folds his arms, continuing to stare at me. “You could start with saying a thank you for saving your life.”
“Is that what this was? You saving me? Because it felt a lot like I was being kidnapped and being locked in yet another prison.” I eye the room again. Okay, it wasn’t quite as bland as the prison cell.
Cort frowns at me, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “We just saved you from certain death and this is the thanks we get?”
I snigger. “You want me to kiss your feet and say thank you? What is it you want with me, anyway?” This guy would not intimidate me, no matter how much he tried.
He gives me a condescending smile. “You’ll need to wait until the boss is here to get your answers. Tell me, Elara Bennett, are you trustworthy?”
I bristle when he uses the name Bennett. “I go by the name Latimer and I am loyal to those that are deserving of my loyalty,” I tell him, making no bones about the fact that I did not wish to be known as a Bennett.
I go to stand to my feet, but I stumble and I would have fallen if Rafe had not leapt forward and caught me. My vision has gone all fuzzy and strange.
“She needs blood,” Cort states from somewhere beside me.
“Mm-hmm blood,” I mumble weakly and my fangs painfully extend from my gums.
I feel Rafe place his wrist to my mouth.
“I’ll do it,” Cort announces. “I can replenish quicker than you can.”
I shake my head, wanting to protest. Something about Cort pisses me off. I don’t like him. I am lifted and deposited back down on to his lap. A woody, musky scent wraps around me and a hand gently cups the back of my head and guides me towards the vein that pulses in his neck. The coherent part of my brain tells me to refuse this arrogant pricks blood, but then I inhale and his blood smells so sweet that I cannot fight my hunger any more. I sink my canines into his vein and moan loudly when his blood enters my system. He tasted delicious, like candy floss and caramel. His hands tighten where they hold my thighs and I realise I am sitting straddling him. I moan again and take a deep drink. I could drink him dry and still want more right now. He allows me to drink from him for what feels like another minute and then he taps my thighs.
“That’s enough.”
I ignore him with a groan of protest and take another deep pull.
“Enough,” he tells me more firmly and this time the sharpness in his voice pulls me from my blood drunk haze. Eyes glazed, I retract my fangs from his vein and sit up and meet his stare. He looks at me with heated eyes.
“Thank you,” I mumble before leaning in and licking my tongue over the puncture wound, immediately sealing them with my venom. As my tongue touches his skin, I feel him shudder beneath me.
The door to the room opens and a guy who looks to be in his late thirties walks into the room. He has dark hair that was greying, but in a way that suited him and made him look attractive and distinguished. He wore grey cargo trousers and a fitted long-sleeved black top that hugged his muscular frame. He was hot, for a man that was old enough to be my dad.
“Hello, Elara. I have been so much looking forward to meeting you,” he says as he pulls a chair out from the nearby table and sits himself down opposite me.
“Well, I’ll let you know whether I am pleased to meet you, when you tell me who you are and what this place is?”
I suddenly realise I am still sitting straddling Cort. Clearing my throat, and flushing red, I lift myself off his lap and stand to my feet. Cort stands and with a brooding expression on his face he strides over to the side of the room and rests himself against the wall.
Merrick grins, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. There was an aura of confidence and authority about him. “I am Merrick and I am the leader of the HDS here in the U.K.”
I blink in surprise. “The HDS? You’re a hybrid?”
Merrick nods. I can see him weighing up my reaction. “I am half witch, half shifter. You are at our secret base. Everyone you will meet here is a hybrid, married to one or the relative of one.”
“Why have you brought me here?” I ask him, still uncertain whether I need to keep my guard up.
Merrick leans forward with a smile and rests his hands on his knees. “You have created quite a stir in the supernatural community. A hybrid, engaged to one of the most powerful Wiccan families in existence. A hybrid, living out a normal life, right under their noses. Your story brought our cause to the heart of every household out there.”
I cross my arms and continue to study him. “Well, I’m glad my imprisonment and almost death has helped your cause.”
Merrick fights a smile. “You weren’t wrong about her being feisty,” he says to Rafe, who chuckles and nods in response.
“I told you. She’s tough. She’s the perfect poster girl for our cause.”
“Whoa, hold up,” I hold my hand out to silence them. “Poster gi
rl?”
Merrick gestures to my seat. “Please sit back down. We have much to discuss.”
Reluctantly, I retake my seat. “Did your organisation do any of the things the Wiccan Council say you did?”
Merrick sighs and shakes his head. “Did we hurt or attack anyone innocent? No, we did not. Do we hurt those who try to hurt our own? Yes, we do. We will not stand by and watch hybrids being treated like a plague. All we have ever wanted is to live our lives, in peace and acceptance.”
I stifle a yawn at the same time as my stomach growls loudly. Merrick stands to his feet.
“Can I ask that you do not try to run?” he asks me. “That you will give us a chance to show you who we are?”
I pause for a moment, but I give him a firm nod. These people were the same as me and I was curious enough to want to know more about their cause.
I look at Rafe who is grinning, clearly delighted that I am agreeing to hang around.
“Are you one of us?”
Rafe's expression turns serious. He steps closer to me before he answers. “I am. They sent me to the academy to keep an eye on you and watch out for you.”
I scrunch my nose in confusion. “Why?” I ask. “What is so special about me?”
“Exactly what I was wondering,” retorts the frosty voice of Cort, from where he leans against the wall, frowning at me.
“Does this arsehole have to be here?” I ask Rafe in agitation. Cort had done nothing but piss me off since the minute I laid eyes on him.
Rafe chuckles and looks over at Cort, whose glare has sharpened. “Cort is okay. He just has trust issues, well that and he is a moody arsehole.”
Merrick clears his throat and pulls my attention back to him. “Cort take her to one of the available dorms and let her get freshened up.” He turns his gaze to me. “Once you are clean and fed, he will give you the guided tour.”
“Can Rafe not take me?” I plead, not really wanting to be alone in the company of the mean and moody one.
Rafe chuckles and Merrick fights a smile. “I need some time with my son, so I’m afraid you must make do with Cort.”
Rafe winks at me before he disappears out the door behind Merrick. “Merrick is his father?” I ask in surprise.
Cort rolls his eyes. “Well, he did just call him his son,” he deadpans.
I fold my arms across my chest and glare at him. “Are you always this warm and friendly?”
Ignoring me, he stalks to the door and pulls it open. “Let’s go, Lara.”
“It’s Elara,” I tell him in annoyance as I pass by him. I know damn well he knows what my name is, and that he is just trying to push my buttons.
I am silent as I follow him down the corridor. I use this as an opportunity to take in my surroundings. A few people pass by us and warmly greet Cort and they eye me with friendly curiosity.
“How many people are at this base?”
Cort looks briefly over his shoulder at me. “That information is not something you need to be privy to.”
I roll my eyes and give him the finger behind his back. “What are you anyway? Are you part witch?”
He comes to a stop in front of a lift and aggressively presses the button. “Get in,” He orders when the lift opens, and he steps in behind me. He stands facing me at the opposite side of the lift.
“What do you think I am?”
I observe him for a minute as I make my mind up. “Well, you’re moody and aggressive, so I’m guessing part shifter, maybe a bear and part fae.”
He scoffs. “Your observation skills are poor. I am fae-witch.” He returns his eyes to the panel that shows the floor levels as we climb, almost as if he is willing it to hurry, so he can deliver me to where he needs to and leave.
“You don’t want me here,” I state, rather than ask him.
His frowning gaze is back upon me. “I’m not sure we can trust you. After all, you were engaged to an elite, whose father has no problem blaming hybrids for the crimes of others.”
“Not by choice,” I argue.
He smirks in response, making my anger bubble inside me.
“You know nothing about me or my circumstances and I’m more than happy to keep it that way.”
The lift pings and without a word or a backward glance my way, he stalks out and I have to hurry to catch him up.
“This is one of the dorm levels. Singles, share rooms, as we only have so much space here.” He pushes a cream metal door open and inside is a small basic room with two sets of bunk beds, a wardrobe and a set of drawers. “There’s a small ensuite.” He points with his hand at a door on the other side of the dorm room. “Someone will collect you in an hour, so make sure you’re ready.” He wrinkles his nose. “Although, it may take you some time to clean up.”
Scowling, I fold my arms and lean into his space. “Yes, thank you. I am well aware that I stink. Funnily enough, they don’t provide you with baths in prison.”
His response is to meet my glare and roll his eyes, before he stalks off in the direction we had just come from. Glaring at his back, I sigh and turn my attention to the room, closing the door behind me. On the bed someone has left me a change of clothes, including clean underwear.
I gather up the items and head straight for the bathroom. I sigh in bliss when the hot water from the shower hits my face and slides down my body. I scrub myself thoroughly, wiping away all the grime and dirt and along with it, the memories of my time in the prison. I dress in the grey combats and white long-sleeved top. Luckily the bra was my size and fit perfectly. I use my air magic to dry my wet hair. When I am done, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m not sure what I expect to see. Physically I had not really changed, apart from maybe losing a few pounds. The colour was returning to my cheeks after feeding and my eyes always seemed to brighten after I had taken blood. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and head back to my room. It was amazing how a good shower and clean hair could make you feel normal again. I throw myself down on the bottom bunk of one of the bunk beds and allow myself to take in the last few hours.
A PLACE TO CALL HOME
If the HDS had not come to my rescue, I would be dead by now. I’d be nothing more than ash and dust. I thought about Amila and how thrilled she would be that I made it out of that place alive. I would make the best of whatever situation I was in and I would do it in her memory. I must drift off to sleep, because I look around in confusion when I hear banging on the door. I sleepily stumble to my feet and pull open the door. I groan and roll my eyes when I see Cort on the other side.
“Seriously? Out of everyone in here you have to be the one to collect me?”
Cort chews his lip and glares at me. “You ready?”
I gesture at my body. “I am all clean and presentable.”
“Then let’s get moving,” he orders, turning and leaving. I quickly pull the dorm room door closed and hurry after him.
“Are you always so impatient?”
He scowls at me. “I have things to do besides baby-sitting you.”
We both remain silent during the lift ride up to ground zero. When the lift opens, I stare open-mouthed at the vast space before me. We step out into a large circular room with high ceilings. Various lifts and staircases lead down to the many floors beneath the ground. There are trees and flowers growing out of the concrete floor and somehow the illusion of natural light spreads across the space even though Cort has just informed me that the base is buried deep within a mountain. People go about their business, and they are all dressed in the same grey cargo trousers and either black or white tops.
“This way is the mess hall,” Cort informs me as we head off down a corridor to the east of the circular room.
The mess hall is enormous, with enough seats for around two hundred people. There are large television screens over on the far wall that broadcast the Wiccan news channel and some other favourites such as the Wiccan women’s channel.
“We have two sittings for all meal times. You’ll be informed of your
allocated slot. There is normally a choice of three meal options at each sitting.” Cort gestures to where a girl hands over a card for her meal, “To eat you need to work. You’ll be assigned a role here and we will expect you to earn your keep.”
“If I stay,” I comment as I glance around the room
“You’ll stay,” Cort says confidently as we head back out into the corridor.
“What makes you so sure I will?” I ask him. I hurry to catch up to him and I walk alongside him.
He glances at me briefly. “You’ll stay because you want to belong and here you can truly be who you are without having to hide.” He gestures with his head to where a male vampire sits drinking from the wrist of a girl.
The girl catches me watching and waves. Her defined boned structure tells me she is at least part fae.
“Here you can date and marry whoever you want.”
I don’t answer him as we continue on. Have I found somewhere where I could truly be myself, free from judgement or fear? Cort shows me the classrooms for the younger children next and then he takes me to see the medical wing where various hybrids are being treated for general ailments or injuries that have been inflicted upon them because of their hybrid blood. Cort gestures to an adolescent boy who has his head bandaged.
“We found him beaten and unconscious in an alleyway in Manchester last weekend. He had confided in his friends about his hybrid status and they lured him there under the pretence they wanted to help him and they beat him to a pulp.”
“That’s terrible.” I exclaim as I watch the boy having his arm checked over by a healer.
“It’s something that we see daily,” Cort replies with a deep frown on his forehead.
Next he takes me to see the training arenas where various hybrids are practicing their powers. I watch enraptured as a female uses both her fae and witch magic to disarm her opponent.
“What is your role here?” I ask him curiously.
“I am part of one of the search and retrieve squads.”
