Unborn (10 page)

10

I could see their attack with infinite clarity, as though their movements were slower and far more deliberate than they should have been. When Drew looked back at me, yelling at me to run, he too seemed to move at an unusual speed. I heard his order, the words falling on my ears with authority, but there were just so many Breathers to fight. My brothers surely could not have fought them all.

That reality gave me pause.

An audience of one, I watched the wave of Breathers crash upon the four warriors that stood between me and impending doom. I did not run. I did not flinch. Instead, I stood stoically, knowing that if my fate was to die that night, then I would in a way befitting my heritage—I would die fighting. Perhaps I would even prove my father’s theory wrong. Maybe my actions would return me to the Underworld after all.

But the wave didn’t reach me, not immediately, at least. Instead, I watched my brothers fight with a lethal elegance, cutting through the throats of the enemy easily, one after the next. Blood rained down upon them, but they never faltered, their mission clear. They had a threat to remove, and they would do so without fail. It was a morbidly beautiful sight to behold.

“Khara!” Drew roared, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle and death. “
Run!
”

His words compelled me in a way they had not before, and I found myself turning to do just as he bade me. Unfortunately, my timing was poor, and I made it no farther than two steps before I felt a cold hand clamp down tightly on the back of my neck, flinging me around violently to face its owner.

“So sweet . . .” he breathed, pulling my face toward his. I felt paralyzed for a moment, staring blankly into his icy gray eyes, as though I wanted to freely give him what he intended to take.

“Khara!” Kierson screamed from across the room, having seen my captive state. His words were enough to free me from whatever trance had enthralled me. I felt my hand grip the hilt of the blade tighter.

“You should rethink this,” I whispered, continuing to stare into his dead eyes, though no longer feeling the pull they had possessed.

“So sweet . . .” he repeated, licking his lips in anticipation.

“Wrong answer,” I said, my tone laced with the indifference I felt.

Just as Kierson had taught me, I sank the dagger blade deep into his throat, withdrawing it with a twist. His body fell heavily to the floor, icy blood spraying me as it did. Whatever this strange being whose blood was as cold as the dead’s was, I hovered over it, remorseless, wondering what had infected its mind so thoroughly that it could not see reason, nor impending doom, in my brothers’ presence. Attacking my brothers and me appeared to be suicide, yet each Breather did it with fervor—marching to their death in an attempt to reach me.

I looked up to see how the others were faring against the force of the PC, but I was not afforded much time to do so. Several other Breathers had breached the wall that my brothers had sought to establish and were on a direct course for me. I stared them down, wiping the blood of their fallen ally off my blade and onto my pants, just as I had seen Casey do so many times. As they approached, they slowed slightly, fanning out to encircle me. My only way out was to retreat back down the stairs.

B n al Bhoroughly ut I would not run.

I looked them all over with sharp eyes, flipping the blade over and over in my hand.

“You will not succeed,” I warned as I stood firmly, prepared to take them on.

“Neither will you,” a voice rumbled low in my ear. “Not on your own.” I hazarded a glance over my shoulder to find Oz there, his eyes assessing the impending danger. “You guys never told me you were going out to have fun tonight. I feel so left out.”

He feigned a pout.

“I care not of your feelings, Oz,” I retorted, returning my gaze to those who were preparing to attack.

“We’ll discuss that later, new girl.”

Before I could argue, the Breathers charged us, descending upon Oz and me simultaneously. With my blade at the ready, I steeled myself for the first blow, but it never came. What did come was the wash of cold blood running down my face, soaking my dark clothes. Oz had slain them all before they were even within my reach.

As if unsatisfied with the depth of his involvement, he then joined the brothers, taking out Breathers at an alarming pace. In what seemed to be less than a minute, the battle was won. The five of them stood staggered throughout the room, surveying the carnage to assure that none of the soulless survived.

“Clear over here,” Kierson cried from deep within the room.

“Clear,” Pierson echoed from my distant left.

After they affirmed their victory, Drew turned cold and angry eyes to me.

“I thought I’d made myself abundantly clear, Khara,” he said, his voice rising with every step he took toward me.

“I cannot explain, but I could not go, Drew. I felt compelled to stay,” I offered in my defense.

“You should have felt compelled to leave!” he shouted uncharacteristically. “Why should you have stayed? For what? To die?”

“If that was to be my fate, yes.”

“She really is one crazy bitch,” Casey scoffed, coming to stand beside Drew.

“It felt wrong to leave—like desertion. I did not wish to run like a coward. I do not fear death.”

“Yes, yes, we know you don’t fear death,” Kierson cut in, walking toward me. “But for fuck’s sake, could you tap into some basic self-preservation instincts? You just stood there and almost let him suck the life out of you!”

I looked at him and felt that strange tugging sensation at the corner of my mouth.

“Almost, Kierson. Almost.” The smile I could not explain only grew. “But it seemed far more sensible to stab him in the throat, just as you taught me.”

A look of unabashed pride erased the fear and concern from Kierson’s face.

“I guess lesson number two will be how to deal with multiple attackers at once then. Seems like Oz might have saved your ass on that one.”

“Oz interrupted me. Nothing more.”

The fallen one appeared entertained by my assessment of what had happened. He pushed off the blood-spattered wall to come and join the conversation, a smug expression marring his face.

“So your contention is that I didn’t save your ass?”

“To be saved implies that one was losing in the first place. I was not.”

“Cocky, aren’t we, new girl?” he mocked, circling me from behind like a hellhound se s he.”nt to cow the damned. “Should we see how you fare next time without my aid?”

“There won’t be a next time,” Drew barked, stepping between us. “Khara is officially off the hunt.”

“I’m curious, Oz,” I said, turning around to face him. “Why save me at all?”

“Like I said before: I’ll keep you around as long as it pleases me. For now, it does,” he explained with an evil smile. “But tomorrow is a new day.”

“Enough, you two,” Drew shouted. “I’m tired of your cat-and-mouse games, and we have a pile of bodies to deal with, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’d like to get this crime scene cleaned up and get out of here.”

Not knowing how one would even begin to sterilize such a tainted place, I looked around, surveying the magnitude of cleanup that was necessary. It was formidable, to say the least. My initial estimate of one hundred Breathers was sorely inaccurate. It should have been pluralized. Hundreds—possibly a thousand—corpses lay strewn about the room. Some were beheaded entirely; others had their throats sliced clean across, leaving a macabre smile where no mouth had previously been. Blood pooled inches deep in sections of the room.

“What needs to be done?” I asked earnestly. I was not above helping remedy the mess I had helped create.

“Pierson,” Drew called across the room to the brother that had not been standing with us. He, too, was assessing the carnage in his own analytical way. “Can you do it, or do I need to call in some help for this one?”

“The Specialist will not be needed. I require about fifteen minutes and complete concentration, though. Leave. I will get back on my own,” he said, never looking at us. His mind was too involved with solving the puzzle before him.

“If you don’t require our help, then we’ll go. Meet us at the Tenth Circle when you are finished. It’s closer by foot,” Drew replied before glancing down at his own appearance. He then assessed the state of the rest of us. “One more thing, Pierson. Can you take care of this?” Pierson looked up to see Drew indicating our bloodied appearances. With a put-upon sigh, he closed his eyes and muttered something low and guttural. I felt the prickle of magic along my skin, and when I looked down to see if it had accomplished what Drew had hoped, I saw not a shred of evidence that we had just been in a bloody battle.

“Thank you,” Drew called to him as we headed for the stairs.

Pierson never responded, only knelt at the far left of the blood pool and started mumbling something that I could not quite discern. Drew had said he dabbled in magic. If he was capable of clearing that scene alone while only slightly skilled, it made me wonder just what he could do under the tutelage of the right mentor. The thought was awe-inspiring.

“Let’s go then,” Drew ordered, leading the way down the stairs. Kierson tucked himself closely beside me while Casey and Oz took up the rear, weapons still drawn. Though it was doubtful, there was still a chance that others remained, hidden deep within the shadowy building. An ambush would have been an unwelcome end to our evening.

“We can train some more tomorrow,” Kierson whispered in my ear while we descended the stairs. “You did good, but your hesitation made me nervous. Kill or be killed, Khara. Truer words have never been spoken.”

“Maybe she needs a different training partner, Kierson. One that can ensure she knows not to give the enemy the upper hand. I don’t think that’s been your strong suit, historically speaking,” Oz mocked from behind us.

“That’s not what happened, and you know it, asshole,” Kierson argued, stopping midway down the second flight of steps to face off against Oz. “And we are
not
going to do this right now, got it?”

“Here we go again,” Casey muttered, pushing past us.

“Aw, that’s cute, Kierson. Don’t want your girlfriend to hear about your ball dropping?” Oz sneered, moving closer to us. “Seems she already knows the outcome of the situation. Should we tell her the details?”

“I misjudged a situation,” Kierson said flatly, his tone eerily calm. I knew that voice. My father used it often just before he raged.

“You thought with your dick, and it would have gotten you killed if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“That’s your interpretation of the situation.”

“Oh, bringing out the big words now, are we? ‘Interpretation’ . . . that’s five whole syllables. Did you hurt yourself with that one?”

I watched as Kierson’s jaw flexed violently. His anger was reaching a fever pitch, and I knew that if Oz continued to do what he did best and pushed Kierson’s buttons further, yet another war was about to break out that evening. It seemed that Drew had come to that same conclusion, and he stepped in between them.

“Not. Now,” he growled, using that same commanding tone in his voice that had brought me to my senses earlier in the evening. He was truly compelling when he chose to be.

I could see Kierson fighting Drew’s orders, but he succumbed to them eventually, turning away from Oz. He took my hand and pulled me along beside him, leading me out of the building. The gesture felt odd, but I allowed it. He seemed to find comfort in the contact.

“Do not give him what he wants, brother. He revels in the misery of others. If you continue to fall victim to his tactics, you will never find peace in his presence,” I said softly as we stepped into the night.

“One of these days I’m just going to clock him right in the face. Jack up all that rugged handsomeness he has going on. He’s such a fucking prick,” Kierson ranted as we made our way to the car. I looked behind us to see if Oz was enjoying Kierson’s frustration but was surprised to see that he was no longer there. Drew alone followed us.

“If you are insistent upon that course of action, please be certain that I am present,” I said, looking up to see his irritated expression. “I should like to see it.”

Even in his flustered state, Kierson could not restrain his elation at my comment—he smiled uncontrollably. Letting go of my hand, he placed that arm around my shoulders, pulling me tight against his body.

“I don’t know what I did before you showed up, Khara, but I know
that I have no intention of letting you leave now that you’re here.”

I was uncertain how to respond, so I remained silent. No one had ever declared their affection for me so freely. Would it hurt him if I disappeared in the night, either of my own volition or if taken by one of the potential evils hunting me?

I would miss him
,
I thought to myself.

The feeling surprised me greatly.

11

We congregated on and around the sofas on what I had grown to believe was the PC’s level of the Tenth Circle and awaited Pierson’s arrival. Drew looked agitated and unsettled, pacing a pat v he. belih back and forth through the middle of the seating area. I watched as he checked his phone incessantly. He was worried.

There was an air in the building I had never noticed before. It had always been seedy and lecherous even at the best of times, but on that night it held something else—something different—a warmth that invited me in.

“I’m going back there,” Drew said finally, pulling me from my thoughts. The tension in his voice illustrated just how anxious he was. His eyes constantly returned to the cell phone in his hand. “It’s almost eleven. He should have been here by now.”

“He’s fine,” Kierson protested. “You need to chill out and let him do his thing. I would know if something had happened to him.”

“Then what’s taking him so long? We need to regroup and sort this mess out. Once we do, I’ll have to report my way up the chain.”

“He’ll be here soon. I’m sure of it.”

As if his words were prophecy, in walked Pierson, looking every bit his normal, serious self and then some. When his eyes fell on me, that expression darkened. He approached Drew, leaning in to speak directly into his ear. The two of them then made their way into the shadows that were normally home to Oz and his harem. Oz, however, was nowhere to be found.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Kierson muttered to himself before getting up slowly. “Wait here. This doesn’t look good.” With increasing speed, he made his way over to the other two, interrupting their private conversation. Pierson looked none too happy about it. Casey eventually stood up and went to join the group as well. Whatever was being discussed seemed to only escalate with his presence.

It was clear that they did not want me involved, so I sauntered over to the railing and focused my attention on the crowd below. It was larger than usual, the humans packed together so tightly that I could not understand how they moved at all, and yet they did—writhing together in a tawdry synchrony. It was like watching a pit of snakes from above. I was utterly hypnotized.

And then there was the hum. I felt, not heard, it, but it was plain all the same. It vibrated its way through me in a way quite different from the blasting music. It was a rhythm all its own, and it called to me.

Unaware of how much time had passed or of Kierson’s presence beside me, I came back to myself when he touched my arm. He had apparently been calling my name several times before I responded.

“Khara?” he continued while I fully regained my senses.

“Not a word, Kierson,” Drew barked as he approached us from behind.

“She deserves to know,” Kierson argued, his sad gaze fixed on me.

“I deserve to know what?” I asked, turning to look at Drew. Casey and Pierson followed behind him, their faces equally grim.

“Kierson has spoken out of turn,” Drew said calmly, his voice narrowly restraining the anger behind it. “We don’t know that there’s anything to be concerned about.”

“Bullshit!” Kierson snapped. “They had a fucking picture of her, Drew. A close-up.”

“That doesn’t mean anything—”

“The hell it doesn’t! You saw what happened the second they laid eyes on her tonight. It’s the exact same thing that happened when Khara went hunting with me. It didn’t seem odd that he went after her that night; he was completely out of his mind. But when you factor in what happened when she came into their view tonight, it is i {ighnt ampossible to ignore the fact that something about her is making them act crazy.”

“You think I have inspired this madness?” I asked, turning to Kierson. I wanted his opinion on the matter. The others may have chosen to overlook him, but I would not.

“I don’t know . . . maybe. I can’t figure out why. None of us can. But I just know that something about this isn’t right.”

“Khara,” Drew started, his voice soft and patronizing. “I’m sure it’s nothing to stress over. We just need to get some answers regarding the matter.”

I saw the photo in question pinched between Drew’s fingers and reached for it, gently plucking it from his grasp. Observing it carefully, it was plain to see that Kierson’s concerns had merit. The picture had been taken the night I arrived at the house. The night Drew happened upon me.

“How could they have procured such a detailed photograph while I was inside the Victorian? The house is warded, as you’ve said—safe from intruders. How could one then get close enough to have taken this photo?” I asked, holding the evidence in my hand.

“We’re going to sort all that out. It could mean nothing—”

“Or it could mean everything. You do not know.”

“Possibly,” he agreed, his features tightening even further. “Either way, it’s not safe for you to come out until we know.”

“But it may not be safe for me to stay home either. You do not know if the wards were indeed compromised to obtain that picture.”

“They were not,” Pierson countered.

“But you are not certain of this?”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing in response. For the first time since I had met him, there was a hint of doubt in his eyes.

“We’re not certain of anything, Khara, but we can keep you in the house and make sure that one of us is always present in the unlikely event that the wards have been breached,” Drew interjected.

“I will be kept prisoner,” I stated plainly.

“No, you will be kept safe.”

I stared at him, a wave of frustration crashing through me. My growing anger only fueled it further. My life had been lived entirely under the watchful eyes of others, and I was weary of it. Being mysteriously emancipated from the agreement that tethered me to my revolving pair of homes had given me a chance to exercise some measure of freedom—no matter how small—for the first time in centuries. I had not been aware of how badly my soul craved this until it was threatened by a couple of overzealous siblings and their need to protect me.

“Can we speak of nothing else?” I snapped uncharacteristically. “Every day I am bombarded by warnings of the evil and doom that are surely coming for me—the death that awaits me at every turn. I am tired of being the ward of others. It is enough. If I am to be trapped in this godforsaken place, then at least let me be so in peace until I can find a way to return to the Underworld on my own terms and no longer be your burden to bear.”

I pushed myself off the railing and headed for the stairs. I had never felt such heated emotion as I did that night and was uncertain as to why it took me over as it did. I knew that my brothers were only looking out for my best interests, but it was overwhelming, and I felt suffocated by their concern. It was too much.

I wanted to be alone.

I wanted to follow the hum that beckoned to me.

“I will be at the bar if anyone should care to talk to me and not order me about,” I yelled to them.

With every step I ventured away from my brothers, my mood worsened, festering like an open wound. I had assumed that leaving would alleviate my anger, but it did not. That is until the wave of bodies enveloped me. It cleansed me as I navigated through far more easily than before, as though the crowd was parting for me, and only me, in the most subtle way. By the time I broke free of it, my mood had lightened significantly. How ironic that I had chosen to find space from my brothers by immersing myself in the masses before coming to linger tightly alongside the bar.

I leaned back against it and watched. It was not only the club itself that felt different that evening but also the crowd. I could not quite place it, but there was an apparent depravity to it that had not been present before, not to that degree. The foulness that pulsated through the building only fed the humans’ lascivious behavior. Try though I did, I could not look away from them. I felt their dark desires call to me.

Utterly mesmerized, I hardly noticed the voice calling from beside me, offering me a drink.

“You look thirsty,” he said, speaking just loudly enough to be heard over the music.

I turned to find a man who appeared slightly older than me—by human standards. His eyes were nearly as dark as his raven hair, which was pulled back, away from his face, and affixed somehow at the base of his neck. Something about him made me want to continue to stare and assess him. His features were stunning, if not slightly imposing. They reminded me a little of Oz’s—angular and harsh.

“I am fine, thank you,” I finally replied, letting my eyes fall back on the vulgar spectacle before me. It took some effort to accomplish that task.

“They’re hard to ignore, aren’t they? The show seems to be considerably more interesting tonight. Perhaps something here is inspiring them.”

I turned my attention back to him, about to dismiss his theory, but I stopped when my eyes met his. If the crowd had just held me in a trance, looking at him had broken it. As I stared into the depths of his gaze, he offered me a short glass full of amber-colored liquid. Intoxicated by his appearance or not, if it was whiskey, I was not about to drink it.

“What is it?” I asked, my skepticism impossible to hide.

“Tequila. You looked like you needed one.”

“Does it taste like Jack Daniel’s?”

He scoffed in response.

“Hardly. Pure gasoline tastes better than that,” he explained, reaching the glass even closer to my hand. “But there’s really only one way to know for sure.”

I eyed his offering for a moment before accepting it, gently lifting the glass from his hand. Our fingers brushed lightly as I did, causing heat to run through me instantly. I looked up to see his eyes widen, his reaction a telltale sign that he felt it too. Without reservation, I threw back the contents of the glass as I had the night with Kierson. Instead of falling ill immediately, I felt a warm and welcome sensation course through my body. It made me realize why humans—and Kierson—were so fond of drinking.

“Better?” he asked, seeing the satisfied look on my face.

“Much.”

“Another?”

“Yes.”

He leaned over the bar, gaining the attention of the scantily clad woman nearest to us. She nearly floated toward him, as though no one else was there. His eyes must have had an equally intense effect on her. I turned away while he ordered, looking up toward the balcony where my brothers were deeply entrenched in their discussion. The thought of constantly rehashing all the things that could possibly be out to get me was exhausting; I saw no use in it. Though I tried repeatedly to make that point known, they only ignored me. I was glad to be away from them.

“Round two, my dear,” he said, obscuring my line of sight with another glass. “Cheers.”

He tapped his glass against mine, then drank it down. I returned the gesture. Again, that warmth ran through me, shedding my psychological burdens. His hand fell upon my arm, pulling me toward him gently.

“You seem quite enthralled with the dance floor. Should we go there?”

I felt my eyebrows rise in a suggestive way.

“The dance floor?”

Enjoying the expression on my face, he leaned in so close that our cheeks grazed one another’s.

“Or we could go somewhere else.”

“Khara!” Kierson shouted, breaking me away from the unknown man beside me. “There you are. Hey, I know you’re super pissed and all, but you can’t just wander off like that. Especially not now.”

“I can’t?” I volleyed back at him. “You all seem to have my future planned out for me. I saw no need to stay when it was so clear that my opinions were not wanted—my presence not needed. I found something else to occupy my time instead.”

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I came to you the second I figured out that they had no intention of telling you about the photo.”

“Is that what you did?”

“You know it is,” he replied, a look of consternation on his face. “You get me, Khara. We make a good team. I came to you because I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“So tell me, Kierson, what is it you’ve come down here to do?”

“I want you to come back up there with me,” he countered, pointing up to the balcony.

“And if I refuse?”

“You won’t.” His words and smile were playful, as though his charms alone were enough to invite my compliance. Perhaps they were.

“Fine. I will come with you, but I do not wish to hear any more about my in-home incarceration.”

“Deal.”

I turned to excuse myself from my strange courtier’s presence, but when I did I found that he had already left, having slipped away quietly. Kierson could appear intimidating to a human. Perhaps he assumed that we were something other than siblings.

Kierson’s eyes drifted to the empty glass I still held, causing a wry smile to cross his face.

“Giving good ole JD another chance, are you?”

“Tequila,” I corrected, placing the glass down behind me.

“Atta girl! Don’t let a bad first time keep you down. You must forge ahead in the name of having a good time.”

With his arm wrapped around my shoulders, he ushered me through the crowd and up to the others who awaited my return. With every step farther away from the mob, I felt the draw back to them even greater. I wanted to submerge myself in their carnal rhythm, wrapping it around me until I was fully engulfed. B {y e felt theing away from it felt wrong in every way possible.

“Khara,” Drew started as I approached him and the others, his tone apologetic.

I put my hand up to stop him before he could continue.

“You needed me?”

“Yes,” he replied, his brow furrowed slightly. “Take a seat.”

I did as he asked, sitting at the end of the couch nearest to the railing that separated me from the place I wanted to be.

“Have you calmed yourself down?” His tone was not unkind, though it carried authority. Had I said no, I do not think he would have been pleased.

“I am fine,” I muttered, my eyes drifting off toward the balcony’s ledge. “You can thank the man who purchased the two glasses of tequila I drank for that.”