Unborn (2 page)

2

He gently draped his coat around my shoulders, adjusting the substantial amount of fabric to his satisfaction. As he 160did, I assessed him. Tall and formidably built, his dark blond hair was a tad unkempt, hanging over his eyes slightly while he fastened the top button. Crystal-blue eyes then met mine, and he nodded once in approval before taking my hand in his, leading me out of the alley and onto the adjacent street. I trailed him silently, processing all that he’d just told me.

I have brothers.

My father is the god of war.

Why had Hades never mentioned them or my father? How was I kept secret from them for so long? And why, presumably out of nowhere, was I suddenly dropped into my brothers’ city—and into their lives?

“Your name, warrior,” I asked again, remembering that he had successfully evaded my earlier question. He looked over his shoulder at me, as I trailed behind him slightly, and smiled yet again. He was the happiest person I had ever encountered—at least after deducing who I was. I wondered what gave him such occasion to smile.

“Drew,” he replied, still grinning. There was something most pleasant about his face when he wore that expression. “And it’s brother, not warrior, to you.”

“You said that I am the daughter of Ares?”

“You are.”

“And you are his son?”

“Yes, all of the brothers are, though we come from different mothers.”

“And where, Brother Drew, are we meeting these other brothers of ours?” I asked, trying to look straight ahead and avoid taking in too much of my urban surroundings. I found it overwhelming to be dwarfed and hemmed in by the buildings around me, which was ironic given that my favorite place was miles below the surface of the earth, with only one way in or out.

“A club. It’s not far from here,” he replied, slowing his pace slightly. “Are you cold? Do you need to eat something? Would you rather I just take you home to rest?”

Home . . .

“I cannot return home. I have no one to take me,” I explained as though that fact should have been painfully obvious to him. As his expression hardened, I saw that he was starting to comprehend my point.

“Did Hades cast you out?”

“No. He would never do such a thing. I am his dearest . . . he adores me.”

“Then how did you come to be here? It’s not like someone can come and go as they please from the Underworld . . .” he said, sounding uncertain, as though he wanted affirmation of his statement.

“A Dark One,” I said, watching his eyes widen instantaneously. “He came for me. I do not know why.”

A growling sound came from deep within his chest.

“And he just left you here?”

“So it would seem, though I do not know where ‘here’ is, geographically speaking,” I replied.

“You don’t even know where you are?” he asked, coming to an abrupt stop. “The Dark One said nothing about where he was taking you?”

“His grip on me was such that I could not see him, nor easily speak to him. He had me by the throat, though not tightly enough to harm me.”

Again, he made a low, rumbling noise. I was uncertain how to interpret it.

“Detroit,” he said, pressing his eyes shut while he breathed in deeply. “You’re in Detroit. It’s in Amerno ’s inica.”

“I know where that is. Though my experiences in it are limited, I am not uneducated about the world above,” I said defensively. I had not realized that I would be offended by such a comment.

“Sorry,” he said, starting to guide me back through the city. “I wasn’t sure . . . I didn’t know.”

“You did not know what I knew of the world above. That is understandable, given what little you know of me. I am certain you meant no offense.”

He flashed me another smile.

“So you never answered my question before. Do you need to sleep? Eat? Warm up?”

“I am fine, thank you.”

He searched my face for something, waiting for a sign of sorts. Eventually his smile faded, and he brought his attention back to where he was taking me. Had he wanted a smile in return?

I had never had much cause for overt affection in my life, though it was not completely foreign to me. The few times I could recall had involved Hades. His station was one that demanded the respect of all who surrounded him, and over time that hardened him into a militaristic leader—the god of the Underworld. It was only with me that a softness in him emerged—with me and with his bride.

Hades had not asked for me—never chose to have me in his life. Instead, I was thrust upon him, though, once he met me, Hades easily made amends with the situation and accepted me without prejudice. He raised me as his own. My only fond memories were of him and me together; now, I feared that I may never get to see him again.

And there were few things in life I feared.

We were deep in the heart of Detroit when we arrived at our destination. The buildings had grown ever taller and closer together, and there was an element of danger in the darkness around us. I had seen such places in periodicals and read about them in books, but I had never been to one in person. It was seedy, shady—criminal.

The façade of the club we entered was nondescript, just a redbrick wall with a heavy metal door—no demarcation of any sort to denote to a passerby what waited within. Drew tucked me in close behind him as he pushed us through a crowd of humans huddling near the entrance.

“Stay close,” he told me under his breath before he dragged me into a cramped and poorly lit foyer. All that stood before us was a steep stairwell descending into a black abyss. It seemed to go on infinitely.

I had a sharp pang of longing—the black and claustrophobic nature of the hallway reminded me in the smallest way of home.

“Are you okay?” he asked as I hesitated at the top. “Maybe I should just take you home; you’ve had a long—”

“No,” I protested. “I would like to meet my family. Besides, I enjoy the feel of being underground.”

“Then I guess you’re going to fit in around here just fine.” He was smiling again. I failed to see what he found so joyous.

I had heard virtually no noise when we stood at the top of the stairs, but as we descended the music started vibrating the walls around us. By the time we made it to the true entrance of the club, we were easily fifty feet below ground level—I had an excellent sense of depth.

He swung the door open wide, and I was instantly assaulted by the cacophony and heat that the steel barricade had withheld. Before me was a massive open space full of wepace fu humans, writhing and undulating shamelessly as one, hundreds, maybe even a thousand, deep. That was only the first level. As I inspected the establishment further, I saw that this den of sin had another floor that encircled the main area, also populated by dancing bodies. Lastly, I saw a raised section off to our right, which was devoid of the chaos and commotion that had overtaken the rest of the establishment. From where I stood, this section appeared completely unoccupied, though its purpose was plain. It was for those who wished to enjoy the debauchery from afar—on high.

It was for spectators.

The bass pulsed through the building, making the entire place vibrate softly while the sheer volume of the music was near deafening. I hadn’t heard Drew talking to me while I inspected the club.

“Over there,” he indicated, pointing up to the balcony for spectators. “Let’s go.”

He took my hand, yet again, and wove me through the gyrating mass, toward the stairs that I assumed led to my brothers. I wondered what they found so appealing about that vantage point. Did they like looking down on others? Did they rule them as Father ruled the condemned? Who were these sons of Ares I was so soon to meet?

Cresting the last few stairs, we came to stand in a sparsely inhabited area, furnished only with plush sofas and armchairs in dark shades of gray. Occupying the vast space were four males and two females. I knew the females to be human. The males were not.

“I didn’t tell them we were coming,” Drew whispered in my ear. “I was supposed to be patrolling tonight. I wanted to surprise them . . .”

“Surely if what you said is true—that I am one that should not be—then they should be surprised regardless.”

Another smile. His ability to find joy or humor in all things was confounding.

As we stood, conspiring by the staircase, we were easily spotted. Neither Drew nor I was startled by the approach of a tall, raven-haired man. His build was solid but graceful, just as Drew’s was. Another warrior.

“Shucking your duty tonight for a little grab-ass fun?” the man asked, both his tone and expression playful. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Drew. But she’s totally hot. I would have done the same thing.” He turned his gray-blue eyes to me and smiled. “Feel like sharing?”

“Kierson,” Drew started in a tone very similar to Father’s when he was exhausted by the stupidity of his minions. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t said that in a few minutes.”

Drew dragged me beyond the nuisance and toward the others.

“Everybody, listen up,” he shouted over the resounding music. “This is somebody you have to meet.”

All the men immediately fixed their eyes on me. All but one.

The group of them was sprawled out across the various sofas, lounging and drinking, except for the one who looked away from me. He was tucked back in a darkened corner, reclining in a chair against the wall. Upon him sat two women—women built for servicing. His eyes refused to meet mine just as his lips refused to meet theirs, pushing them away from his face to other more important tasks. They worshiped him like a god, and, though I knew of all who had reigned on Mount Olympus, I struggled in the darkness to recognize if he was one of them.

“Who is she?” another man called out from his station. He was methodically cleaning a blade while he stared at me intently, as though trying to ascertain what the great importance was.

“Ib-austify" met her tonight in an alley during my rounds,” Drew explained. “I thought she was an
Empty.
”

That word again . . .

Whatever it meant, the term brought about their collective attention. Even the god’s.

“I nearly had her head off, but when I grabbed her arm to steady her for the blow, I knew.”

“Knew what?” the blade cleaner asked, his annoyance still plain. He wiped the dagger with such reverence, as though it were more than just a weapon—he treated it like a favored pet.

Another warrior.

“Her name is Khara. She is the adopted daughter of Demeter, raised in the Underworld by Hades,” he said loudly, commanding their attention. “She is also one of
us
. Your
sister
.”

The blade clattered when it hit the floor.

“Impossible,” another of the men argued, coming to stand before me in an instant. “There are no females born of him, not since—” He stopped talking the moment his right hand cupped my jaw, turning it up to the scant light of the open room. “It can’t be . . .”

“It is,” Drew affirmed, gently removing his brother’s hand from my face. “Khara, meet your brother, Pierson.”

Pierson looked as though he had seen a ghost. It was an expression I was all too familiar with. Every time a new soul came to Father’s domain it wore that very same mask—disbelief, shock, and mild horror.

While he stood dumbfounded, the man who had first approached us came near, pushing Pierson to the side slightly.

“Let me see.” He took my hand, his eyes widening exponentially upon contact. There was a strange familiarity in his touch that I could not place, but it was oddly welcome. “I sure am glad you grabbed her before you lopped her head off, Drew,” he said while continuing to stare at me, a look of disbelief still etched deeply into his features. Then, in the blink of an eye, his expression warmed. “So that’s what’s going on here,” he said, grinning. “And I thought you weren’t going to share because you were getting greedy in your old age, Drew.”

Without warning, he crushed me into his arms, smothering my face as he pressed it tightly to his chest.

“Khara,” Drew said with a sigh, “this is Kierson . . . our brother and Pierson’s twin.”

I fought to escape his monstrous show of affection and took a step back to take the two of them in. Though it had not struck me immediately, it was clear that they were indeed exact physical replicas of one another, though that appeared to be where all similarities stopped. While Kierson behaved like a sex-driven juvenile, Pierson was positively serious in nature, his eyes analyzing everything around him.

While I assessed them, and they did me, the blade cleaner came to join us. He was slightly shorter and broader than the others, and he forced himself between the twins, violently casting the two aside. Neither one said a word in response. They looked wary of him, and, upon further inspection, I understood why. His nearly black eyes were sunk deep in his face, the rest of his features dominating. His head was smooth, with only a trace of hair shadowing the surface. His skin was lighter than the twins’, which served to highlight the darkness in his eyes. To me, he wasn’t fearsome, but he did appear far from friendly. I thought that had he been the one to fall upon me in the alley that night, I would not have likely survived.