Unborn (3 page)

“Casey,” Drew said, stepping slightly in front of me to cut him off. “This is Khara.”

He said nothing.

I returned the gesture and stared silently back at him.

“Do you fear me?” he asked eventually, his expression unchanging.

“Have you given me cause to?” I returned.

“Shall I give you cause to?”

“You offer violence in your glare,” I said sharply, “but it is unoriginal—
nothing I have not seen before. If you wish to frighten me, you will have to try much harder to succeed.”

A wicked smile grew slowly on his face. It was nothing like Drew’s or Kierson’s. I had long known a warrior like Casey—one of Father’s soldiers—who sought to terrorize me from the moment I set foot in the Underworld. He, too, wore that same smile often, and, for the first time since the Dark One came for me, I felt a twinge of fear. That smile promised pain and suffering at the enjoyment of he who wore it.

Casey said nothing else, but slowly walked back to whence he came, kicking his feet up onto his padded sofa after collapsing atop it. He collected his blade from the floor and continued to clean it silently. I forbade the growing unease I felt in his presence to make it to my face. Centuries lived amid lies, deceit, and struggles for power served me well in that moment. Fear was a weakness that could not be publicly displayed without cost. Father had taught me that.

I longed to be near him again.

“Don’t mind him,” Kierson started, draping his arm casually around my shoulder. “He just needs to get laid. He’ll come around eventually, but, until then, don’t worry. He won’t bite—not hard, anyway.”

He ushered me to sit on a couch far away from Casey before dropping himself tightly beside me.

“You do realize that you can’t sleep with your own sister, right?” a voice called from deep within the shadows to our right. “Incest is pretty low, Kierson, even for you.”

I peered into the darkened area as the godlike man pushed his women aside and came to stand before me.

“Don’t I get an introduction, Drew?” he asked, staring down at me wickedly. I did not enjoy the inequality of my position, so I stood, slowly raising myself from my submissive station. Something about him was different. The others all possessed a faint similarity—he did not.

“Khara,” I said dryly, not extending any gesture of acknowledgment beyond my name.

His piercing brown eyes absorbed every inch of my presumably disheveled appearance. My hair was wild from the wind, and I still wore Drew’s jacket. My pants had been torn somehow during my extraction from the Underworld, and I was certain my neck had been bruised, courtesy of the Dark One who stole me away. I felt small and weak—two things I abhorred—so I removed the jacket and stretched my frame to be as tall and intimidating as possible. If we were in a battle for power, then I
would wield my sword as mightily as he.

“Oz,” he said with a tight expression.

We continued to eye each other silently while Kierson nattered in the background.

“You are not my brother,” I stated as fact.

“Not in the least,” he replied, his voice low and menacing.

“Are you a god?”

“Hardly.”

“Why do they service you if you are not?” I aodl not?sked, gesturing to the women who waited mindlessly for him to return. They did not eye me favorably.

“Simple, new girl,” he said, leaning in close to me. “Because I want them to.”

He then returned to his post, letting the women fondle and worship him again. They wove their fingers through his golden-brown hair and kissed his face, his neck, his chest—but never his mouth. He sat between them looking smug and haughty, his deep brown eyes pinned on me for the first time since my arrival.

“
Sooooo
,” Kierson drawled, looking around the group. “What do we do now?”

“Khara needs some rest. She’s had a long night. She insisted upon coming here first before heading home because she wanted to meet her brothers,” Drew said, addressing them. “I’m going to take her home. Anyone coming?”

“I’m in,” Kierson replied, pulling me against him. “Khara can stay in my room.”

“She’s your
sister
,” Pierson groaned, looking as though he wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.

“I didn’t say that I was staying in there with her, did I?” he snarled in return.

“Fine,” Drew conceded. “Grab your stuff so we can go. Anyone else? Casey?”

“No. I’ll go finish your rounds.”

“Pierson?”

“No. I’ll go with Casey.”

“Good idea,” he said with a nod. “And be careful. There’s something in the air tonight. I don’t trust it.”

“Aw, Drew. Aren’t you going to ask me to come with you?” Oz mocked from his shadowy den.

“No, Oz. You look to be plenty occupied at the moment. We’ll see you later . . . unfortunately.”

Oz laughed the way Father did when he meant to put on a show of indifference. It seemed quite a show indeed.

“True,” he scoffed. “Later it is then. Much, much later.”

He shifted his gaze to me again, addressing me specifically.

“See you tomorrow, new girl.”

His mockery earned my indignation, and I left without bothering to reply. I knew his sort; Father was surrounded by an army of them. Over the years, I molded my behavior to draw as little attention from them as possible. Silence proved their least favorite response.

Drew, Kierson, and I left together, all three of us making our collective way to a black monstrosity of a vehicle—a Suburban, they called it. It seemed large enough to transport an army. Perhaps that was precisely what it was designed to do.

Traveling quickly through the city, we soon found ourselves in what appeared to have once been a stately neighborhood. The houses, however, were now vacant, windows boarded up with brightly colored markings on the exteriors. Kierson explained the reason for the abandoned nature of the area, telling me about the collapse of the housing market and the outsourcing of industry jobs. Apparently, when the factories closed, people just walked away, leaving their homes behind. As the city deteriorated, those with the wealth and the power left, too, unable to protect what was theirs in the hostile climate that brewed as a result. In that moment, I found his inane ramblings irritating, though they did illustrate the reasoning behind the dilapidated buildings we had seen at the end of the drive home.

“And then we ended up here,” he continued, oblivious to my desperation for him to stop talking. “The city was thica city we perfect place to corral them when they started to infest other major cities. It was the best solution we could come up with at the time.”

“Who?” I asked, thinking that perhaps he had finally said something worth listening to.

“Who what?” he asked, confusion in his voice.

“Who is it that you corralled?”

“I think,” Drew started, cutting Kierson off before he could explain anything else, “that is a discussion for tomorrow, once you’re fed and rested. You’ve had your fill of evil with the Dark One today. There is no need for you to dwell on it further tonight.”

Kierson wheeled around in his seat to look at me as I sat behind him.

“A Dark One? You were brought here by a Dark One?”

“Yes.”

“But how?”

“He flew me out of the Underworld.”

“Wait . . . you came here from the Underworld?”

“That is where Hades lives, is it not? Drew did say that he was my adoptive father.”

“Right,” he nodded, mentally placing that information in a more accessible place for another time. “So what’s that like? The Underworld? It has to be a totally messed-up place to grow up.”

“You have not been there, I assume,” I stated, knowing that it was a destination virtually inaccessible to all in existence—apart from the dead.

“No. None of us have.”

“It is where the unsavory go when they perish—for punishment,” I replied, thinking my answer should suffice. My brothers may not have been there in person, but surely they would have heard tales of Hades’ realm in their lifetimes. If they had been alive as long as I had, the odds that they would be completely ignorant seemed miniscule at best.

“Maybe Khara doesn’t want to talk about that right now, Kierson,” Drew suggested. He was correct. Though the Underworld had consumed my thoughts since my arrival, I had no desire to explain my home. Especially to those who could not possibly understand it.

“Okay, that’s fine. But can we get back to the part about the Dark One? Are you saying that he just swooped down to the Underworld and grabbed you, then flew you out and dumped you in this shithole of a town?” He looked dismayed, eliminating his previous childlike curiosity about my home.

“Yes. Essentially.”

“Whoaaa,” he said, sinking back into his seat to face forward as we pulled to a stop in front of the only habitable-looking home on the street. “That’s intense.”

“It was unwelcome and unwarranted,” I replied. “It was also completely mysterious. Father yelled something about fearing that this day would come as the Dark One took me away. I have no clue what he meant by that statement.”

Drew turned to look at me as he turned something with his fingers, making the car go silent and still.

“We will figure out what happened, Khara. On my honor, you will see your father again, and you will get your answers. But, for now, we need to get you rested and fed. Tomorrow we can sort through the details of this mess.”

“Are you gonna call Sean?” Kierson asked him, a hint of concern tainting his words.

“No,” Drew replied with an ounce of hesitation. “I have made the decision to hold off on that for now. He has his hands full out east. I see no reason to burden him with this as well, especiallyuld, espec when there is nothing to report other than her existence. What he is dealing with has potentially far more disastrous implications than learning he has a sister. I do not think he needs a distraction to derail his focus.”

“You mean further derail it, don’t you?” Kierson asked with a tight laugh.

“I would suggest you keep your thoughts about her to yourself in his presence, Kierson. Sean is rather sensitive about that particular matter.”

The two exchanged a knowing glance before opening their respective car doors to get out. They ushered me out of the vehicle and into their house within the abandoned neighborhood. While it was in a far better state of repair than the surrounding buildings appeared to be in, I couldn’t help but think that it was in dire need of attention. The detailed exterior appeared to be of the Victorian style. Faded yellow paint flaked off the wooden siding, and the shutters hung askew around the few windows that still maintained them. The others were completely unadorned. Inside, there was a grand staircase leading up from the entryway to the second floor. It cut through the spacious living room, which was furnished modestly and contained enough seating to accommodate the crowd that lived there. There was little to no decoration of the space; no personalization that I could see. It was the pinnacle of practicality while maintaining a pleasant and quaint quality.

But it was not home.

“So,” Drew started, leading me through the main level of the home. “We have a small issue we need to address tonight before you can get that rest I keep promising you.”

“What is the issue?”

“We are short a room for you.” He looked uncomfortable admitting as much to me. “If it would make you happy, I would give you mine. Or Kierson can give you his. Neither of us would mind sleeping on one of the cots in the basement—”

“The basement? There is a bed there?”

“Yes. We have extras there in case we have others coming through.”

“I should like to stay there.”

“Khara . . . it’s really not very suitable for you.”

“I would like to see it.”

With a sigh, he led me to the door that opened to the cold, dark basement below. As if it called to me, I flew down the stairs as quickly as possible to see what I knew was destined to be my room. Drew followed close behind me. A rock foundation, little light, and a musty, putrid smell welcomed me, and, for the first time since I had arrived in Detroit, I truly felt like I had discovered a piece of home.

“This is perfect, Drew,” I said, moving toward one of the rickety-framed beds. “I will stay here.”

“Khara—”

“Truly. I am fine here. There is no need to change your arrangements.” He looked confused by my choice, but let me be.

“Are you sure you don’t want to share my room?” Kierson asked, coming downstairs to join us with a plate of food piled high enough for five of Father’s men to eat from.

“This will be satisfactory, Kierson.”

“Do you want some food?”

“No. I think I will sleep now. I’ve had so little recently that I may not wake for days.”

“Then we will leave you to it,” Drew said softly, pulling a blanket off a nearby shelf and handing it to me. “Sweet dreams, sister.” His confounding smile appeared again, and I was as at a loss as ever how to respond.

“You as well, brother.”

Uncomfortable with his engagement of me, I turned and walked to the bed, lying down while I tried to unfold the blanket and arrange it over me. Thankfully, they left without any further display of joviality. Perhaps they knew it made me uneasy.

I was not accustomed to such warmth from others, and, in the chill of my new room’s air, I realized that I was about to be surrounded by it on a very consistent basis until I found a way home.

Perhaps Oz and Casey’s s
urly ways would prove more welcome than I had originally assumed.

3

When I awoke the next day, I had no concept of time. The exhaustion I felt infiltrated every ounce of my being, and it took me three attempts to raise myself from the bed before I succeeded. With a sluggish gait, I made my way to the stairs that would lead me up to the main part of the home, the light, and my new family.

“She’s up!” Kierson cried when I slowly opened the basement door. “I got you some stuff while you were sleeping. I figured you didn’t have anything with you other than what you were wearing and thought you might like some fresh clothes.”

Before I could object, he thrust a bag of sorts into my hands—he seemed overly pleased with himself. Surely procuring garments was not a difficult task in the city. I rummaged through the noisy bag, pulling out various shirts and pants, all of which were black in color. As I eyed them, he looked on, attempting to read my reaction. Was he waiting for a particular one?

“Thank you, Kierson. I am certain these will serve their purpose well.”

“I figured you liked black since it was what you were already wearing.”

“I do. It’s highly practical.”

A smile overtook his face at my reply.

“Go try them on,” he encouraged, ushering me into another room. A bathroom of sorts. “I think I got the right sizes . . . I know a thing or two about a woman’s build.”

“That’s because you’ve seen thousands of them naked. You should have learned something by now,” Pierson groused from the other room.

“Ignore him. He’s just grumpy. You try them on and see what you think.”

“I really don’t see the need to—”

“Just go,” he said with a tiny shove, closing the door behind me. Thankfully he was on the other side of it once it shut.

I sighed, already more exhausted than I had been in decades. I lacked the energy necessary to placate the childlike being awaiting my emergence from the bathroom. Knowing that there was no alternative, I pulled on an outfit from the bag he provided and availed myself to him. His smile was still in place when I opened the door, and it grew impossibly larger upon seeing me.

“Like a glove,” he exclaimed, forcing me to turn around once for his inspection.

“Are they not too tight? They feel rather restrictive . . .” I replied, looking down.

“That’s how the ladies wear them.”

“And what if I should like to actually move in these pants? I feel as though they are in great jeopardy of tearing.”

“Nope. I thought of that and made sure to get you jeans that had a little spandex for stretch. Stick with me, kid. You’ll be well dressed
and
able to fight.”

“I do not see how that is possible, but I shall take your word for it. For now.”

“Ah, fuck,” Casey lamented from the other room. “She’s already buying his bullshit.”

“Screw off, Casey. I don’t see you being especially helpful to her at the moment.”

“I’m not trying to sleep with her,” he quipped in response. Kierson seemed offended by the remark and stormed into the living room where Casey presumably sat sprawled across some piece of furniture as he had at the club. I followed, if for no other reason than to observe their interaction. I needed to learn as much as I could about those who were housing me. My brothers.

“Just because I’m trying to help her doesn’t mean I want to sleep with her, I’ll have you know.”

“And how many times did you think of her naked last night?” Casey asked from his reclined position on one of the two dark leather couches, just as I had envisioned him.

“Twice,” he blurted out in response before wincing at his own admission. “But that’s not entirely my fault. I’m not used to having a sister. Especially not a hot one. I’ll get my head around it soon enough, asshole.”

“I’m more worried that you’re going to get your head
in
it . . .”

“Enough!” Drew yelled, descending the stairs from the second floor to join us. “You will not disrespect your own flesh and blood in my presence or hers. Is that understood?” His cheeks were flushed as he spoke, and his eyes were sharp and hardened. There was a prickle of energy in the room, making the tiny hairs on my neck rise only slightly. Drew was clearly angry with them, though over what affront I could not tell. “Is that understood?” he repeated, stopping to hover over Casey.

Casey shrugged in the most ambivalent way. I wondered if he had spent time in the Underworld. His actions and mannerisms would have been beautifully suited for a life there.

“And you?” Drew asked, staring Kierson down. “Do I need to be worried about your antics?”

“No,” Kierson replied quietly. “I was trying to help. It’s not my fault she’s really pretty. But I get it, I get it,” he said, his hands flying up in a gesture of surrender. “I get that she’s family. I don’t
really
want to sleep with her; it’s just . . . well, you know. Old habits die hard.”

“Well, see that they do die, and quickly, Kierson. I have no patience in this matter.”

Kierson nodded once, his head hanging lower than normal. He, unlike Casey, would not have survived long in my father’s home. His emotions would be perceived as a sign of weakness and would have been exploited at every turn. To survive in the Underworld, one could show no vulnerability.

I had mastered the art of indifference centuries ago.

“Khara,” Drew called, softening his tone slightly. “Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

“Kierson, why don’t you go make her something to eat while Casey and I fill her in on a few things. She’s going to have questions, I’m sure, so we might as well start with the basics and go from there.”

“How come Casey gets to do that and I have to play housewife?”

“Because you make a way better bitch than I do,” Casey purred.

“I’m going to beat your ass,” Kierson spat, lunging toward an utterly unfazed Casey. Drew jumped in to stop the fight before it startectire it sd. I looked on, thinking that it was a familiar scenario, yet another reminder of the Underworld. Fighting and violence had been the way of life for those I grew up around. And though I may have been somewhat protected from the bulk of their barbarity, I was not immune to it.

Both found me often enough.

“If this is how it’s going to be now with her here, some of you are moving out. I will not have a complete breakdown of order,” Drew warned, still holding Kierson back from Casey.

“Fine,” Kierson snarled, yanking himself out of Drew’s grip to stomp past me toward the kitchen.

“That goes for you too, Casey.”

“Whatever you say . . .”

“And Pierson, you’re not exempt from this either,” Drew continued. Pierson merely looked up from whatever he was reading in acknowledgment, then dropped his eyes back to his thick and weathered book.

Drew once again turned a softer expression to me and gestured for me to come and sit beside him on the sofa. As I did, he launched into an explanation of anything and everything I could have possibly wanted to know about who I was, who they were, and what exactly it was they did—who they hunted.

“I didn’t wish to overwhelm you last night with details, but you need to know more about who we are,” Drew informed me, turning slightly to better face me. “You called me a warrior last night. That’s exactly what I am. What we all are, you included. We were born of Ares, all of different mothers, to form what we now refer to as the PC, which stands for Petronus Ceteri, or the protectors of others. Our sole purpose is to maintain the balance between the natural and supernatural worlds. And that’s exactly what we do.”

“So I, too, am a warrior?”

“It is your birthright,” he replied, looking less sure of himself than he had previously. “But there’s really no way to be certain. We’ve never had a sister before. There’s no way to ascertain what traits you inherited.” Drew paused a moment, allowing me to process the information he so willingly provided. His transparency was disarming. I was not used to important details being so freely shared. “I know you were tired when I found you last night, Khara, so I don’t know how much you remember of our conversations, but I mentioned something about there being no females born of Ares still alive. I feel I need to explain that further.

“Ares once had a daughter, Eos. She was his everything: a fearsome war goddess, ruthless supporter, and, from what has long been rumored, his lover as well. When she died, part of him changed, or so I was told. I was not alive when this occurred, but some of the others were. They said he was never quite the same after he lost her. From that point on, he declared that no female born of him would ever be suffered to live. That none shall walk the Earth when his beloved Eos was unable to.

“At first, we all took this to mean that he would somehow make it impossible to create a female. However, it came to light a few centuries ago that this may not have been the truth . . . that, more likely than not, if a female was created, she was immediately destroyed. This, Khara, is why you should not be,” he continued, hesitating slightly before delivering his final statement. “You should have been killed at infancy—most likely the day you were born.”

“But I was not,” I offered, stating the obvious incongruity in his story.

“Clearly,” he said with a grin. “What I cannot understand is
how
. How did you escape him? If there had indeed been ’indeed others before you . . .”

“They were found and destroyed,” I said, saying what he so clearly did not want to.

“Precisely, though not by Ares’ own hands. He lost the ability to kill long ago, but he is still cunning and ruthless. He finds ways around the rules when it suits his purpose. So that leaves me to wonder exactly how you escaped his all-knowing radar.”

“The parents I have always known were not my own. Perhaps my mother gave me to them to keep me from Ares, therefore preventing my otherwise imminent demise.”

“That is the assumption I am making as well, but someone out there has to know more about the who and why in order for that plan to have worked. That concerns me. Loose ends make for messy situations, Khara. If you are to survive, we need to tie them up.”

“I do not know if Father is fully aware of my parentage, but he is not a concern. He loves me in his own way. As for Demeter, I cannot be certain. We do not talk much, though I would wager she knows more about this than anyone else.”

“We need to find her . . .” he said, his eyes willing me to see the depth of his plan.

“You would kill her if she knew how dire my circumstances were?” I asked, my voice emotionless. He did not answer. “I do not believe that she knows anything. She would have been rid of me by now if she had. I am nothing but a burden and a bargaining chip to her. She would, however, sell me out if it would get her what she wanted most. Unfortunately for her, she’s already gotten all that she can in that regard, so there is no more to be done. She needs me, and she knows it. My death would only ensure the loss of her daughter. That is not something she would risk.”

“How can you be so certain?” Casey asked, leaning forward as though my words held an interest to him that hadn’t been present earlier.

“Because I am her ticket to Persephone. Without me, Demeter would never see her again. I am the reason she is able to leave the Underworld at all. For six months of the year, Persephone is traded for me. I stay underground while she and her mother walk the fertile earth, enjoying spring and summer. When her time is up, she is brought to Father and I am ejected into the death and cold of fall and winter. Demeter’s sadness causes the change in the weather. I would watch as she wept and wallowed, her depression shaping and fueling the harshness of those seasons. She does nothing but pine for the day that the daughter she lost to Hades can once again return home.

“Her life would be intolerable without those six months she shares with Persephone. She would not risk losing them. Demeter is many things, but careless she is not. Had Hades not agreed to take me in trade for his beloved Persephone, I do not know what she would be like now.”

“So she leveraged you for Persephone . . .” Drew said, his mind clearly working to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “How could we not have known this? Persephone is a wretched being who loves nothing more than to gossip and meddle. How has she not spread this information? Even if she didn’t know who you were, she would surely say why she was let out,” he contemplated aloud. “It was long thought that Hades eventually saw her for what she was and wanted to be rid of her, but Zeus would not allow it. He made him keep her, the concession being that Hades could be rid of her for half the year.”

“She is unable to say anything. That is why you do not know the truth,” I replied simply. “She is bound by whatever agreement was made. If she breathes a word about it to anyone, it is forfeit and she is relegated to the Underw amo the Uorld forever.”

“Then how is it that you can speak so freely of it?”

“I am not bound by it as she is. As Father explained to me, it was not a condition put forth. It matters not at the moment, anyway. I fear that the agreement has been nullified in one way or another, as I am here and she is there—neither of us where we should be. Spring is my time to return to Father. That was taken from me by the Dark One.”

“The Dark One?” Casey asked, his eyes widening to bottomless pits of black.

“She was taken by a Dark One and abandoned in the alley I found her in last night,” Drew explained. “He probably left her for dead. Who knows what information he was privy to before her abduction. Perhaps he knew that she had never been left to fend for herself. That may well have been his intention.”

Casey’s chest rumbled violently.

“I should very much like to meet this winged one,” he grumbled, his low, menacing tone promising pain. “I have a blade I would like to sink deep into the cavern where his heart should be.”

“What do you know of the Dark Ones?” I asked earnestly. “Father would never tell me details, only that I should avoid them at all cost and fear them terribly. I did my best to comply.”

“Too much. I know too much,” Casey returned, offering nothing further.