Hell Born

by Marie Bilodeau

  “I doubt they’re hiring us for our wardrobe,” Clay said, a note of bitterness in his voice.

  “No,” I agreed, and then added, “it’ll definitely be for our good looks.”

  He laughed, and the temporary damper on his mood seemed to have lifted.

  “Shall we?” he said, offering his arm. I took it and we crossed the threshold of the school grounds and into the new day.

  Chapter Five

  Buses, vans, cars and even a few limos passed us by as we walked down the road toward the city. Some guilds and businesses had offered positions to multiple students, the buses loud and full as they sped by. Some parents and families had come to pick up their kids and celebrate the happy occasion of their graduation.

  Go figure.

  One of the circus buses rumbled past with darkened windows, but I saw a few familiar faces in some of the opened windows, non-human eyes and features looking my way. I couldn’t shake the sadness behind the lack of enthusiasm I read in their eyes. They didn’t even get two weeks of freedom, shipped right away to who knows how far away.

  Part of me couldn’t believe I hadn’t received an invitation to a circus guild. Best not think too much about it, and just be grateful it hadn’t happened.

  The dust from the buses dissipated and I noticed that Clay had pulled up his hood despite the relative warmth of the day. I knew that move. He felt overwhelmed, though he’d never admit it. Clay liked adventures, and a good fight, but he hated uncertainty. Plus, I’d managed to get some sleep, but only because he’d sacrificed his.

  “Let’s walk through the forest,” I offered, and headed toward the shade of the bordering trees. By the time we’d reach the road again, the buses should all be past. Not to mention the cars carrying the happy families.

  It was one thing being on the outside looking in, but when you’d essentially just been kicked out of the only place that had been your home for more than a decade, you didn’t need the reminder that you no longer had one.

  And that no one else wanted you to be a part of their family, either.

  We went a ways into the trees, Clay seeming to relax a bit more.

  Still, we didn’t share a word, and his hood stayed up. I followed in silence, respecting his space, heading toward the only place I knew for sure would be safe for us this night.

  As soon as we stepped out of the forest and crossed Beastwood Drive, I folded every nearby shadow around me. The light posts provided some, and the nearby factories. Clay automatically moved closer to me and I wrapped him in my shadows, too.

  We’d walked non-stop for almost three hours before reaching our destination, behind the industrial sector, near the main drag. We were in an older area of town with dilapidated buildings, drug deals happening on several corners. The cops didn’t care enough to be around. And there was the Traded halfway house, waiting for us.

  I’d never really been in a halfway house before. My foster family, although they didn’t like me (aka feared me), made sure to keep a roof over my head and kept tabs on me. And then, once I’d been shipped off to the Margrave Academy, I’d never seen them again. But some of the Traded that I’d met at the schools had spent some of their time in these halfway houses, after being rejected by foster families and having little other recourse. These places were deemed safe, and Traded could legally be here, as long as they were heading toward a school or, now, I suppose a guild.

  The building was in an alleyway, away from human sight. It wasn’t even named, the sign above the door simply saying “Traded Post.” A second big sign had been added to the front of the house - Closing in Two Weeks to Traded. Present Proof. Join Your Guild or Group Now. That’s the Law.

  “Well, that’s friendly,” I mumbled. Clay opened the door and stepped in.

  A desk greeted us, or what used to be a bar, pretty sure. No one stood behind it. This was probably a dive bar repurposed years ago. That would explain at least some of the stale, musty smell. I approached as Clay lowered his hood to take in our surroundings.

  A note had been left. Find a bed. Don’t make a mess.

  “Straightforward enough.”

  We headed past the curtained door, to the sleeping area. Bunk beds lined both sides of the room, leaving only a few feet as a passageway in between. All in all, about forty people could sleep here, though certainly not comfortably. The bathrooms waited at the end of the corridor. Without seeing them, I could smell them.

  “The beds look clean at least,” I mumbled and threw my bag on one. Clay took the one beside it and he grunted.

  “Gonna go clean up,” he said and shuffled toward the back, vanishing into the men’s bathroom. I stretched and stared at the few posters on the walls. The city’s aquarium. The amusement park. All marked as Traded friendly.

  A smile tugged at my lips at the memory of the school trips they used to organize for us. I used to love them, as long as they let me keep my hood up. Which they usually did, to save themselves some trouble. But then Clay got caught on one of his little outings and was held back from further trips. I’d stayed with him, to keep him company.

  I didn’t care about seeing the damn aquarium or sad amusement park one more time. I just hadn’t wanted my friend to be left alone in solitary.

  Sorry. They called it “Time Out.”

  I sighed, my tail whisking angrily behind me at the memories. Of Clay trapped there before. Of me thrown in there last night…but we weren’t there anymore. We were actually free. My tail drooped as I wrapped my head around that concept. We didn’t have to be anywhere.

  We had no deadline or curfew. I mean, we had two weeks to place ourselves within a guild since we hadn’t received any offers, but we had two weeks. Two weeks of basically unsurveilled freedom. In a crappy halfway house, sure, but right now it looked like we had the run of the place.

  That was damn nice.

  “You’re looking pretty serious over there,” Clay yawned as he joined me again, water dripping from his hair.

  I grinned, still feeling elated. “Two weeks,” I said. “We have an entire two weeks without having to report to anyone!”

  Clay grunted noncommittally.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “What?” I asked. He shot me another, much smaller grin. I groaned. He sat down on the bed in front of me. “What did you do?”

  He shrugged, his dark eyes focusing on mine, some of his hair falling across them. Clay had never met a comb he liked, or a haircut he enjoyed, so he’d kind of given up. I could convince him to let me cut some of his hair off, but I doubted I had a great future as a hairdresser.

  I raised my second eyebrow.

  “Well,” he started casually. I knew that tone. He was trying to downplay something. “I might have a gig for us tonight, if you’re in. It’s a doozy.”

  If I had a third eyebrow, I’d have raised that, too. I’d never heard him call any gig a “doozy” before. That didn’t bode super well.

  “What’s the gig?” I asked, still eyeing him suspiciously. If he noticed my glare, he was a pro at ignoring it. A rat ran in, stopped, took one look at me, and took off immediately. At least someone took my glares seriously.

  “Well, here’s the thing,” he said. I groaned. I knew those words well. They were usually padding words for anything he thought I wouldn’t quite approve of. “I’m not exactly sure what the gig is. Not yet!” He quickly added.

  “That doesn’t sound like a really super smart idea,” I offered, trying to keep my voice level.

  “Buuttt,” he added, apparently enjoying my reaction. I’d try to hit him, but knew I’d never land the blow. He grinned, as though reading my mind.

  He was really enjoying this. Who was I kidding? There was no way I wouldn’t follow along.

  I sighed.

  “I’m in,” I said.

  He nodded, as though he hadn’t expected anything else. I kinda liked that. The more things changed, the more I could count on Clay to keep things interesting.

  Chapter Six

/>   The shadows enveloped me as I stepped into them, like an old friend greeting me. I glanced around my surroundings, trying to spot where Clay was hiding. I’d scouted my end of the street, and it had been clear. This time, we weren’t trapped in boring suburbia, but instead in the industrial sector of town.

  I was excited that the walk back to the halfway house was so short. It was like having a shorter work commute all of a sudden!

  I still wasn’t sure what the target was, except that it was a container of some sort. Clay hadn’t been wrong in his assessment that his would be a doozy. Our information was sparse, at best. We would apparently know the target when we saw it, because it would look like a cylinder with a screw top and some hazard stickers (love those), and it would be small enough to carry.

  I wish Clay had asked about the hazard stickers, but he was sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

  He was probably right, as long as we kept the container sealed. The fact that the client had no idea if the warehouse would be guarded or not would probably be a bigger problem, anyways. At least they’d equipped us. Guns and blades were the name of the game, which made me feel a lot happier. I hadn’t handled a weapon since the last training session at school, almost a week ago! All of the weapons strapped around me were black, too. The shadows were thick, the night dark, my entire attire equally midnight-hued, so I barely wrapped the shadows around me to hide. Even if I unsheathed one of my swords, they wouldn’t see the blade glinting. Not until I cut them, anyway.

  My breathing sped up with excitement, and I forced it to slow down so that I remained focused.

  I spotted Clay across the way, crouching low, keeping to the shadows himself. He headed towards the back of what seemed to be an old brick warehouse or industrial building of some sort. It seemed out of place among the newer metal constructions.

  He headed for the right side door and I followed, dropping the shadows so he could see me. We’d agreed on a quick recon, and that we’d stick together. He’d argued against it at first, but reminding him that he’d been knocked out last night had helped my case.

  He pulled the door open with some force, but no alarm sounded. Our intel was right on that end. It could mean poor security, or security that didn’t rely on outside help. The potential of the latter promised more fun.

  We stepped into a vast empty space, a few cars and vans strewn about, though no markings noted which company they represented. The space was clean and looked new, despite the outdated exterior. And even though it looked disorganized and haphazard, I couldn’t help but feel like there was some pattern at play here, something that I couldn’t quite pick up at a glance.

  I followed Clay, clutching a handgun, my senses on high alert. The air didn’t smell stale like I’d expected from an abandoned warehouse. It smelled like metal, and maybe some recent exhaust. I could even detect an undercurrent of cleaning materials, mostly bleach.

  Somebody definitely used this place regularly.

  There was no sign of anyone right now, though. It was late, which might explain its emptiness, but I still kept up my guard.

  I glanced up and perused the walls, looking for security cameras and alarm systems. Nothing jumped out at me. We reached the back of the warehouse. An open door greeted us. Easy for an ambush.

  Of course.

  Clay grinned at me from the other side of the door. Adrenaline pumped my limbs to life.

  He moved toward the door, but I held up my hand. I’d go first. My chances of going undetected were a lot better than his. He nodded, though I could see he didn’t like it. I gave him a wry smile and winked. If I got in trouble, he could charge in to help me.

  I was way more stealthy anyway. I nodded to him and wrapped the shadows around me. Clay stopped looking my way and focused on the door, so I knew he could no longer see me.

  I took a deep breath, then moved quickly around the corner, holding my Glock 22 in front of me. Pretty standard gun fare, even a little bit dull. But pretty easy to come by, so I wasn’t surprised we’d been supplied with it.

  The next room was dark, even darker than the one I’d just stepped out of. I didn’t turn around, but could feel that Clay had followed me.

  I glanced back at Clay and wrapped my shadows around him. He gave me a quick look with another rueful grin. I squinted to try to get a better look at my surroundings. I could see a desk directly in front of me, and beyond it, another door.

  Another funnel. How could I be liking this less and less, while enjoying it more and more?

  I nodded to Clay and we moved forward, proceeding on each side of the desk. He needed to leave the safety of my shadows, but he was careful and quiet. We stopped short of passing the desk completely before stopping again. I dropped my shadows so that Clay could see me and, more importantly, so that he could see my puzzled look.

  There was nothing on the other side of the desk. Not even a chair. That was weird. I didn’t think weird was good.

  The door in front of us wasn’t open this time. A closed door seemed much worse.

  Clay had pulled out his favorite hand-axe, which reflected no light. He shifted it in his hand. I knew from having seen it in action that it was sharp. The fact that he’d selected that weapon told me that he didn’t know if he’d be fighting in close quarters, or if he’d be throwing it.

  I debated switching out my weapon, but I could fire a shot at close range, too, and quickly grab a sword from there.

  Clay nodded, indicating that he would be the one to turn the handle, in case it was booby trapped. This part I hated - this constant Russian roulette of “that might blow up” or “this might be triggered” or “this might be alarmed,” and my least favorite: “Let me take this hit.” But that’s why we travelled as a pair. Just in case one of us got knocked out or taken out - the other could drag them out. Our last heist was proof of concept.

  I nodded to him and he pushed the door open. It didn’t even creak, but in the silence I managed to find my breath again. We moved forward and stepped in at the same time as I gathered the shadows around us. I held my gun out before me to clear the way, Clay’s hand-axe ready to be thrown, or to block a blow.

  Nobody attacked, but the place stank unlike anything I’d ever smelled before. And I’d smelled death more than once.

  Clay shot me a grin. I holstered my gun. The thought of a giant bang echoing across the entire warehouse worried me about as much as Clay’s enthusiasm. I pulled out a couple of throwing knives, silent but deadly, as long as my opponent’s armor wasn’t too thick, anyways.

  I squinted to look more deeply into the warehouse. The darkness stretched far beyond us, but this darkness seemed different. I couldn’t quite pierce it with my eyes, which was definitely strange. I look towards Clay. He looked back my way, and we shared a quick nod. The glint of incoming battle still shone in his eyes. But the restraint of not wanting to get either one of us killed would keep him near me, at least. That was something.

  We took another step forward, separating to cover more ground. I dropped the shadows again. Having Clay able to see me was more advantageous than having one of us hidden.

  As we walked further into the room, the stench seemed to dissipate.

  I turned around, curious to see if I could spot the origin of the stench. At first I couldn’t see anything, but then the wall beside the door shimmered, dull metal rippling and cracking to form muscle. Not skin, unfortunately, that would have been a blessing.

  Just muscle. Raw, red, icky muscle.

  The creature stepped forward, those muscles stinking like rotten meat.

  I gagged and took a step back, as did Clay.

  The creature, a Traded, I had to assume, stood six and a half feet tall, and was wider than the door. No blood dripped from their sinewy muscles, which wrapped around their entire form. Whatever this thing was, they certainly looked less human than most Traded did. But that didn’t mean we weren’t on the same team, either.

  “Hey,” I shot a grin their way, “nice to meet you.” />
  Clay’s groan was barely audible.

  The creature’s mouth stretched apart, showing sharp teeth, the lips not clearly defined against the traffic jam of muscle. I found some comfort in the muscle pattern, which didn’t look human. It’s not like if you could just take a human, strip off the skin, and get this creature, because even that would look different. Not, of course, that I had taken the skin off anyone. But I’d certainly seen it done.

  I waited for a few seconds, but no answer came. They didn’t move to stop us, either, just kind of standing between us and the door, their feet slightly separated, one behind the other. I think they’d cross their arms if they could, but part of me imagined that they would just kind of stick together with muscle goo.

  I tried not to let the disgust show on my face. That wouldn’t be super polite. I also tried really hard not to look down past their waist.

  “Tira,” Clay whispered.

  I turned slightly to look at what he indicated. An orange light had been lit at the back of the warehouse. It seemed to cast no light beyond its predefined borders, but it served as a beacon.

  It begged the question: a beacon for what?

  “What kind of a gig was this again?” I asked Clay.

  “Just follow my lead,” he said, shooting a disarming grin my way. I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t answered my question.

  I really needed to start joining him for gig negotiations.

  Chapter Seven

  Clay practically vibrated with excitement the closer we came to that orange light. I grew more and more suspicious, squinting into the light that seemed intent on blinding us. I glanced away from it, trying to avoid spots in my vision.

  Did I discern movement beside us in the darkness? I resisted the urge to fold the shadows around me. If we’d already been spotted, they hadn’t attacked yet. And they could get in an attack before I vanished, especially because I’d try to drag Clay in, too.

  I could hear small scuff sounds near us.