Halfblood Journey
Page 47
“Thank you.” He took the letter and bowed his head. She was impressed at how quickly he was learning Kin mannerisms.
She nodded and turned expectantly to Tiburon, “Shall we?”
“Of course. This way.” They left Ian unfolding and intently reading Scythe’s note.
She knew that she only had a short amount of time, so she risked jumping right in, “I know it seems as if we are being unnecessarily cautious, but there are those among the rebels that are very fearsome that have not yet been caught.”
“Fearsome, how?”
“Extremely talented.”
“You mean powered.” She noted his quick assumption. The hound in her lifted its head and sniffed.
“I believe I said talented.”
“Ah, and you think they will target Ian or his daughter.”
“We are sure of it.”
“Why?”
“Because, Tiburon, we in the Scere are talented, too.”
“Ah, I had heard rumors, but it is all very secret: the Scere and their experiments with the Humans.”
“I can’t speak about that.”
“So, you suspect that a rebel is talented?”
“We know there is one.” She sighed, “It is too bad he chose such a degrading path. The Scere seeks such individuals. The Eler would have had good employment for him.”
“I see.”
She watched him calculate and she knew. There wasn’t a family that didn’t want a connection in the elusive Scere, the one cabinet that functioned predominately without regulation or supervision. She realized then that she had gone to the wrong house. She had assumed that the halfblood’s father was the spearhead, but that was naive; he was merely a conspirator with a handy tool, two with his second son. It looked like there was at least one other house involved, and perhaps more. It occurred to her that there was a possibility that several high families were involved at some level. She was sure, too, that they had hidden themselves well in the shadows behind Nathan and Kelreig. There would be no trials for Tiburon and those like him.
She knew at that moment that she would have to find a reason to move the Youngs the same night.
So casually, he said, “Of course, now he is a criminal.”
She shook her head, “No, now he is nobody. If he were to be caught as a rebel, naturally it would all be over. However, if a nobody joins the Scere, he disappears.” They neared the entrance. “I thank you for your guidance.”
“It was my honor.”
She doubted there was much of that left.
Chapter 31
It was dark when Mercy opened her eyes, and she didn’t know where she was. She tried to sit up, but she couldn’t. What? Where am I? It was dark and quiet and the floor was cold...Oh, no! She tried to move again, but her arms were pinned. She knew that she couldn’t possibly have been taken back to the warehouse, so that meant that she was still there.
She started to breathe in short gasps. She had never left.
The horror of it began to dawn on her. Everything...finding Scythe, her father coming for her...all of it, was just another hallucination. She had experienced several in the days since she had been trapped in the warehouse. Despair gripped her tightly and began to drag her down again.
Maybe...maybe I am going to die here after all, she thought.
A light shone through a crack in the door. Like before, she turned her head away from the brightness...Wait...Like before?
She turned back when she heard a step and saw a figure, surrounded by the light. Then light flooded the room.
“Scythe?” she asked, squinting.
“Yes,” he said, and her heart jumped. Thank heaven!
He barked a laugh, a harsh one that made her shudder.
No, not him. He never laughed like that.
“No such luck, sweetie,” he said. “Feeling a little woozy?” He brought his face close to hers, and she could see that it was Phillip. Something about him worried her…maybe because he had another name, but she couldn’t remember it...
“Phillip…”
He frowned. She had made him angry, but she didn’t know why. “Like I’d have a name like that! Don’t call me that. I like your boyfriend’s name...Scythe. Now, that’s a real badass name. Call me that.”
“Why?” That didn’t make sense. Where was he, anyway?
“Why? Because I said so, you little bitch. Are you a little out of it, Mercy? Maybe we used a little too much of the juice on you, what do you think? Ah, well, it will only make things go smoother.”
“Can I go now?”
That laugh again. “No, but you can go soon, when you’re good and ready.” He leaned in again and rubbed his cheek up against hers. He whispered in her ear, “I have a present for you, a dream come true for a sweet, little girl like you. A night with your prince. Would you like that?”
“Okay. You are a little close, though.”
He pulled back, laughing. “Ha! You don’t have a clue!” Something occurred to him that made his eyes bulge. “I bet he’s never even touched you. Is that right?”
“Who?”
“Scythe.”
She didn’t know what he was talking about. Scythe had touched her a thousand times: hugged her, held her hand, pony rides...
His eyes went from astounded to something more avid, “Have you even been kissed?”
She started to shake her head, then stopped. Wait..that’s not right...
“Your first kiss. This is too good. But to make it perfect, you have to call me ‘Scythe.’”
“Scythe?”
“Good enough,” he said and pressed his lips roughly on hers. She didn’t like it at all, and because her hands were stuck behind her, she couldn’t even rub his saliva off her lips when he finished. “There, remember that for the rest of your life. Now, who gave you your first kiss?”
“Scythe.”
“That’s right,” he said smugly. He reached out and stroked her cheek and when she didn’t react, he frowned and slapped it lightly.
She just turned her head, “That’s not nice. Please stop.”
When he didn’t say anything, she looked back up at him. He was standing there, frowning down at her. She could tell that he was angry again about something, but she didn’t know what. She hadn’t done anything to him.
“You know, I don’t like you like this. You’re too pathetic. You might even enjoy it, which would ruin everything. How about we wait until you are a little more with the wakey, hmm?” He gave her another slap, but this one stung.
She frowned up at him.
“Yeah, like that, but more. I’ll be back in a bit, sweetie.”
He took the light with him.
When the lights came back on, she closed her eyes and waited for them to adjust. When she could, she squinted through her eyelids at him, her face a stiff mask.
He noticed right away that the drug had finally left her system. “Ah, looks like we’re ready for our project, which is good because I’ve got other things to attend to. Let’s get this over with.”
She waited, steeling herself.
“Now, don’t be like that. Mark here is a real bull. All the girls want him, isn’t that right?”
“How about you shut up, asshole,” said the man behind him. Short black hair, well muscled underneath a tight black shirt and skin covered in some kind of gray paint, he still looked nothing like him.
“The eyes are wrong,” she said, trying to sound brave, hoping that if she said it right, it would somehow make her brave. But, it didn't work. Despite knowing what was going to happen, she was still scared.
“That is nothing. I’ll fix it until it’s perfect. Trust me, you won’t know the difference.”
“Then, why don’t you just…”
“Make it all up? I’ve done that, but the results aren’t the same. There’s got to be something true to work with, a soreness in the body, scratches, something like that, something to stare at the next day. Usually, if it’s all fake people figure
out that something is wrong, and then the directive doesn’t stick.”
“Directive?”
“Yeah, the thing you’re going to want to do to him after he rapes you a couple of times.”
Rapes you a couple.... Mercy closed her eyes against the jump in her chest and tried to remember. She knew she was going to get past this. She had to believe that, no matter what happened here, that vision still waited for her.
“You’re thinking, ‘Even if I wanted to, there’s no way I could kill him.’ Well, you’d be surprised what a good rape will do to your willpower...it’s a character builder...and don’t underestimate how close you are allowed to get to him. You're the only one, citygirl, who he lets in. That’s really the key to this project.”
He smacked her cheek so she would open her eyes and look up at him. “Besides, even if you don’t get him, it’s gonna hurt him real bad, and so is your suicide if he doesn’t kill you protecting himself. He’ll be easy pickings after that. It’s win-win for us, no matter what.”
She couldn't believe what he was planning. It was so horrible. What kind of person could do that? “Why...why are you doing this?”
He blinked and she saw his jaw harden. “Hey, it’s nothing personal, Mercy. It’s just business. My bosses want Scythe taken down, and you are the best bet right now. Little girl goes in, one problem taken care of, and everyone’s hands are clean.”
“Yeah, everyone's but yours…” she started to say, but then stopped. He had been standing above her head at a strange angle, so she hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t until he came around to the side of the table she was lying on that she saw it, a glitter of green in the back of his eyes. Scythe. Her power flared and she knew: Scythe was going to catch him, he was going to open him up and read his memories, and he was going to see this one.
“We’re going to kill you for sure, Cord,” she said with conviction, his real name coming easily now that the drug had worn off.
When his face twitched, his eyes shifted and she saw his fear. He was scared to death, underneath all his big talk and outrageous schemes, and he hated it.
“‘We?’ What ‘we’? Look at you, all tied up and ready to go!”
He slapped her hard twice, and she tasted blood, but it didn’t phase her at all because she had glimpsed the future. That, and she was getting angry.
“I'm not going to hurt him. He's going to hurt you,” she boasted. “You won’t be able to erase my memories. You aren’t even strong enough to get past my shield when I’m sleeping.”
He didn’t like that, but it didn’t stop him for long.
“How about while you’re being raped? How good is your concentration then?” He smiled at her wide eyes, “What? Not sure? Well, let’s find out together, shall we?” He nodded at Mark, who stepped forward and did a little religious prayer before he grabbed her hair and slapped her on the face a few times.
She said when her head cleared, “I don’t think the prayer is going to save you, Mark.” It hurt...it really hurt. Her vision hadn’t warned her about that. She felt her concentration fraying, and worked on gathering the threads of it. She couldn’t...she didn’t want Scythe to see...
He slapped her again, reached down and pulled on the top of her shirt, sliding her down the table toward him. She cried out at the pain that flared up across her still heavily bruised chest. Her shirt ripped a little and he let go of her hair to use both hands to tear it open. She felt her fear melt into panic. Everything was going too fast. She wasn't ready yet...
Mark stopped and stared at the blue, purple and yellow bruises on her chest.
A hand came down over the necklace that stood out on her white bra.
“No!” She didn’t want to lose that!
“What’s this?” He picked it up and looked at it. On a thin amber stone, two pairs of lines crossed each other, the tips of each dividing into delicate, swirling vines that twisted back and braided themselves into an intricate, flowing design that never ended.
One glance told her that asking for it was useless, and begging would only please him more. She just stared at his smiling face as he unhooked it. Then she spit at him.
With reflexes that reminded her of Scythe, he caught it in his hand and smiled wider, wiping the necklace in the bloody spit.
“Something to remember you by, sweetie.” He made a show of smelling it.
“I’ll be getting that back,” she stated flatly.
He narrowed his eyes at her confident boast and then barked at Mark, “Get on with it,” before moving to stand out of sight behind her. Mark started to take off his shirt.
She jerked when Cord’s power began to build right next to her. He tested her, and she held him off. She even managed to laugh at what a meager attempt it was, until her mouth was covered.
She really liked that he hated her mocking him. He pushed forward, trying to get past her guard, but she didn’t even have to work at stopping him.
She heard his voice, heavy with frustration and exertion, “Will you take her already? Make sure she looks at your face.”
Her hair was grabbed again and Mark lifted her head. Even though she told herself not to look, she stared right down her body at the man whose gray chest was bare above tight jeans. He yanked on her hair, and the motion and the sharp pain shook her a little loose. Then, for a split second, she saw just the black hair and the gray skin and it did remind her of someone else…
Scythe stood there with one hand in her hair and angry lust on his face...
“Gotcha!”
She had never, not once, used her power to hurt anyone. She had been taught to value life, to respect, to nurture. She had envisioned a life for herself in which she helped others. She had practiced different ways to defend herself for years, and she was good at it, the best in her family despite her young age.
But.
She knew other things, too.
“Stop.”
She sent her power in thick cords into that dirty, half-ass imitation in front of her, knocking him against the wall behind him. She groped around inside him until she found it, the thing he really needed, the tiny part of his essence that was him, and she pulled it out. She screamed at exactly the same moment he did, and watched, riveted to the sight of him falling to the ground and convulsing. His terror flowed from him through her power line and into her. She grit her teeth and concentrated. She wasn’t like her Aunt Lena; she didn’t give a damn about him, and so she released the cord that connected them so that she wouldn’t feel his torment when he died.
“What the hell?” Cord said, taking two steps toward Mark and then turning and backing away from whatever he saw in her expression.
She sent her power right at him, but he was strong enough to bat it away. Humans without power were like the Kin: no defenses against this type of attack. Cord was different, though.
She sent two other ribbons toward him. Unfortunately, she lost control of them when she sat up and fell off the table; it turned out her legs wouldn’t cooperate and hold her up. From the floor, she gathered her strength and shot one sharp spike at his retreating back. Making the attack a physical one like the one that had sent Mark flying, she speared him, and he fell just outside the door.
“Get the hell off me, bitch!” his voice cracked when he yelled.
She tried to reel him in, but he focused enough to shake her off.
She used the table leg as a crutch to help her up, while at the same time trying to figure out how to get off the bands that tied her arms together behind her.
Cord scrambled up and cried out, “Help! Someone get down here and restrain her!” He ran down the hall.
Mercy gave up on the bands and went after him. She sent one, two, three at him, the first two of which he was able to knock away as he retreated, but the third got him, right through a little crack. Cord hadn’t had to train against attacks from her father for hours at a time. If he hadn’t been as strong as he was, his lack of experience would have already done him in.
Mercy sent two of her specials into their chests, driving them backwards and down to the ground. She had to stop her pursuit of Cord for a moment to concentrate enough to take care of them. She didn’t just want to hit them down and run; then she would have them at her back. So, she had to be satisfied with merely maintaining contact with Cord as he got farther and farther away, while she leaned on the wall, staring at the two in front of her.
She really didn’t want to kill them, but they were already getting up. She reached inside the woman, who was getting up faster, grabbed on to what she needed and squeezed. The woman grabbed her chest and fell to her knees. Then Mercy did the same for her partner. He backed against the wall and then slid down it, hunched over and clutching at his shirt.
Mercy said, “If you follow me, I’ll rip this right out and you’ll be dead. Now get down and stay down.” They both obeyed, the woman curling onto her side and the man laying flat with his hands out. Once they were no longer a threat to her, she stepped around them and then started after Cord again. She had to run along the wall because, with her hands still tied behind her, she kept losing her balance. She held on to them as she ran, making sure that they didn’t follow her, although she had to let up on the amount of pressure she was using so that she could put more energy into Cord's.