by Kim Schubert
A wave of jealously washed over me, blinding me with the need to kill Lorraine. Leaning heavily against the couch, I blew out a breath and secured those emotions down deep.
Blake released Lorraine roughly, his face contorted in disgust. She fell, limply, onto the couch behind her.
“You should probably call someone to take care of her,” Blake stated indifferently, holding out a hand to me.
“You alright?” he asked, pulling me close. Linked to me from our bedroom activities, he felt an echo of my emotions.
I nodded, forcing a smile, not looking at Kass. I already hated myself for what I had done to her. The chances of her hating me when this was over were high as well.
The chipper photographer popped her head back in. “We ready?”
All eyes turned to Kass, who smoothed down her hair before standing. “Yes, we are,” she replied, far too calm.
Chapter 2
We successfully completed all the required pictures. The groom was waiting with the minister or preacher or whatever. I smiled down at Hannah, Darren’s daughter. The death of her mother, Darren’s first wife, had awakened Hannah’s dormant succubus powers. Now she was going to be Kass’s adopted daughter. I was thrilled Hannah would have such a teacher and guardian.
“You ready?” I asked in an excited whisper as music began playing.
She nodded, crossing her arms in her delicate light purple dress and smooshing the basket of flower petals against her. “I was born ready,” her saucy butt informed me.
I smothered a laugh as I said, “You have been spending too much time with me.”
She shrugged. Holding her head high, tossing petals regally, she gracefully walked the aisle to her father. I love that kid.
As I turned to Kass, my smile fell away. She looked at me blankly. “I should smile?” she questioned.
“Only if you want to.”
My own smile felt rigid and, like Kass’s, didn’t reach my eyes.
…
The ceremony was elegant, just like Kass. Darren gazed adoringly at Kass during the exchange of vows and I, thankfully, couldn’t see Kass’s face as she gave hers. Her bland voice had me cringing internally, though.
We finally sat down to eat. I could now relax the smile that was straining my cheek muscles. I let out a breath and commenced inhaling the food that was laid out before us, not tasting much as my mind replayed the scene with Lorraine. It really might be time to kill the bitch. However, killing humans is frowned upon, not to mention that I’d have to deal with the fallout with Logan.
Casting a look at Logan, who sat on the other side of Darren at the long table, I drummed my fingers against the cream tablecloth, deep in thought.
I watched the waiter lean forward to whisper something into Logan’s ear. Based on the stiffening in his shoulders and the twitch in his jaw, it wasn’t good news. He pushed his chair back forcefully and followed the skinny human help to the kitchens.
I waited a moment, watching them, before I decided to follow. Let’s be honest, I don’t really trust Logan to be able to handle much of anything, and when it came to Kass’s big day, I wouldn’t be letting the overgrown shifter screw it up.
Not that I hadn’t already screwed it up, but that was beside the point now. Pushing through the swinging double doors and advancing down the long hallway, I found the kitchen. Logan’s voice bouncing off the small space had me turning right down another corridor, where I caught up to him.
“What’s going on?” I asked, coming up next to him and scanning the shifters lined up in front of him. “Really Logan,” I complained, “can’t I leave you alone for two minutes?”
“Apparently, these folks have a problem with a succubus marrying into the family,” he informed me, never taking his eyes off the angry shifters facing us.
“Bring it on boys,” I challenged. Fangs began to sprout from the angry group of idiotic shifters. Their eyes emitted an intense glow that illuminated the dimly lit hallway.
Moving a hand to Logan’s back I pulled out my blade, as his hands simultaneously sprouted talons. I huffed, jealous of both his fangs and razor sharp claws.
The first two moved with impressive speed as they lunged, snarling at us. I braced my legs wide for the impact. Logan, however, leapt in front of me, taking the brunt of the hit. His powerful shoulders bunched under the effort to keep from being shoved back.
Not one to miss a fight, I kicked out at the closest one, thankful for the floor-to-hip slit in my dress, landing a solid hit to the solar plexus. The shifter’s air whooshed out of his body, bending him forward. Following my kick with an upper cut, I sent the first idiot onto his back with a bloody nose.
“I can’t believe I have to save your ass yet again!” I yelled at Logan in the tiny hallway, as I slammed the second idiot’s head into the plaster.
Okay, so I was enjoying myself, a little bit.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” he barked at me, breaking the arm of his attacker.
“No, you just brought the fight to a location where you knew I would be,” I answered, slamming my foot between the thug’s legs, grinning evilly when his eyes bugged out of his head.
Spinning, I wheeled my elbow into the original idiot’s temple, dropping him for a second and final time.
“I am perfectly capable of handling this myself,” Logan growled, body slamming his next attacker with ease.
I shrugged, realizing we had dispatched the crowd quickly. “I needed a good fight, anyways,” I said, slipping my blade under his jacket for safe storage again.
I hadn’t used the blade to do anything more than inflict surface wounds on the idiots. We hadn’t killed them, but we had delivered impressive damage; hopefully, the message would be taken seriously by any who disagreed with Kass and Darren’s marriage. Besides, killing people at Kass and Darren’s wedding seemed pretty terrible, even for me.
“Let’s get back,” Logan said, turning.
“Whoa, turbo,” I advised, pulling him back around.
He looked down at my hand on his bicep, annoyed as I brushed plaster off his shoulder and out of his hair.
“Am I wearing any plaster?” I asked, hands on my hips.
“No,” he responded curtly, turning back to storm down the hallway.
…
If I thought I had been excited to sit down and eat, then I was ecstatic when we ushered Kass and Darren through a tunnel of sparklers to their awaiting limo.
My final duties were to clean up, and to gather and deliver gifts. Once I completed those tasks, I headed outside to find Blake.
He was leaning against a pillar looking around at the peaceful landscaping. Slipping up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist, a contented sigh passing over my lips.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I asked softly.
Resting his hands over my own he said, “Do you ever want to be married?” He didn’t look back at me.
I rested my cheek against his shoulder, thinking about the question before I answered. “I never thought I would find anyone I wanted to marry, until I met you.” I hesitated, realizing I had just opened up a piece of my heart to him.
Blake turned in my arms, smiling softly as he leaned down to kiss me gently, stroking my cheek. He leaned back, searching my eyes before turning us to head toward the car. I hadn’t asked him the same question. I was afraid of the answer. I was afraid this wedding had made him realize that I wasn’t marriage material, and I was not ready for the beautiful bubble to come crashing down around me.
Chapter 3
It had been a long time since I had pissed off Grams this badly.
Granted, since I had pulled her from destitution as a cocaine addicted, poor excuse of a madam of a drug-infected whorehouse, she typically put up with all my shit rather well.
“I cannot believe you used George to catch Governor Hash with prostitutes,” she stated yet again, eyes clenched closed, fingers massaging her temples.
Tilting my head, I watched her strained e
xpression. “Don’t forget the drugs,” I added. I was impressed with my creativity in using my human pimp contact to trap Governor Hash in drug and prostitution charges. Hey, I didn’t kill the asshole. That is progress.
She groaned, still not looking at me.
“What’s the big deal? The man deserved far more than the slap on the wrist he is receiving now. He propositioned me in the alleyway of Kitten,” I reminded her, still mortified, annoyed, and wanting to kill the man.
Grams finally lowered her hand from her face, regarding me with cold, slate eyes. I stared back. I was missing something.
“What?” I asked again, leaning forward in the uncomfortable blue chair.
Grams blew out a breath. “Nothing. Just the devil we know is better than the devil we don’t.”
“He kept his job,” I reminded her, cracking my neck. I muttered, “Amazingly enough,” under my breath.
Grams shrugged, meeting my gaze, “He is powerful, Olivia. You would do well to remember that.” With that, she turned back to her computer.
My eyes narrowed. Did Grams just threaten me? That certainly didn’t sound like just a warning. Before I could voice my suspicions, she threw a file at me.
“I’m aware you wanted to take a break, but I need you on this one.” Her slate gray eyes regarded me levelly, giving us both a graceful way out.
I snatched it from her desk before storming out.
I’ve never been graceful.
…
I looked over the file from Grams again while sitting in my SUV outside the manor, annoyed with myself for not checking where I was going. The miserable state of Ohio and I do not get along. I skimmed the pages again, looking for what type of supernatural I was going up against, again not finding an answer. Strange, considering that the rest of the file was robust in minute details about the child I was to obtain, Mindy, from her abusive and elusive stepfather.
With a groan I cranked the engine, punching the address into my GPS. The sooner I was done the better.
…
The drive had taken me seven long hours. Looking up at the dilapidated row of houses in front of me, I debated calling Grams at this ungodly hour, but decided against it. I certainly didn’t want to interrupt her time with Mercer. I’d call tomorrow during normal business hours.
Leaning back in my seat, I tapped the steering wheel, debating. Should I check into a hotel or sit here and hope the offending Supernaturals showed their faces before I needed to sleep?
Assuming I could easily identify them, I could handle this child abuse case and get the hell out of here.
Leaning my head back against the headrest, I adjusted my rearview mirror so it gave me a clear view of the house. Decision made.
…
I didn’t have to wait long. Thank all the Gods, I lack the patience.
Two figures huddled against the fresh falling snow, one a child, the other a larger figure who opened the half-fence and shoved the child in. The child stumbled and fell. I growled low in my throat, watching the adult laugh. I had been spending too much time around the damn shifters.
I couldn't see the child's face, but I watched her intently as the standing figure pulled back a leg, slamming it into her frail form. It took all my limited self-control not to tear that leg from his body right there on the street. Not that in this neighborhood anyone would lift a finger to help, or that such acts of extreme violence would even elicit a response, but I refrained.
The steering wheel creaked beneath my hands and I forced a breath out of my lungs, waiting as the lights in the house came on and went off.
Releasing my cramped hands from the steering wheel, I flexed the stiff digits before easing out of the SUV and closing the door gingerly. Waiting a frosty second, I scanned the neighborhood for any witnesses before I crunched through the freshly fallen snow to the back of the house. Nothing stirred inside or out as I used my lock pick set to ease the squeaky-hinged door open, silently cursing it.
The house was a disaster: partially eaten meals dried onto plastic plates, pizza boxes ripped open and the contents strewn about. The kitchen sink was unusable under a mound of filthy dishes. My nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell as I cautiously moved over the threadbare carpet of undetermined color and down the narrow hall.
I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t, which was why the blow to the back of my head knocked me into complete darkness.
…
I awoke with a throbbing at the base of my neck as I rolled gingerly from my side to my back on the cold concrete floor. I blinked rapidly to clear my fuzzy vision, until a dark and damp room came into view. With considerably more effort than it should have taken, I raised my head toward the light at the far end of the room, noting the lack of windows. Two figures were hunched over the contents of my SUV, along with my jacket and shoes.
I had heard the rustling of chains, but hadn’t realized they were secured around my limbs until I tried to stand, finding I couldn’t.
“Dammit, I told you I should have taken a run at her before she woke up,” one stated, sealing his death at my hands.
“It doesn’t matter, this basement is soundproofed, and she ain’t goin’ nowhere,” the other one reminded him, still sorting through my belongings.
I sat up slowly, resting my arms around my knees that were pulled against my chest, pulling my chains taut. “Where is Mindy?” I asked.
They both turned to my question. “Who’s asking?”
“Your personal Executioner.”
They jeered at me, stepping closer.
“I love the fighters.”
“Not me, I’ll stay with the kid.”
My hands fisted, “I’m going to enjoy this,” I whispered. “Just. Come. Closer.” I enunciated each word with deadly intent.
“You’ll get your turn,” the leader, who liked a fighter, informed me. They were giving me a wide berth as they made their way behind me into the darkness.
“Mindy!” he called out. I shifted to my knees, tracking their progress past me. The manacles around my limbs dug into the skin at my wrists and through the leather on my ankles. I wanted those fuckers dead.
I could hear Mindy shifting behind me in the darkness while I struggled to turn. I could visualize her malnourished, beaten body, the slumped shoulders and the inability to meet her attackers’ gaze. I was totally oblivious to the warm blood falling from my wrists as memories of my own horrible childhood competed for my attention.
“No,” Mindy’s voice was so soft, so plaintive that it broke my fucking heart and renewed my struggle against the chains.
Heat seared from the bonds restraining me yet still I was unaware, wrapping my hand around the chains for additional leverage.
“Every chain has a breaking point,” Lord Master informed my fourteen-year-old self, the repressed memories finally winning the fight against my reality.
“Now, do I let the next one in to have a crack at you? Or are you going to actually try this time?” He paused, laughing in the pristine white room decorated with the ruby red of my blood. “I do know you are enjoying this.”
I was going to kill him. Cold resolve pooled into me, silencing the fear, removing my anxiety that I would die. Until this point I had craved survival, to live, this crazy hope in my chest telling me, screaming at me there was more than the beatings and the rapes, but now I didn’t care. I had been pushed too far, had seen too much, had been destroyed beyond measure.
Now, I wanted blood and I wasn’t particular regarding to whom it belonged.
Lord Master smiled. It was not a pretty sight as the chains binding me became airborne. I smiled back. This I was going to enjoy.
Mindy’s screaming jerked me back to the present and into the inferno raging around us.
“What the hell?” I muttered, casting around into the tall flames for some understanding of what had happened. I coughed, covering my mouth against the thick smoke building from the fiery blaze.
Mindy screamed again and I moved, fr
eely. Apparently, that memory was good for something. In an attempt not to repeat it all again, I looked for a way to Mindy.
I didn’t have many options in terms of movement. Whatever had caused the fire had left a clear path for me over the wall of trash, so I took it.
A perfect circle kept Mindy safe, her dark wide eyes reflecting the fire swarming around us.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, physically checking her arms and legs for burns.
“Who are you?” her small voice asked.
“Olivia.”
“The Executioner?”
“Only for the bad guys, sweetie. Let’s get out of here.”
I turned, looking around, my confidence in my ability to perform on my words flagging. Flames snapped at my legs and singed the ends of my hair.
“Can you control it?” I asked hopefully.
“No!” Mindy screamed at me above the roaring sea of flames.
“Shit,” I muttered, “hold on tight.” This was a terrible plan, and I knew that going in.
Picking up Mindy, I hunched my body around her, hoping like hell I had her vital bits covered before running to the wooden stairs that were quickly being consumed by the greedy inferno.
Terrible plan.
I stormed up the sagging stairs, taking three at a time as I pushed my long legs to the brink of their ability, not stopping when the wood proved too far gone for our weight and plunged in splintering shards to the concrete floor below. Flames kissed my ankle, raw flesh throbbing in unison to my accelerated heart rate, but it couldn’t slow me down. I crashed through the closed door, spraying us both with wooden chunks, and hurtled down the hallway toward the putrid kitchen, not pausing at the door to freedom. Holding Mindy tightly, I shifted my shoulder down, demolishing the door from the frame.
With my ankle submerged in the soft snow, dulling the painful throbbing, I finally stopped moving, a blissful sigh escaping my lips.
Setting Mindy down, I took stock of our situation: I didn’t have my jacket, didn’t have any shoes, no car keys, weapons, or the carefully selected first aid kit. It was all turning to ash in the basement.