The Caelian Cycle Boxed Set

by Donnielle Tyner

  Guards? I thought.

  A strange emptiness filled me as I watched my friends leave, followed by a surge of fear for their safety. Everything had changed since my Talent had been exposed and my grandfather had come after me with vigor. I shook my head and forced the fear down. There was nothing I could do about it in bed.

  Kian had moved from my side and sat in a reclining chair next to my bed. He leaned forward, both elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his clasped hands, studying me. I wiggled under his scrutiny and hissed through clenched teeth when I aggravated both of my wounds.

  I was beginning to rethink my choice to forgo pain medication.

  “You are being guarded by the underground,” Kian stated, breaking me from my internal debate.

  “Huh?”

  “You noticed the lack of windows and your eyes squinted when Rebecca mentioned the guards. Captain Monroe has issued you a security detail while you are outside of underground headquarters.”

  “Oh.” Guilt and relief warred for dominance inside my mind. Relief from the fear of another attack from my grandfather’s men while I was weak, and guilt that there were men and women outside putting their lives on the line for me when one of theirs was dead because I involved myself with the HCA.

  “Thanks.” My voice wavered as I pushed the HCA out of my mind.

  “For what?”

  “Hanging around while I was out. I know you had better things to do, like go home and sleep.”

  He shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I kept to myself and read.” He motioned to the table in the corner. Well-worn paperback books were stacked haphazardly. I had to squint in order to read the titles. The corner of my lip quirked upwards.

  “Romance? Really?” The image of Kian curled up with a romance novel was almost enough to make me laugh, but the motion died in my throat.

  He slumped his shoulders as red flowed upward from his neck. “Not usually. This was all the hospital volunteers had to offer. I have a hard time picturing those little old ladies reading these books.”

  We both shuddered as the images flooded our minds.

  The machine pumping fluids whirred and clicked, filling the silence with a soft white noise. I began to shiver as the fluid turned cold. My eyes widened in fear and I turned to Kian for an explanation.

  “It dispenses medicine at set intervals.” He nodded toward the machine and I relaxed against my pillow. My face hot from the embarrassment of my over-reaction.

  “I’m not avoiding your question, you know.”

  “What question?” I asked.

  “The one about what happened the other night.”

  Understanding dawned on my face and I carefully adjusted my injured leg so I could turn to Kian. He was sitting in his chair, back stiff as a board. His signature angry thinking face was in full force and a lackluster smile spread across my face as I took him in. Whatever he had to say, it made Kian uncomfortable. I smoothed out the bedspread across my lap and waited for him to begin.

  “We were in place when the driver dropped you off at the house. I watched you stare at the stars before making your way down the sidewalk. Once you were in the house, we began to move in. Everything was going to plan until we were ambushed outside. Link had hidden a few men under a light manipulator and they attacked when we got close, but the scuffle was over as quickly as it began. They were just a distraction. By the time I was able to tune back in to your radio signal, I heard the gun fire. We moved in right after.” He paused, running his fingers through his hair.

  “My job was to get you out of the skirmish, but you weren’t responding. I screamed for a medic. The next I thing knew there were three soldiers, including the captain, tending to your wounds. The men working with Link were killed in the firefight.”

  “And Link?” I asked, although from the pained expression on Kian’s face, the answer was obvious.

  “He escaped.”

  Chapter 18

  I spent two more weeks in the hospital before the doctor was comfortable enough with my progress to release me. Freedom didn’t come soon enough. Every noise made me jump, and after I attacked one of the orderlies, I was forced to participate in weekly therapy sessions. I was as fine as a person could be in my situation, but being cooped up in a dark room with instructions not to get out of bed without the physical therapist and nothing but daytime TV and the occasional visit from my friends was wearing down my sanity.

  That’s what I kept telling myself.

  The old Sadie, the one who had never experienced death, would have enjoyed the solitude. Now, all I wanted was to recover fully and train for the next time Link came for me. Because he would. I knew that my grandfather would send him again.

  When the morning of my departure arrived, I woke with a pit already formed in my stomach. Today we would be having services for Michael. Tears stung my eyes as I looked at the stunning black dress Rebecca had delivered for me to wear. Ignoring the pain my leg, I staggered, unsteady on my injured thigh, over to the dress. I was wheezing by the time I arrived at the chair, but I had just enough breath to thank God that I had decided to shower the night before. Throwing off the hospital gown, I lifted the dress and slid it over my head. The dark fabric was delicate and clung to my curves. The neckline was scooped, but tasteful. Paired with the flats instead of heels like the designer intended, the gown swept across the floor when I walked.

  For a brief moment I stressed about not having any makeup, but then I remembered there would be no use. I was going to cry. Plus, Michael wouldn’t want me to wear any. It wasn’t like makeup was something I wore on a regular basis.

  Once dressed, I informed my guards that I was ready to go. While the nurse helped me into the wheelchair that would lead me to freedom, my guard doubled. By the time we reached the exit, four large men surrounded me as the nurse wheeled me toward a large, black, armored vehicle. I shook my head at the ostentatiousness of it all.

  I was no one important. Just a girl with unfortunate luck.

  Kian hopped out of the back of the vehicle and my lungs refused to work. He was dressed in a slim black suit that hugged his lean frame. His unruly hair was styled. The dressed up look worked for Kian. Then I remembered why he was wearing a suit and guilt surged, smothering any desire that tried to take flame.

  His warm hand slid under my arm to help with balance as I adjusted my injured leg. Once he was satisfied I wouldn’t fall on my face, he loosened his grip but didn’t remove his hand, allowing me the freedom to move without using him as a crutch.

  His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “You look lovely.”

  I smiled politely and eased into the backseat. Kian slid in next to me and we were off. His hand found mine and I squeezed in thanks for him being there for me today, every day since I lost Michael. When his thumb began to move in soothing circles, I leaned onto his shoulder and relaxed for the first time in two weeks.

  The drive to the arboretum was only a few blocks, so it didn’t take long for us to arrive. Lacy was insistent that this is where Michael’s services were to be held, at the same location as his brother’s. Her father was not thrilled, but he agreed after days of quarrel with his family, giving into his sole remaining child’s demands.

  I hobbled to the seating area, using Kian as a makeshift crutch, but leaning only enough for balance. I didn’t want others to see the extent of my injuries. The aisle was lined with flowers of every color; their sweet fragrances filled the air, and I greedily sucked in breath after breath in attempts to erase the smell of hospital.

  When we rounded the corner, memories of Liam’s funeral surfaced and I had to stop for a moment before resuming my grueling pace. Two brothers, dead before they could live. Both gone because of me. Lacy and her parents stood. The grief on their faces slammed into me, driving home the guilt once more. Mr. Jones’ eyes narrowed as I sat next to Lacy. Three hands clasped my shoulders from behind, and I felt the Talents of my friends tingle where they touched me. The gesture of comfo
rt stilled my erratically beating heart.

  The service was a celebration of Michael’s life and it was beautiful. Everyone had the chance to stand up and share their stories about Michael. I loved hearing tales about Michael’s childhood from his relatives. In my mind, I pictured the chubby prankster they described and smiled. His friends from school shared another side of Michael: the intelligent football player.

  When it became my turn, I voiced how, after finding out he had a long lost brother and going through the long process of having the records opened, Michael had been excited to know his Caelian brother and also accepted me as a sister without hesitation. I explained that after Liam’s death, Michael had decided to honor his memory by joining the HCA and in the end Michael died protecting a norm and a Caelian, both of whom he had called sister.

  As I spoke, Michael’s dad grew more agitated, and when I called myself Michael’s sister he stood up and stormed out of the service. Whispers floated around me as every person turned to follow his movements until he was no longer in sight. I stood there with my back straight and my head held high as I was held to the scrutiny of the crowd.

  I finished with my favorite memory of Michael - the first time he had invited me out after Liam’s death. I knew in that moment that he was serious when he told me that he considered me his sister. He loved me and I loved him in return.

  The memorial wrapped up and I sat there for a moment mulling over every story. Michael was an amazing person. He was and would continue to be an inspiration. Wherever he was, I hoped he was proud of me and my choices. My brow furrowed in thought. I knew what needed to be done, but the part of me that cared about Michael warred with itself.

  Maybe he wouldn’t be proud of every decision I would make.

  Kian’s phone beeped. He glanced at the screen and stood to stretch.

  “It’s time to go.”

  I nodded. We walked back to the massive vehicle, my guards joining as we left. They were respectful during the service, standing in the back and allowing me the space to grieve. I smiled at the four men, looking each in the eye and I thanked them.

  The weight of the day came crashing down on me as soon as I sat in the plush seats. I leaned against the cool window and closed my eyes. The tightly wound coil inside my chest that held the grief of losing Michael was loosened after his funeral, and determination, fueled by anger and grief, began to fill the void.

  Kian’s hand squeezed my good shoulder. “Hey! Wake up!”

  “I wasn’t asleep,” I sighed. “Just thinking about what’s next.”

  He cocked his head to the side and looked at me, his mouth opening and closing twice before my car door opened, officially ending what he wanted to say before he could spit it out.

  Captain Monroe was standing outside the door with his hand outstretched. I stared at his hand for a moment before I took it and stepped out of the vehicle. Captain Monroe’s cut healed into a menacing scar and if I hadn’t met him before, he would intimidate me. My leg seized up for a moment and I had to lean against the black monstrosity while the cramp ran its course.

  Once the pain let up, I stood and took in the room around me. We were in an underground parking garage filled with vehicles similar to the one that brought me. Behind the captain was a single elevator. The wall next to it had the most advanced security system I had ever seen; lighted panels lined the wall. The technology was beyond the simple fingerprint scanners at Saint Vincent’s.

  We walked together while two of my four guards stayed behind with the car. The other two followed us into the elevator. Captain Monroe went through the arduous process of disabling the security before the doors opened to an elevator.

  We traveled down ten stories before the elevator stopped. When the doors opened, we walked into a cavernous room filled with people bustling about. The grey concrete walls were adorned with vid screens displaying news from around the country. On the floor, there were desks set up in a grid with wide enough aisles for two people to walk side by side.

  Down the center of the room was a long pathway ending in a guarded doorway. I glanced around the room. There were other exits, but none of them were guarded. No one paid us any mind as we weaved through the crowd and to the guarded doors that led into a brightly lit hallway, empty except for the five of us. The sounds of our steps reverberated down the hall in a series of echoes.

  At the end of the short hallway, we stopped in front of an anchored metal hatch with a wheel for a door knob. My two remaining guards took up posts, one on each side. Curiosity was killing me. It was obvious to me with all the security and personnel out in the lobby that this was the HCA underground, but why was I here in front of this door?

  Captain Monroe led Kian and me into an office decorated simply. The industrial look of the metal walls and fittings blended with the dark wood shelves. There were no photos, but a few paintings from modern artists brightened up the darkened room.

  In the center of the room was a large executive desk. Behind the mahogany desk was the President of the HCA, Timothy McCredie, the man whose face everyone in America knew. Ever the gentleman, he stood when I approached and only sat once I was seated comfortably in the chair across from him.

  “How was the ride over here?” he asked in a smooth voice, the one he used on TV to persuade popular opinion. His voice slid over me and I shuddered. Michael trusted this man, I reminded myself. And I would too until he gave me a reason otherwise.

  “Uneventful,” I replied, shrugging.

  “Well that is good news.” Mr. McCredie leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. His dark eyes bore into mine. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “I’m under your protection.”

  He nodded. “Yes and given your recent circumstances, I believe it would be best if you stayed underground for a while. We have everything you need and once you have healed, your teacher…” He lifted a file off his desk and gave it a quick glance, “Mrs. LaMotte, has agreed to move down here and resume your Talent training. You can also join in specialized training, if you wish.”

  “That is a generous offer. What’s the catch?” Kian asked. He had been silent since we arrived and I had forgotten he was there.

  Mr. McCredie’s laughter filled the room. He panted a few times as he stopped, wiping a tear from his eyes.

  “There is no catch. We take in all people who are being persecuted. She can leave whenever she wants, but I would advise against it until we can ensure her safety, although many who have taken shelter with us do end up working for the underground.”

  “Kian has no say in my business. Direct all statements about me, to me,” I growled, annoyed by the two of them speaking about me as if I wasn’t there.

  “Of course. My apologies, Sadie,” Mr. McCredie conceded. “Tomorrow you will have the full tour.” He paused, looking at Kian. “Will you be staying too?”

  Kian looked at me and smiled. “Yeah.”

  I returned his smile and shifted my attention back to McCredie. He was watching the two of us, his lips quirking up as if he noticed something funny. I gathered all my courage and spoke before I could lose the courage.

  “Thank you for taking me in. I will stay and when I am better I will join the underground, but I have some conditions.”

  Kian shifted his entire body to face me. His expression was pensive. McCredie’s eyebrow rose. “And what would that be?”

  “I want to train along with your soldiers.”

  “Done,” he replied without thought. A confident smile brightened his face as he gathered files in dismissal.

  “And you will help me kill my grandfather.”

  McCredie stopped shuffling the papers on his desk and leaned forward and studied me. His smile was gone, replaced with shrewd scrutiny. I could feel Kian’s gaze burning, begging me to look at him and expound on my surprise revelation, but there was nothing to explain. I met McCredie’s gaze, determined to express just how serious I was. My grandfather needed to be stopped and I wanted to be the o
ne who ended his life.

  A slow grin spread across McCredie’s face as he leaned back in his chair. “You are full of surprises.”

  The air sucked out of the room as I waited for his answer. All my plans hinged on his answer.

  “Done.”

  Chapter 1

  24 hours later…

  “Today, the world as we know it needs to change. There is violence governing our streets and warmongering among the world leaders, all of it at the expense of Caelians. We as a people must unify to overcome the malevolent forces at work. The root of all the evils in the world can be narrowed down to one thing. One genetic deficiency.”

  An urgent knock echoed through the spacious office, breaking Miles Koenig from his rehearsal. His assistant entered with caution, her posture meek and submissive as she walked toward him and stopped a respectful distance away. Her focus was on the floor, waiting for Miles to acknowledge her. Miles examined her through the mirror. She was impeccably dressed, as was expected of GenCorp employees. Her black pencil skirt and lilac silk blouse complemented her golden eyes and violet hair.

  Miles smiled as he adjusted the diamond “K” cufflinks he inherited from his father. “Good Morning, Clare.”

  “Good Morning, Mr. Koenig,” she replied, lifting her chin and focusing on Miles.

  Miles walked around the massive desk and leaned against the corner. He stretched an arm out toward a massive leather chair. “Have a seat.”

  Clare nodded and glided with utmost grace to sit with ankles crossed. She held her digital notebook ready for any dictation or command supplied by Miles.

  “Sir—” Clare coughed softly before continuing, “Link has called in with his report.”

  “Excellent. When will he arrive with my granddaughter?”

  Miles had never given much thought to the rumors surrounding his son’s betrayal, but when the Koenig council wanted to place a bounty on Lucinda’s missing baby, he reluctantly consented. Although his sources were sure Adrian was conspiring with Lucinda to expose GenCorp secrets, no one had concrete evidence that identified the father of Lucinda’s bastard child.