“I’ll be waiting for you, mate.”
Kerrick stood and watched as she drove away from him, hoping against hope that Cimby would have the same faith for him that he had in her, and returned to him.
Chapter Eleven
Cimby drove up to the small cabin she currently called home. The small space was made in the traditional wooden style but modernized for her convenience. It had all the comforts of a present-day home with internet and satellite capabilities, top-of-the-line technology, only the best for the Incendiary. The cabin was a one story with one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and of course a fully equipped weapons safe. Actually, it was more like a walk-in closet arsenal. In addition to weapons, the closet held a large collection of magic cure-alls and potions for the really hard-to-heal-without-going-to-a-hospital-type injuries. It was without a doubt her favorite room in the small house, even though it wasn’t technically a room.
The cabin sat in the middle of a grassy clearing, surrounded by trees amongst a wooded area a little ways outside of Greenville, South Carolina. She’d driven forty-five hours straight to get home from California, stopping only for bathroom breaks and food. She was tired, cranky and a little bit proud and yet annoyed that Kerrick hadn’t even asked where she was going. After forty-five hours of driving with just her thoughts to keep her company, she’d come to the conclusion that mating was confusing.
Unfairly, she did want Kerrick to come after her, no matter how contrary that made her seem, but he was the Alphar and Vryks had just set an open claim of war on his doorstep. He had his own trouble to take care of and had shown great restraint and trust in her by letting her go, believing that she would come back. So Cymbeline would overcome the fucking pity party she seemed to be having and accomplish what she came back here to do. Kerrick had his responsibilities and it was time for Cymbeline to step up to the plate and take complete ownership of hers. The emotional turmoil she felt because of Kerrick acted as cathartic cleansing, clearing away the haze and denial she had where Irisi was concerned. Irisi wasn’t just some kid who happened to hang around every now and then, she was a part of her life, and Cimby wanted to make that happen in a more permanent way.
Cimby made the final turn onto the dirt path that led to her place, the boundary of the property magically concealed by a ward. She grumbled as she saw the little figure sitting on her porch, practicing the banjo and trying to read sheet music spread out in the grass held down by rocks.
“Iri! Irisi!” Cimby called, shutting off the car and grabbing her duffel off the passenger seat as she emerged. “Irisi, what have I told you time and time again? You make me say it one more time and your ass is toast.”
The little girl looked up, a pout on her face that had been waking the dull emotions in Cimby’s heart since she’d moved to that cabin. Hell, Irisi was most likely the main reason Cymbeline had any emotions left.
“‘When you come to my place, stay inside,’” Irisi quoted with a lot more sarcasm than Cimby thought necessary. “Wolfy, please.”
“I hate it when you call me that, little girl.” Irisi just brought out Cimby’s fading Southern twang. She couldn’t help it.
Irisi gathered her banjo and grudgingly trudged inside the cabin. “I’ve been letting the air in every day, like you asked. Fed that stupid stray that comes here every now and then, like you asked. You’re welcome, by the way. Ya know, most people get paid for house-sitting.”
“Most people aren’t scamps who hang around shifty characters, like some young ladies I know.” She threw her duffle on the table, weapons and boots thunking together in the bag. “Well?” she asked, holding her arms out and waiting.
Irisi ran at her and Cimby caught the small girl mid jump, wrapping her arms around her tightly. According to Irisi, she was ten years old and skinny for her age, too skinny. Her beautifully long and thick red hair had recently been shaved, a punishment a la Jane Eyre by her fanatically religious father. She’d been completely bald when it first happened a month before. The bastard made her go to a salon to do it, in front of so many people. It wasn’t just Mages, Weres and Vryks who were the monsters in the world. Humans held their own just fine.
“How’s it been, kid?”
“Bad.” She sniffled, burying her head in Cimby’s shoulder. “I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.”
“I’m sorry I was gone so long this time. How much did you come here?” The small girl didn’t answer. “Iri?”
Irisi pulled away and Cimby let her down. “I’ve been here since the day you left.”
“What did he do?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Didn’t you promise never to lie to me?”
Irisi sighed and turned around to lift the shirt from her back. The first thing Cimby saw were her bones sticking out through her skin, something that never changed no matter how much Cimby fed her, like she was permanently malnourished. Then her eyes found the welts. Long, red and black, thick welts made by some magical belt or stick. Cimby leaned in to sniff the healing wounds, searching for infection or residual magic meant to cause further pain after healing. Luckily there wasn’t any magic in the wounds. The weapon had probably been spelled to cause more pain. But the wounds themselves were odd, healing differently than a normal lash would.
“I’m going to touch them, Iri.”
“It’s okay, they don’t hurt anymore.”
She would kill the fucker, Cymbeline thought as she placed her hand along the welts, spreading the little healing magic she knew to speed up the process. But the welts didn’t fade, in fact the more she pushed for healing the darker they became. The weapon must have been spelled to leave a permanent mark, a reminder of whatever the son of a bitch had punished her for. She would end the bastard who did this in such a painful way he would beg for death.
“I was playing with some kids from the church and one of them said I pushed him and Father said I had to learn what that felt like.” She wiped away her angry tears as Cimby pulled the shirt back in place then turned around to face Cimby head held high. “Like I didn’t already know what being pushed around felt like with the way the kids have been pickin’ on me for my hair.” Irisi smiled then, rubbing the last of her tears away from her eyes.
“You hungry?” Cimby asked, knowing if she pressed for more information the kid would clam up, go on the defensive.
“Always,” Irisi replied through a watery smile. Cimby nodded and pulled out some meat from the giant freezer.
“Go out and set up the grill, Iri.” The girl skipped out of the cabin, excited by the prospect of real food, no doubt. She’d probably survived on frozen meals and canned food the past few days. But her smile after one of these incidents always amazed Cimby. She had an astounding gift for bouncing back after trauma, and she’d suffered a hell of a lot of trauma throughout her short life.
Irisi was a shifter who’d been adopted by humans unable to have their own kids. A rare Raccoon shifter who had a tendency to get into trouble. She’d met Irisi officially five years ago sorting through her garbage, though Cimby had spotted her roaming the woods about a year before that. Cimby remembered telling the little fluff ball she knew she was a shifter, but Irisi wouldn’t shift for her until Cimby showed her pointy teeth and threatened to eat her. The little scamp had followed her around ever since.
It didn’t take long for Cimby to discover Irisi’s parents had no clue she was a shifter, and after meeting them, Cimby made sure it stayed that way. They didn’t understand what she needed to thrive and grow as a shifter, so Cymbeline had unofficially taken that job on herself whenever she could. After Irisi’s adopted mother died, her father turned to religion for solace. He replaced emotions with repenting of sins and strict rules.
Strictly speaking, Cimby wasn’t allowed to kill humans, so going after Irisi’s father was against the rules. She wouldn’t want Irisi to see her mutilate the man who raised her since he hadn’t al
ways been a monster. But she sure as hell could scare him in front of her. After that though, she wasn’t letting him keep the girl. Irisi shouldn’t stay with Cimby either, her life was too unstable to raise a girl on the cusp of adolescence. But she now knew a place that was safe for shifters. Where she would have a good childhood, at least what was left of it. Decision made, she would take Irisi to Kerrick and then she would come back one more time, and kill her father. The dangerous soul Cimby was born with smiled in its dark hiding spot, excited for the prospect of a kill without boundaries.
“Well, looks like I’ll be returning to Kerrick sooner than I thought,” she said to herself, cutting up the meat. “Kinda wanted to make him sweat and wait for me a while.”
Later, after the meat was cooked, properly smothered in a spiced rub and barbeque sauce, they sat in the grass and enjoyed an impromptu picnic as the sun set. Cimby decided it was time to broach the subject.
“Iri…what your father did, I will not let him do it again, understand?” Irisi nodded, wiping BBQ sauce off her messy face. “I want to take you out of that place. I am going to have a chat with your father and then you will—”
“Come live with you here?” Irisi squealed, a brilliant smile on her face.
“No,” Cimby said, putting her plate on the ground. “No, I told you, you can’t live with me here. It’s too dangerous for you.”
“I’ll stay out of your way,” the girl pleaded.
“That’s not the point, Iri. You need a safe environment to grow up in.”
“You give that to me.”
“Yes, but what about when I have to leave again?” Cimby stood, gathering the garbage, needing something to do as she let the girl down. “It would be irresponsible of me to just leave a ten-year-old here unprotected on a regular basis. It is bad enough I let you stay here by yourself when I am gone.”
“I’m more responsible than the average ten-year-old and you’re usually not gone so long. What happened this time, by the way?” Irisi stood, helping Cimby clean up.
“I was waylaid at the Were mansion.” Well, that was one way to put it.
“The Mansion? Where the Alphar lives?” Irisi asked, her green and yellow eyes wide with excitement. She often asked Cimby questions about other shifters and how they lived, the girl’s fascination with her own species a sad reminder of how her life had been so disconnected from the preternatural world.
“Yes, that’s where I’m going to take you. You’ll be safe there. They can find you a new family who will love and appreciate you. You’re a shifter, you belong with other shifters.”
“I already have a family,” Irisi argued stubbornly. “I haven’t turned out terribly hanging around you.”
“I’m not fit to care for you,” Cimby said, kneeling and taking Irisi’s hands in hers. “But I’m not letting you stay here either.”
“Why? It’s not so bad.” Irisi, in her own right, was a warrior. The girl had endured more ridicule from her peers and later on, her own family to create a lifetime of resentful cynicism. But she kept on hoping and smiling, finding the small things in life to keep her going. Sure, she had her surly adolescent moments, but what young woman didn’t?
“Listen to me, Iri. We are going to stop by your place tonight, get your stuff and then we are driving to California.” Cimby cupped Irisi’s delicate face, wiping a stray tear forming at the corner of her eye. “There is nothing to be frightened of.”
“You’re just gonna leave me at The Mansion though, right? You’re gonna come back here once you drop me off like I never existed?” Cimby huffed at the girl’s whines and pulled her into a hug, she could feel the raised welt marks on her back underneath the thin T-shirt. She was the only person on the planet, before Kerrick at least, that she ever showed easy affection. The girl had an impossible hold on Cimby’s heart.
“Stop that, I could never forget you and I won’t. No, I won’t stay here after we leave. I’m not attached to the place.” Cimby pulled back to look Irisi in the eyes. “You were the only reason I stayed here as long as I did.” Cimby wondered how much she should tell the young girl of what waited for them back at The Mansion.
“Okay.” Irisi nodded, that familiar determination lighting her face. “Let’s go get my stuff. Do you think the shifters at The Mansion will laugh at my hair?”
“What hair? There’s no hair to laugh at.”
“Ha-ha, wolfy. Very funny.” Irisi rolled her eyes and punched Cimby in the shoulder in good fun.
“I think it’s safe for you to call me Cimby, now.” She’d always asked Irisi to call her something other than her name in case her identity had been compromised. Cimby didn’t want the girl placed in harm’s way because of what she did for a living. Of course, Irisi was a snot and called her anything but actual people names just to piss her off.
“Cimby?”
“Short for Cymbeline.”
Irisi stopped, looking somewhat stunned. “You really are taking me away, aren’t you? All these years and you never let me call you by your name.”
“It was for your protection. I’m sorry though, Iri.” Cimby rubbed her fingers through the red bristles on Irisi’s head. “I should have taken you away from him long ago.”
“It wasn’t always like this.” Irisi shrugged, taking Cimby’s hand and leading her into the cabin. “When Mom died he got worse.”
Cimby pulled Irisi into another hug, giving the girl a kiss on the forehead, marveling at her strength. “Help me pack my stuff into the car and then we’ll head out.”
“We’re packing all your weapons?” Irisi cried, looking as though she were being sentenced to a fate worse than death. “You have a friggin’ arsenal in here!”
“No, I’ll need a U-Haul for all that, maybe some armored trucks. For now we’ll just take the handhelds.”
“Oh, well, at least that’s something.”
Chapter Twelve
“You have the duffel bag ready?” Cimby asked as she put the car in park and checked to see if there were any neighbors out and about in Irisi’s quaint, Southern residential neighborhood.
“Yup,” Irisi said from the passenger side of the car.
“You know exactly what you are going to take?” A nebulous essence tickled the edge of Cimby’s senses. She turned to look behind the car but the street was deserted. She rolled the window down to scent the air, searching for a reason to convince Irisi to abandon her material possessions and just let Cimby drive straight to The Mansion. But all seemed normal. The street was just a run-of-the-mill street lined with identical houses. Even her Wolf was quiet, unable to sense any sort of nefarious presence. Still, Cimby couldn’t shake the instinctual revulsion she felt staring at Irisi’s house, like slime trickling up her spine and tugging on the hairs at the back of her neck. It was a gut feeling. She hated gut feelings of any kind, as they were usually bad and almost always right.
“Yup,” Irisi said again, oblivious to Cimby’s distress. “Just the essentials.”
Cimby wanted to leave, but it was necessary to talk to Irisi’s father before stealing her away. She didn’t need to hear there was a police-run manhunt searching for the girl. “Anything else you think of along the way, we can buy you when we arrive at the compound.”
“Okay,” Irisi said, not taking her eyes off the house. The glow of a flickering television illuminated the window, the only light coming from the small structure. Irisi’s knuckles were white from squeezing the straps of the duffel so hard. It struck Cymbeline like a battering ram. The girl was terrified to be back in this hellhole. The home should be a place of refuge for a child or adolescent, not the other way around. Irisi was a stark reminder of why Cimby accepted her lot in life so easily. She did her work to protect the innocents from ever experiencing what Irisi had gone through, keeping the monsters at bay. Cimby placed her hand over Irisi’s and began to massage the tension out of her hands.
“I’m not afraid.”
Cimby stroked Irisi’s head, the short bristles making it feel like her scalp was covered in peach fuzz. “I’m not going to let him hurt you ever again, do you understand?”
Irisi courageously looked over at Cimby, her voice finally sounding confident. “Yes.”
“Good. Remember what I told you?”
“Stay in the car until you give the signal.”
“Good.” Cimby emerged from the car, keeping it running in case Irisi needed to make a quick getaway, and strolled up the well-kept walkway. It was a fairly new colonial. No chipped paint, the yard perfectly trimmed. A stranger passing by would never guess it was the home of an abusive monster. Wasn’t that the way these things usually went though, monsters hiding in plain sight? Cimby had seen humans glancing warily at shifters and other preternaturals, afraid of what they didn’t understand. When really those creatures were just trying to live a normal life, and wouldn’t have given those humans a second glance if they hadn’t pointed and whispered in fear. It was that fear that created the hate and loathing, the building blocks of a true monster.
Cymbeline reached the door and inhaled, testing the air for odd scents or matter that didn’t fit. It wasn’t just the unsettling feeling of the house keeping her on edge, she’d had a bad feeling about this situation since they’d left the cabin, the roiling in her gut and the unusual silence of her Wolf warning of a presence just out of her sight, beyond even her heightened senses. Something wasn’t right. Standing on the porch, she could finally feel a tinge of residual magic in the air. It wasn’t as dense a fog that could remain after freshly used magic, the sensation like plastic wrapping around one’s skin. It may not have been recent, but the pressure was still there and it was vast, a large amount of magic used to have dissipated this slowly. Just that fact should have warned Cymbeline to take Irisi and go, but she couldn’t quell the need she had to see inside this house. The man was human—she shouldn’t have felt any sort of power in the first place.
To Mate an Assassin: The Lost Alphars Series, Book 1 Page 16