Unborn

by Natusch, Amber Lynn

  “I think the greater issue at play here is what they do not know. That is the most important variable in I fel thethis equation.”

  “Like I said, what you don’t know might kill you,” he said as we arrived at the vehicle. “And usually does, although, in your case, it may just steal your soul or turn you evil.” His expression tightened as he opened his door, looking at me across the top of the vehicle while his wavy hair danced in the wind. “I suggest you keep that in mind.”

  “I keep many things in mind, Oz, your warnings included.”

  He paused before responding.

  “Good. That might just keep you alive then.”

  “Until I am no longer entertaining to you,” I retorted as I opened the passenger door.

  The gleam in his eyes was undeniable as he stared at me.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that, new girl. There’s never a dull moment when you’re around.”

  The instant we arrived at the Victorian, the fighting began. Kierson was livid, his face an ever-reddening canvas on which he displayed his rage. None of it, however, was directed toward me.

  “You fucking bastard,” he yelled, charging Oz the second we stepped foot inside the house. “She may mean nothing to you, but she sure as hell means something to me. You could have gotten her killed, or emptied . . . or whatever it is that could happen to her if she falls into the wrong hands. Hell, for all we know, that’s exactly what you were trying to do!”

  “Drew, I suggest you put a leash on him before he gets himself hurt,” Oz said, his disinterest in Kierson’s anger plain in his tone.

  “Where were you?” Kierson demanded, turning to me with worry in his eyes. I remembered that look well. My father wore it the day I was taken from him.

  “On a building,” I replied calmly. “I am fine.”

  “Fine,” Kierson muttered under his breath. “You’re always ‘fine.’”

  “I could not sleep—I felt strange. Oz offered to take me into the city, and I saw no harm in it. You have all professed that he is a great and capable warrior. I saw him slay the Breathers; I felt that all would be well.”

  “Well, leave a note next time, would you?” Kierson chastised, walking away from me and toward the staircase. He disappeared without another word. Once he did, I felt something that I had not for centuries—not since Demeter showered me daily with it while Persephone was imprisoned. Guilt.

  Drew gave me a disapproving look while Casey and Pierson remained as disinterested as always.

  “Did you learn anything productive during your spontaneous outing?” Drew finally asked, his expression sour.

  “Nothing that would change my circumstances,” I reported. “Oz is unable to help me become what I was born to be. Our solution will not be him. We will have to find another Light One to determine if he or she is able to perform the task, if it can be performed at all, or find a way to return me to the Underworld, where I will be safe.”

  “Well, this sounds like it’s going to be another exciting rehash of stuff I’ve already heard ten times over, so I’m going to take off. I have more important things to do,” Oz announced, not awaiting a response. Instead, he just walked back out the front door without a care. “Glad you’re feeling more yourself now, new girl,” he tossed over his shoulder just before the door sorenstead,lammed behind him.

  “Well, as much as I would like to figure out whatever possessed you to go into the city with Oz, I have other matters to attend to, not the least of which is sorting out this mess with the Breathers. We may have taken out a horde of them, but we can’t be certain that is the end of them.” Drew called for Kierson, who came down the stairs without looking at me, and demanded Pierson put his research aside to join them. Casey was then ordered to remain home with me. His objections to babysitting fell on deaf ears. “And, Khara?” Drew started, looking at me with clear disappointment in his eyes. “Don’t pull a stunt like that ever again.”

  The three left without further explanation, and I soon found myself standing in the entrance to the living room while Casey assessed me curiously.

  “If you weren’t on house arrest before, you sure will be now,” he purred, slowly peeling himself off the couch to stalk toward me. “Was it worth it?”

  “I was to be confined to this house until Drew deemed it safe for me to leave regardless of my impulsive behavior. Their reaction to my excursion with Oz this morning did not have any bearing on that.”

  “Fair enough,” he replied, coming to stand before me. “But was it worth it?”

  I contemplated his question.

  “Yes. It was.”

  We engaged in our customary staring contest before I broke my gaze, turning to walk past him to the basement door.

  “The boys are going to be gone all day, you know,” Casey called after me. “Probably well into the night.” His words were a dare of sorts, taunting me as I opened the door to my room. I looked back over my shoulder to humor him. “I don’t want to be stuck here any more than you do,” he continued. “You’re PC, and I think that you should be treated as such. Nobody sits around and holds my fucking hand when shit gets real, nor did they baby those we lost to those fucking suckers out there. You were born of Ares like the rest of us. It’s time we started letting you act like it.”

  “What are you suggesting, Casey?”

  “I’m suggesting that I have a little recon of my own to do tonight, and I resent not being able to do it because I’m stuck here with you,” he explained while a malicious smile spread widely across his often listless face. “So I’m going to take my babysitting gig on the road. You’re coming with me.”

  I eyed him tightly before turning back to the staircase.

  “Then I shall get some rest.”

  “Do that. You’re going to need it.”

  “Is there a reason that all the foul and shady dealings in this city must be done in some decaying relic of a building?” I asked, surveying the crumbling concrete walls of the structure before me. They, like so many others I had seen in Detroit, were covered with brightly colored, tattoo-like paintings.

  Casey turned his cold, black eyes to meet mine and said nothing in response as he advanced into the Masonic temple.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called into the darkness, taunting those he had come to meet. On our way here, he had refused to tell me who or what we were en route to. We progressed into the main room, the only light illuminating our path from the moon above, filtering in through the vast crevices in what had once been a roof. There was a pervasive odor that filled my nostrils—rot and decomposition. The stench of eve she il surrounded us. “Don’t make me have to work harder than I want to, boys.”

  “To whom are you speaking?” I asked, seeing no one but us.

  Again, my question was met with an empty stare.

  He stopped walking when we arrived at the middle of the great hall, its vast nature still imposing, even though its structural integrity had waned. I was certain we would be buried alive if the wind outside continued to pick up.

  “Have I not made myself clear? Perhaps I should remedy that.”

  His voice carried, filling the silent, pungent air around us. It was quickly followed by a sound that I had only recently come to know as the pump of a shotgun. I had not seen him slip the firearm out from under his coat.

  As the sharp sound of sliding metal echoed through the room, reverberating its way down the halls, I heard a fluttering noise that grew in both strength and volume. I recognized that sound as well—the flapping of wings.

  “Yesss,” replied a serpent-like voice from the shadows. “You have made yourssself clear.”

  A dark, leathery creature emerged, barely visible, from a corner of the room, approaching on all fours. It had a thick, broad build, like that of a massive canine, and its movements were cautious and slow. Had it not been for its obvious and palpable fear of Casey, I would have thought it—it and all its minions that slowly came at us from every perceiv
able angle—was stalking us, preparing an attack.

  They scaled the walls, crawling down from the roof above and up from the gaping holes in the wood floor beneath our feet, closing in around us. There was an insidious quality to them that I could not place. I had not seen such beastly things in my life, but there was a strange familiarity to them. They reminded me of the demon animals my father commanded.

  Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, they were upon us. Completely surrounded by the unfamiliar creatures, my eyes shot over to Casey, who stood stoically, unfazed by their surprising change in advance tactics. Whatever they were, they moved with unnerving speed, which failed to bother Casey at all.

  “Who would like to be the first to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on in this city, specifically with the Breathers?” Casey started, his voice low and even, as it always was. “We just took out a nest of them. Funny that we knew nothing about it before one of them went rogue.”

  “What makesss you think we know anything about—”

  A piercing blast tore through the room, nearly deafening me in the process. The screeching sound that the mysterious creatures made in response did nothing to assuage the ringing in my ears, and I clung to the sides of my head in a futile attempt to deflect both the sound and the pain.

  “Now,” Casey continued, “I will ask again. Who would like to be the first to tell me what the fuck is going on with the Breathers?”

  “We don’t know exxxactly,” replied the beast that had stepped closest to Casey. He was larger than the others and possessed a menacing appearance, the scars carved deeply into his leathery face testifying to his violent past. What struck me most was his offset jaw and his lower canine tooth that was larger than the others, which caused it to project strangely from his mouth. It accounted for his speech impediment.

  Casey tsked in a dramatic show of disappointment.

  “Wrong answer, Azriel. Must I carve your friend up to get the details I’m looking for, or might we be a tad more civilized and you just tell me everything metify">“ you know without me having to interrogate you?” Casey inquired, making his way over to the beast he had shot. Instead of the limp mass I expected to see lying on the ground before him, a frozen and statue-like creature stood unmoving. It looked to be made of stone.

  It was then that I recognized just what we were dealing with. I had seen one, only days earlier while out with Kierson, perched on one of the towering buildings near the Tenth Circle. A gargoyle, he had called it, though he failed to mention at the time that it was anything more than just a hideous decoration to an otherwise unadorned building.

  Casey held the shotgun in such a way that would allow him to club the motionless gargoyle before him with the butt end. I presumed that, if the creature had not been killed by the initial shot, it had incapacitated him on some level. Tapping the stony beast’s head tauntingly with the butt of his weapon, Casey trained his eyes on what I assumed to be the leader of the winged ones.

  “Shall I start here?” he asked, his tone inquisitive while indicating his target.

  “There isss no need for that. I will tell you all I know—all we know.”

  “Excellent, because I was starting to get the notion that you were not going to be very forthcoming with me, which would lead me to all kinds of crazy conclusions . . . like you being on someone else’s payroll, perhaps. Someone more important than me. But you and I both know that that would be suicide, don’t we?”

  “Yesss, it would.” The two eyed each other in the darkness for a moment before Azriel continued. “We learned about the uprisssing with the Breathersss only days ago. It appearsss that sssomething brought about a change in them. Sssomething powerful enough for them to no longer sssee reassson.”

  “Interesting, but I’m not here for what you’ve deduced about the situation. I’m here for what you know,” Casey cautioned, stroking the head of the statue lightly, like a favored pet, just before he crashed the butt of his weapon down upon it, shattering it like a thin pane of glass. As the pulverized stone settled on the floor in a layer of dust, Casey snatched Azriel by his thick and muscular throat, then dragged him off the ground. Their faces were dangerously close as Casey’s eyes bore threateningly into the gargoyle’s. “You are an informant, are you not? And who do you think you are to keep informed?” He stared the beast down as though he was already obtaining answers, even in silence. When he looked faintly satisfied with what information he’d obtained, he leaned in closer. “You’ve forgotten your place, old one. Mistakes like that are costly.”

  “There wasss talk,” the beast choked out against Casey’s crushing grip. “Talk of sssomething in Detroit that ssshould not be.”

  “I’m listening,” Casey replied, still holding the gargoyle’s throat.

  “The nessst you found . . . they had been trying to track it down.”

  “What ‘it’ are you referring to?”

  “The Unborn.”

  Silence hung heavy on Casey’s tongue, not allowing him to reply. The mask of darkness that seemed ever-present in his expression shifted slightly, something else flashing in his eyes for the briefest moment. It came and went before I could fully recognize it.

  “What did you just say?”

  “I sssaid, they were sssearching for the Unborn,” Azriel repeated, his wide, inhuman eyes looking to me.

  “And whaty"> align="j do they want with it?”

  “It isss not what they want to do with the Unborn that you ssshould be concerned about.” He hesitated slightly before continuing. “It isss who they were to bring the Unborn to that ssshould be feared.”

  “You are trying my patience with your riddles, Azriel,” Casey growled.

  “I do not know hisss name or what he isss, but the Unborn callsss to him, a sssweet sssong that cannot be ignored or essscaped.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “I do not know,” he hissed sharply, fearing that Casey would not tolerate his ignorance any longer.

  Casey’s face twisted in anger as he breathed his orders into Azriel’s face, his words little more than a whisper.

  “Then you will dispatch your underlings and find out where he is and report back to me and me alone. You will say nothing of the Unborn to anything in this city—with or without a pulse. Insubordination would not be a wise course of action, Azriel. Nor would failure,” Casey warned. “I’m in a particularly forgiving mood this evening. I would not count on such generosity in the future.” To emphasize his authority, Casey tossed the gargoyle across the room, scattering his minions in the process. “You have until tomorrow night.”

  We looked on as they dispersed themselves through the room, all climbing down through the various cracks in the floor. I knew that Azriel was lucky to still be breathing.

  “Where are they going?” I asked, wondering why creatures with wings would seek escape below the building.

  “The sewers.” His words were clipped, frustration marring his tone. I did not expect him to elaborate on his response, but he did. “To answer your earlier question, we came to this particular run-down building because underneath it is one of the largest connections to the city’s sewer system. That’s where they live. This,” he said, indicating the room we stood in, “is where I go to find them.”

  “And they will do as you ordered? They will find this one who seeks me?”

  “If they know what’s good for them,” he replied gruffly. “Gargoyles are good for one thing and one thing only: information. It’s their currency.” He looked down at me, the light of the moon swallowed whole by the black of his eyes. “And they better pay up.”

  I followed my brother back out of the building without concern of retaliation from the gargoyles. Casey had made it clear that they were little more than bottom-feeders in the supernatural hierarchy. To attack us would have meant annihilation for them, hence the fear I saw in their eyes when they first approached us. Casey was truly something to behold. He was ruthless, cunning, and perfectly bred to do whatever necess
ary to carry out his mission.

  The thought brought a curiosity to mind. If each of the women Ares bedded was clearly chosen for a purpose, precisely who had he bedded to create Casey? The answer was suddenly of utmost interest to me.

  “Fucking goyles,” Casey muttered under his breath as we broke out of the building and into the silvery-blue light of the full moon.

  “They are little more than a nuisance to you, are they not?”

  “Nuisances that have forgotten themselves.”

  “It seems you have made your point. Assassinating one of their own before their eyes was an excellent strategy and a highly effective motivator. They will not forget again.”

  For once, he eyed me keenly, as though I had said something interesting for terand the very first time.

  “You have seen this tactic before.” His words were not a question.

  “Of course. Such strategies are often used to keep order in the Underworld. A necessary evil, as it were.”

  “You didn’t even flinch when I crushed the cretin’s skull,” he said, stepping closer than was comfortable. “And you had no reaction the other night when we eliminated those Breathers. Just how desensitized to our way of life are you, sister?”

  I met his stare as I had the day I met him—with utter indifference.

  “I am well adapted to survive violence, Casey,” I explained, my tone low and even to match my brother’s. “If I was not, I would be dead. The Underworld is no place for a tender, sensitive soul. I do not react to death and brutality because I was steeped in it from such a young age that I know little else. What you perceive as desensitization, or deadening of emotion, is nothing more than who I am. I have lost no part of me, but grown to be a direct expression of my environment, and rightly so. I do not see myself as you do—damaged. Would I have turned out differently had I been raised under the care of someone else? Possibly, but not certainly. I have always seen things for what they are and not what I hope them to be. The world for me is as direct and literal as I am, Casey. What you see as a fault, I view as an asset.”