Unborn

by Natusch, Amber Lynn

  “Is there a problem here?” Casey asked, rounding the corner to find the two of us embroiled in our silent battle. His voice was low and threatening as always.

  “Is there?” Oz repeated, looking at me intently. “Or do we understand one another?”

  “I believe we do,” I purred in response. “Subjectivity notwithstanding.”

  His devilish smile spread wide.

  “Excellent. I’d hate to think we’d have to revisit this topic again.”

  “As would I.”

  He turned and brushed past Casey without an ounce of concern, making his way to the living room. I watched as he did, questioning his antics, his motives, and the strange chill I felt in his absence.

  It vexed me greatly.

  “What’s the word on the street, kids?” Oz asked the others, who were still filing in through the front entrance. Aft ententter I collected my thoughts, I joined them, leaving Casey to follow behind me.

  “Pierson is certain that he has the ward situation under control for now,” Drew announced.

  “Yes. And in light of what Drew mentioned last night regarding Deimos, I went ahead and worked him into the wards as well,” he said, his eyes genuflecting slightly. “I did not wish to be ambushed again by my own oversight or have you suffer an unenviable fate because of it.”

  “I’m sure you have been more than thorough, Pierson. Thank you,” I replied.

  “Sean has been delayed,” Drew continued, “but he is coming. Whatever is going on at the seacoast has him stressed, but he assured me that he wants to be present for the retribution the Stealers are going to face tonight. He plans to be here just before sunset.”

  “You make his arrival sound so dramatic,” Oz scoffed as he meandered through the room.

  “It will be, and, quite frankly, I think a little drama is warranted given our current situation,” Drew replied, heat building in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I told Sean that you were going to give your complete cooperation in the search and eradication of the Stealers. Sean would have been here sooner otherwise. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable, if I were you. He sounded remarkably calm on the phone. Nothing good ever happens when he sounds like that.”

  “I’m aware of that, Drew,” Oz lamented. “More aware than you can possibly imagine.”

  A silence stretched awkwardly throughout the room, begging for someone to fill it. Ignoring the tension brewing between Oz and Drew, Pierson changed the subject.

  “How are you feeling today, Khara?” he called from the far side of the room. He stood just before the vast wall of windows, the light billowing in through them highlighting him in a pleasant manner, softening his typically shrewd expression.

  “I feel well, brother.”

  “No residual effects from the incident last night?”

  “None that I am aware of, though I have not regained the memories that were taken. All I feel is a nagging sensation in my brain when I try to recall certain events or focus on certain individuals. It’s as if there is a mental fog that won’t clear, clouding certain parts of my mind. I do not hold out much hope for improvement.”

  He nodded briskly.

  “And your neck?”

  I reached up and pulled the gauze off my wound, exposing it. Tracing my hand lightly over it, I could feel the disruption in my skin, the scab dry and sharp against my touch.

  “It feels fine.”

  “We shall have Sean take care of what remains when he returns,” Pierson replied. “He has some healing skills that he has used on more than one occasion, especially as of late. His mate appears to have a penchant for danger.”

  “If you feel it’s best.”

  “I do.” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly; then he took a step toward me. “Khara, I’ve been up all night researching, trying to make more sense of all of this. And after many hours and myriad texts, the single obstacle I repeatedly find myself against is that you are an Unborn but also PC. There are no instances of such a being in history, and, because of this, there is no way to know just what they are after or what will become of you if they succeed.”

  “They won’t succeed,” Kierson growled from his station by the fireplace.

  “If there was som th.e way to know . . .” Pierson continued, ignoring his twin’s outburst.

  “There are only two outcomes she will face if they get hold of her,” said Oz, interrupting Pierson’s ruminations. “Option one: She dies, as nearly all Light Ones who fall to the Stealers do. It is a slow and painful fading, but it is the choice they make, given the alternative.”

  “Which is?” Drew pressed, irritation lacing his tone.

  “Becoming a Dark One.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Yes, yes,” Oz interrupted, dismissing Drew’s objection with a cavalier wave of his hand. “I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is yes. Dark Ones are made when the Light are corrupted, but that is not how they initially came to be, nor is it the only way to create them.” He paused momentarily, allowing the reality of his words to settle before he continued. “But really, what better way to corrupt a soul than to have it sucked out by those leeches, leaving the Light One empty to then fill with the very darkness that created them?”

  “That’s all well and good, Oz, but Khara isn’t technically a Light One yet. She is still an Unborn,” Drew protested.

  “Which only proves my earlier point,” Pierson cut in, stepping into the center of the room. “From all I could find, the Unborn were simply killed by the Stealers. Their pureness was their undoing, is that not true, Oz?”

  “Yes,” Oz replied, his voice tight with anger. “Which is why we no longer allowed them to be earthbound.”

  “But Khara isn’t pure. Far from it, I imagine,” Pierson continued, his words an inference, not an allegation. “So, if she is not the delicacy that they were once used to and she is not a Light One who can be turned Dark, what is it that they want from her?”

  “Who the fuck cares?” Kierson cursed, his irritation with the conversation plain. “Even if there is a door number three, does it matter? I’m pretty sure there won’t be sunshine and rainbows and tutu-wearing unicorns behind it. Why put energy into figuring something out that can’t be solved instead of channeling it into something we can do—namely, annihilate those fuckers from this city and any other corner of the world they might be hiding in?”

  “Agreed,” said Casey, looking excited at the promise of violence.

  “Which brings us to the plan: draw those sons of bitches out and kill them before they have a chance to force either of those options upon Khara. However, there’s work to do before any of us will be killing ‘those fuckers,’ as Kierson so eloquently put it,” Drew announced, turning his attention to Oz, who had again seated himself on the staircase to the second floor. His gaze still refused to fall upon mine. “Oz, since you’re so adept at finding them, I’m going to need you to track down where they’re hiding out. I need numbers, locations—everything you can get me that might make this task easier. And don’t you dare think of pulling a Casey and go after them on your own.”

  “Not an issue,” he yawned, stretching his arms high above his head. “I’m too tired for that today.”

  “Sean isn’t bringing an army with him; there’s too much going down out east for that. We need to be organized and prepared, two things we haven’t been thus far. We’re likely to only get one shot at this. We can’t afford to waste any of our resources.”

  Drew’s eyes narrowed harshly at Oz.

  “Fine,” Oz grunted in response. “You’ll have the information you need by sunset.”

  “Casey,” he continued, directing his attention away from Oz. “You need to track Azriel down and find out just what the hell happened last night. If you are convinced by the end of it that he did indeed sell us out, you need to send a message. A big one. Understood?”

  “Loud and clear,” Casey replied with a killer smile.

  “If he didn’t, the
n you need to find out everything he knows, and I mean everything. Employ your usual charm to make sure that happens,” he commanded. “Pierson, you get to work on protecting Khara from the draw of the Stealers. If there’s something that can be done there, you need to do it. We can’t protect her very well if we can’t keep her from going to them willingly.”

  “I’ll be upstairs,” he replied, heading in that direction before he even finished his thought. Stepping around Oz, he ascended the stairs and disappeared to his favorite companions: his books.

  Drew then shot a curious look to Kierson.

  “What do you need me to do?” Kierson asked, his enthusiasm for retribution plain.

  “Someone needs to stay behind with Khara.”

  “But Pierson will be here—”

  “And he will be occupied.”

  “What about you? Where are you going?” Kierson’s interrogation nearly sounded like that of a petulant child.

  Drew’s gaze shot over to Oz.

  “I’m going with him.”

  Oz launched to his feet, agitated at Drew’s plan.

  “The hell you are.”

  “I need to see that you’re doing what you say you will,” Drew explained unapologetically.

  “You’re just going to slow me down,” argued Oz.

  “I’m confidant I can keep up.”

  “Listen, I said I would get you the information you need, and I will.”

  “Great. Then you won’t mind me tagging along for peace of mind,” Drew pressured. “Consider it my insurance plan.”

  Oz’s eyes narrowed.

  “You don’t trust me . . .”

  Drew shrugged.

  “Trust is a funny thing, Oz. It’s not freely given; it’s earned. You haven’t done a lot to do so in the time I’ve known you. And I have known you many lifetimes,” he said, slowly approaching Oz. “You have always and will always suit yourself, which has never been an issue for us, but, in this situation, it is. Khara’s life, or soul, or whatever it may be that they are after, likely hangs in the balance, and I am not willing to hand that over to your minimally invested ass. If you want to take my lack of confidence as a personal slight, so be it. I’ve never questioned your ability in battle, Oz. But I do question your loyalty.”

  “I work alone or I don’t work at all,” Oz rumbled, his defiance dominating both his tone and posture. It was clear that there was no middle ground to be found between the two of them.

  “Drew,” I said softly. “Let him go. He has said he will do it. Let him prove his loyalty to you.” I turned to face Oz, deliberately waiting until his eyes met mine before I continued. “He proved his loyalty to me last night. In the context of battle, he is exactly what you told me: fiercely effective. He did not have to warn us of the Stealers, nor did he have to come to our aid. Is that not loyalty? I am well aware that he enjoys violence as much as Casey, but he left the battle and promise of bloodshed, only momened, he ts after showing up, with the express purpose of getting me home to the safety of the wards. Oz has proven to be selfish, arrogant, abrasive, and even vile at times, but one thing he has never proven himself to be is a liar. I do not suspect he will do

  so today.”

  Oz’s mouth pressed into a straight line, trepidation overtaking his expression. Something was stirring behind his eyes, though I could not determine what it was.

  “I’ve got some shit to do,” he declared, heading to the front entrance. “I’ll let you know what I find out when I get back.” He stopped abruptly just before the front door, looking back over his shoulder directly at me. “Try not to do anything crazy while I’m gone, will you, new girl? I’d hate to go to all this effort for nothing.”

  I stared at him silently—I could not muster a response. How could one promise such a thing when my ability to make rational decisions all but disappeared in the face of the Stealers? His words had proven to be the only thing to clear my mind in their presence, and he was leaving. I was left solely reliant upon Pierson’s skill with magic to prevent their call from getting the better of me.

  And to fight off that darkness required mighty skill indeed.

  22

  While the others worked on their assignments, Kierson and I sat around the house, the hours passing in slow monotony. It was a tedious way to await the inevitable. Kierson was so agitated by late afternoon that he nearly stabbed Pierson when he came down the stairs, throwing a blade that narrowly missed him. Perhaps their twin connection kept Pierson safe from the otherwise deadly strike.

  I inquired about the battle in the Heidelberg Project, having not been present for the majority of it. They told me that things had taken a turn for the interesting upon my departure. They were aware that we were followed initially but were certain that Oz was capable of handling whomever showed up, if they even made it that far. However, the atypical aspects of the fight seemed to arise only minutes after that. Pierson said that they had thought the dwindling numbers of Stealers had been due to the losses they had taken, but, when he hazarded a glance at the amassing bodies, there were not nearly enough to account for the numbers the enemy had presented with at the outset of the fight. It was at that point that Pierson had retreated to the house to quickly observe what he had become convinced was true: the Stealers were strategically escaping the battle, but were not headed in the direction they had come from. They were headed toward the distant Victorian in numbers far surpassing those that he had expected.

  Their explanation made sense of what I remembered from my more lucid moments of the battle Oz and I had fought outside the house. And it served to only further confirm what Oz had claimed: The Stealers truly were after me and were willing to suffer countless losses during their elaborate ruse to ensure they got me.

  When I shared my thoughts on the matter, the twins wore the same expression. It was not an inspiring one.

  “I’ve performed the ceremony for what I think should protect you from their thrall, Khara, but I cannot guarantee it,” he admitted. “I have no reference for a spell like this. I had to improvise.”

  “I’m sure it is better than the alternative,” I reassured him, knowing that the alternative was nothing at all.

  “What’s taking them so long?” Kierson grumbled, pacing laps around the living room furniture. “I hate all this waiting. It makes me edgy.”p>

“I had not noticed,” I replied dryly. When he turned his bloodshot eyes to meet mine, he saw something in them that made him smile.

  “I didn’t know you had it in you, sis,” he proclaimed in admiration. “Sarcasm . . . it works for you. You should try it out more often.”

  “If I survive the evening, I shall try my best.”

  His smile immediately fell.

  “If that was another attempt at humor, it sucked.” The sadness in his eyes kept any response I had at bay. He was still hurting from the previous attack, which could have left me dead or unrecognizable. Neither fate seemed to sit well with him. He was a sensitive soul indeed.

  “When will Sean be arriving?” I asked, directing my question to Pierson.

  “I’m not sure. He will alert Drew with the details soon, I imagine,” he said plainly. “Sean is rarely, if ever, late.”

  As we spoke, Pierson’s phone made a buzzing sound, and he quickly retrieved it from his pocket.

  “Speak of the devil,” he mumbled, staring at the screen.

  “Is it from Drew? What’d he say?” Kierson asked, coming to stand behind Pierson. He peered over his shoulder to see whatever Pierson was looking at, a gesture that seemed to instantly infuriate his twin.

  “Drew is on his way back now, and Sean has reported to him that he will be arriving very shortly.”

  “And having Sean present for this is a good thing, I presume?”

  “Khara,” Kierson started, his face the very definition of gravity, “Sean is seriously badass. He can’t be killed, for fuck’s sake! You think you might want that kind of manpower on your side?” I started to reply whe
n he threw up his hand to deflect my response. “That was a rhetorical question, Khara, because the answer is now, and will always be, yes. When shit gets serious, you want Sean on your side. Period. End of story.”

  “Just as you would want Oz on your side?” I prodded, hoping to gain some insight into why they despised one another.

  The twins shared a look at one another before returning their gazes to me.

  “Something like that,” Kierson said tightly.

  “Agreed,” Pierson added. “Though it might be best if you kept that analogy to yourself after Sean arrives.”

  “If they detest each other so much, how can they be capable of fighting alongside one another?”

  “That’s simple,” Pierson replied, his expression every bit as haughty and condescending as I had ever seen it. “You.” I felt my brow furrow at his words, unable to mask my incomprehension. Pierson sighed at the realization that further explanation was required. “You are why they are willing to fight on the same side, Khara. They have a mutual interest in the outcome.” My expression remained unchanged. “I would think that Sean’s attachment to the outcome would be fairly obvious. Oz’s is less so, but it is apparent nonetheless.”

  “How so?”

  “I have studied his behavior since your arrival. It has been perplexing, indeed, but my theory is that somehow, on some level, you are what has made his current lifestyle . . . less comfortable.”

  I found his words fascinating.

  “I have never met someone more comfortable with who they are and what they do,” I countered. “And yet you are telling me that he is not because of me? I do not understand this.”

  He shrugged ambivalently. “I don’t profess to know the inner workings of our not-so-angelic squatter, but my powers of observation are unmatched. He has changed. Of that, I am sure.”

  “And how do you view his current behavior? Is it an improvement or a devolution?”

  “It is different. I’m not sure how to qualify it beyond that.”

  It was quiet for a moment while I processed Pierson’s words, until Kierson decided to make an observation all his own.