Heat reached her hand from the weapon as it hummed ever-so-gently. The warmth emanating from her sword comforted her in a way she couldn’t describe. Sloan would give them a warning. Bloodlust was not one of the sins she suffered from, but neither was cowardice. If they refused to move aside, she would cut them down with indifference.
The sound built in cadence until they appeared in front of her. To Sloan’s surprise, they weren’t guards at all. Four men dressed in overalls and carrying tools stopped dead in their tracks when they saw her. Their eyes widened and their mouths opened in fear. One man took a step back, another dropped the bag of tools he was carrying.
“I’m … I’m sorry, I know we should use the front entrance like everyone else, but the back entrance was faster, I—please don’t hurt us.” The man had gone ashen. “I’m too young to die.”
“Please, don’t let me keep you from your work.” Sloan let out a exhale, chiding herself for being so tightly wound. A second move of her thumb powered down her sword. She lowered the weapon, then moved to stand aside. “And there’s no such thing as too young to die. Death doesn’t play favorites.”
“Of course.” The man who had spoken gulped. “Thank you.”
The other men picked up their dropped tools and hurried down the stairs. Every single one of them refused to make eye contact with her.
Sloan was about to apologize, but the urgency for her visit reminded her that haste was paramount. Instead of trying to engage the frightened group of workers in a conversation, Sloan sheathed her sword and continued up the stairs. The blade slid into its sheath like a hand into a perfectly fitting glove. Warmth from the blade warmed her side. When Edison had made her the sheath, he had warned her that the blade needed a few seconds to cool before it was placed in its home. Although the sheath was made from the same steel as her sword, the blade would still melt it like butter if it was placed inside while still activated.
The massive oak doors leading into the doctor’s office opened in front of her as she crested the final step. The idea that this could still be some elaborate trap was still at the forefront of her mind.
Sloan raised a gloved hand and firmly knocked on the door. The noise reverberated inward.
“Captain,” the doctor’s voice answered from the opposite side. “Please enter. We have much to discuss.”
Sloan steeled herself for what may come when she entered the room. As if her hand had a mind of its own, it strayed to her sword hilt once more. Slowly, Sloan pushed the door inward. Ready for anything, she entered the office.
Everything was how she remembered seeing it the day before, except for the doctor himself. Oliver Livingston sat behind his desk, tired and worried. Ever since she could remember he had an air of enthusiasm around him. He was always optimistic and cheerful, but not today.
“Why are you here?” he asked, eyeing Sloan’s hand resting on her weapon. “Are you here to kill me?”
“Should I be?” Sloan walked into the room. With every step, she studied her surroundings for any hidden figure or traps set in place.
“Contrary to what you believe, I am not your enemy, Charlotte Sloan.” The doctor raised both hands in surrender. “The true enemy we share is knocking at the gates of our city.”
Finally, convinced they were alone and she was in no immediate threat, Sloan relaxed her stance. She moved to the side of the desk where the doctor sat, giving her a view of Oliver Livingston and the open doors to her left. Sloan learned a long time ago that an exposed back was an easy target for an enemy lacking morals.
“Did you know about Commander Brookhaven?” Sloan’s question was brief and straight to the point. Like her personality, Sloan gave no merit to witty banter or verbal sparring. “Are you involved with The Order?”
“Charlotte, you need to give me a chance to explain. I—”
“Don’t call me Charlotte. Answers, now. No more games. Did you know about Commander Brookhaven’s involvement with The Order. Do you know who she really is?”
“Yes, to both of your questions. But there is so much more. Please, hear me out. Give me an opportunity to explain.”
Sloan felt anger’s familiar touch. For years, Oliver Livingston had declared himself a friend to the crown. For years, he had lied to Sloan, as well as the queen. He had betrayed the city she loved and made her a fool.
“Get on your feet,” Sloan said through gritted teeth. “You’re under arrest for conspiracy to the crown.”
“I am not the man you think I am.” The doctor rose, his hands still in plain sight. “There are few allies left to us, while our real enemies grow in strength. Please, if you care about this city at all, give me just a few minutes of your time. I beg of you, Sloan.”
There were a multitude of reasons Sloan should have refused his offer and take him into custody, there and now. She owed him nothing, and neither was she curious to find out what he had to say. Still, something in his eyes made her hesitate. It was a look of sincerity. A tone in his voice told her he couldn’t care less about what happened to him but more about what was in store for her and the city of New Hope.
“You have two minutes,” Sloan agreed against her better judgment. “Make them count.”
“Thank you. Thank you, Sloan. The fate of our city, maybe the entire Outland, could be decided in the next few minutes. The hour is late and the wolves knock at our door.”
“Now you have a minute and a half.” Sloan glared at him with indifference. “Start talking.”
“It started five years ago, when Livingston Industries was just beginning to take shape. Although five years is not that long of a time, the knowledge I have gained since then has been staggering. A woman came to me and told me a story that I couldn’t believe. She told me the queen and her witch had brought her back from the dead. She told me she had no memory of her life before, but that death was coming, and with it, the end of the world as we know it.”
Of all the things Sloan thought the doctor would tell her, lies of a queen and her witch were not among them. Sloan was trying now to discern whether or not the doctor was actually crazy, or if he was well aware he was lying.
“I know this is hard to believe.” Apparently, Doctor Livingston mistook her silence for interest. With vigor, he continued his story. “I didn’t think it possible myself, but I have seen things with my own eyes, Sloan, things that belong in books. Things I cannot begin to explain. The queen you serve is not who you think she is. She is bent on destruction of not only our city, but also of the world as we know it. Everything you believe is a well-placed lie.”
“You would tell me anything to be free.” Sloan spoke aloud, even as she thought the words. “It’s easy to speak excuses, but providing evidence is another matter altogether. I’m assuming you have proof for everything you’re saying?”
“As much as I can gather,” the doctor sputtered. His face was a wreck of frustration, not at Sloan, but at his own predicament. “Tell me, how I can prove this to you? If you give me to her now, everything will be lost. There are only a handful who know the truth. How? How can I convince you of this?”
Sloan raised an eyebrow. The doctor’s story was so unbelievable, it almost made her think it was true. But the queen? Her queen? Queen Eleanor Eckert of New Hope, the queen she had served for years? The same woman who had taken New Hope from the gutters of depravity and raised it to the now-greatest city in the Outland, an evil dictator? It was impossible.
“I can’t take this as truth.” Sloan shook her head. “It’s time to go.”
“Please, ask yourself.” Doctor Livingston backpedalled, his hands out in front of him. “You can’t accept this, or won’t?”
“Choose one. Now, I can either bring you in quietly, or this can be as hard as you’d like to make it.” Sloan edged forward. “Choose wisely.”
“Don’t you see?” the doctor said, taking a step back. “This has all been a carefully laid plan since Queen Eleanor’s rise to the crown.”
“Unless you have evi
dence to back your accusations, we’re done here.” Sloan took another step forward. “Last chance to make this easy on yourself—”
The doors to the office flew open with a bang. Sloan pivoted in time to see Commander Brookhaven rush into the room, her sword already glowing with blue intensity.
“You’re not arresting anyone, captain.”
Sloan
Sloan mentally kicked herself for not seeing the trap. Of course she was being lured into the office to be ambushed. Doctor Livingston was just buying time with his twisted tales of magic and corruption.
These thoughts were running through her mind as she turned to meet the attack. The commander was dirty from a night on the run. Her hair was a mess of tangles, but her eyes were as trained and deadly as ever.
Sloan heard motion behind her. Now fearing a rear attack from the doctor, Sloan instinctively sidestepped and crouched. She drew her sword at the same time, flipping the switch on her weapon. Sloan was ready to deflect a blow from either the doctor or the commander.
Her actions would prove unnecessary.
“Stop! Stop this madness, both of you.” The doctor rushed past Sloan. He placed himself between the two warriors, much like Aareth had the night before. “If you two are so desperate to kill someone, then kill me.”
Commander Brookhaven lowered her blade. Looking over the doctor’s shoulder, she gave Sloan a hard stare.
“I know you’re a good woman. I know you love this city as much as I do.” The doctor turned to look at Sloan. “Just hear her story. And now that she’s here, you can have the proof you desire.”
“What proof?” Sloan repeated the word as if she were hearing it for the first time. Once again, she was drawn to the earnestness in the doctor’s voice. Unlike the commander, she held her sword ready. A quick slice, and the doctor would be down. Another second would allow her to hurdle over his body, and she would be in combat with the commander.
“Listen,” the doctor pleaded, “listen to her heart. If she’s lying, if she had not been resurrected from the dead, she would have a heartbeat, like you and I. She has none.”
Before Sloan could even think of what to say, the doctor continued. “I know this sounds impossible, but you owe your city this opportunity if there is even the slightest chance this could be true. I didn’t know what to think when she came to me, but heartbeats don’t lie, Captain Sloan.”
Sloan debated the idea for a moment. This was insane. But the doctor was right. She had sworn to protect the city from enemies both foreign and domestic. If there was even a slight chance this could be true, she had to put aside her anger and provide a chance for the truth to be uncovered.
“Drop your weapon, and I’ll hear your story, commander.” Sloan never took her eyes off of Commander Brookhaven.
The commander sneered. “You’ll have a better chance of actually besting me in a fight, captain. I’m not stupid enough to trust you at your word.”
“Ashley.” The doctor pivoted to face his commander. He was sure to stay between the two women, but from her view of the back of his head, Sloan could imagine what the doctor’s face looked like—frustrated, angry, maybe even disappointed. “We stand on the brink of losing everything we have worked so hard to attain these last five years. Both of you women are stubborn beyond comprehension. Tell her, Ashley. Tell her the truth. Captain Sloan is our last chance. She’s a good woman, maybe even a great woman. I’ve seen her lead. Let yourself believe that we still have a chance.”
Sloan hid the shock Doctor Livingston’s words sent through her. She had no idea he’d been monitoring her so closely, much less that he believed in her abilities to this extent. Most of their encounters led to the doctor asking out her on a date. Was he ever really only asking her out on a date, or trying to get closer to information?
Sloan didn’t have time to pursue this line of thought. The clatter of the commander’s sword being thrown to the side brought her back to the present moment.
“Well, I guess I have nothing else to lose at the moment,” Ashley said with disgust. “I’m already dead inside anyway. If you kill me now, you’ll only be sending me back to the ground that’s claimed me once.”
“Explain your story to the captain.” The doctor finally moved to the side, allowing the women to see eye to eye. “From the beginning.”
Ashley A.K.A. Brenda Emerson
She didn’t know who she was or what had happened to her. She felt cold like a thousand ice picks were being driven beneath her skin from the inside out. She blinked her eyes in an attempt to see through the darkness. The gloom was so deep, the existence of light was a foreign idea.
She tried to remember how she had come to be in this place, but every time she thought back, the memory escaped her like vapor she tried to grab.
When she moved her hands to her face, she discovered she was bound—both wrists and each of her ankles chained to some kind of table. Whether it was minutes or hours she’d lain on her back in the room, she would never know.
“Hello? Hello?” Calling out for someone seemed pointless, but she tried anyway. “Can anyone hear me?”
Her own voice rang alien in her own ears. Her throat was hoarse and even the few words she had spoken into the inky darkness scratched with pain.
Later rather than sooner, a door opened. Someone carrying a torch entered the room and proceeded to light large, steel braziers.
“Hello?” she tried again. “Where am I?”
“You are safe, and all of your questions will be answered in a moment, Ashley,” the woman’s calm voice replied just above a whisper.
Soon, light filled the room. The woman came to stand beside her and began releasing her from her bonds. “You are a very special woman, Ashley. You have been chosen to lead our Legion when the time comes. It is not just anyone who is brought back.”
Ashley, so that was her name? She struggled to understand what the woman was saying. Some voice in the back of her head told her that, that wasn’t her name at all, that she should be worried, even scared. It told her to flee, but above this voice was a sense of cold indifference, as though fear and panic were feelings dead to her now.
“My name is Leah Noble,” the woman said, offering Ashley her hand, “and we have much to do in preparation for the Legion.”
Ashley didn’t trust the woman. There was a coldness to her eyes, a hint in her voice that promised violence, but what choice did she have?
Over the next few years, Ashley’s education would be twofold. First, she was trained in the art of war. Every kind of weapon was given to her, until she was an expert in everything from swords to firearms. Second, she was instructed in the art of magic that had brought her back from the dead.
Her mentor, Leah Noble, explained only as much as Ashley needed to know, only when she needed to know it. “You must live in this place below the palace until our time is ready,” Leah Noble would remind her. She phrased it as a fact, but Ashley could tell it was a command. “You will be the Legion’s greatest champion when it is our time to overtake this world. Great things are meant for you, Ashley. Be patient and prepare.”
Whenever Ashley would inquire of her past or how she came to be with Leah, the answer was always the same: “You were given a second chance by the powers of our side. You owe your life now to the magic that has called you to be its champion. Anything else is a waste of thought.”
And Ashley accepted this truth. She was treated well enough. A fully furnished room was given to her below the palace. Servants brought her anything she desired, and after a few years, when Leah deemed her resolve to the cause unwavering, she was even allowed to walk the palace and the city.
She was only permitted out at night, and even then, only with a chaperone. But for Ashley, it was enough. She was introduced to Leah Noble’s sister, Queen Eleanor Eckert. The queen welcomed her with open arms, and much like Leah, spoke of the great days to come in which Ashley would play a significant role as their champion. “You are a treasure, Ashley,” she
remembered the queen saying during one conversation. “Grow strong and continue to prepare your body and mind. The day will soon be at hand where the Legion will rise and we will claim both city and world for the cause.”
And life went on. Day after day, Ashley trained, and night after night, she was allowed to roam the palace and the city. She grew to love the city of New Hope, and before long, she knew the city streets like the back of her hand. All was well, until one day it wasn’t.
She was walking the streets in the early hours of the morning. Although she was forbidden to interact with any of the city’s citizens, she would hang outside the bars and saloons, the only things open at that time. She would watch people laugh and stumble out with their friends. It was the closest she was allowed to experiencing life outside the palace, but she was happy with that.
One night, Ashley found herself at her favorite spot. She sat on a rooftop of a two-story building overlooking a line of seedy bars. Her legs dangled over the edge. The two New Hope guards chaperoning her that night stood at attention ten yards behind her.
Doors to a bar called The Vixen Tavern slammed open. A man was thrown out into the street. He was large with long, wild dark hair and a beard to match. Three other rough-looking men followed him out into the night. Without exchanging words, they began beating him like a dog.
Before Ashley could remind herself that she could not be involved in any kind of altercation, let alone be seen, she rose to her feet. Even as she prepared to jump off the ledge and down to the street below, she realized there would be no need.
By the way the man with the dark hair struggled to regain his feet, it was clear to Ashley that he was drunk. Despite his intoxicated state, he was more than a match for his assailants. The match was over, just as quickly as it had started. The outnumbered stranger was a brutal fighter, breaking jaws and crushing throats without pause.
House of Blood: (A Paranormal Urban Fantasy) (The Vampire Project Book 2) Page 11