Henchgirl (Dakota Kekoa Book 1)

by Rita Stradling

  “No way are you wearing that,” I said, turning to her.

  “Why?” she said, she was the one whining now. Spinning, she said sullenly, “Mom picked it out for me.”

  “If mom notices, I’ll deal with her. This is not the right party to attract guys; they’re all way too old.”

  “But…” she whined.

  “No buts, I’m serious, go change. When you’re picking out your dress think sexless—younger, eleven or twelve-looking. ”

  She glared, but, after a moment, left.

  Lorelei was about eight times smarter than any of us, but the fact that her aspect had not surfaced at such an advanced age was a ‘big ugly’ in my family. Lately, my mother had been buying Lorelei clothing that had lower and lower necklines.

  When Lorelei came back, she sat on the bed within reaching distance from me. The dress she picked was one I bought for her; it made her look curvy and beautiful without showing an inch of cleavage, thank goodness.

  “Lorelei, you look beautiful,” Clara said.

  “Thanks,” Lorelei said not the least bit happy.

  My mother came into my room, spinning and showing off her extravagant gown, “Do you like it? It’s a Giohani.” She swished side to side. Her expensive-smelling perfume was what I would call a light scent, but she had applied it so heavily, the air around her felt heavy.

  She turned to all of us with a glowing expression on her face and said, “My darlings, I have something I want to tell you.” She paused and then said, “I am going to get married.” Her face broke into a wide grin.

  Lorelei and I made eye contact across the room; Lorelei rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, mom, that’s wonderful,” Clara said.

  “To who?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. There was a very small part of me that thought maybe, maybe, she met someone and fell in love without mentioning it.

  My mother gave me a look of confusion bordering on annoyance. “To Clara and Deagan’s father, Lorien, of course. We’ll be a family again, all of us. Maybe Deagan will even move home.” She smiled around the room again.

  Across the room Lorelei shook her head, but my mother either did not see, or ignored her.

  Stacy said, “But mom—” I squeezed her and she cut off her sentence.

  When my mother turned her gaze on Stacy, who was in my lap, I said, “That’s great mom.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” There was a long pause and then she said, “Dakota I need to talk to you about something, your Uncle Reave called me this morning.” She had an unsettling look of concern on her face.

  Uncle Reave was my grandfather’s ‘right hand,’ most people received their instructions through him. I never did. Ever since I was eleven my grandfather always gave his instructions himself or through Glacier, the fact that Uncle Reave called my mother to talk about me was as humiliating as it was terrifying.

  She said, “He told me you were paid another twenty one thousand dollars that is unaccounted for. Is something going on that I should know about?” She asked the question as if she was worried that I had landed myself in some sort of trouble.

  My throat was tight when I admitted, “I gave all that money to Mr. Peterson.”

  “Sweetheart, what were you even thinking?” she asked.

  “He left a note saying we’re being evicted, he called the police—“

  “He’s a crazy old man!” she shouted, and then she took a deep breath and shook her head. She sounded calm when she said, “He’s just stressed because he can’t pay his mortgage and the bank plans to foreclose on his properties and he’s taking it out on us. Sweetheart,” she said, as she ran her fingers through my hair, fingernails gently scratching my scalp, “You can’t let people take advantage of you like this. I am the adult; I take care of the bills. I paid him the rent, he can’t evict us.”

  It had been a cold awakening the day I realized my mother and the truth had never been acquainted.

  My mother sighed, “I’m not angry at you, but at least we won’t have to worry about rent for the next couple months, we can spend your pay and the money your grandfather gives us on other priorities.”

  Somehow, I did not think she was talking about the water bill.

  “Anyhow,” my mother said with a sigh, “It seems your grandfather is very disappointed in you. He doesn’t want you to even mention that you ever worked for him. What happened?”

  When no answer came, her hand cupped my cheek as she said, “I am so sorry sweetheart. Perhaps this is for the best. You keep getting hurt and you never seem happy. Also, this will finally give your brother and sisters a chance to get some of your grandfather’s attention, too.”

  She said this as if I had been holding them back, as if everything I did, just so we could eek by with food and necessities, was completely selfish. As if I did not give every penny that wasn’t necessary for groceries or bills to my mother so she could throw it down into that bottomless pit she lined with gold.

  Stacy, still on my lap, sat up as obviously what my mom suggested caught her interest.

  Clara started to object, “Mother, that’s not fair—”

  My mother’s heavily made up face lighted with awe and excitement as she took in my oldest sister. “Clara, you look amazing! Oh, so much like what I looked like at your age,” she said, touching her heart with tears hovering in the corners of her eyes and threatening to ruin her eyeliner. “Every dracon in the party not related to you will want to marry you. Oh, Lorelei, Dakota and Stacy, you girls look lovely, too.” She started jumping up and down with excitement. “We’re going to see your brother and Clara and Deagan’s father tonight.”

  There was something so innocent about my mother, so naive, as though she really believed she could continue to live this existence without ever facing the consequences. Sometimes I even wondered if she was completely sane, as if she had lied so much and for so long that she could not even recognize what was reality anymore.

  She had completely convinced herself that pretending she could afford to live this way would mean that she eventually would.

  If that was not insanity, I don’t know what was.

  Soon my sisters joined my mother jumping around the room, including Stacy, who scrambled off my lap.

  Without me, they were happy chatting together, they surrounded my mother and gushed about the party. Without a comment sent my way, they left me in the room alone with my messy hair and a wrinkled dress.

  If no one wanted me, if my grandfather did not even think me worthy of acknowledging, did not want anyone to even know that I ever worked for him tirelessly for five years, and my mother thought I was an obstacle holding our family back, why was I even trying?

  I remembered the day I found out that Stacy and Lorelei weren’t eating because my mother stopped paying the public school’s breakfast and lunch fees. I was only twelve, but I had decided then and there that my family was my responsibility.

  But, what could I really do for them without work, without income? Maybe I should just thrust the responsibility back to my mother, the way she claimed she wanted me to.

  Then I remembered the twenty-one thousand dollars I needed in less than six days. I heard again in my mind, my grandfather telling me that I was lying when I said I needed my mother, and that he was tired of being taken for a fool. My grandfather always made it very clear that he only tolerated my mother, because I was his favorite grandchild but that obviously wasn’t the case anymore.

  Could I let my grandfather do to my mother what he did to humans who stole from him? I stared into my own eyes in the mirror and wondered: could I let her die?

  The answer was no, I never could. And I knew I could never leave my mother in charge of providing for my sisters either.

  I had to believe that even if my grandfather was disappointed in me, he wasn’t angry enough to sell me off to the first low-level dracon who might take an interest. I would just have to be very, very unappealing to those dracons that my grandfather would have a hard tim
e refusing. That should not be too hard.

  I half-heartedly smoothed out my hair and the wrinkles in my dress, standing to find Clara in the doorway.

  “Come on slowpoke, uncle Bradson just drove up with the van.”

  I thought that Clara was the only person besides my grandfather I had heard call Glacier by his real name, as for me ‘Bradson’ just did not make sense.

  And a wonderful thought comforted me; at least I still had Glacier.

  But I was wrong.

  When I had tried to climb in the front seat Glacier loudly asked my mother to join him in the front. Every time I tried to talk to him, he started up a conversation with my mother.

  My mother spent the entire drive not-so-subtly plying Glacier for information about Lorien: Was Lorien going to be at the party? Shouldn’t he have been invited? Why was Lorien uninvited? What type of scandal was he in?

  As Glacier drove us up the long winding road to my grandfather’s Volcano Resort, his soul grew so tense it felt like an elastic band held to its snapping point.

  No one seemed to notice Glacier’s odd behavior. Sure, his soul was visible only to me, but the man who could win ‘the most stoic man of the year award’ was being downright chatty with my mother of all people.

  This was how he was dealing with me not working for him anymore; he was going to push me away.

  Could I blame him? Not really. Glacier had been acting like my father since I lost my dad, and for all these years committed to making me the best possible soldier, and I failed him. Now, he was going to lose me, sooner or later. And there was nothing either of us could do about it.

  My grandfather was the consummate business dracon, always putting people to their best use; if I wasn’t useful as a soldier, like a dozen cousins before me, I would be useful as one of a rich dracon’s wives.

  Why would Glacier use words to say goodbye to me when I could read the detachment so plainly in his emotions.

  “Cheer up,” Clara said, embracing me in the back seat of the van as it pulled into the resort’s valet line. She caressed the side of my face. “You always act like it is the most awful thing whenever you’re asked to have fun. This will be a good time, the whole family will be here, don’t worry about money for one night.”

  “Is that what I seem like to you?” I whispered, “Someone who only thinks about money?”

  Is that who I am?

  “Of course not,” she said, “but sometimes I miss those times when you were my little sister, and not the other way around. At least, pretend you’re having fun because there is no way I can if you’re not.”

  With that heavy serving of guilt I exited the car. A hotel attendant who had opened the van door helped me out by giving me his hand.

  My grandfather had several resorts on the island, most in our ‘neck of the woods’, but his Volcano Resort was unique. His other resorts were either entirely human or catering to vampires, witches and were-animals with midnight cultural dances and all hours’ activities. His Volcano Resort was unquestionably and undeniably for dracons. The wealthiest vampires and other supernatural creatures were welcome, of course, but the dracon families seemed to have a different level of wealth than anyone else.

  I had not visited since right after I inherited my aspect. Usually these events were optional and I opted out. Also, I had been undercover as a human and no one had wanted me to blow my cover. But I guess that did not really matter anymore.

  Just from glancing around, I could tell that every valet in the vicinity was some type of were-predator in their human form, probably hired for their superior depth perception.

  Our valet was no different, his name tag read ‘Whiskers’ and he was some type of were-lynx. A were-cat with the name ‘Whiskers’? Wow, he actually changed his name to be the world’s biggest cliché.

  I hung back as my sisters rushed forward into the lobby.

  The architecture was not at all traditional Mabiian, more ancient ruins meets stucco and glass. Even though I knew there was nothing authentic about the buildings, I could not help but be mesmerized by the genius of the architecture. The building gave the feeling that you were simultaneously in open air with no obstruction to the view of the volcano, but at the same time protected from the elements. Almost floating above the open view was a series of tall ribbed gothic arches in a circle with only supportive columns on the outside. The arches looked as if they were only supported by giant ceiling fans that whirled around where columns should have been.

  The slight breeze made my loose messy hair look looser and messier.

  Glancing at the other name tags as I passed by the reception desk, I realized it must have been some type of joke. There was a werewolf named “Spot,” and one named “Bruno,” I especially liked the were-rat named “Cheddar.”

  Then I remembered.

  Bobby.

  I smiled, recalling that one of his punishments of some recent infraction was to be a weekend manager here.

  My uncle Reaves was the director of the Volcano Resort, and if he ever possessed a sense of humor, I never saw him with it.

  “Must have been Bobby,” I said.

  “What did I do?” A voice behind me said and I whirled to find Bobby, stepping out of literally nowhere and shocking me. Obviously, at the resort, he did not mind going all dracon— that must be kind of a relief. Maybe I could be punished with a job here. Yeah, like my grandfather would let me wait tables, not a chance.

  From Bobby’s wide smile he obviously delighted in shocking me. He could not usually sneak up on me unless he used his aspect and just popped into existence, I always felt his soul coming.

  He wasn’t wearing a soldier’s suit, score.

  “Tell me that you’ve been kicked off the dais as well.”

  “You seem awfully happy about it since it’s your fault,” he said, leaning toward me, but he did not really sound angry.

  I meant this in the kindest way possible: my uncle usually looked like a biker version of a ‘hired gun;’ well, I guess if you replaced the gun with a blade that’s pretty much what he was. Even though every inch of his arms and chest were covered in tattoos, his ever-present smile always ruined his otherwise ‘tough as nails’ appearance.

  But looking at Bobby now, you could not guess at any of that, he was wearing a suit, an honest to the Volcanic Gods suit. And was that hair gel?

  “What do you have in your hair?” I asked, “Is this part of your punishment?”

  Bobby did not just laugh; he bellowed a chortle that made all the valets jump.

  “No smart-ass,” he said, “The best thing to do tonight is blend in with everyone else.” The comment was weird; underneath the laughter was a kind of seriousness, like a warning. A strange ripple spread across his soul; fear, the ripple was fear, I could almost taste it. Without a waver in his smile, he said, “Let’s catch up to your sisters, I’m supposed to escort all of you ladies.” And he turned away.

  Fear was even more foreign on Bobby than it was on Glacier, I would not have even recognized it on him if it wasn’t so ripe.

  I hesitated for one more moment, watching Bobby greet my sisters and mother in the lobby. A group of women always needed a male escort to social events, outdated, I knew, but dracons were old fashioned in the worst ways.

  Bobby took my mother’s arm and the whole group turned back to me. I was holding up the party, but more than ever now I did not want to go in. What could possibly be scaring the pants off of all the scariest dracons I knew?

  Before anyone could come and drag me in, I made myself walk forward. My heels seemed to echo loudly in the lobby, clicking across the gleaming floor. Clara took my arm as I caught up with her. I let her warm, innocent soul soothe me.

  The Volcano Resort’s Reception Center was usually reserved for weddings or small private concerts for the super-rich. If the outside was a confused mix of modern meets classical architecture, the reception area took this idea to a new level. It had not changed in a single detail since I had last stood
beside my grandfather on the dais which rose from one side. I had been eleven and wore pigtails and a dress more girly than Stacy’s.

  The interior was a giant dome surrounded on all sides with clear acrylic columns. Within the columns were relief-statues of the one hundred and three immortal dragon kings. My great-grandfather, Pax, the dragon king of trickery was in there. Braiden McCormick’s Dragon father, Farris, King of the Dacain Dragons, was there as well; Farris basically looked like a giant werewolf with wings.

  When you glanced around the circular space, the transparent dragons gave an ethereal haunted feeling; as if they were creatures of mist, never quite solidifying. The sculptures seemed to move in their clear pillars, as though they were always watching you. The black marble walls shined to the degree that they almost looked like walls made of mirrors.

  The interior was packed with dracons.

  No one could ever say that my grandfather did not do his duty to his dragon father, and there were only two real duties: produce lots of powerful babies and take as much power as you could hold. My grandfather had fifty-three living sons and more than as many daughters. The island chain practically wasn’t big enough to contain my first and second cousins, there were more than five hundred; this was how, without the need to travel, my grandfather ruled the entire Mabiian Island chain.

  If my whole family scrunched into this reception center, we would barely be able to move. Also my grandfather would never bring us all together; it would be a stupid move. That would be tantamount to leaving the battlements unmanned because being a dracon means you’re always defending your territory from anyone who wasn’t directly blood related or allied by marriage. My grandfather just invited selective family members, seemingly at random.

  Yeah, sure.

  Also invited to this event were some of the wealthiest and most influential dracons who either lived on the island chain or were visiting the islands. Thankfully, I did not recognize any of the dracons I passed who were not part of my family; that would be awkward, ‘oh, hi, yep that was me who threatened to suck out your soul. Wanna dance?’