by J. D. Monroe
The narrow drive led to a fenced-in tarmac. A white jet was parked there, with its boarding stairs still at the open door. Several figures gathered at the bottom of the stairs.
A woman stepped forward, directing her to turn and park the car. Someone opened her door and took her arm. It was Nikolaus. He wore a dour expression. “Let’s get going,” he said.
Nice to see you too, she thought, extricating her arm from his grasp. She was tired of people manhandling her.
Nikolaus pointed to two women waiting at the foot of the stairs. One of them was Noemi, the dragon female who’d been on duty at the Forest House with her. Her eyes skated away from Marlena’s. “Eyes on the sky. She may have been followed.”
“Yes, sir,” Noemi said. She promptly slipped out of her dress and transformed in the shadow cast by the plane. Her bronze-scaled form disappeared in a shimmering mirage.
Nikolaus walked briskly toward the plane, and Marlena followed. She’d never been on the private plane. She wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or scared about what it meant. The interior was pleasantly cool, with the cozy, dim lighting of a cocktail lounge. Just past the cockpit was a sitting area with long beige benches that were a bit too stiff to qualify as couches. Nikolaus pointed to the closest bench and said, “Sit.”
She bristled at the brusque command, but she sat down and folded her hands in her lap. A few minutes later, they were in the air, without the usual fuss of a safety announcement like on a commercial flight.
Nikolaus emerged from another room with two bottles of water and handed her one. He sat on the bench across from her and fixed her with a stern stare. “Do you need anything else?”
She took a tentative sip of the water. Between flying through the desert on Velati’s back and the sheer adrenaline of her escape, her mouth was parched. “Honestly, a shower and some sleep in a real bed. It was—”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to know the story right now. We’re heading home. Mr. Lang and Ms. DeRode will speak to you there.”
She froze with water still pooled on her tongue. It took a considerable effort to swallow before she asked, “Mr. Lang?” Rainer Lang oversaw Haven. He and Arianna DeRode comprised two of the three key figures who answered directly to Master Sidran. A meeting with both of them could be very bad for her. At the very least, Arianna had to tell Lang that Marlena had held off the Kadirai incursion long enough for her to escape safely. That had to count for something. “So he sent the plane? Were you waiting for me?”
Nikolaus sighed. “Relax and get some rest. We’ll talk back in Haven.”
“Well, I’m curious. Is Arianna all right?”
“Enough questions,” he snapped. “I’ve been dealing with the fallout of your failures for days. I don’t have the patience for this.”
“My failures?”
“Yes, your failures,” he said. “You had very specific orders. Wipe the drive and blow the house. You failed on both counts, and decades of sensitive information are now in their hands. We’ve been chasing our tails non-stop ever since.”
“My…you left me there alone,” she said. “There were four of them.”
He raised his eyebrow. “I thought you could handle it, Aesdar. Clearly I was wrong.”
Her belly churned with a mix of shame and anger. She’d been fucking stabbed. Multiple times. Locked up in a cell, practically starved, threatened with torture. And she’d gotten herself out of it, hadn’t she?
And this pompous asshole, this walking ego in an expensive suit who had run away and left her to fight in his place, he had the nerve to…
Calm, child, she could almost hear Catrina saying. Her emotions were getting away from her. The fire in her chest swelled. She could reach out and bend Nikolaus’s mind like putty right this second. Tell him to kiss her sand-filled shoes. But she resisted, instead averting her eyes to look out the window so she wouldn’t be tempted.
Maybe Velati had been right. He’d told her that the Chosen didn’t give a damn about her. Catrina had taught her that they were family, but this wasn’t how family acted. She felt like a tool to them, and one that had malfunctioned, apparently. Now the question was whether they would try to repair her or dispose of her.
It was still dark when the jet landed at the private airstrip in eastern Texas. Nervous anticipation thrummed in her chest as they debarked the plane and split into two waiting SUVs. Instead of the relief of coming home after a long trip, she felt only dread as the driver turned down the winding road toward Haven.
You belong here, Marlena reminded herself. This is home.
The Haven compound was a luxurious campus of red brick buildings around a small lake, with a sprawling mansion at its center. High stone walls surrounded its perimeter, with two well-armed security guards manning a booth at the end of the private drive.
The small caravan parked in front of the main building. Immediately, Chosen initiates approached from the front steps to open the doors. In lieu of uniforms, they all wore neat business attire with a splash of red—neatly knotted neckties, artfully tied scarves—and a silver pin depicting a pair of outstretched wings.
Dry, warm air greeted her as one of the initiates opened the door for her. Marlena slid out, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. Nikolaus walked ahead of her, and she followed him silently inside.
The minimally furnished interior of the main building felt sterile and cold. As she passed a mirror, she was struck by her haggard, disheveled appearance. Blood splattered the side of her throat. She looked atrocious. All the better to see Mr. Lang, who was only the most powerful member of the Chosen after Sidran.
Surrounded in glass windows, the conference room was filled with bright, warm light. Rainer Lang sat at the head of the table. On his left was his assistant, a young man named Phil. Next to Phil was Arianna, looking polished and well-dressed as always. At his right was Catrina Savas, Marlena’s trainer. The older woman gave her a curt nod, but her pale face betrayed no emotion.
For her part, Marlena wasn’t sure if seeing Catrina’s face was a comfort or simply adding another handful of squirming worms to the roiling knot in her belly. In her training, it was Catrina’s dark eyes that glared down at her as her head throbbed, her bones aching from a hard blow. It was Catrina’s voice that barked, “Get up!” with no sweet hint of mercy. But it was also Catrina who sat at her side, wiping the sweat from her burning skin in the aftermath of one of the marking rituals. If anyone could vouch for her loyalty, it would be Catrina. And if anyone would be devastatingly disappointed in her failures, it was Catrina.
“Please sit,” Mr. Lang said. Just over six feet tall, he was a middle-aged man with short-cropped dark hair. His frame was strong, though there was a hint of softness around his belly. There was no softness in his shark-like eyes, staring without blinking. He’d dropped in to watch her train with Catrina, but she preferred to keep a polite distance and avoid unnecessary attention from Mr. Lang.
One of the initiates pulled out the seat at the opposite end of the table for Marlena. She sank into the soft leather seat, eyes fixed on a knot in the polished wooden table. The distance made her feel like a lab specimen under observation.
“I hear you’ve had an interesting few days,” Lang said, breaking the uneasy silence.
“Yes sir,” she said. “It happened so—”
“Quiet,” he said. His harsh rebuke sent a chill down her spine. “Raise your eyes. Be respectful.” She sat up and met his cool gaze. “I will ask you questions, and you will answer. Did you follow procedure in deleting the hard drives and initiating the destruction protocol at Lab B?”
Her throat clenched. “I started the process. It was stopped before completion.”
“How?”
“One of the Kadirai attacked me,” she said.
“One of them should be no match for you, therefore that answer is unacceptable,” he replied. “What happened?”
Indignation dug hot claws into her belly. He was sitting here in the safety of Haven,
while she was out there nearly getting killed for him. Who did he think he was? “It wasn’t just one. There were four. Only one of them made it down to the basement. I was trying to put him down with the Elegy and he stabbed me, knocked me unconscious, and stopped the backup.”
“And what about the destruction protocol?” Arianna asked. “That should have been your first priority.”
“I started it,” Marlena said. “He must have canceled it.”
Arianna’s dark eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring slightly like she smelled the deceit. “This is most unfortunate.”
“He was a lot stronger than I anticipated,” Marlena said. “If I hadn’t been alone it might have been a different story. But he was one of the Arik’tazhan.”
Rainer’s eyes widened, and he exchanged a glance with Arianna. “You’re sure?”
“He said they called him the Cold Death,” she replied. “You know who he is?”
“We know,” Arianna said. “And he’s at Skyward Rest now?”
She nodded. “He’s working with them. At the moment, he’s at the Stormcrest Gate.” As soon as the words tumbled out, she regretted them. It made no sense, but she didn’t want them to know about Velati. Maybe it was a lingering effect of protecting him in Ascavar, but she still wanted to keep him safe.
Rainer’s cool gaze was fixed on her. “Did you tell them anything that could have been used against us?”
“No,” she said firmly.
“Do not lie,” Catrina said. “We need to know exactly what was said. We’ll be angrier if we have to find out on our own.”
“I didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know.”
The woman’s gaze sharpened. “I’m asking nicely as a courtesy. Don’t throw it away.”
The words were an eerie reflection of the ones Rosak and Velati had thrown her way. But Catrina was supposed to be on her side. Her fear was hardening into anger now. It was becoming volatile, threatening to overflow in a furious outburst. She wanted food. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to wash the dried blood off her skin. “They asked about the subjects. I said they were criminals.”
Rainer’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because he tried to make me think you were lying to me,” Marlena said. Better not to mention that he’d done a damn good job of convincing her. “I also told them about Lab A. Only because I knew they’d already taken it.”
“Did you get any information on what they were planning?”
“They wanted to know what our plan is. I told him I didn’t know. He was more interested in getting me to turn. And I didn’t. I told him enough to make him trust me so he’d let me out of that cell long enough to get out. Obviously it worked.”
Arianna raised an eyebrow at the obviously. “We’ll see.”
Marlena sucked a sharp breath through her nose, clamping her lips tight so she didn’t retort. Arianna was sitting here because she distracted Velati long enough to let her escape. Rainer never even left the compound for operations. None of them would have lasted ten seconds with Velati.
“I’ll have a talk with our insiders,” Lang said. “Once we can vouch for her story, we’ll discuss how we move forward.”
“Do you not believe me?”
Like she hadn’t spoken, Catrina turned to Phil. “Call for someone to take her to the Hall of Rest. I’ll be there shortly.”
“I’m not—”
“You will go, or this discussion will continue in a manner that will be far more stressful for you,” Lang said. A chill prickled down her spine at the threat. He fixed a bland smile on his face. “Unless you’d prefer that, please leave us in peace.”
The Hall of Rest was a squat brick building in the northeast corner of the compound. Eight rooms comprised the austere building. Each small room contained a narrow bed, a writing desk, and a thick plate glass window overlooking the lake. With a picturesque view and a decent mattress on the bed, it was a step up from her cell at Skyward Rest but not by much.
She let out a wordless shout of anger as she paced the cold tile floor. She hadn’t expected a Welcome Home Marlena! banner across the front door, but something besides accusations and suspicion would have been nice. Maybe a thanks for getting impaled by ice so I could get away unscathed from Arianna. Or good job manipulating the two-hundred-year-old warrior long enough to escape from Catrina.
Haven should have been a place of comfort and peace. But all she could hear was Velati’s stupid voice in her head.
Who are you making it better for?
She had spent many days in the recuperation rooms. When Lang had given his blessing for her to begin the process of ascension, she began a long series of rituals to prepare even before the first tattoo was etched onto her skin. Some rituals were simple like long, repetitive recitations of prayers to Vystus. Others involved injections of elixir to see if her body could withstand its effects. And once they had begun marking her skin, the real challenge had begun. Each session took days to complete, which left her ill and exhausted for weeks. Each time, she was brought to one of these rooms to recover.
Catrina had told her at first that the isolation would let her reflect without being disturbed, but after they’d finished the third and final day of tattooing her right leg, Catrina admitted the truth. When the door swung open for an apprentice to bring her a simple dinner of hot tea and broth – easy on a churning stomach – Marlena had heard the agonized cries of a male voice echoing down the hall. Glass shattered, then a final scream trailed into eerie silence. She didn’t see the grisly aftermath, but Catrina had grimly confirmed that Torin, another trainee, was too weak to survive the ritual. If not for his isolation, he might have hurt someone else.
“But not you,” Catrina had said, eyes creasing with warm pride. “You’re too strong for that.”
Still, the sound of Torin’s cries had never entirely left her memory. In the dark of night, his screams echoed in the hidden place where her doubts dwelled. She’d thought Torin was strong. What was his fatal weakness? Perhaps someday, Vystus would find her wanting, as well.
She sighed and peeled off her sweat-soaked shirt. There was nothing she could do to put her fears to rest at the moment, but she could take a shower at her own pace for the first time in days. Beneath the blistering hot water, she took her time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin clean. Blood trickled over her body, turning the water pink as it drained away.
The now-closed wound on her belly stung anew under the hot spray, but it had already begun to smooth over, with the crimson lines rising through the new pink skin like blood seeping through a towel. She’d come through the battle on Velati’s back mostly unscathed, though her hips ached from straddling the huge dragon and the unexpected crash landing. A smirk crossed her face. If the circumstances were different, she’d have gotten a good laugh out of telling a male companion she’d ridden him until her legs hurt.
And if the circumstances were different…she certainly wouldn’t have minded going to bed with Velati. She knew he looked incredible naked, and he was probably a hell of a lover. Aggressive but thorough, she imagined. A pleasant warmth ignited between her legs at the thought of his hands exploring her, intent on pleasure rather than pain.
There was a knock on the door while she rinsed her hair. She froze, cheeks flushing as her imagination went wild. “Marlena?” Catrina’s voice called.
“One minute,” she said. As she stepped out of the shower, the door swung open. She hurried to grab a towel, but Catrina grabbed her wrist and blocked her path.
“What happened?” Her gaze drifted down to Marlena’s hip. So much for privacy.
“Ice dragon.” She yanked her wrist away and grabbed a towel from a shelf on the wall, wrapping it around her body.
“It healed very well,” Catrina said. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much,” Marlena said. “I’m fine.”
Catrina held up a bundle of clothes. “I brought something from your quarters. Mr. Lang recommended you rest here for the next fe
w days.”
Marlena accepted the bundle, then stepped back into the bathroom. A pair of wash-worn black leggings and an oversized gray top had been folded into a flowy red cardigan, along with a bra and underwear. She dressed quickly, eyes still tracing the empty place on her chest where the final marks would go if she was found worthy.
If.
It didn’t seem Mr. Lang thought she was worthy, but she wasn’t sure she wanted Mr. Lang’s approval anymore. The traitorous thought froze her and she tried to shove it away, as if Catrina would hear her it if she thought it too loudly.
Catrina sat at the writing desk, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled into a tight bun. Not a single hair dared stray from the flawless style. The older woman’s expression was inscrutable. Marlena had learned that very little made her smile, though it didn’t stop her from eagerly trying to gain her approval. “You look much better.”
“What did he decide?” she asked.
“Mr. Lang is unsure but has chosen to give you a chance to prove yourself.”
“And you?”
Catrina didn’t smile, but her eyebrows lifted slightly. “I know you, child. I know your loyalty. I had no doubt. The time for the final ritual is almost here.”
Her heart banged against her ribs. “Really?”
Catrina nodded. “You and several of the others are ready. Master Sidran himself will be coming in a week to oversee the ritual personally. When it is over, you will finally ascend.”
Sidran would be here. For her. Her pulse quickened. How could it be happening so soon? “Even with the Kadirai attacking us?”
“Especially with them attacking us,” Catrina said. “You will be needed, more than ever. They attack us with such small forces and small ideas. They are not prepared for the might you will possess.” She tilted her head. “I shouldn’t tell you this. Never mind.”
“What?”
Her gaze flitted toward the door. “Mr. Lang sounded like he might withhold his approval for you to undergo the ritual. I insisted that you were trustworthy, but he is paranoid about your time with the Kadirai. You must convince him of your loyalty.”