Hybrid: A Shadowmark Origins Novel

by T. M. Catron

  He smiled. “I believe so.”

  “We will make it legal when we get back to England,” Toral said. “But as much as my family would not approve of this marriage, they would be even more ashamed of me if I were to run off to another country with a man who was not my husband.”

  She even had me convinced. I half-expected a brother or father to burst through the doors and protest the ceremony.

  You killed the man who said he was her brother.

  I pushed the thought aside and took her hand. The pastor called in his family to witness—his wife, two young boys, and a teenage girl. We said vows. No rings, no elaborate show.

  And then we left. I laughed a little as we walked back to the Jeep, Toral’s arm in mine.

  She beamed and said, “Share the joke.”

  “There isn’t one, except that I’m afraid.”

  “Cold feet already?”

  “Ha. No, that you’ll wake up tomorrow and regret this.”

  “Do you think I’m just basing everything on my emotions?”

  I opened the passenger door for her and scanned the area to make sure no one was watching. “Quite possibly.”

  “You would be right,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not a sound decision.”

  I turned to her in surprise. “How do you know?”

  “I just do. Have you ever done anything on just instinct and it turned out alright?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about right now?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I feel the same way. Maybe you’re more human than you’ve ever given yourself credit for, Morse.”

  I took her to a nice restaurant for dinner, maybe the last expensive meal we’d have for a little while until we figured out how we were going to survive in hiding. With my mind on Toral, I didn’t eat much.

  Later at the hotel, we lay in bed with the sliding door cracked open to let in the ocean breeze and the last ray of sunshine. Toral slept with her head on my chest, her hair cascading down behind her. Tired and happy, I wanted to doze too, but years of conditioning had eliminated that possibility if the door was open. And yet I didn’t want to move her just yet.

  When Toral had seen the adarre on my bare chest, I had seen the questions rise in her mind. But she’d kept them to herself, instead opting to kiss the circular symbols. As a result, I’d discovered that physical contact with my adarre allowed the transmission to humans. Suddenly, the pieces fell into place—Armelle complaining about seeing the danger, Toral insisting she felt afraid in Paris. I’d never been close enough to a human to realize it before.

  I didn’t say anything about it then but made sure to close off any thoughts I had while we made love. It seemed to work. If Toral noticed anything, she didn’t mention it.

  Another hotel guest walked by outside, his shadow crossing the doorway, but his proximity was not close enough to be suspicious. Even though the room was dark, I instinctively pulled the sheet up to my chest. Toral stirred.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  She mumbled something in response.

  “What? Didn’t catch that.”

  “I’m not awake enough yet.”

  I smiled and shifted her over so I could get up. I closed the door, locked it, and pulled the curtain. The room turned very dark, but I didn’t have any trouble seeing her lying there. She opened her eyes.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do I have to go by Mrs. Morse?”

  “What about Mrs. Smith?”

  “Oh yeah. The passport. Did you plan all this?” she teased.

  “Yes,” I teased. "I planned on marrying you before we even left France. Wouldn’t hurt to get the passport changed, though.”

  “I don’t want to think about that right now.”

  “That’s okay. We can change the subject if you want,” I said, sliding back into bed.

  The next morning, we checked out of the hotel. I didn’t dare dip into hybrid accounts now in case someone noticed I wasn’t in France. I had pulled a substantial sum before we boarded the train. It would last a while, not forever.

  “How long?” Toral asked on our way to look at a house we could rent. She opened a bottle of water and took a sip.

  “A year, maybe eighteen months.”

  Toral sputtered. “I thought you said you didn’t have much.”

  “It’s not much. What’ll we do when it runs out?”

  “I think we’ve got time to decide, don’t you?”

  The house was just down the beach—small, one room, more like a budget vacation cottage than a house. It turned out to be exactly that. Toral spoke with the man who owned it. He was tired of renting it out a week or two at a time and was happy we wanted it for an extended period.

  We didn’t need a beach house, but I’d grown accustomed to sleeping near the water. It reminded me of Marseille. It wasn’t going to be permanent, anyway. I had ideas of disappearing into a more populous area like Mumbai or Kolkata. But I hadn’t broached the subject with Toral yet.

  We moved in, hiding our guns under floorboards, the mattress, cabinets, and beside the toilet. No one would get in without getting blown back out again with a chest full of hollow-point ammunition. I’d even stashed a hybrid charge stick beneath the bed. It resembled dynamite, but no one except a hybrid could detonate it.

  The next few days were happy, if awkward. I’d never had time off before. After the first day, I drove Toral crazy looking for something to do. She suggested I go buy a laptop and set up a secure network inside the house.

  It took me two days to get everything the way I wanted it. Then I was bored again. So, I set up a secure perimeter for the house as well—a series of silent alarms if anyone tried to get within ten meters of our dwelling. Outdoor cameras covered every angle.

  We drilled each other on evacuation routes in case someone found us. The chance for using them was remote, but both of us were paranoid enough to recognize the need.

  Our morning swims were my favorite part of the day. With the large hotels a kilometer away, the beach was semi-private. Toral swam very well, now wearing a bathing suit. I followed her out into the warm water, wearing swim trunks and a t-shirt.

  She stopped to tread water, and I pulled her toward me for a kiss. “I love you,” she said.

  “If you really loved me, you’d forget everything I ever told you about not being human.”

  “Do you regret telling me?”

  I smiled. “I regret that I doubted it.”

  The next few weeks were happy. My injuries healed. Toral had moments of sadness—grieving for her lost friend and lost life. I began to sympathize with how she felt even if I didn’t understand it fully. Some days, if I tried very hard, I could forget that we were on the run. That Emerson-Wright and the CIA were looking for us. That my masters were discovering my betrayal. They would summon me as soon as they realized I was gone.

  33

  Nameless

  Three weeks after Toral and I married, I began dreaming about Condar’s summons. I was walking down a narrow street of vendors selling vegetables, on my way to meet Toral. The force of the summons hit me like the stone wall had collapsed on my chest. I staggered to the right, my hand finding the wall for support. A merchant looked at me curiously. I looked closer at him—he was Charan. He pointed his finger at me with sad, angry eyes. Then Condar swooped me out of the street into the sky.

  When I woke in the dark, Toral was lying beside me, the waves crashed on the beach, and my adarre didn’t ache. No—they wouldn’t get me that way. They wouldn’t risk the aether being seen.

  Not until the invasion. It was everything. And I realized my plan to hide out in a populous city would have to be carefully timed. If we didn’t get out before the invasion, we’d be caught in it. Instead of Charan leading Toral through the burning streets, it would be me. And I wouldn’t be able to get her out, either.

  “I have a plan,” I told Toral later that afternoon.

>   “For what?”

  “Emerson-Wright’s plan, actually. We need to find a safe place to prepare for the invasion. And Goa isn’t it.”

  Toral narrowed her eyes at me. “I thought you said nothing could be done.”

  “Not for the whole world, no. But two people could slip through the cracks.”

  Toral stood. “Where do you suggest?”

  “There are plenty of places to hide in the Himalayas.”

  “And then what?”

  “We could scout out a spot.”

  “And then what?”

  “Make sure it’s secure and hidden, slowly stock it.” I was already running through scenarios in my head—what type of food to store, what weapons to take. A bow and arrow would be good. Or a crossbow. Both would be better than guns.

  “Then what?” Toral asked darkly.

  I paused the plans in my head. “What do you mean?”

  “What happens after we survive? Will we be the only two humans left on Earth?”

  “Only one human,” I smirked, trying to lighten her mood.

  She frowned even further. “I’m not sure I want to be the last human on Earth.”

  “Well, there are bound to be some people. The Condarri don’t need all of them to be dead, just most of them, scattered and starving so they can’t interfere.”

  “Then we’ll have to fight the remaining humans for everything we have. We’ll be cavemen, hiding from other cavemen and the alien predators outside our door.”

  I walked over to her and pulled her close. “Give me some credit. We’d be hiding in a good spot.”

  Toral took a deep breath. “I don’t want to do that.”

  “You don’t want to live?”

  “I want to live, but not in that way.”

  I let her go. Something moved through my chest and fluttered around there like a wounded bird. What was it? It hurt. I wanted to ask her what emotion it was but couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  “I’m sorry, Morse.”

  Her eyes had tears in them. As I watched, one of them slid down her cheek. I reached up to brush it away. The bird in my chest settled on my heart, ominous and heavy.

  “Then we’ll just stay here,” I whispered. “We still have time.”

  Toral nodded and hugged me tightly, her head on my chest. I desperately tried to shoo the bird away so she wouldn’t feel it too. But I couldn’t manage it. She didn’t act like she felt it.

  Maybe she had the same feeling in her chest.

  Another week passed, and we returned to happier discussions. But the weight persisted, the bird fluttering around again whenever I had a moment to think. When the Condarri came, I imagined just sitting in the house, waiting for death. For most of my life, that would have satisfied me, but not now. Now that I had someone to live for, death was no longer welcome.

  One morning, I woke earlier than usual. My eyes shot open as if I’d detected a threat in my sleep. The house was quiet. A twinge ran across my adarre. Had I been dreaming of Condar? No, I hadn’t.

  I listened a while longer. When nothing unusual happened, and I didn’t feel anything else, I allowed myself to relax. My thoughts ran to my conversation with Toral the week before.

  She might change her mind. When the end came, what would we do about it then? I quietly began to plan an escape anyway. When the time came, I’d have a plan. And maybe when faced with the reality of her death, Toral would want to run away from it, after all.

  I spent days walking around the city, finding stores that sold heavier clothing for hikers and backpackers. I purchased two large backpacks and filled them with items for a cross-country trek. I hid them in the house under the bed. If Toral saw them, I’d tell her I was planning a trip for us. It wasn’t a bad idea, anyway, to make a practice run north.

  A week after our conversation, I entered a stall that sold souvenirs for tourists. It wasn’t my usual stop, but I’d been out running all morning and needed water. As I drank, I ran through the escape route in my head. On my almost daily runs, I’d been mapping the city for myself, ingraining its streets and alleys into my mind. When the invasion came, maybe I could still get us out.

  My adarre ached. I rubbed it, suddenly on edge. But no summons. Then a spike of pain shot through my skin. It wasn’t like the brick wall that sat on my chest whenever Condar contacted me. It was different—more like the adarria, the writings of Condar, speaking to me. I’d grown up surrounded by them.

  But there were no adarria around here. And I hadn’t heard what they were saying. That had never happened before.

  My phone beeped. I dug it out of my pants pocket. The display said one thing, an alert sent directly from the house’s security system:

  INTRUDER

  Toral was at home.

  I dropped my water and ran. It couldn’t be a coincidence—the message and the connection to my adarre.

  Five minutes. I was five minutes from home.

  I ran faster, not caring who saw me. So fast my lungs burned. I knocked a few people over in the street, cursing at them to get out of my way.

  Toral was home.

  Someone was there with her.

  Four minutes.

  I pulled out my phone and called hers, turning down an alley for a shortcut. She didn’t answer. I called again as I vaulted over a fence. Still no answer. Terror ballooned inside me.

  Morse. The voice in my head was strange. A hybrid female’s. I didn’t recognize it, and it made me run faster than I’d ever thought possible.

  Three minutes.

  My adarre twitched again. Traitor, the voice said, familiar and yet strange.

  I didn’t dare answer. People stared at me as I passed them in the street.

  Two minutes.

  I shot out onto the road that led to the beach. Tiny houses lined the lane. Panting, I stopped and looked around at the fences and palm trees where anyone could be hiding. An ambush was likely. I slipped to the left and ran again between homes and cars. Dogs barked at me as I invaded their territories. The going was slower now, but I would be no use to Toral if I were dead.

  I came out on the beach south of our house. Now I had no cover, but I could see the house up the beach. It looked normal. Forcing myself to walk along the beach like a tourist, I called Toral’s phone again.

  “Morse?” she answered. Her voice was calm and steady.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, almost collapsing as the adrenaline stopped rushing through my body. “Why didn’t you answer my call?”

  “The security alarm was triggered. I’ve been checking it out. Why are you out of breath?”

  “You didn’t friggin answer the phone!” I shouted.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Get out of there! NOW. Marseille!”

  She was silent a second, then, “Someone’s here.”

  Then the call went dead.

  My heart beat out of my chest as I resumed running up the beach. The house was in view. It drew closer in slow motion, the distance to it deceptively close.

  No.

  No.

  NO.

  Toral.

  You can’t help her if you’re dead.

  Just outside of sniper range, I slid back up to the street, taking advantage of the meager cover the other houses provided. With one code on my phone, I disabled the security alarm.

  When I reached the drive, I crept up behind the Jeep, listening. Nothing. No voices. No sound of a struggle. And I hadn’t heard a gunshot.

  A good hybrid won’t use a gun.

  Using the Jeep as cover, I slid away from the front door. The house only had one window on this side—placed high on the wall looking into the bedroom. The blind was open. We always kept it closed. Had Toral opened it as a warning?

  I unsheathed my knife, wielding it in my left hand, my gun in my right. Slowly I eased up above the sill, to the side so I could look into the room. A tall, powerful, brown-haired woman stood beside the computer facing away from me, watching the security program. She would be l
istening for me as well. I didn’t doubt she was the hybrid who had called me a traitor. She stood firmly in the middle of the room, the knife in her hand still wet with blood.

  Blood.

  I dragged my eyes away from the knife, sweeping them around the room until I saw Toral lying on the bed. An impossibly large pool of blood seeped into the mattress around her. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, unseeing. Her chest didn’t move.

  All the air flew out of my lungs. I slid down the siding of the house, sinking onto the gravel. If the hybrid found me now, I wouldn’t have the wits to fight her. And I didn’t care. She might even have sensed me already—smelled me, heard my heartbeat.

  Was my heart still beating?

  The bird that had fluttered around in my chest returned as a dragon. Dark and dangerous, it sat on my heart, breathing black fire.

  The pain was so intense that I doubled over in anguish. A gasp and then a groan of despair escaped from somewhere deep in my belly.

  The front door opened. Footsteps crunched on the walk. The female hybrid rounded the side of the house, stopping as she spotted me. I didn’t have the strength to stand up to meet her.

  “Traitor,” she said faintly. Then she smiled. Short, brown hair. High cheekbones. A strong jaw but delicate mouth. She was beautiful. Calla. The hybrid who had beaten me to a pulp the night I landed at the warehouse in Germany.

  The dragon roared. I sprang from my seat, launching myself at her and pulling the trigger. The gun fired, but she was ready for me, whipping around to grasp my arm. She was strong, much stronger than I. The gun flew from my hands. And then I realized: she wasn’t here to kill me but to turn me in to Condar.

  No. I’m not going back. I slashed at her with my knife. Calla sidestepped me and let go, eyeing me warily. Her eyes held no fear, though. She was toying with me. Again.

  I wanted nothing but to go in and get Toral’s body. But that wasn’t going to happen. So, I focused my anger onto the hybrid standing before me.

  “Condar wants you,” she said.

  “Who sent you?”

  “Doyle.”

  No. The realization hit me like I’d fallen out of a plane without a parachute. Doyle wouldn't do that to me.