Nine Lives of Chloe King

by Liz Braswell

  It was a good thing she’d done that, too, since a few minutes later she was trying to scream and they had a gag over her mouth and there was a big, sleek car like out of the movies and she was taken away into darkness.

  “Mrs. King,” someone was saying gently, trying to wake her up more.

  “Anna,” she corrected instantly, in lawyer mode. She blinked a few times before managing to keep her eyes open. Someone had thoughtfully taken her glasses when they kidnapped her and had put them on her when she was passed out.

  The room came into focus after a couple of moments of blurriness. She was in an office or a library, nicely appointed with a thick wool rug and big mahogany desk. A man was leaning back on it, almost sitting, legs crossed. He was a large man, middle-aged and white, with a sleek patience in his eyes that Anna the lawyer instantly recognized as a direct result of having money and/or power. He was dressed in a suit without the jacket, his tie loosened.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked politely.

  She opened her mouth to tell him precisely how she was feeling, but nothing came out, like she had used up all her speech with her name before. “Water,” was all she managed to croak instead.

  “Of course.” He turned to look at someone blocked from her view by the side of her chair—she had begun to think of it as her chair—and made a little motion with his hands. Quiet footsteps went off to do his bidding, no questions asked. Money and power, she decided.

  A moment later someone handed him a glass of ice water. He came forward, and just when Anna was afraid he was going to feed her, he unlatched her left arm and let her take the glass herself. She didn’t drain it instantly; this was not a time to show weakness. Instead she took polite, demure little sips, as though she were at a dinner party.

  “Is that better?” the man asked.

  “Where’s my daughter?” she countered.

  “What?” the man said with wry amusement. “You don’t think she’s at her friend Keira’s house?”

  “What have you done with my daughter?” Anna repeated.

  “We haven’t done anything, Anna. Although Chloe is in a lot of trouble—she has fallen in with a bad crowd and has been involved in a murder.”

  The doubt that flashed through Anna King’s mind registered nowhere on her face. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Well, I’m afraid she has.” The man sighed, crossing his arms. “One of my friends—one of my colleagues—is dead because of her.”

  “You keep not saying that she killed him,” Anna noted, sounding exactly like the attorney that she was. “’Involved in a murder’ and ’dead because of.’”

  The man laughed, and his full, jowly chin shook a little. His voice was rich and beautiful, and every time he used it, Chloe’s mother hated him more. “You are absolutely correct, of course; this is not a black-and-white world. We have no actual proof that my friend is dead.”

  “Why am I here,” Anna said wearily, “and where is Chloe?”

  “Chloe is with her new friends, most likely. To make a long story as short as possible, Mrs. Ki—Anna—your daughter’s biological family is from a long line of … well, I guess you could call them warriors of a sort, or maybe a hunting caste—more than anachronistic in this day and age. Anyway, her people want her back. We have reason to believe they contacted her about a month ago and are fairly certain she is with them now.”

  Anna stared at him for a long moment before speaking. Even though she was the one tied to a chair, with her blondish hair coming out in wisps around her cockeyed glasses, she didn’t feel like she was the ridiculous one in the room.

  “Do you mean to tell me that some crazy ancient Russian Mafia wants Chloe to join them like her parents did?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “If you care so very much about my daughter’s welfare, why aren’t you talking to the police or to me on the phone instead of kidnapping me and tying me to a chair?”

  “Well, that brings us to your first question, doesn’t it?” The man uncrossed his legs and put his arms behind him, supporting himself on the desk. “You are here because the Mai are extremely dangerous. In situations that have occurred before, with adoptive children of American parents, they have been known to kill the parents to ensure complete loyalty of the child and to cut off all connections with the rest of the world.”

  “And again, why do you care?”

  “The Mai don’t play by normal rules—they are like a gang, but far worse. Very much like the mob you mentioned. My organization exists to protect the public from them. To limit their influence. Hopefully one day to destroy them completely.”

  “How charitable of you.”

  “My wife was killed trying to save someone from the Mai,” he said softly. “I don’t want you or anyone else suffering the same fate.”

  Both were silent for a moment. The corners of the room were obscured in gloom, and there were no windows. She was someplace secret, dark, and impossible to find. Mrs. King felt like squirming, both from his gaze and from sitting still for so long, never mind how comfortable the chair was. She didn’t, though. “Why am I”—she pulled at her right arm—“still tied to the chair if you’re just trying to protect me?”

  “Anna, if we had come to your house and told you what I just did, would you have come quietly along with us?”

  He did have a point.

  “It was imperative to get you out of your house as soon as possible, as quietly as possible. Any one of a number of things may happen next—someone, a hit man from the Mai, may be sent in to kill you—or Chloe herself might try to sneak out and visit you, encouraging them to have you killed, even if they hadn’t decided to before. Remember, they want complete control of their members’ lives. I’m sorry about any unpleasantness, but this really was the easiest way. Now we can keep you safe while seeing what can be done about Chloe.”

  “Will you release me?”

  “Yes—but I’m afraid we’re going to have to keep you confined for a time. In a much nicer room than this,” he added quickly and apologetically. “The temptation for you to leave and try to find your daughter would be far too great.”

  So let me get this straight. The “good guys” are holding me captive so I can’t get hurt seeing my daughter, who is being held captive by the bad guys who don’t want her out seeing her mother.

  “What is going to happen to Chloe? Can you”— save sounded too melodramatic—“get her?”

  “Of course.” But there was something in his face, a slightly surprised look, as though he had already dismissed Chloe and her fate. As though Anna herself and her safety were all that mattered now. He probably considers her one of “them” now. Chloe will get no help here.

  “Who are you people?” she demanded, half sarcastically.

  “I’m afraid I—”

  “Can’t tell me that either. Yeah, of course.”

  “You can call me Whit,” the man offered.

  Anna had every intention of escaping as soon as she saw a way. She might not return home; she agreed with her captor that would be a pretty dangerous thing to do. But she would go immediately to the police and call the cult hodine and tell them about everyone.

  Twenty

  Chloe Was Still sitting on the floor, head in her hands, when Brian came in.

  “It’s all my fault,” she said miserably.

  He knelt down and she buried her face in his shoulder. “It is not your fault.”

  She shook her head, trying to wipe the tears away.

  “We should leave here soon,” Brian said as calmly as he could. “I gave the members of the Order who were patrolling here false tips that you were seen at Pateena’s. But it’s only going to be a few minutes before they get there and figure out that it was a trick.” She nodded and sniffed. He stood up and looked around. “Are you sure she’s gone?”

  Chloe nodded again, wiping her face and pointing to the bowl of hummus.

  “O … kay …,” Brian said, raising his ey
ebrows. “Your mom is certainly a … resourceful woman.”

  Chloe tried to smile. She felt embarrassingly weak, like a child who needed to be taken care of in a time of crisis, and here was savior Brian, rushing in to fulfill the role of hero. But she needed that right now.

  “Ohmygod Chloe.” Amy burst through the door, wheezing, bent over. Her hair was frizzing around her face like a solar flare, and several strands were plastered to her face with sweat. “Youreneversupposedtoreturn-tothesceneof—“She took a deep breath and noticed Brian. “Who the hell is that?”

  “This is Brian. Brian, Amy,” Chloe introduced formally, feeling a little ridiculous.

  “This is Brian?” her friend said incredulously. She looked him over, up and down so carefully that he began to fidget under her gaze. “You are way hotter than Alyec.”

  Chloe shook her head with impatience. “Where’s Paul?”

  “He’s coming. The, uh, you know”—she mimicked taking a drag from a cigarette—“slow him down.”

  “That and managing to skip every gym class since the dawn of time,” Chloe muttered. Now was not the time to have people separated. The Tenth Blade “patrols” might have let them pass for now, but what if they were just waiting for more orders? And what if the Mai noticed she was missing and thought Brian was trying to abduct her? “We’ve got to find my mom.”

  “Absolutely,” Amy agreed, still panting. “Where do you think she went?”

  “Now, wait a moment…,” Brian began, putting his hand up to Chloe’s friend.

  “I don’t think she went anywhere. I think she was taken.” Chloe pointed to the bowl.

  “Hey.” Paul came in, trying not to huff, his face turning red as a result. For the first time ever, he actually looked healthy, with pink cheeks.

  “This is Brian,” Amy said, grabbing Paul’s arm.

  “Hey,” Paul said again, waving and still trying to breathe normally. It was amazing, Chloe reflected. His clothes were still perfect. Of course, Puma originally made athletic gear, but still…

  “Chloe’s mom has definitely been kidnapped,” Amy said, catching him up on things. “We’re working out how to find her.”

  “We aren’t doing any such thing,” Brian said, exasperated. Suddenly he seemed a lot more than just a couple of years older than Chloe and her friends. “You two are now officially done with this part of the story. I thought I made that clear in my answer to that e-mail you so unwisely sent me.”

  “Oh, suddenly Mr. Studmuffin here is charge of everything,” Amy snapped, putting her hands on her hips and sticking her chin out at him. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway? ’We two’ have been friends with her forever.”

  “I appreciate that,” Brian said through clenched teeth, “but this is very. Dangerous. Stuff. Your friend has been involved in what might be considered a murder. A group of people are out for her blood. Another group of people are out to protect her at all costs. And now her mom is gone. Hello? Not the safest avenue for you two.”

  “I’m right here, people,” Chloe muttered.

  “What makes you so qualified for the role of detective and bodyguard?” Amy had come closer to Brian and, even though she was a head shorter, pressed her nose up as far as it would go. Paul was still trying to catch his breath, watching without saying anything.

  “He is … was … is?” Chloe said, looking at Brian uncertainly. “A member of the Order of the Tenth Blade.”

  “The kooks who are trying to kill you?” Paul asked, amazed, finally able to speak.

  “Yeah, but he saved me on the bridge. …”

  “How do you know he’s not a double agent or something?” Amy demanded.

  “I’m not,” Brian said.

  “I don’t,” Chloe added.

  “He doesn’t seem like it,” Paul offered.

  “Well, you’ve taken a sudden switch,” Amy said, rounding on her boyfriend. “I thought Alyec was the one you trusted.”

  “Okay, everyone, stop,” Chloe finally said. Brian obviously knew what he was doing and had a pretty good idea of what was best for everyone, but it was also crystal clear that her friends weren’t going to listen to him. “Arguing here, the four of us, from three different factions, isn’t going to help anything. And it’s just keeping all of us nice and neatly in the same spot for someone to come along and pick off.”

  “What faction are we?” Paul asked.

  “Innocent,” Chloe said, gritting her teeth. Amy started to say something, but Chloe interrupted her. “No, shut up, it’s true. There’s no reason to put your lives in danger. But from what I understand, the Tenth Blade won’t hurt humans, and I don’t think the Mai like attracting too much attention to themselves. You’re in a perfect position to help on the detective side. Like the home base people.” Amy and Paul looked at her blankly. “Like Oracle in Batman,” she said desperately. “Like Willow in Buffy. Before the whole witch-powers thing. Like Pete in Smallville.”

  “Oh, cool,” Paul said, relaxing and suddenly looking into it. Amy looked doubtful but nodded.

  It is kind of a lame-ass cop-out, Chloe realized, but she hoped it sounded good and that her friends would accept it. She wasn’t going to be responsible for more people she loved getting hurt because of her.

  “We can do other things,” Amy protested weakly.

  “You aren’t trained like the Order, and you don’t have the abilities of the Mai,” Brian pointed out. “If you got involved in an actual fight, you’d be seriously injured or killed. I hate to sound clichéd, but this isn’t a game.”

  “Do a search of all of the newspapers for the last two weeks,” Chloe suggested quickly before Amy yelled at Brian again. He has such a habit of coming off as well meaning but a little high and mighty. She wondered if his father was like that and, if so, how he managed to retain control of his organization. “We need to see if there’s anything, anything about a missing person, a body, someone in the hospital. …” She didn’t say “the morgue,” but Chloe could tell by the look on Amy’s face that it was understood.

  “Do we have any idea who kidnapped her?” Paul asked.

  Chloe looked at Brian helplessly.

  “It could be either the Mai or the Order at this point,” he answered, shrugging. “Both have a motive.”

  “Why would it be the Mai?” Chloe demanded. “What would they want with my mother?”

  “Chloe, she’s your biggest connection to the world of humans.” Brian knew this was a touchy thing to say in front of her two best friends, but he had to say it anyway. “If they thought you would completely go over to their side—”

  “What do you mean, over? I live with them—they’re my race and my family and want to get to know me and protect me from people—humans—who want to kill me!”

  “I’m just saying we should keep it open as a possibility,” Brian said as calmly as he could. “As you said, they are extremely protective of their race.”

  “But what you’re saying still doesn’t make sense, Brian,” Amy said unexpectedly, before Chloe could speak. “The Mai have no reason to take Mrs. King. What would they do with her? Why not just”—she glanced at Chloe, having a hard time saying it—“why not just have her turn up dead on the news? Then Chloe would have nowhere to turn, and she would have to stay with them.”

  “They would never do that,” Chloe said slowly. “And they may want me to stay, but they’ve been nothing besides supportive and—“She didn’t know what to call it.

  There was something about having a guy like a father play chess with her and eat pizza, about having a group of people who she could just lounge with instantly accept her, not act pissed off or angry—or date her other best friend. They accepted her without conditions. Once she’d appeared, she was just there, part of the Mai, like she had always been and always would be.

  Plus—and here was the bit she wasn’t going to reveal to anyone present yet—the Mai made perfect bloodhounds. As soon as she got back, she planned on telling Sergei about what had
happened. Even if he was reluctant, Chloe bet she could wheedle a couple of kizekh out of him to help track down her mom. And deal with her captors, if necessary.

  “All right…,” Paul said, obviously not entirely convinced, but enough to not press it. Brian’s face was carefully neutral. “She hasn’t turned up dead yet, and whatever this was, it happened a while ago. But…” he paused. “There doesn’t seem to be a logical reason for either side to delay your finding out about it. Is there anyone else we should know about? Someone else who might have taken your mother for some different reason? Who might not have anything to do with any of this at all?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Amy said, making a face. “Because two obvious secret organizations with hidden agendas aren’t convincing enough for you, Paul?”

  “Well, I mean, what if it was someone else close to you, Chloe—another interested party, with a totally different x factor?” Paul suggested.

  “Like who?”

  Amy’s eyes suddenly widened with realization of who fit the bill perfectly. “Like … your dad, Chloe?”

  “No way.” Paul shook his head. “That’s not what I meant at all. Why would he come back after all these years and do something like this? I don’t remember him being that kind of psycho—and my parents don’t talk about him that way.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid I’m going to have to vote negatory on that, too, Ames,” Chloe said, physically shaking her head free of all the different theories. She checked her cell phone. “Okay, look, I gotta go. I’m going to have to keep this off—it’s got no juice left.”