by K. C. Hamby
The metal knob of the door underneath my hand bends from my grip as I attempt to clamp down on the fury. The sound tells a story of me breaking off the handle and making the situation worse for everyone involved if I don’t let go. I wretch my hand away and one of the sleeping—probably drugged—girls sits up. I go still.
“Who is there?”
I don’t respond, staying as still as I possibly can.
“I can see you,” she hisses even more harshly, seemingly trying to make it a threat.
What the hell am I supposed to do now? I didn’t even have time to blend into the dark before she saw me. My heartrate escalates and I fail to slow it down.
“Please,” she pleads in her whisper. “No more.” She chokes on a sob and something in my chest aches. It burns like empathy.
I need to have a chat with myself about these emotions. They need to get back to their assigned seats in the classroom of I Banished You 101.
At least I know I’m not a complete monster.
I can’t just leave without saying anything. I want to give her hope. I am going to bust them out of here.
“I’m coming back for you,” I whisper back and she sobs quietly at my words. I want to slap myself.
Not the best thing to say, Fal. Goddess.
“I’m going to get all of you out of here,” I whisper and the girl becomes quiet.
“Seriously? Who are you?” I think quickly. I obviously won’t be telling her my name. I guess I’ll take one from Nina’s book.
“Just call me Hero,” I whisper softly and close the door on the conversation, locking everything back up like it’s supposed to be. I want to get them out of there so badly it hurts, but I have no way of getting those chains off yet. I’m strong, but those chains are thick as hell and I can’t just yank them apart in a split second. I’m surprised those girls can move at all with how heavy they are. I’m going to need Ash to come with me on this one.
I glide down the stairs through the darkness and make it to the front door. I can’t risk getting seen on my way out. It would suck if I blew the mission when I have the information I came for and made it through the rest of this madhouse without getting caught.
I open the door, slide outside, and pull it closed behind me. As soon as it clicks shut, I turn around, victorious.
I get a big whiff of some musty, dank smell.
Large hands wrap their way around my throat and lift me off the ground. My air supply is immediately cut off by a huge guy pressing hard against my airway. I try to kick beneath me; plant my foot somewhere to get him off, but the lack of oxygen to my brain is making me sloppy.
He somehow manages to drag me down the stairs and pin me against the wall of the building.
I know I only have about twenty seconds before I pass out.
Think, Fal. Think! My hands are gripping his wrists to hold myself up and take pressure off my throat, giving me a little more time.
I’m going to have to let go to get him off me. I have to do it now and fast.
I let go with one hand and drive my forearm as hard as possible onto the top of his arms, onto the inside of his elbows. My vision grows hazy, but his arms buckle and crack under my hit and his grip around my neck loosens. I grab back on to his wrists with both hands and pull my lower body up, wrapping my legs around his throat. He turns me away from the wall in a panic, shaking his body in an attempt to throw me off. I grip hard with my thighs and throw myself backwards, toward the ground. I catch myself with my hands and pull hard with my legs. His body flies over me, slamming into the cement with a sickening crack. I stand up as he groans in pain and wrap my right hand around his throat, picking him off the ground with my strength. I growl and set off the springblade trigger. It jumps out from my wrist and dives into the flesh of his neck. I’m choking in hard breaths when I finally realize the guy is one of Boss’s meatheads. The blood flows from his throat and coats my glove as I yank my blade out and drop him back to the cement. He chokes on his own blood; the sound is beautiful, seductive music to my ears.
He’s dying too slowly for my comfort in my current situation, though. I can’t have him alerting anyone. I pull the pistol from the holster on my thigh and plant a silent bullet right between his eyes.
That’ll keep him quiet.
His body crumbles in on itself as soon as a black SUV speeds around the corner and skids to a stop right beside where I’m standing.
I’m still sucking in air when Ash jumps out and runs over to me blurringly fast.
“What the hell happened, Fal?” His eyes glare at me for answers. He peers over to the bloody body in front of me and then back to me, searching for injuries. His gaze locks on my neck and his eyes glow dark amber with anger. Ash’s wolf shows himself in his eyes, deadly and ready to kill.
“I’m guessing he gave me a parting gift?” I joke and my voice comes out like I’ve been smoking ten packs of cigarettes a day my whole life. Ash clenches his jaw and decides against humoring me with a snarky reply.
He’s trying to reign in his wolf. Shifting now would turn this already shitstorm of a situation into an even bigger problem. I don’t speak anymore—as not to make it worse—and grab my lonely bag instead while Ash deals with the dickhead that had a choking problem.
I climb in the car and wait, pulling down the sun visor to peer at myself in the mirror.
“Ah, shit.” I gingerly touch the already purple welts shaped like hands and fingers on my neck.
Ash yanks open the driver-side door and slides in the SUV, making me jump and slam the visor closed.
“Can you chill, please? Put on PennyForward or something,” I snidely clip at him and lean back in the seat in a huff.
“Fal,” he grits out between his teeth and grips the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles turn white. “What. The hell. Happened?” I roll my eyes at his anger. I can’t help it.
“I don’t know, okay?” I croak. I clear my throat and continue. “Everything was fine inside. I got a full view of the place and I even found where the girls were located.” I side-eye Ash and he’s nodding his head for me to continue, his black hair falling in his eyes. I take a deep breath. “As soon as I stepped outside, that asshole grabbed me. He must have been coming in for a shift.” I remember the dank smell on him. “No, he must have been smoking outside. Not cigarettes, either.”
“Yeah.” Ash lets out a breath. “He reeked of pot when I wrapped him up.” He cuts his eyes over to me, the glow finally dying in them. “Glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’m great! Better than ever. Wonderful,” I yell sarcastically to no one. I hate getting caught off guard.
Or, on guard, if I’m feeling like putting in a pun.
“Sorry.” I sigh deeply and the air burns as it flows into my lungs. “I don’t know what’s going on with me lately. I feel so out of control.” Ash’s mouth turns down in a concerned frown. “Anyway, I’m going to need your help getting those girls out. They’re chained up like rabid dogs. We’re going to need some chain cutters. The heavy-duty kind,” I tell him, trying to change the subject and calm myself down from the five-year-old temper tantrum I just threw.
“This guy has them heavily guarded. He must be making some serious money. It’s going to be extra difficult to get them out and kill him,” Ash throws in, reminding me how royally fucked this whole situation is.
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” I mutter.
***
We finally pull up to Ash’s house and I run inside, leaving him to deal with the body and the disappearing act.
I sit at the counter, pondering about how the hell I’m supposed to do this damn job. I nearly flip off the stool when an idea strikes me.
I run out of the kitchen in a blur, past Ash’s room, and out of the side door into the garage. I stop dead when I see the tub of acid stuff the bodies disappear into sitting right in the middle. No wonder he doesn’t park in here. There isn’t any room. He has tools all along the walls I’m assuming are for picking
through the bodies? Hell, I don’t know. What I do know is it makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about the purpose for all of them.
Ugh, it smells like a morgue in here. I hold my arm over my nose. Of course, it does absolutely nothing, but it’s better for me to think I’m shielding myself from some of this shit. There is a heavy chemical air to this place that must be coming from the tub of my worst nightmares.
Formaldehyde. That’s it.
“Ash?” I call out in a muffled voice. He pops his head from around the corner of the garage with surprise covering his face. “Yeah, I’m surprised I’m here too. Anyway, does he have a phone?” I gesture at the body Ash is tugging behind him. Ash scrunches his brow and puts down the quick-wrapped burden. He peels back the plastic and digs around in the pockets of the guy’s jeans. Hopelessness and a bit of nausea turn in the pit of my stomach, but he finally produces an IPhone hidden in the meathead’s jacket pocket. Ash holds it up victoriously and runs it over to me.
“Here ya go.” He slaps it in my hand with a beaming smile. I guess he’s in a better mood. Strange to think it may be because of his job. I quickly make my exit, running from the dead people smell. I run back to the counter after slamming the door and sucking in a big, chemical free breath of air.
I place the phone on the countertop in front of me. The screen is cracked in prickly spider-web like patterns, but it’s not cracked so much that I can’t see what I need to. I press the home button and slide away the lock screen.
Only to find there is a lock code.
I groan so loudly my throat aches. The choking I got earlier is probably the culprit. I plop my head down on the cold granite and just stay like this, wishing with everything I have this Hades sent mission would be over with already.
I stay in this position for a good ten minutes. Ash finally comes inside and stops, staring at me like I’ve grown horns.
“What…uh…what are you doing?”
“The phone,” I complain, rolling my head against the countertop. “It has a lock code.”
“Ah.” He walks over to me and grabs the phone from the counter. He presses the screen a few times and slides the phone back to me. “Booyah!” I pick up my head and look at the phone. It’s unlocked.
“How the hell…?” I pick it up and begin going through the messages.
“I’m just amazing.” Ash’s mouth curves up in a cocky grin and he crosses his arms over his chest. I eye him suspiciously. “Okay, okay. Fine. I found his I.D. and his lock code is his birthday. Killing my vibe, Fal.” He rolls his eyes and slinks to the refrigerator. I shake my head and continue going through the phone while Ash pulls out an ice pack from the freezer.
“Catch!” he yells and tosses it to me. I snatch it out of the air without even looking at him.
“What’s this for?” I ask absentmindedly while tapping through the messages.
“Your new purple necklace,” he snaps, trying and failing to not let any emotion slip through his words. I don’t need this ice, but I don’t want to make him angrier, so I put the icepack on my neck. It instantly cools the welts and I immediately notice how bad my neck is actually bothering me.
“Thanks, Ash.” I peer up from my snooping and meet his gaze. He nods his head and his eyebrows crease in worry. No matter how good I am, he’ll always worry about me. It’s in the big brother contract he signed when I was born. Or, at least that’s what he told me.
He eventually walks over to the other side of the counter and plops down beside me.
“Find anything?” he inquires while munching down on what sounds and smells like an apple.
“Not yet..” I come across a thread of messages where the sender’s number isn’t saved. “Wait a minute.” I tap on the thread and a group message pops up. It’s a conversation between a bunch of other unsaved numbers.
Well, I say conversation. It’s more one number telling all the other numbers a plan and they all respond with ‘yes sirs.’
“Got it!” I read over it to get the general idea. Ash leans in, curious. “Basically, the girls are going to be sold two days from Saturday. Since it’s like….four in the morning on Sunday right now, that means they will be sold on Monday, early in the morning where it will still be concealable. I don’t know why he couldn’t have just said Monday morning. His lackeys aren’t exactly the brightest bulbs in the lamp, but whatever.” I pause, thinking through what we have to do. “We’ve got to get the girls out before the early transaction on Monday. Apparently, Boss is meeting up with the girls at a rendezvous location before they take them to the actual pickup location so he can be there for the exchange. That’s when I can get him.” My eyes dilate and my heart begins to flutter, ready for the kill.
A rumbling of anticipation builds from deep in my chest and comes out of my mouth as a growl. I sound like the vicious wolf pacing inside me.
I glare up at Ash and he gasps. “Fal, your eyes. They’re glowing. I thought…”
“I’m getting a handle on it,” I snap and change the subject. It’s time to make a plan. “Okay, this is what we are going to do.”
Chapter 11
Walking. That’s what I’m doing. I’m walking down the dark streets of Seattle. This is all too familiar to me. The feel of a fresh, accomplished kill pumping through my veins and the cocky attitude of my nineteen-year-old self beating in my chest.
Someone steps into my path on the road. He’s tall, probably about as tall as Ash and just as muscular, but pale with long, fiery colored hair pulled back into a bun. Freckles cover his sharp featured face and stubble touches his chin and upper lip. He has stark, haunting blue eyes appearing to hold all the crazy in the world in their depths.
“You!” he spits, pointing a finger at me while walking faster in my direction. I smirk and gracefully raise an eyebrow. His white shirt is way too tight for his chest and his jeans are ripped and dirty enough to make me wonder if he just came from a fight in a sand pit. His tennis shoes thump hard on the pavement in their pursuit of me. “You’re the one that murdered my Layla! You’re the Reaper!”
Reaper? That has a nice ring to it.
I suddenly realize who he is. Damien, the leader of the Poachers here in Seattle. He’s right. I did. I should tell him I tried to get her to leave and I tried to show mercy, but he’s trying to intimidate me and I don’t appreciate it at all.
“Yeah, that’s me. She wasn’t much of a challenge.” I bring my hand up to my face to lazily inspect my fingernails. “An easy kill, really.” I shrug and my lips twist into a vicious smile to add to the bitchiness pouring out of my mouth.
He howls and lets out this guttural roar that can only be fueled by pure pain and undeniable rage. He pulls out a sickle blade from a holster on his back and runs at me. I quickly dodge him and we circle each other like lions, sizing each other up.
I don’t want to pull out a knife. I know I can take him without any weapons at all. I’m the best assassin there is.
I hold my position and Damien finally grows impatient, slicing at me with the curved blade. I duck under the sickle and uppercut him in the jaw with my fist as hard as I can. He yells in pain, backs up, and spits blood—along with a tooth or two—onto the cement.
I grin deviously, victory burning through my veins, but he starts slicing at me faster and faster, almost inhumanly fast.
Goddess, he’s good. He’s more than good. He’s somehow keeping up with me. I can’t get a hit in without him making an extravagant move to use my strength against me and block it. This must be why he’s the leader of their little cult.
My ears pick up a high-pitched wailing sound. It grows closer as I keep dodging hits from Damien, now on the defensive.
Red and blue lights illuminate the buildings around us.
And then I see nothing and searing pain on the right side of my face brings me to my knees with a gut-wrenching scream.
I crawl backwards and hold my hand tenderly over my eye. It’s blinded. I can’t see anything. Blood pours into my palm
quickly. Faster than I’ve ever seen myself bleed. My skin detaches beneath my hand.
Wolfsbane. His sickle is laced with Wolfsbane.
I scream in agony as the poison burns my skin. Damien stands over me sneering while his poisonous sickle hangs by his side, dripping with my dark red blood.
I snarl as loud as I can with pain and manage to swipe-kick Damien’s legs out from under him, forcing him to fall to the cement and land with a thud beside me. I pull my knife out of my boot and ram it into his thigh and drag it down to his knee, plowing through muscle, nerves, and bone with the last bit of remaining strength I have. He cries out in shock and I yank my bloody knife out of his leg, causing his beautiful life blood to flow from open arteries. I stumble into a nearby alley, crawling the majority of the way; the cops are closing in.
But suddenly, they vanish and the memory changes. My vision clears. I don’t call a Voítheia to pick me up before I pass out. I don’t turn around and see Damian dragging himself off the street. This isn’t ending how it did in real life.
Instead, I turn around and Damien is standing there, his mouth set evilly in a half smirk. I scrunch my brow in confusion. A figure behind him runs toward us catching my attention. I let my eyes dilate to get a better look at who it is.
My heart sinks.
Nina comes pounding down the pavement, her eyes locked on mine and her face fearful and somehow fearless at the same time. She’s fearful for me, but she, herself, is fearless.
I flick my eyes back to Damien. He’s watching Nina with growing interest and it makes me want to slit his throat. He glances back over at me and raises his eyebrows in a ‘watch this’ type of way. He reaches out as Nina tries to run past him to get to me and grabs her, holding her body in front of his, facing her freckled face in my direction.