by Jasmine Walt
6
Constance’s desk was empty. Before I had a chance to go looking for her, Barrett’s voice boomed across the floor.
“Malina!”
I spotted him at the other end of the office, hands on hips, brows rumpled in a frown—his signature expression.
Ignoring the shivers that elicited gooseflesh over my arms, I strode down to meet him.
“We have a guest,” he said, turning to lead me into his office.
The door was open, and a slender man with delicate features exited as we approached.
“Barrett, is this the girl?”
“Yeah, this is Malina.”
He flashed me his pearly whites. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Malina. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really? I know nothing about you.”
He chuckled. “My name is Narada. I’m a friend of your father.”
Barrett’s gaze was fixed on the floor, and his body language screamed he was far from happy with this man being here. A shiver of unease crawled up my spine.
“So, what do you do for a living, Narada, aside from helping people with unique genetic diseases?”
He shrugged. “Oh, just the day job. Head of communications at Brahma Corp.”
Head of . . . That would make him a . . .
He held up a hand. “Please, it’s no big deal. Not anymore, anyway.”
I stared at him. He appeared way too normal to be a god, with his close-cropped dark hair and neat navy suit. But then, what the heck did I know? It wasn’t as if I’d ever seen one of the big Gs in the flesh before.
He cleared his throat. “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are unnerving?”
“Um . . . no. I don’t believe they’ve been described that way before.”
What the heck was Barrett doing fraternizing with a god, and why was a god interested in meeting me? My gut told me there was more to this story.
“Well, shall we get on with it?” Narada asked.
Barrett’s jaw tensed.
“Get on with what?” I asked.
“Your fiftieth mark, of course. I happened to pop over to see your father, and he mentioned you were about to ascend. You don’t mind if I watch the marking, do you?”
I shrugged. “No skin off my nose.”
Barrett stood up straight and locked eyes with Narada. “I appreciate all your help, Narada, but this is guild business.”
Narada’s amiable smile slipped a fraction. “A guild that exists to serve the council. The council of which I am a member.”
“You represent the gods on the council?”
Narada inclined his head. “Communication is my forte. Indra and Varuna prefer to focus on internal affairs.”
“Regardless,” Barrett said, “the ceremony is a closed affair.”
Narada raised a brow. “I’d have expected a little more gratitude, Barrett, considering all I’ve done for you.”
He was referring to the serum. The one I desperately needed. The heat building in my veins was beginning to grate. I just wanted this over with so I could get my meds.
I turned to Barrett. “Does it really matter? Let’s just get this over with so I can go flat hunting.”
Barrett’s shoulders slumped, and a spike of apprehension cut through my mounting impatience, as the stable part of me, the part that was continually assessing a situation, wondered if I’d just made a boo-boo.
But Narada was beaming, and there was no retracting the invite now.
I held the door for him, and he entered and glanced about the chamber—bare except for the marking chair. I could almost read his thoughts—this was it? I guess it didn’t really seem very ceremonial. Dimly lit and empty, save for the adjustable height chair in its center, it always reminded me of a visit to the dentist. The runic patterns on the wall—some kind of energy conservation symbols—caught my eye the way they always did. They were a reminder that the marks we received here weren’t just tattoos; they were a symbol of growth and achievement.
I’d done a ton of research on the whole relevance of tattoos throughout the ages, and they’d been around for a bloody long time. The oldest was found on a European iceman mummy from the Bronze Age. They were used all over the world for protection, health, and to mark status or segregate criminals from normal society. But for the guild, they marked a passage of time, our journey to becoming the best of the best.
A chant accompanied the marking. I’d tried to memorize it on more than one occasion, but I always failed. That ability wouldn’t come until after my hundredth kill, so it seemed some magic was involved after all.
Why had Barrett made such a big deal about the marking? There was no actual ceremony aside from a short, mumbled chanting. The assassin entered the room, got the mark tattooed onto his or her body, and then strolled back out. Simple. Barrett did the majority of the marks. In his absence, it was up to other seasoned guild members to take over.
Barrett joined us a moment later, clutching the box that contained my special ink. My condition meant the usual ink didn’t adhere to my skin, so Barrett had obtained this stuff from . . . from Narada.
My stomach fluttered.
Narada rubbed his hands together. “Excited?”
Was the flurry in my abdomen excitement? I doubted it. It was more moths than butterflies, more anxiety than anticipation.
“Not really. I have done this forty-nine times already. But you certainly seem excited.”
I climbed onto the chair and slipped off my shirt, leaving only my vest. My right forearm was the canvas for my journey, and my other marks lay across it in a vertical tally. Barrett prepared the ink and the needle. Over his shoulder, Narada’s eyes gleamed in the gloom. Barrett reached to switch on the overhead light, and Narada was lost to the shadows.
Barrett’s jaw was clenched, his eyes shrouded in darkness.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded, turned on the tattoo machine, and began to chant. The melodic rhythm of his words rose easily over the whirr of the machine. Barrett gripped my arm, holding it steady, but then he abruptly stopped chanting.
“You’re too warm.”
“What? What’s wrong?” Narada asked.
“Yeah. I kinda need some more meds. I’m a little late taking the vial.”
Barrett’s mouth formed a large O, and Narada’s face loomed over his shoulder. “Mark her. Do it now.”
The urgency in his voice, the panic, made my hackles rise.
Barrett released me, but Narada ripped the tattoo machine from his grip, lunging for me.
A wave of heat rolled up my body, my vision wavered, and the room exploded with light.
“No,” Narada cried.
“What the fuck?” Barrett’s voice was a tremor.
I raised my arm to shield my eyes from the light, squinting to make out the silhouetted figure coming toward me.
The shape, height, and breadth of it . . . made no sense.
“No! Get away from her,” Narada screamed.
Barrett’s hand circled my wrist. “Malina. Move.”
But I was frozen, unable to speak or act. My muscles trembled as impotent adrenaline flooded my body, and then it was on me, its massive arms wrapping around me, holding me too tight as the world fractured.
7
Cool air kissed my brow, tugging me back into wakefulness.
I’d been doing something . . . important. Something—
I sat up so fast it made my head spin.
“Easy now, just take a minute.”
That voice. Stalker bloke! I was in the back of a car that had black leather seats and tinted windows, but I wasn’t restrained.
I caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “What the heck did you do?”
“Busted you out, of course.”
The crazy massive silhouette . . . Had that been him? My pulse kicked up. He’d cast that shadow? He was something new. And now he had me. Heart, meet ribs. I needed to keep it together. Breathe.
“
Stop this car. Stop it right now!”
“No.”
The streets outside the window were narrow. Too much traffic. An area I didn’t recognize. I needed to get out of the vehicle. My hand slipped to my waist, to Vindra snug in her sheath. My fingers curled around her handle, and I carefully withdrew her. Killing him wasn’t my intention, but hurting him enough to make him stop the car would do. And then I’d make a run for it.
I leaned forward slightly in my seat, eyes on the rearview mirror. My abductor’s gaze was on the road.
Good.
I raised Vindra.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, all casual-like. “Mine is much bigger.”
His left hand shifted off the gear stick and reached for something on the front passenger seat. He held up a dagger—a Japanese tanto—that was around twelve inches long. “Look, I don’t want to freeze-frame you, but if you act up, I will.”
My advantage gone, I slumped in the seat. Panic was still there, a tiny butterfly in my chest, but the fever was taking control of my body.
Ignoring the ache in my limbs, I took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t know how you got into the guild. I don’t know who sent you after me, but trust me, retribution for one of my kills will get you nowhere. I kill for the council. It’s nothing personal.”
His eyes in the mirror were shards of ice. “I know what you do. But that isn’t why I took you.”
Despite the heat circulating in my blood, a definite chill skittered down my spine. Vengeance I could understand, revenge I could handle, but if he didn’t want payback . . . There was only one other thing he could want, and my stomach curdled at the thought. I had to be sure.
“What do you want from me?”
He sighed. “Right now, some silence would do just fine.”
“How did you get into the guild?” I asked.
“Okay, I get it, you’re a talker. Fine, I’ll play. I shifted in.”
“Shifted?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“And you shifted me out?”
His casual, unthreatening tone was doing wonders for my bravado.
“Yes.”
“And carried me to your car?”
He snorted. “No. I flew you to my car, which was parked on a nearby roof parking lot.”
He could fly? “I don’t understand. If you can fly, why not just fly us to wherever you intend to take me?”
“They’ll be looking for you, for magical signatures.” He patted the dashboard. “Baby here masks it all. As far as the trackers are concerned, we’re just two humans out for a ride.”
Just two humans, except he was far from human. He was something I’d never seen or heard about, wrapped up in a visually pleasing package.
“What are you?”
He locked gazes with me in the mirror again, sending another shiver down my spine.
“Right now, I’m just bored.”
I huffed. “What? Am I not adhering to the standard kidnapper-kidnappee protocol?”
“There’s no such word as kidnappee.”
Heat rolled up from the tips of my toes, engulfing my body in a strangely pleasant floating sensation. It didn’t look like I’d make it another day. I needed a vial, and I needed one now. I should be fighting and doing something to escape, but weakness had seeped into my limbs. My head fell back against the seat, and I closed my eyes. My temples throbbed in time to my pulse.
If I’d only told Barrett about the vial first thing. Why had I left the package on the coffee table where Toto could get his paws on it? And I— Shit, Toto!
“My dog!”
“What?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I have a cute dog. His name is Toto. If I die, who’ll feed him?” I sat up, head swimming. “Who’ll let him out to go for a shit? Although he did manage to get out by himself that one time . . .” My mouth felt funny, and an insignificant part of me realized I was chatting rubbish, but I couldn’t stop. “You have to save my doggy. See, I’m sick, and I’m probably gonna die in a bit, so you need to promise to let him out, ’kay?”
“You’re not going to die.”
He just didn’t get it, and I didn’t have the energy to explain. My body was going into shutdown mode. I was peripherally aware that we’d turned down a ratty street. Buildings flew by. The leather against my cheek was almost comforting as I floated toward nirvana. My captor pulled the vehicle to a stop outside an old, abandoned building. The place had boarded-up windows, graffiti, a floating ice cream cone . . . No, that couldn’t be right. That had to be . . .
8
My body was a lead weight cocooned in heat. My lids were welded shut, and my mouth was too dry to speak. I kept slipping away into peaceful darkness, only to glide back to reality for a moment or two to be reminded of my predicament.
I’d been kidnapped, was dying, and my kidnappers didn’t have a clue.
“How much longer?” a soft male voice said.
“I don’t know, but it shouldn’t be this bad.” This voice was deeper, gruffer.
“You think it’s because they suppressed it?”
“Possibly, but then, she is the only one of her kind. This could be normal.”
Questions hovered on my lips. What did they mean? What did they know? But the darkness was tugging me under, and I was powerless to fight it.
I wasn’t sure how long I drifted in and out of consciousness—it might have been hours or days. Time kinda lost its meaning, but then the fog slowly began to recede.
Something warm and wet swept over my cheek, and panting filled my ear.
“Toto . . .”
My voice was a dry rasp, my throat grainy, but the strange heat that had infused my limbs was gone.
“Malina?”
I opened my eyes and focused on a bland white ceiling. A face came into view above me, sharp angular features, and the eyes . . .
He had my eyes.
His lips curled into a soft smile. “How are you feeling, honey?”
“Where am I?”
“You’re safe. You’ve been asleep for a couple of days, but you’re safe.”
Was this my captor? “You had me kidnapped.”
He exhaled through his nose, his lips pressing together in a line as his image moved away. I turned my head to track him, watching him settle into a chair beside the bed. A quick survey of the room showed it to be unremarkable—sparsely furnished with the essentials but nothing to indicate anything personal about its owner. A guest room obviously.
But wait. Hadn’t the stalker guy stopped outside an abandoned building?
Something jumped onto the bed and nuzzled against my side.
“Toto.”
Not a dream. He was really here. Had I asked stalker bloke to get my dog? Yeah, I had, but . . . No. He wouldn’t have . . . Would he? But then, how the heck else would Toto be here?
I was so confused.
“It’s all right. Just give yourself a moment, Malina. Garuda told me about your dog, so I had Drake get him for you. He’s cute. Have you had him long?”
Why would my kidnapper go to so much trouble to make me feel comfortable?
“It’s natural to feel a little overwhelmed. You’ve just been through a huge change.”
Change . . .
My heart jumped. I should be dead. “How am I alive?”
His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
I scanned his face for signs that he was toying with me, but I found only sincerity. “I’m sick. I need medicine, or I’ll die.”
The words sounded ridiculous now because I no longer felt sick. In fact, I felt . . . amazing.
He stood and began to pace. “You’re not dying, Malina. You were never dying. Your body was trying to change.” He stopped moving and turned to me. “Look at yourself, honey.”
Honey?
He glanced down at my arm, and I followed his gaze.
; “What the . . .”
My skin tone had always been a light brown, but now it held a shimmering bronze quality to it, as if tiny motes of light were embedded under it. I raised my arm for a closer look. It looked like it’d been airbrushed. Not a single hair or visible pore.
My stomach contracted in fear.
“What have you done to me?”
He sat forward in his seat. “Nothing. I just allowed you to go through the change. Something the people who took you wouldn’t permit. You say you had to take medication?”
I nodded. “I have a unique genetic disease.”
He snorted. “You’re unique all right, but what you have is no disease. They filled your body with a magical suppressant, preventing you from maturing. I should have been able to track you easily once you went through the change, but by preventing it, they made it nearly impossible to find you. They were the ones who kidnapped you, Malina. They took you away from me.”
My heart beat in my throat. The eventual words were a gasp. “Who are you?”
His eyes, so like mine, misted. “I’m your father, Malina, and I’ve been searching for you for so long.”
His words rang true; they clicked and connected. But they couldn’t be. This couldn’t be happening. He’d ordered me kidnapped from the guild and brought me here against my will. Barrett was my family. My mind rebelled against what my gut was telling me.
“My parents are dead.”
“Is that what they told you?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew this would be difficult, but I’d hoped that once you saw me, once we were together again, you’d remember . . .” His throat bobbed. “Don’t you remember?” His voice cracked.
Something within me responded with a lurch.
There was too much longing, too much pain, in the twist of his mouth.
He wasn’t lying.
Every fiber of my being screamed at me to believe, yet I didn’t remember. My life before Barrett was a blank. I’d always thought it was strange I didn’t recall anything, but Barrett had explained that the trauma of losing my parents had forced me to block out the memory of them. I’d come to accept his words as fact and stopped trying to recall. But now, looking into this man’s face, I wanted nothing more than to remember.