The Arbiter: Divinely Damned Book One

by K. B. Ladnier

  As if on cue, my phone starts to ring. Digging it out of my back pocket, I see that it’s an unknown caller wanting to video chat. I push answer without a second thought to it. Monroe’s hunched over body flashes up on the screen. My brain can’t decide whether it wants to be shocked or terrified, so I settle on anger instead.

  I feel Larkan come to stand at my back, so he can look over my shoulder.

  A distorted voice comes through my phone, “We only want you, Arbiter. The Strige walks free if you turn yourself over to us. You have one week. Choose wisely. In the meantime, we’re going to have some fun with our new friend here.” The screen goes black, and it takes all that I have inside of me to keep from throwing the phone against the wall. I want to scream and fucking cry. Out of all of the people that could’ve gotten taken, why him?

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to do what I have to in order to get him back.”

  I don’t realize that I’ve said that out loud until Enoch and Larkan speak at the same time.

  “Like Damnation you are,” says Enoch as Larkan says, “I’m coming with you.”

  I snarl at Enoch, “I don’t have the patience, mental compacity, or time to deal with you today. Larkan and I are leaving on the first flight to Louisiana to see if we can find him. You do whatever it is that you’ve been doing for the past one hundred years. Jamie, Cedric…”

  I wait until the both are looking to me before I say, “The Apothecary is in your hands. I know you guys will do a good job keeping everything running smoothly. Hopefully, we can get down there, find what we need in a few days and make it back with Monroe.” I refuse to think of what would happen if we can’t find him.

  Enoch storms off as Jamie says, “We’ve got you, babe. Do what you’ve got to do.”

  Nodding in thanks, I turn to make my way up to my loft. Larkan stays behind to talk to Felix. I step out into the night and take a deep breath of the cold air. I want to scream at the sky and stars, even if it isn’t their fault. What I’d really like to do is ring Saul’s neck. If he really is involved in this, forget going Arbiter on him. I’ll rip is fucking head off.

  “Nocturna?” Enoch says softly as he makes his way up the stairs from the ground floor.

  I roll my eyes and start up the next flight of stairs, but his words bring me to a stop.

  “I’m sorry for hurting you, and for being gone so long. If I had any other choice, I would’ve changed the way that things happened. Please be careful down south. No matter what you think, I never want to see you get hurt.”

  I turn with words on my tongue, but I never get to say them. By the time that I’ve turned around, he is gone. I’m not entirely sure what words would’ve come out if he’d still been standing there. I want to believe that they would’ve been words of hope that he meant that. It’s just so hard to tell with Enoch sometimes. I can’t worry about it now though. I’ve got to throw some clothes in a bag and get my ass to the airport.

  “Dear Creator, it’s muggy down here. I forgot just how much I dislike some of these southern places,” I complain to Larkan.

  He lets out a humorless laugh, “I could name a few other places that would be worse if you’d ever like to travel there.”

  I cut my eyes at him as I try to tell if he’s joking or not. We’ve both been on the edge of our seats since we left, so I don’t know if he’s making idle chit chat or giving me shit for my complaining. The half-smile that he shoots me relaxes some of my instincts that say smack the shit out of him.

  We’re both on high alert and keep watch around us at all times. If they got the drop on Monroe and Rafael, there’s no doubt in my mind that they could do the same to us. Larkan tried to give me the don’t let your guard down lecture on the plane, but he could clearly see that I didn’t need it and shut up quickly thereafter.

  One of the local Rites meets us at the front of the airport. We see him long before he sees us, but it’s apparent when he does. He steps out of the black SUV and walks around the back to open my door for me as he acknowledges Larkan. I take a moment to appreciate what a fine specimen the Rite race are. He’s just as tall as Larkan, but his skin is a little darker. Long black hair hangs out of that black hood. My admiration must not go unnoticed, because he lifts his head a little and gives me a clear view of that perfect face. Unlike Larkan, it’s unmarred. The smile that he sends me is blinding and lights up those hazel eyes. A five o’clock shadow rests along his jawline that looks like it’s been chiseled out of stone. I don’t know how long I stare at him, but it’s long enough that he winks at me before shutting the door. Damn the fates to Damnation. There is something so wrong with me. Monroe, Nocturna. Focus.

  My mind goes back to the matter at hand and the whole reason that we are down here. Finding Monroe and ripping his captors to shreds. The reminder takes center stage, but on the side behind the curtain, it’s hard not to notice the Rite’s huge form taking his place back behind the wheel. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I can tell that a smile ghosts those lips again as it reaches his eyes.

  Pulling out into traffic he finally speaks, “The name’s Bennet by the way.”

  Larkan doesn’t say anything, so I assume that the two of them already know each other, and he’s only introducing himself for my benefit.

  “Anyone ever call you Benji?” I ask trying to bring that smile back.

  It has the opposite effect. His face turns to stone, “No one that values their life.”

  Ohhhhkay, mental note. He doesn’t like to be called Benji.

  He continues before I get a chance to say anything, “Normally people give their names in return the first time they meet someone.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but Larkan beats me to it, “Her name is Nocturna. Yes, she’s really the Arbiter. Now can you tell us anything about what happened?”

  Anyone else may have mistaken his response as jealousy that my attention is held by this new Rite, but I know better. I only pick up the jealous vibes when he’s around Enoch. When it comes to business, that’s all that Larkan knows how to be.

  “I was the first on scene,” Bennet tells him. “That’s the reason they sent me to come pick you guys up from the airport. So, I could fill you in on what we know so far.”

  My body tenses, and I focus really hard to keep my second form from flashing as he talks. I know that they feel the power brewing underneath my skin, because Bennet meets my eyes in the mirror as Larkan turns to me, “Don’t worry. We’re going to get him back.”

  There are questions in Bennet’s eyes, but he lets them go unvoiced as he continues his story, “But like I was saying, the entire car on the driver’s side was smashed in. They rammed it with, from what we can tell, a black SUV not too dissimilar from what we drive.”

  The implications of what he is saying could rock the never-ending war between the two races. If the Infernal found out that it was Rites taking the Damned and doing the torturing, then trying to pin it on their own people, there would be a blood bath that none of us would be capable of stopping.

  I’ve never been the subtlest out of the bunch. With it being just the three of us in the car, I address the elephant in the room, “Do you think it was a Rite that captured him?”

  He shrugs his shoulders and Larkan snaps his head over to look at him. Bennet notices the feral look that he’s giving him, “What? I don’t like it any more than you do, but we can’t rule it out. I hold nothing against the damned as long as they obey the laws. However, I do believe that I am in the minority on that. There are several that I know personally that I wouldn’t put it past.”

  “Do you think any of them could do this?” I ask him, hoping that he’ll tell me the truth.

  Sighing he says, “No. Being the lead on the case, I had to ask around just to be sure, and let’s just say, it didn’t go over well. They knew that I was just trying to do my job, but it doesn’t change the fact that questioning them is just as good as an accusation in our world.”

  “Shit,” Larkan mumbles t
urning to look out the window.

  Bennet nods, “Yeah. It’s a mess and half down here right now. May need to transfer up north after all of this is said and done.”

  I roll my eyes and find a spot to look at outside the dark window. Looks like I’m not the only one here who isn’t very subtle. As I’m looking out, a flash of something catches my attention.

  “Stop the car,” I tell Bennet quietly.

  Both of the Rites turn to look at me like I’ve lost my mind, but after a confirming nod from Larkan, he does as I ask.

  I step out into the sweltering humidity. The night seems to quiet with only the sound of frogs and crickets echoing in the distance. My low-heeled boots clack against the concrete as I make my way over to where I saw the light. It’s in the middle of a three way stop.

  A surge of power goes through me, and I can feel my second form take over.

  “He was here,” I whisper.

  Bennets voice confirms it from behind me, “Yeah, this is where it happened. How did you know?”

  I ignore the question and ask one of my own, “Who died?”

  My connection to the Damned had developed immensely since becoming the Arbiter and as I stood in this three-way, I could feel the bond that had been broken by death.

  He clears his throat, “According to the Damned who claimed the body, a Strige named Rafael. The driver was shot too, but he’s not awake yet. There were complications getting the bullet out, and they aren’t sure if his brain was permanently damaged or not.”

  Rafael is dead. This whole time, it hasn’t felt real. The weight of the situation rests on my shoulders, and I feel them sag in defeat. Monroe is nowhere close. That much I can feel all the way down to my bones. Whoever took him will hold true to their word. He won’t be safe until I give myself over to them.

  Catching the last part of a conversation between the two Rites, I tell them, “It won’t be necessary to go any further. I’ve gotten all I can from this spot, so there’s no need.”

  Bennet stares at me with his mouth open catching flies, but Larkan is watching my face. “Are you sure?” he asks.

  I nod, “I feel a faint trace of him, but he’s nowhere close.”

  “Do you still want to go talk to his people?” Bennet asks.

  My eyes find Larkan’s, and he shrugs, leaving the choice up to me. It’s not my place to stick my nose in Monroe’s personal affairs down here. There’s nothing they can tell to help me find him, that much I know for sure. Whoever did this made sure that it wasn’t going to trace back to them. Worse, they made it look like the Rites were the ones who did it. I know everyone thinks I’m a Rites supporter anyways, especially now that I’m the Arbiter, but I can feel the signatures radiating through this area. Must be one of my newest powers. Several Rites have been here, but I get the sense it was mere curiosity. Much like someone investigating the accident like good old Bennet here. This was definitely not something done by them, but there’s no reason to tell them just yet. At least not until I know without a doubt.

  Shaking my head, I answer, “No. It won’t do any good.” I feel a moment of soul crushing agony at not being able to get him back, but then I remember that I am the fucking Arbiter. He will come home and whoever is responsible, will feel my wrath.

  The silence on the ride back to the airport is almost tangible, but neither of them break it. Even the once talkative Rite. I get lost in my head as I feel that tug in my gut letting me know that Monroe is still alive. The night I became the Arbiter a connection was opened between me and all of the Damned, but what I have with Monroe is different – deeper. Maybe it’s because I’ve fed from him and his essence is trapped inside of me making it easier to track him, or if it’s as simple as location. Maybe I could be closer to him than I realize. This shit would be so much easier if I could ask for advice from the only other person that would know about these powers, another Arbiter. Too bad they all fucking die before passing any of this information along to anyone. I add this to my growing mental list of stuff to work on after these sickos are caught.

  We say our goodbyes to Bennet in the same place he picked us up from. Even with all the turmoil running through my head, it makes me a little sad to say goodbye to him. Which is weird, because I just met him. There’s something there that I just can’t figure it out. A connection of a sorts, perhaps? That’s something worth coming back to explore, if I make it out of this alive.

  Larkan goes to step inside, and I stop him, “We should drive back.”

  His eyes narrow, “No. We’re flying. For a couple reasons.” He holds the door open for me and continues, “For one, I know what’s going on inside that crazy head of yours, and we don’t go looking for trouble. Especially without backup. I don’t think it would do any good anyways, because I don’t think they’d stick around the area with him. And for two, something has been nagging me since we left. Just wisps of a bad feeling. We need to get home.”

  Who am I to question the intuition of a Rite? So, for the second time in less than twelve hours, we get on a plane heading to what could potentially be disaster.

  Once we’ve landed back in Maine, we’ve taken no more than ten steps off the plane before Larkan’s phone beeps in his pocket. I try not to eavesdrop and instead focus on the fact that I can still feel Monroe, which means that it wasn’t a distance thing. I want to sigh in relief but the look on Larkan’s face as he hangs up his phone stops me.

  “What is it?” I ask him.

  He cuts his eyes over to me, “There’s been a new development.”

  What now? I give him until we make it through the crowd and out to his SUV to question him. “Care to explain that phone call?”

  The doors unlock as he says, “Get in the car, and I’ll explain on the way.”

  I huff, but do as he says and hop in. Once I’m buckled, my fingers tap an impatient tempo on the door waiting for his explanation.

  Since I’m already looking at him, I notice when his hands tighten on the steering wheel and a weird look passes over his face, “I wanted you in the car, because I didn’t want you running off to try anything stupid.”

  At this I want to either punch him, or…no I just want to punch him, “Just tell me what it is damn it.”

  “There was an incident at the club while we were gone,” he spits out.

  I laugh, “There hasn’t been what you call ‘an incident’ in years. My people know how to shut that shit down.”

  He shakes his head as he looks at me with sympathy, “It wasn’t during business hours. The Rites on scene pulled your security cameras and confirmed that it wasn’t Rites that attacked.”

  “Attacked?!” I bark. “Who the fuck was attacked, and it’s awfully convenient that the first ones on scene are Rites that confirm it wasn’t them.” I’m not sure why I’m lashing out at him or the Rites. It’s neither of their faults and the small amount of time in Louisiana was enough proof of that for me. I just can’t seem to stop myself. I need someone to take this frustration out on. “Who was attacked, Larkan?”

  His head tilts over to the left a little and he licks his lips, almost like he was hoping that I wouldn’t ask again, “Jamie and Cedric were the only ones there.”

  I feel the shock that hits me in the heart on my face.

  “Are they okay?” I whisper.

  Silence fills the car, and I want to scream on top of murdering everything within a ten-mile range. First Monroe, now Jamie and Cedric. I turn back to him trying my best not to stare daggers through his face, it’s not his fault after all, “So, they were taken too?”

  Scrunching up his face, it makes it hard for me to read his expression, “They took Jamie.”

  The implications of his words hit me square in the chest. There’s no way that they would have taken Jamie if Cedric was still alive. Fuck!

  “And did those cameras show just where Enoch was during this whole thing?” I grind out.

  Larkan shakes his head, “They didn’t mention anyone other than the two of them bei
ng there.”

  I nod at his answer. The one time that I really needed Enoch to be there and he wasn’t. I’m in the mood for murder, so maybe I’ll start with him.

  As the club comes into view, I want to vomit on Larkan’s floor. At least four black SUVs surround the entrances of the Apothecary. We’ve barely rolled to a stop before I’m out of the car and running towards the club. Larkan grabs hold of my elbow and pulls me back. My fist is cocked back ready to punch him in the face when another Rite walks up to us.

  “Larkan,” he all but growls from underneath his hood before turning to me. “And you are Nocturna, the owner of this establishment, yes?”

  Since I’m pretty sure the only thing I’ll do is scream, opening my mouth at this point probably isn’t the best idea. Instead, I just nod my head in answer to his question.

  “Were you filled in on what happened here?” he asks and another nod from me. “Do you know of anyone that may have wanted to do something like this?”

  You mean other than the sick bastards who took Monroe and has been chopping up Damned like Sushi being served on a bed of rice? Nope. Not at all. I shake my head.

  Without saying another word, he turns and walks away from us. He acts like he doesn’t trust me, which is fine because I don’t really give a shit. I stomp the rest of the way into the club. On the main floor, there are at least three Rites hovering around the edges of the room. One is squatted in the middle, looking down on an unmoving figure. Tears try to sneak out of my eyes, but I let it fuel my anger as I take a few steps closer.

  The Rite that was inspecting the body, stands and walks over to us. His face is shrouded by his hood, but I wouldn’t see it anyways. I can’t seem to take my eyes off Cedric’s lifeless form on the ground. Jamie is going to be fucking heartbroken when we get her back.

  “Never been a fan of these Strige, but I actually feel for him,” the Rite is saying to Larkan. “He put up one hell of a fight before they broke his neck and put a silver bullet in his brain.”