by Jessica Roe
“Fuckin' bitch.”
She tossed him the bird over her shoulder as she walked away.
Charles continued to question Zebb for another three frustrating hours. He used every trick in his arsenal but Zebb remained tight lipped.
“I'm getting rather angry with you, Zebb,” Charles told him calmly, though his stormy eyes were raging. “I don't like to be angry; it makes me do irrational things.”
Zebb actually laughed. “What are you gonna do, English? I know all about you Guardians, you have rules,” he mocked. “There ain't nothing you can do to me that you'd get away with.”
“Touche.” Charles cleared his throat and stood, smoothing down the front of his dark blue suit and brushing off an imaginary speck of dust. Zebb grinned smugly until Charles nodded over at Gable. “She, however, is not a Guardian.”
“Finally.” Gable pushed off the wall, striding towards them with purpose. She knew Zebb had pushed Charles right to his limit because he patted her on the shoulder and told her to do what she must when she passed him by.
Zebb's smugness slid away like oil as he watched her approach, his eyes wide and finally, finally, he showed fear, if only a little. “Touch me and I'll break your damned neck,” he warned her. “I mean it, if you-”
“Shut up.” Without slowing down, she scooped up her abandoned stool and smashed it over the side of his head. The splintered pieces dropped to the floor with a clatter.
“Mother fucker!” His chair fell sideways. More curse words spewed from his mouth as blood dripped down his face from a gash on the head. “Once Pablo's Crazy Bitch, always Pablo's Crazy Bitch, huh?”
Ignoring him, she reached down and yanked his chair over so he was on his back. His knees, still tied to the chair legs, pointed towards the ceiling.
Behind her she heard Charles mumble, “Perhaps violence is more efficient.”
Standing up straight with a stoic face, she pressed her boot down on Zebb's ribs. “Talk, or I'll break them to pieces.”
“Bitch!”
“You said that already.” She pushed down – not hard enough to break, but enough to make him heave and splutter. “That was your one warning. Talk.”
“Just because I've seen the things you've done,” he wheezed. “don't mean I'm afraid of you. You're nothing more than a scared little whore in love with a dog who ain't never comin' home.”
“You're talking, but I'm hearing nothing I want.” She was trying really hard not to let his words affect her, but he'd always known exactly the right thing to say to get under her skin. She pressed her boot down harder and he yelped in pain when something cracked.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Pablo gave you everything! You were his favorite and then you just killed him!” He spat a glob of blood out of his mouth. “I saw you before he came for you, you know that? He had me follow you. You were a dirty little street rat, good for nothing and wasting air. He scraped you off the ground and you repaid him by-”
“Enough!” came Terelle's sharp voice from the far side of the room. It startled Gable, which was probably a good thing because she'd been about two seconds from ruining Zebb's face for good. Terelle glided towards them, her steely eyes fixed firmly on Zebb, who couldn't seem to look away. “You may not be afraid of the Guardians, little man, and you may not be afraid of Gable. But you will fear me.” Her violet eyes glowed, her teeth sharpened, and her fingers grew into talons. She hissed, and the sound sent shivers racing down Gable's spine; she seemed to feel it in her very core.
Zebb's whole body began to shake underneath her boot so she lifted away and took a step back, satisfied at the sheer terror on his face. He may not be the smartest tool in the toolbox, but the guy had good enough instincts to know that this was a being not to be messed with.
Terelle swooped down and clutched Zebb by his neck, lifting both him and his chair in the air quite easily with one hand. She held him up there for a long, tense moment, gleefully reveling in the choking sounds spluttering from his mouth, and then slammed the chair back to the ground, so hard a layer of dust puffed up.
Gable marveled as she watched her friend. It was so very, very rare to see Terelle as anything other than the exotically beautiful yet mild mannered leader of the New York Outcasts. Seeing the angry, deadly faerie come out was like. . .art. A masterpiece.
Not for the first time, she imagined how fantastic Terelle must have been when she'd been a true faerie and not fallen.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Zebb mumbled, his voice hoarse from near strangulation. His chair was upright again, but he looked like he'd much rather be on the ground than face to face with a terrifying Terelle.
Next to him, even usually stoic Uang's eyes were wide with fright. For the first time in his life he was probably grateful to have had his tongue cut out so as not to be the object of her attention.
Terelle leaned over Zebb and pushed her forehead against his, making sure he was staring into her gleaming eyes. “Are you afraid yet?”
“Shit! I mean, yes! Shit, yes.”
“That's very good. You see, I have this intense urge right now to peel the flesh from your very bones.” She ran one of her sharp talons down his cheek, nice and deep. He flinched and whimpered as his blood ran free. “Piece by disgusting piece, as slowly as I can possibly manage. And you see, I know witches who can make sure you remain awake for every second of it, until there is no flesh left on your dirty, rotten corpse.”
Gable grimaced at the imagery. She was more of a flying fists and broken bones kind of gal, but Terelle's brand of violence was certainly. . .deadlier. And scarier. She was the stuff nightmares were made of.
Points for style, though.
She glanced behind her to see how good old Charlie was taking it. He seemed aloof, though he was pale and she knew he wasn't at all comfortable with the situation. He was a good guy, and good guys weren't supposed to hurt people, even when it was necessary. Maybe the experience would teach him how to see in gray instead of black and white.
Next to him, Cadby and Ward wore hard, determined faces. It was different for them, the Outcasts were their people. They would do whatever it took to bring their own home. Whatever it took.
Terelle waggled her talons in front of Zebb's face and then without warning, stabbed one into his shoulder, knuckle deep.
He screamed in agony as she twisted it around. “They're in Zawavia! The Outcasts are in Zawavia!”
Chapter 7
Gable
Terelle froze, her whole body stiffening in shock, and then she pulled away quickly like she'd been yanked by an invisible chain. Her eyes dimmed and her talons and teeth retracted. “You lie,” she breathed in disbelief.
Zebb shook his head, panting in pain and fright. All of his earlier swagger was gone. “It's true, I swear it.”
Gable could tell he was being honest, if nothing else than by the way Uang was glaring furiously at him for his betrayal.
“You're telling me Pablo took the stolen Outcasts to my realm?” Terelle demanded. “The realm of faerie?”
From behind, Charles, Ward and Cadby approached. There was an undercurrent of excitement about them; they were finally getting answers!
“I won't believe it!” Terelle announced harshly.
“But don't you see,” Cadby interjected quietly. “this makes so much sense. It's why I could never sense where Sacha was – he's in a different world!”
After a moment, Terelle nodded reluctantly, then turned back to Zebb. “Not in the Summer Fields? Nothing goes unnoticed there and my uncle would never allow such a thing.”
Gable sometimes forgot that Terelle was a member of faerie royalty, the niece of the Summer King, ruler of all in the summer region. But then, that was why her punishment had been so severe when she'd broken the rules, why her wings had been ripped from her and why she'd been banished to the human realm. She'd been a lesson to all other faeries. Those guys sure did things harshly over there.
“No,” Zebb replied. “They're on
one of the Dark Islands.”
She whispered something in a foreign language, most probably faerie, that sounded an awful lot like a curse. “Of course they are. Of course this has something to do with the dark faeries.”
“The dark faeries?” Ward asked. “Are they evil?”
“Not necessarily evil,” she explained. “Not truly, at least. But they are certainly. . .mischievous. They see Outcasts and humans alike as toys, playthings to meddle with. They enjoy playing with you and your world and seeing how things turn out, like a sick form of entertainment. Their actions have caused many a war in different realms. Your World Wars, for example.”
Charles looked interested at that. “Really? How-”
“Not the time,” Gable interrupted, and he dropped his shoulders like a little boy, rightly scolded.
“And they're not evil?” Ward questioned. “You sure about that?”
“Well, if you placed them on a set of scales, it's true they'd tip more towards the side of evil than good. But they've been the cause of miracles also. You don't think your men made their very first trip to the moon without help, do you?”
“That's. . .weird.”
“Hmm. Yes, I think watching the results of Pablo's experiments would have amused them greatly,” she mused. “Cadby is right, this is all making sense.”
“Pablo made a deal with the Dark Queen,” Zebb told Terelle eagerly. Now that she wasn't threatening him, he seemed to be flowing with answers. He was probably trying to keep her claws away. “She gave him one of the smaller islands, Lonh, empty of faeries, and the promise of silence on his plan, along with the key to Zawavia. In return she wanted her own army of all powerful Outcasts when he'd finished.”
“Something new for her to play with,” Terelle muttered in disgust. “Wait, you say she gave him the key to Zawavia?”
He nodded.
“What's the key?” Gable questioned.
“It's a tiny portion of magical energy,” Terelle explained. “As old as Zawavia itself, and the only one of its kind. When used correctly it becomes a doorway between the other realms and Zawavia. Faeries have no use of it; we can pass through worlds whenever we choose. . .” She paused then and her nostrils flared. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, realizing that Terelle couldn't pass through, not since her wings had been torn away. She collected herself and continued. “But on the very, very rare occasion that a human, or a being from any of the other realms, is allowed to enter our world, the key is the only safe way to do it.” She narrowed her eyes. “But the key went missing over a century ago. We should have known the Dark Queen had it all this time. She'll have been waiting for the opportunity to cause mayhem.”
“It must have been how that guy, Pablo, was transporting the Outcasts he took,” Ward pointed out.
“And his guards and scientists,” Cadby added.
Charles snapped his fingers at Zebb to gain his attention. “Where is the key now?” If they had the key, then they could get to the island! They could save the Outcasts!
“I don't know.” Terelle hissed and Zebb began to hyperventilate, which Gable enjoyed immensely. It was about time someone made the sadistic dick sweat. “I really don't, I swear it! Me and Uang, we never went there. We never went to any other realm but this one.”
Gable and Charles glanced at each other, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking the same as she. Pablo's apartment, his office, any place he'd owned, it had all been searched thoroughly by Guardian Officials, and nothing like the key had been found which meant that his mysterious partner must have taken possession of it.
But before they questioned Zebb about that, Gable needed to know one thing.
“What did you do with Chase?”
Zebb turned to her slowly, raising his brow like he'd forgotten she was even there. “What?”
“Chase. Where is he? Don't make me ask again. Just 'cause I don't have claws don't mean I can't do that. . .skin. . .flaying thingy. Where. Is. Chase?”
He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and then he laughed.
Gable's stomach dropped out of her chest and her heart broke. The bastards had killed him. Chase had been sweet and lovely and innocent to all their messed up mayhem. He'd never harmed a single hair on anyone's head and they'd just killed him, just for being there at the wrong time.
“You asshole!” She shot forward and punched him, right in the nose. It gave a satisfying crunch underneath her fist and blood gushed out.
“For fuck's sake!” he yelled. “You broke my nose! You're such a-”
“A bitch, I know. You mentioned that.”
“Well if the shoe fits.”
“You think your nose hurts, wait 'till I break every bone in your body, you-”
“Whoa, firecracker!” Ward grabbed Gable around the waist when she launched herself at Zebb again and lifted her, twisting away before setting her down. She moved to go around him but he held her in place. His body was hard and he was strong, and though she could have probably fought her way out of his grip like she'd done with others much bigger than him, she didn't bother. She allowed her body to deflate, reassuring herself that she'd have her chance to do some damage when they'd gotten the rest of their answers.
“Who is in charge of the operation now?” Charles demanded, sensing Gable's impatience. “Who is Pablo's partner?”
“I'll tell you.” Zebb's nervous eyes flickered between Terelle and Charles, like he wasn't sure he should push his luck, but he seemed to have regained a little confidence now that she wasn't sticking her talons in him. “But only if I can make a deal.”
“You've gotta be kidding me,” Gable muttered, shaking her head.
Charles pursed his lips in distaste, but in the end he left the building to call the Guardian Elders.
Ward pulled Gable over to wait by the doors, clearly understanding that it was best to keep her far away from Uang and especially Zebb.
It took Charles a good hour to finish his phone call, and when he re-entered the warehouse it was with a heavy sigh. “The Elders have agreed,” he told Ward and Gable quietly. “Albeit reluctantly. Zebb and Uang will be put into one of the lower security Guardian prisons and given the chance of rehabilitation, like Nicky was. It's extremely unlikely that they'll ever be ready for release, but life will certainly be. . .easier for them than in a regular human prison.”
Gable stared at him for a moment, then swung around and kicked the door as hard as she could, denting it. She swore harshly and rested her forehead against the cold metal.
“I don't like it either,” Charles tried to assure her while Ward laid a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, the idea of them getting it easy makes me sick to the stomach, but we do what we must. If this is what it takes to get back the Outcasts, to get back your friend. . .then so be it.”
She pushed away from the door and paced, running a hand through her long, dark brown hair, before whipping around and nodding tersely. “Go. Do it.”
He smiled weakly, though it didn't reach his eyes, and walked away.
“They don't deserve this break,” she said, clenching and unclenching her fists as she and Ward followed behind him.
“I know.” Ward slung an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. “But like the posh guy said, we kinda need this.”
“Ugh, I hate when people use logic on me. Life is much nicer when we all act like hotheads.”
Charles explained the terms of the deal to Zebb, who didn't seem to think it was enough, though he quickly agreed after Terelle backhanded him.
“So? The name of the partner?” Charles demanded. “Now.”
Zebb opened up his mouth to speak but before he could get out so much as a single word, Uang broke free of his hand restraints – something he must have been working on while all the attention had been on Zebb – and leaped up, his legs still attached to the chair. None of them had a chance to react as he grasped a hold of Zebb's head and yanked it to one side, snapping his neck and killi
ng him instantly.
Everyone stepped back in horror. Charles and Gable pulled out their guns, aiming right at his head, but Uang just sat calmly back in his chair and folded his arms, smiling smugly at them all in turn.
“What the hell?” Gable breathed. Had Uang really just killed Zebb? Had Uang really just killed Zebb? The two of them were partners, had always been partners. Screwed up, crazy ass, murderous partners. Zebb and Uang had been Zebb and Uang for as long as Gable had known them.
She felt Ward shift slightly beside her and suddenly roots shot out of the ground, strong enough to break through layers of concrete, and wrapped themselves around Uang's arms and legs. Gable didn't blame Ward for his caution – that was one seriously sneaky son of a bitch.
Silence reigned for the longest time. It was Charles who finally broke it. “Bloody hell!” he raged. He span in a helpless circle, and then surprising them all, he pointed his gun at Uang once more. The clicking noise as he cocked it seemed to echo throughout the whole room. Uang stared down the barrel, unafraid, prepared to die for his secrets.
“We should stop him,” Ward said in a low voice. “Before he goes too far.”
“Why?” Cadby demanded. Gable glanced over at him, startled that he out of all of them was the one to say it. He was usually so good and fair. But he was white and shaking and she realized that it was probably the first time he'd ever witnessed a real, cold blooded murder outside of battle. “He deserves it.”
Gable shook her head and stepped forward, slowly reaching up and placing her hand over the gun. She didn't have to wrestle it from Charles' grip; he gave it up easily. “You're a good man,” she told him. “You don't need this on your conscience.”
His normally handsome face was ashen and lined and he looked older than his thirty nine years. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Death would be too easy. He will rot in a prison for the rest of his pitiful life.” He bent over and shoved his face in Uang's, pointing towards the small window near the ceiling. “You see that sunlight out there? Take a good, long look and commit it to memory. It will be the last time you gaze upon it, I can guarantee that.”