Halfblood Heritage

by Rheaume, Laura

  “Now, Lena,” Ian answered, “you know I’m working on being less selfish, but it’s a ten step program and I can’t seem to get past step number two...”

  “Letting extortionists blackmail you into selling yourself into slavery?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That is a tough one.”

  Grant’s shocked expression, paired with a slight shake of his head, motivated Ian to sober up a little and ask, “How can we help you, Mr Fa?”

  “I need to discuss matters of security with you, when the Kin here vacate the room,” he nodded at Smoke and Scythe.

  “We’re going to tell them everything anyway, so why bother?” Lena challenged.

  Mr. Fa, stunned by her open defiance, turned to the border patrol officer. “Mr. Wells, can you assist me here?”

  Grant said, “You can insist on seeing them alone, but the information will be shared regardless, I’m afraid, Mr. Fa.”

  “I’m amazed that you two were able to rise as high as you did in the border patrol, given your blatant disregard...”

  “For authority and standard procedure,” finished Lena and then yawned loudly before giving him a level stare. “We’ve risen because we’re good at what we do and we work hard and we don’t quit until the job is done. I’ve found that those traits are not always found in people who can’t think for themselves and worry about their next review.”

  “Do you have an abundance of people on your staff who are willing to die and let their loved ones die before they give up searching for the people behind the kidnap and torture of thirty-five Kin strangers?” Ian asked, the humor in his tone long gone.

  “Thirty-six with Scythe,” Lena added.

  Neville Fa swallowed, shaken by their abrupt change in attitude, “I do not, and I do see your point, but, regardless...”

  “Alright Mr. Neville Fa, we’ll hear you out,” Ian said. “Although being connected to us can be...unhealthy.” He lifted up his bandaged arm, displaying the plastic tubing hanging down, and pointing at his heavily bruised face; the scabs from several long cuts zigzagged back and forth across his skin.

  “There is much to discuss and it is already late in the day,” the middle aged man said after a grim stare and a heavy sigh. “I suggest we meet tomorrow. Grant, your offices will be suitable, I think. How about ten o’clock?”

  Before Lena or Ian could speak, Grant said quickly, “That is fine. We look forward to meeting you then, Mr. Fa. Thank you for accommodating us.” He ushered the man out, closing the door behind him.

  “Well, I’m kind of relieved. Now we can at least have a good night’s sleep and deal with all of this crap in the morning,” Lena said, leaning back onto Smoke’s chest and wrapping his arms around her.

  “Yes, sleep, that’s what I want to do with my wife.” Smoke’s mischievous smile made Lena blush. She frowned at him and then at Ian and Faith, who had started laughing. Then she lightly punched the Blade's arm.

  “Hey! We’re not married yet!”

  “Actually,” Scythe said, unable to resist and ignoring Smoke’s pointed look, “according to Kin tradition, you’ve been married for over a week.”

  “What?”

  “You were married as soon as you gave Smoke your favor, which you did when we spoke the night before you disappeared. Remember?”

  “Mismatch, I was going to tell her that!”

  Scythe grinned weakly at him.

  “Okay, that is not what my sources said...” Lena said, thinking back.

  “Well, you need to know it, because we’ve encountered a little trouble because of it and things will be very sticky if you claim you didn’t know.”

  “What trouble?” Lena asked, turning to look at Smoke.

  “Well, wife,” he smiled at her flushed cheeks, “I got a little...”

  “Pissed off?” Scythe finished, grinning.

  Smoke narrowed his eyes at his friend, “I decided to take 'personal vindictive measures' when I saw you in this chair.” Looking at the chair, his heart jumped a beat in his chest and his face lost it’s mirth. “Seriously, my Heart, it was one of the scariest moments of my life.”

  Lena stroked his cheek, kissing him lightly, “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You did nothing. It is others who will be sorry. As your husband, I am due an explanation as well as...what is it called Scythe?” Smoke asked, giving him the word in Kin.

  “Reparations, I think, or...maybe compensation.”

  “Reparations of my own devising for what was done to you. It is Kin law, and harming a family member is a serious violation.”

  “Wow, really? Even though it was, you know, a kidnapping and everything?”

  “Their big mistake was returning you as part of a formal, official agreement. When they did that, they made themselves susceptible to Kin law.”

  “Of course, normally, there wouldn’t have been any risk, since you are Human. However, with you being Smoke’s wife, he has legal rights which they have to address. And,” Scythe grinned wider, “it doesn’t hurt that he was backed up by a Blade officer.”

  “No, it doesn’t. We can be tenacious.” He threw her a promising look.

  “I can see that,” she laughed.

  “Geez, get a room, Lena,” Ian complained lightheartedly.

  “Yes, Lena, get a room,” Smoke urged.

  “I know I want a room with a soft bed...you know what? I don’t even need the soft bed, just a space on the floor. Maybe a pillow...whatever, I’m beat. Let’s get some food and find out about sleep,” Scythe suggested. What he really wanted was quiet, though. The quiet called to him.

  “Are we feeling safe?” Faith asked her husband.

  “I think so, but let’s stay here at Border Patrol Headquarters for tonight. There are barracks that will do the job.”

  “With a separate room for Lena,” Smoke insisted, “as she is still recovering. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.”

  “You’ll be my nurse?”

  “Okay, all of you out!” Ian yelled, shaking his head at his sister and accidentally startling the sleeping Mercy at his side. “Oh, sorry honey, you go back to sleep.”

  “But I’m hungry,” she complained, wiping her eyes and sitting up.

  “Me, too,” Scythe said, “I’ll bring you something, okay, Mercy?”

  “No, I want to come with you,” she said, jumping off the bed and crossing the room in a bound.

  His heart lightened when she grabbed his hand bossily and started to pull him up. He smiled up at her, “Oh, okay, but you have to ask your mom first.”

  When Mercy looked at Faith, the woman said, “That’s fine, honey.”

  “We’ll be back with something for you guys, too. Does Will need anything special?”

  “Nope, but I want something with a million calories.”

  Chapter 28

  An hour later, Scythe sat on the bottom bunk of a three level bed in one of the larger dormitories of Border Patrol Headquarters. His legs were crossed, and he leaned against the corner post, sipping the last of his drink before depositing it next to his cleared plate and another empty cup. Sleep was rolling in, a thick wave that would take him at any minute. “That’s it, I am out for the night.”

  “You mean, you’re out until your shift...in six hours,” Leandra corrected.

  “Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Scythe lay down, after quickly looking over the room.

  Ian had already succumbed to his need for extra rest in the hospital bed that had been relocated to a corner of the room. Mercy and Faith talked quietly in the bunk bed next to it. A small basket had been found for Will; his steady, soft breathing made the gentlest whispering sound, in stark contrast to the loud noises made across the aisle by Pride.

  After gobbling down his meal, his brother had wanted to get in as much rest as he could before his shift in about two and a half hours. Leandra sat in a chair by the door, her legs crossed at the ankle. Spread out in various bunks throughout the room slept
the rest of their group, including all the Kin, Grant and, surprisingly, Harmony and her daughter.

  “I don’t know where else to go. I can’t think of one safe place for me or my daughter,” Harmony had said when she showed up a half hour earlier. Grant had offered to keep her under their direct protection until they could be sure of her safety. Most of the rest of the border patrol had returned to their homes, including Ben, who had managed to secure a coveted bordertown placement with Grant’s assistance and strict orders to keep everything they had seen or heard confidential. Outside in the hall, three guards were assigned to watch their room as well as the one Smoke had managed to acquire for himself and Lena across the way.

  Laying back, he smiled at the thought of his friends’ happiness, the sight of which reminded him of the memories he held close of his parents. Lena was nothing like his mother, a quiet, reserved woman who was not easily riled and who would labor without stopping from dawn until she laid her head down at night to provide a warm, nurturing home for her husband and son.

  She had doted on Scythe’s father, often praising him to her son when they were working on some project or in the garden. “Scythe,” she would say, “you remind me so much of your father and it makes me very proud, because it doesn’t get any better than that man in all the world.”

  Scythe’s father had been a diplomat for Poinsea who spent the majority of the year traveling to other Kin cities. Very rarely he negotiated with the Human settlements near Poinsea; troubles with his car on one such assignment forced him to take a hike within bordertown boundaries, which resulted in a fateful meeting with Scythe’s mother long ago. Scythe senior was an intelligent and thoughtful man, often deliberating long before answering a question or giving his opinion.

  “Scythe,” he told his son once, “you must choose your words carefully; if you are unsure, then, you should not speak at all. Your words and your actions are what will make you a man worthy of the respect and love of others. That is why you must consider before you do anything. Once lost, both love and respect are nearly impossible to regain.” Scythe had seen firsthand how his charismatic father was admired by friends and family, how others came to him for advice and gravitated toward him at gatherings.

  He was not a warrior, though; his father’s ability to turn a bad situation around was useless against Human weapons. For the first time in years, the memory of his last moments with his father pressed itself into the forefront of his thoughts, not fading one bit when he threw his hand over his eyes and tried to sleep.

  “Scythe, your mother is sick with worrying about you. Let’s get home before she does something rash...”

  “Why is this happening?” asked a terrified Scythe, gripping his father’s hand tightly and making an effort to keep up with the man’s long stride. He looked at the homes around him, some untouched, some burning, some marred by holes. All the destruction was an indecent invasion of his peaceful world.

  “Son, ‘Why’ is a tricky, tricky question to answer. Why do people fear each other? Why do people kill each other? Why...”

  “I know that one. Humans kill Kin because they are afraid, and because they hate us.”

  “Ah, is that so? All Humans, including your mother?”

  “Well,...no. Mommy is different, because she’s not like them.”

  “Son, think. Have you ever met another Human, besides your mom?”

  “No.”

  “Then, until you do, you have no opinion. Don’t let others make up your mind for you, unless you are sure they’re right. You are not a stone for others to sculpt as they see fit. You must carve yourself into the man that you see in the marble.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Scythe’s father sighed, “You will, someday, if I do right by you.” He put his finger to his lips, pulling Scythe into a small yard.

  They ducked down behind a short wall, silently waiting for the pair of soldiers they had heard approaching to pass by. Once the sound of crunching boots faded away, they slipped out and hurried down the road quietly.

  The sounds seemed so innocent, just high pitched whistles at first. Then, before Scythe or his father could react, the buildings and street around them started to explode. Scythe didn’t remember running, or falling. His only memory after that was of feeling the weight of his father’s body on top of him. His head thrumming with the aftereffects of the shells, he at first didn’t register his father’s stillness. Finally, turning his attention away from the houses engulfed in flame around them and the huge pits in the earth, he crawled out from under the body that had protected him. Turning, Scythe stared into his father’s vacant gaze.

  He wondered, when the blank face didn’t fill, why he was the one who felt hollow right there under his ribs. Hollow words echoing unheard. Hollow mind that turned. Hollow was something that shouldn’t hurt.

  Scythe, laying on the bottom bunk in a barracks where the very people who attacked Poinsea might have slept, pulled his hand off his face and clutched at his shirt, turning toward the wall. After a minute, he heard soft footsteps and felt a light touch on his shoulder.

  “Mercy,” Scythe said without turning, “go back to bed. It’s late.”

  “But, it hurts.”

  He turned onto his back, looking her over, “What hurts?”

  “Right here,” she said, pressing her hand over her heart.

  “Well, rub it and go back to bed.” Scythe frowned, releasing the cloth in his grip.

  She shook her head, putting her knee up on the bed and reaching out to him. He started to push her away, but paused when her hand dropped down on his chest. Immediately, the sharp pain created by the memory of his father’s death faded to the dull ache he was used to. He closed his eyes, and, for just a moment, selfishly appreciated the relief.

  Mercy climbed all the way onto his bed and laid her head on his chest, her hand patting him absently. “It’s okay, Uncle Scythe.”

  “Mercy, you have to go back and lay down with your mommy.”

  “I will, in a minute,” she said, closing her eyes.

  “Honey, what did...what did you do when you made the safe place?” Scythe asked.

  “I made a safe place,” she answered and then yawned.

  “What is that?”

  “I don’t know, but you needed it.”

  Scythe frowned deeper, “I needed it?”

  “Yes, Uncle Scythe, you need someone to keep you safe.”

  “Safe from what, Mercy?”

  “The bad things. You feel better now?”

  “Mercy, you aren’t in charge of keeping me safe. I think you should take it back.”

  She lifted her head, distraught, “No!”

  “Shhh!” he hushed her, looking around. “Okay, forget it, just...you need to go back to bed now.”

  “I won’t take it back, though, Uncle Scythe,” she insisted, slipping down to the floor.

  “Why?”

  “Because I saw you doing bad things.”

  “When?” he asked, a new feeling spreading through his chest. Mercy had seen him...doing what?

  “When what?”

  “When did you see it?”

  “A while ago.”

  “Was it like when you saw me in Harmony’s eyes?”

  “No. Why are you afraid now?”

  Scythe wondered what bad things she might have seen him do. Was it when he killed the guards in the hospital?

  Scythe looked around again, noticing whose breathing was steady and who had awoken. “Go to bed, Mercy.”

  “Okay, but don’t be afraid, Uncle Scythe. We love you.” She patted him on the arm and headed back to bed, lifting up the sheet and climbing in with her mother.

  Scythe lay there, trying to make sense of Mercy’s words, until sleep finally claimed him.

  -----------

  “You are deluded if you think we are going to stand by and do nothing,” said Lena with finality, sitting back in her chair and turning her head away from Neville Fa in disgust.


  “I think you will find that you are the one who...”

  “Am I dreaming,” she interrupted for the twentieth time, “or are you telling me that our own government is going to turn its back on the kidnapping of its own citizens? They are alive! They are being experimented on!” She kicked the table, pushing her chair back and getting up to pace aimlessly. “What?” she asked to the silent room. “Nothing to say?”

  Neville Fa waited a moment to be sure she was not going to speak over him again before he replied, “I am merely waiting until you can bring yourself under control long enough to hear me out fully.” He waited, watching her pace a moment more. “Well?”

  “Lena, sit down and shut up,” Ian said firmly but gently from his wheelchair. When she complied, he turned to the man. “You can see how this would be difficult for anyone to stomach, Mr. Fa. My sister, all of us, have had experiences that make it particularly difficult for us to accept your orders.” He quelled the comment his sister was about to make with a stern look.

  Mr. Fa nodded, “Regardless, they must be obeyed. There is no other option available to any of you. The decision was made at the highest level, which means that you will be imprisoned without option for release if you take even the smallest measure against it. Any action will be identified as treasonous. I am sure you know that treason falls under a specific set of legal guidelines. These regulations are by their very design open to loose interpretation, and are written with the security of the Human race and not the defendant’s legal rights in mind. You can be held indefinitely without charges filed upon even the suspicion of treason; under the right circumstances, and they will be the right circumstances, I assure you, you will not ever see a courtroom or even a lawyer. Your children will be remanded to the court, and you will not see each other again for the duration of your lives. You will in no way be able to help the people you are fighting for, in any case.”