Mortal Raised

by Kit Bladegrave

  “Virginia?” I wondered why she would be taken there, then cursed. “That place?”

  “Most likely. The man who has custody of her now is her great uncle.”

  “Great, that’s great. How the hell am I supposed to keep an eye on her when she’s surrounded by those bastards? And there’s enough magic on those grounds to keep trouble away.”

  “You know that’s bullshit,” Preston sighed. “They’re not prepared.”

  “I’m not going anywhere near that school.”

  “Then don’t,” Jenny said. “But she might not always be at the school. If you’re not going to watch her, then I’ll send Tank and be done with it, but I need to know right now.”

  I stalked to the railing of the platform and stared out over the refugees and fighters like myself, huddled close together, talking quietly, or making ready to head back into the city. For years, I’d been watching over my target, and as much as I was furious at what happened… she was still my target. My sense of honor was too damn strong, and I hung my head.

  “I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

  “Just keep her alive,” Jenny said, and I heard the worry in her voice about sending me out. “Report back anything suspicious. If they found her here, tried to kill her once, it’s only a matter of time before they do it again.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Preston scowled at me, but Jenny said nothing except to add, “Tank is going with you.”

  “What? No, I’m fine on my own.”

  “No, I don’t think you are,” she argued. “He’s going with you, or you’re not going at all, and you’re going to be relegated to guard duty of the tunnels. Is that what you want? To be cooped up here?”

  “No, no, I do not,” I finally replied.

  “Good, then get your shit packed and get ready to leave. Your target will be landing in Virginia soon, and I want you there ASAP.” She glared back down at the table, and Preston joined her, looking over her shoulder.

  “Any other news aside from the recent attacks?” I asked stiffly.

  “Movement in several other states, but no, no more attacks. Not yet at least, but they’re planning something big, and I have a feeling things are about to get worse, much worse,” Jenny admitted.

  I felt bad, being as rotten as I was. She looked exhausted. The bags under her eyes and the lines on her face grew worse every time I saw her. The strain reflected in her trembling arms and how she stared dismally at the map and reports laid out before her. We knew for a while now the enemy plotted a major attack something far worse than everything they’d done so far, but we had no information to give us a clue as to what, or how. The targeting of hybrids wasn’t unheard of, but they’d picked it up over the past few months. Sending two assassins after a mortal-raised was pretty extreme in my opinion.

  I mumbled something about going and finding Tank and left them alone. Tank was in the arsenal, loading up a bag with daggers, ammo, and whatever else he thought we might need.

  “Grenades, really?” I picked one up with a cocked eyebrow.

  “You never know,” he said without looking up.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier, alright?”

  He set down his handful of gear and took the hand I held out, smiling grimly. “I know it hurts, mate, I do, but we’ll all have time to grieve when this is over. Use that anger of yours and stick it to the bad guys.”

  “Oh, I plan on doing just that, don’t you worry.”

  It wouldn’t be long before they tracked our target to Virginia and the second they stuck there necks out, I’d be there to relieve them of their heads.

  Zara always told me I held back, afraid to use my strength, worried I’d get lost in the fighting, the bloodlust, and turn into the enemy I loathed so much.

  There was no more holding back, not now. If they wanted to come after my target, they’d have to go through me first, and I would gladly kill each and every one of them.

  “That’s the spirit,” Tank growled in agreement. “I see that fury. Hold onto it.”

  “You ready to go or what?” I asked, anxious to get out of the underground and head to Virginia. “I want to scout the entire area as soon as we get there.”

  “Jenny said there’s already a team there, but we’ll do our own recon like always.”

  Tank shouldered the duffel, and we left the arsenal together.

  I swung by the alcove one final time to grab my long, black trench coat, double check the blades against my hips, boots, and the one tucked at my lower back, and caught up with him at the exit.

  Jenny and Preston watched us from the platform. No one said goodbye and no one waved. Bad luck. Stupid superstition, but no one said those words anymore Goodbye. We’d said them all too many times before to people we never saw again.

  Once in the tunnel, I buried my grief for Zara down deep and focused on my target.

  I was not going to let another person die, not on my watch.

  Eight

  Everest

  When we pulled up outside of his home in the old school drag car Edgar had been proud to show off to Mason, I was taken back by the scenery. His home was enormous.

  It was a giant mansion done up in an old gothic style design that reminded me of pictures I had seen of ancient English cathedrals. There were massive stone gargoyles on the ledges above as well as various Roman style soldiers throughout the yard and wrapping around the house toward a large flower garden Edgar said was toward the back.

  The view from outside was positively breathtaking. Every window and doorway had an arch adorning it, and various paths led off in different directions, covering the hundred acres he said he owned.

  “Whoa,” Mason cried as Edgar parked the car in a large parkway lined with four other old-timey vehicles. “Are these your cars? Is this really your house?”

  “Two of these cars are mine,” Edgar said with a boyish grin. “The other two are going to be going to a museum soon, but I get to hold onto them while one of the local mechanics works on reviving them. But, yes, this is my home. Grab your bags. I’ll show you to your rooms for the time being.”

  I paused in grabbing my suitcase out of the trunk. Time being. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  I stared at him intently, but all he did was keep on smiling. We each gripped our suitcases and waited for him to lock the car and lead us towards the house. We followed him up the cobblestone steps that led to the enormous door, and once again I was in awe as we stepped inside.

  The interior was like a giant museum, walls lined with collectible paintings, and several podiums between each painting hosting a piece of pottery of some sort. Up the large stairwell, I saw the hall of the second floor lined with uniformed knights bearing chainmail and suits of armor. This wasn’t a house. It was a museum all on its own.

  I could’ve spent hours—no, days—studying just the main floor, let alone whatever treasures were hidden away upstairs. There had to be over thirty rooms in this house, easily.

  “Whoa,” Mason exclaimed yet again. “This is insane! He really must be our uncle, Everest, he’s just like you.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He laughed at me. “If we had had the money, you would have filled our apartment up with stuff like this.”

  He had a point, but most of these items hadn’t been bought. I could tell by the way they were labeled and taken care of, and with the helpful pictures of our great uncle next to them. He’d dug up a lot of these artifacts and I pictured myself in that life. Exploring the world, digging up history and surrounding myself with it. That was one of the reasons I enjoyed the museum so much, not because of the cleaning, but feeling like I could be a part of something someday. Not just the daughter of an alcoholic.

  I was busy daydreaming about a life of digging in the dirt when I sensed eyes on me and turned.

  Edgar smiled in my direction, but I did not return the grin. I guess I was still a little uncomfortable with the
whole situation. I had no idea who this guy was. Sure, he had shown up wielding pictures of my mother as a kid, and he had some paperwork saying we were related, but that didn’t really mean all that much to me. I would’ve felt better if Mom had called us or done something, anything to just give us a heads up, but we were stuck with great uncle Edgar, alone.

  “How did you wind up in Virginia?” I asked.

  “You’re from Virginia originally, believe it or not,” he said. “Better question is, how your mother wound up in New Jersey.”

  “Do you know the answer to that question?”

  “Dragged you there not long before Mason was born. She never gave me a straight answer.”

  He was lying again, but I didn’t want to start a fight with the one person who kept us out of the foster system, at least not in front of Mason.

  But he was right, about the moving time, though I hadn’t known where she moved us from. I’d been too little, but I did remember that was when she changed.

  I shut my eyes, trying to remember back to those first few days in a new place, asking her where Dad was and what we were doing. She’d never answered me, but she’d been so upset… paranoid… I hadn’t realized it back then, but now I did.

  I opened my eyes wide in surprise when the sound of a deep, male voice whispered through my memories, and glimmer of a blurry face came with it

  “Everest? Everything alright?” Edgar asked, gripping his cane hard in his hand.

  “Yeah, sorry, just… it’s been a long few days.”

  “Of course, it’s completely understandable.” He smiled again, but I could tell he wanted to ask me something.

  Not that I had any answers. I had no idea what I’d even seen. In all the times I tried to remember, I could never recall anything about Dad. Not the sound of his voice, or an image of his face. So why all of a sudden was it coming back to me?

  “I didn’t realize I was from Virginia,” I finally said lamely, not sure what else I should say. “Mom never talked about it… she never really talked about anything, actually.”

  “Well, I can tell you a few things. For instance, you were a home-birth,” Edgar informed me, and I blinked in surprise. “Unlike Mason who was born in a New Jersey hospital. You were born in the upstairs bedroom right here. I don’t think your mother ever got you a proper birth certificate until you were older and living in Jersey.”

  “A home-birth.” That sounded odd, very odd. “You’re kidding?”

  “Your mom was one of those naturalists back then,” he laughed.

  I grit my teeth. Another lie. I was going to have to start jotting them down, so I could keep track of what questions to rail him with later.

  “Had me hire a midwife for her, and she delivered you upstairs.”

  This was a revelation. A part of me doubted the validity of it, but I couldn’t imagine a reason for Edgar to flat out lie about something like me being born here, right here. Mom must’ve lived here for a time, but he said nothing more on the topic. Everything he told me just led to more questions and I waited for someone to come out and tell me I was actually going crazy and found myself in an asylum.

  He had us put our bags at the bottom of the stairs, and the next thing I knew we were getting a tour of the place. It was unnecessarily huge for a guy who lived alone, but he had enough collections to fill up the place.

  I was mesmerized by the artifacts and the perfect condition he was able to keep them in. He told us stories of his adventures and dropped a few more bits about Mom when she would come to stay with him for the summers and then lived with him for a time. We asked about our grandparents, but he smiled sadly and said they passed away years ago. Despite the lack of information, I wanted to hear versus the stories he shared, I was starting to like it here. And though I wanted to find a reason to be annoyed at Edgar, or find a reason for it to be awkward, I was comfortable around him, as if I’d grown up with him.

  We entered a large study, and I was in awe of his collection of books that lined shelves on all four walls, stretching up to the ceiling. All leather-bound with glittering gold or silver lettering on the spines. Mostly history, of course, but that was just fine by me.

  Mason wandered around the room looking at the creepy décor of dragon statues and miniature gargoyles that sat sentinel near the windows and even at the study door.

  I knew the myth about gargoyles and how they shielded against evil entering a home. Edgar didn’t appear to be the superstitious type, but then this was my first time meeting him. Guess there was a chance for him being just about anything.

  On a pedestal near a large fireplace, something caught my eye—a beautiful necklace, resting on a black velvet pillow, propped up to catch the rays of sun pouring in through the window.

  I smiled and felt drawn to it for some reason. Beside it was an ancient-looking book, a very heavy volume with no title on the spine. But it was the necklace I was most intrigued with, boasting a sapphire, and wrapped around it as if guarding its treasure for all eternity, was a dragon done in silver just like the thick chain.

  “Like that?” Edgar asked, coming near me.

  “What is it?” I asked, tentatively reaching out to touch the dragon, but stopped short, worried I’d get scolded.

  “Go ahead, please,” Edgar urged, and I reached out, running my fingers along the chain as he spoke. “It’s a necklace of the Original Order, hundreds of years old.”

  “What’s the Original Order?” I wasn’t much into secret societies and probably missed a thing or two since dropping out of school, but I doubted something actually existed called the Original Order.

  He grinned as he explained, “It’s an old legend, but it’s a good one. It tells of two clans of dragons—the Hollow Well Dragons and the Shadowguard Dragons. They had a feud that ultimately became a war. The Shadowguard were hunting humans, and the Hollow Well opposed it. The Shadowguard had the numbers and were destined to win the war; however, the Hollow Well formed an alliance with a group of six witches known as the First Communion. The First Communion used spells to protect the Hollow Well during battle, and ultimately the Hollow Well won thanks to their new alliance.”

  “That’s pretty cool. Is that story true?” Mason piped up from behind us.

  I smirked. “Mason, do you honestly think a story about witches and dragons are true? Course it’s not true.”

  “No,” he said, looking down like he was embarrassed. “But it’d be pretty cool.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re right it would be,” I said and gave him a playful nudge to try and cheer him up. “I would love to see a dragon in real life. Be better than seeing your superheroes.”

  Edgar picked up the necklace while I was teasing Mason, and then stepped toward me, placing it around my neck.

  “Here,” he said as he clasped it and the weight of it settled against my skin.

  “Wait, are you sure?” He had to be kidding. “This thing has to be old, and you’re just going to let me wear it?”

  “Not just wear it, have it. It’s merely part of an old legend, and you said it yourself, you’d like to see a dragon. Now every time you look in the mirror, you’ll see one.” He winked as I lifted the heavy charm to admire the gem. “There was a time your mother wore it, too… until things changed,” he added sadly, turning from me as he quickly wiped at his eyes and picked up the book.

  “This too?” I asked, as he handed it over.

  “More legends for you to read up on, if you’re interested. The necklace is featured in there as well.”

  I held the tome in my hands, running my fingers over the dragon I could now see engraved in the leather in silver I hoped wasn’t real. “Thanks, really, these are very nice.”

  He clapped his hands together and made for the door. “How about I show you two where you’re going to be staying?”

  We followed him out, and he led us upstairs, showing us to two adjoining rooms. Mason was excited, and he ran into his room. I was pretty sure he was jumping on the bed in there
. I lugged my suitcase into another immaculate room that had my jaw dropping and nodding absentmindedly as Edgar spoke from the hall.

  “I’m going to go downstairs and get dinner ready. You two get settled in and meet me downstairs in an hour.”

  “Okay.” I slipped further into the room he had designated as mine.

  It was fairly plain, but the plush rug beneath my feet was far from cheap, and the furniture was solid wood, not particle board shit. I put my clothes in the oak dresser and sat on the bed. It gave under my weight and was so perfectly soft, nothing like what I was used to sleeping on. And I had the entire room to myself. Exhausted and wanting to just close my eyes for a few moments, I laid down my head.

  I didn’t expect to dream, but I felt like I was thrown back through time, seeing Mom crying as she clung to another person… a man? He was trying to soothe her, but something was wrong. I tried to speak, but I felt like I wasn’t really there. A loud boom jolted them away from each other in a panic, and I shot up in bed to find Mason standing in the doorway, cringing as he failed to catch the door before it slammed into the wall. The boom I heard in my dreams.

  “Careful,” I said gently. “Not our house.”

  “Yeah, sorry, but dinner’s ready. Coming?”

  I rubbed my hands over my face as the weirdness of the dream and the panic they felt hit me hard for a second before it disappeared. “Yep, I’ll be right down.”

  I stretched and yawned as Mason took off down the hall and his steps thundered away. I was more tired than I thought. All the traveling and commotion with the accident had really taken it out of me. As I trudged downstairs, the ebbs of my dream still hovering just out of reach, I smelled the kitchen, surprised to smell something familiar. I expected something other than hamburgers for dinner. With such a large home and obvious wealth, I thought there’d be caviar or some sort of rich people food. But I was extremely thankful for the plate of burgers and mountain of fries and onion rings.