The Dawn of Dae (Dae Portals Book 1)

by Anderson, Trillian

  A single plank of wood, a rusty nail, and ash didn’t leave me with a whole lot of options. How long would I last before I cracked or I died?

  All I knew was one thing: I wasn’t going to let anyone take away my freedom to decide my fate for myself, no one—not Kenneth, not Rob, and certainly not the dae upstairs.

  I would choose to die long before I agreed to sacrifice everything I had worked so hard to build for myself.

  I didn’t need much. My plank of wood with its rusty nail was enough.

  Pain woke me from a dream where I slithered on the ground as a snake before taking to the air as a bird. I had a dim recollection of something dealing with a cat, too, but I couldn’t remember exactly what. I drifted, not quite awake but not quite asleep, either.

  My nose itched, and while I longed to scratch it, I couldn’t move. The sensation spread and secured me to consciousness, and as I gathered my wits, I realized I had a talent for failure. I lived, which meant my efforts to scratch open my wrists hadn’t been enthusiastic enough or Arthur had figured out something was wrong before I could die. It didn’t matter; I had survived.

  Disappointment and relief waged a brief war with each other, and neither emerged the victor.

  I had to concentrate to pinpoint what was wrong with me; my ribs and chest throbbed, although I had no memory of what I had done to myself. Shouldn’t my wrists have hurt the most? I had cut them open—or I had tried to. Had I dreamed of trying to kill myself?

  Hypothermia did strange things to people, and I remembered shivering on the basement’s damp, concrete floor. Was it cold enough for hypothermia to set in? Was I cold enough I no longer thought I was freezing?

  I’d seen it before in winter. In the fringe, there were too many who ventured out in the night insufficiently dressed. Someone would find them in the morning, lying in some gutter. Sometimes they stripped themselves of their clothes, leaving them scattered around their bodies.

  If I was suffering from the cold, I was still coherent, which put me ahead in the game. Heat smothered me and made it difficult to breathe, but my teeth weren’t chattering, nor was I shaking helplessly. I didn’t have any urges to throw off my clothes, either.

  Was I even wearing clothes? I considered checking, but I doubted I’d like the answer and had no reason to believe Arthur would have dressed me after going through the effort of getting rid of my things. The itching, which had intensified, robbed me of my ability to distinguish much from feel alone.

  The only way to learn where I was would be to open my eyes, which I deemed as too much effort. I didn’t need to take inventory of where I was quite yet; I had other things to worry about first.

  I thought it through, resisting the urge to sigh as I considered each possibility in turn. I remembered attempting suicide to rob Arthur of what he had planned for me, which led me back to the two most-likely scenarios.

  Arthur had likely checked on me after I had lost consciousness and stopped the bleeding, or I hadn’t done a thorough enough job.

  If I had failed to gouge open my wrists, I could guess why. My trembling had probably been my downfall. A steady hand was needed for success, and while the rest of me had been more than ready, my body had betrayed me once again.

  One day, I’d catch a break. One day, I’d make a plan, execute it, and have it work as intended. I had done well enough in the warehouse, although Arthur had ruined my efforts.

  The dae was really pissing me off. I wanted to strangle the life out of him as payback for what he was putting me through. Before him, my life had been tolerable, unpleasant in some regards, but well within my ability to manage.

  By kidnapping me, Arthur had quite probably ruined everything I had built. Allowing me to die would have been the merciful thing to do.

  Even if I escaped, I’d likely be a fugitive, and Kenneth would delight in using my downfall to his benefit. My best bet would be to make a strategic retreat to his place to recover. To do that, I needed to retrieve something from Terry Moore, which meant I had to free myself from Arthur and finish my job.

  Kenneth didn’t give out free meal tickets, and he could find another bitch to replace me. Total failure was unacceptable, and unless I had something for him, he’d throw me on the streets—or make me commit to a losing proposition. If I brought back something good enough, he’d allow me to lie low in one of the safe rooms hidden away in his basement until I recovered enough to do more work for him.

  If he believed he had a chance to keep me as one of his pets, he’d probably even smooth the way for me to slip back into the system so I could continue to sniff for him.

  I wouldn’t like it, but I could find another way to earn my freedom and obtain a life worth living.

  Why couldn’t I be like other people? They were capable of being satisfied with where they were, content to let life happen to them. Me? No, I had to always be thinking ahead. I couldn’t be happy with the fact I was still alive. If I had been content with my lot in life, a lot of things would be different.

  I wanted something more than heeling at Kenneth’s call.

  But what could I do? For the moment, my best bet was to play dead, rest, and bide my time until I could act. My first task was to escape or die trying. If Arthur thought I was going to cooperate, I’d show him the error of his ways. I defied Kenneth whenever possible, and Arthur would learn I’d fight him until my last breath to spite his attempt to change me.

  I wasn’t broken.

  I didn’t want anyone trying to fix me, not Kenneth, not Arthur—not anyone, for that matter. I wasn’t property, either, especially not Rob’s, no matter how many times the dae insisted I belonged to him.

  Once again, the thought of Rob stoked my anger. I had unfinished business with him. Why did he annoy me so much? Was it the fact he was a man worth taking a second look at?

  Why did all the men in my life have to turn out to be insufferable assholes?

  I hadn’t run into the dae often, but he had somehow earned his place as my top annoyance, with Kenneth coming a close second.

  I didn’t belong to anyone.

  I resented Arthur, I hated Kenneth, but Rob infuriated me as no one else had in a long time. I considered my options once more and rearranged my priorities.

  First, I needed to get away from Arthur. Assuming I survived, I needed to find somewhere to hole up, rest, and heal. I’d steal what I needed from Kenneth’s stores; if my boss noticed, I’d deal with him later. One way or another, I’d have to handle the problem of Terry Moore so Kenneth wouldn’t have even more reasons to want to kill me. As long as Arthur wasn’t another one of Kenneth’s hounds, I would even the scales between us.

  With a little luck, I could resume my studies, if I could convince the elite I had no part of Arthur’s schemes. If I couldn’t, I’d find another way to rise above my need to do my boss’s dirty work to survive.

  In the meantime, if I did become a fugitive, I needed another goal. Rob was it. I’d make him regret his declarations; and the thought of having my revenge for treating me like property intrigued me.

  I needed a challenge so I could get on with my life, and he would do.

  I had no idea how long I drifted as a prisoner in my own body, but the quiet hum of conversation nearby helped me focus on the present instead of my meandering plans, none of which I could execute until after I escaped.

  My right wrist throbbed, and as I became aware of it, the rest of my body reported in. There was definitely something wrong with my ribs and chest. When I breathed, it hurt. I didn’t think anything was broken, which left bone-deep bruises, likely from when Arthur had slammed me to the street.

  A faint constriction around my throat alarmed me; it wasn’t quite the same as the suffocating reaction to Arthur’s touch, but it disconcerted me enough I cracked open an eye.

  Wherever I was, it wasn’t the basement. The ceiling was painted white, and to mimic the elite, someone had attempted to apply stucco, resulting in a chaotic mess of plaster. It peeled away to
reveal gray and black splotches of mold. While there was a light fixture mounted overhead, the dusty ruins of a broken bulb remained in the socket.

  Instead, someone used a floor lamp for light, and they had left it on even though daylight streamed in through the room’s small window.

  I was alone, which was perfect for my needs. Clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t make any sound, I eased my way upright. Maybe my ribs weren’t broken, but the movement hurt like hell.

  I regarded the bandages wrapped around my chest and stomach with an arched brow. Did it count as naked if I wore bandages as a set of clothes? I ran my hand over my ribs and grimaced.

  They were definitely bruised, maybe broken, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it. It’d be days, if not weeks, before I recovered enough to do anything without wincing, especially if I couldn’t take advantage of the health care provided for those of the upper castes. If I had broken something, I’d probably be able to sneak into one of the fringe hospitals. Sometimes they asked for identification, but usually, no one cared.

  I was tempted to use that to my advantage, except I figured the hospitals would be the first place the police checked for suspects, myself included. In other circumstances, I never would have considered turning myself in as a strategy, but for a change, I was truly innocent. The problem was proving it.

  It wouldn’t matter if I proved to the elite I wasn’t involved in Arthur’s attack on the college. If I didn’t sniff out Terry Moore’s drug stash or recover Kenneth’s money, I wouldn’t live long enough for my innocence to matter. Careful to be as quiet as possible, I freed myself from the blanket.

  Boxers didn’t count as usual attire for me, but I’d take them over completely naked any day of the week. While unorthodox, the bandages wrapped around my chest kept my breasts covered, which was good enough for me.

  I didn’t need to worry about clothes, although I’d regret the lack of layers once I was on the streets. Autumn in Baltimore was a fickle mistress, and if my misfortune held, she’d prove it to me by inflicting snow on the city.

  Having been in the basement, the condition of the floors worried me; in the best case scenario, they’d creak and moan beneath my weight, alerting everyone I was awake and on the move.

  However, the ongoing conversation somewhere beyond the closed door of my room tempted me. I didn’t doubt Arthur’s desire to rescue the kids, but I knew nothing of what had happened after I had been kidnapped.

  Eavesdropping was a good way to learn things people didn’t want me to know.

  There was a trick to walking across crappy floors without either falling through or making the abused boards creak and moan like they were being tortured. It was slow, it was tedious, but I gingerly eased my feet to the floor and forced myself to remain patient. I began with a toe on each foot, settling my weight until I could stand. I rose, tensing from the fear of making noise.

  The floor held my weight without betraying me.

  My body didn’t betray me, either, which gave me hope I might be able to pull off a second escape. Unlike many places in the fringe, the room’s tiles were new enough to still have the shine on them, which made it easier for me to slide my feet without having to redistribute my weight as often.

  Inch by slow and tedious inch, I headed for the door, and when I reached it, I pressed my ear to the worn wood.

  “We’re not killing her,” Arthur said, his voice muffled.

  “She’s more than half-dead already, man. You’re going to get us all killed if we keep her. You’ve heard the word on the streets. They want her back, bad. What were you thinking, kidnapping a Bach-studies student? Fuck, Arthur. She’s the dean’s assistant. She’s not just any student. You stole the bloody top-rated one in the entire college.”

  I blinked. I had graded well enough in secondary; it was a requirement to elevate to Bach studies, but I wasn’t rated as anything in the college. Did they mean for entry-level?

  Although I was competitive enough, I didn’t really care where I ranked among the other first-year students. All that mattered had been earning my spot.

  “We’re not killing her.”

  “Then what the fuck do you propose we do with her? It’s bad enough they’re after the kids. It’s going to be hard enough hiding them in the system. Her? She fucking tried to cut off her own hand with a rusty nail. She’s crazy, Arthur. She’s going to blow this whole thing up in our faces.”

  I had no idea who the second man was, but he was smart—and probably right about my mental health. Well, lack thereof.

  It wasn’t like they’d left me with anything else. I wrinkled my nose. Maybe I was a little crazy, but only a little.

  I had to be to work with Kenneth Smith and survive to tell the tale. A lot of girls didn’t. I had gone back to work at the college after narrowly dodging incineration. Once again, the memory of Rob pulling me to safety haunted me.

  Without him, I’d be dead, and acknowledging that soured my mood even more than Arthur kidnapping me. I wasn’t a delicate flower needing to be sheltered or rescued.

  I wasn’t his property, either.

  I clenched my hands into fists, careful to keep my breathing slow and even so I wouldn’t betray myself by expressing my frustration and self-loathing. It wasn’t asking for help if I worked for my money. It wasn’t charity. I worked for Kenneth Smith out of necessity, but he had what I needed, and I provided what he wanted.

  It was business.

  The fact I owed Rob a debt pissed me off, and what he wanted was the one thing I wouldn’t give.

  Flames crackled on the other side of the door. I cringed, forcing myself to stand still.

  “We’re not killing her.”

  “I heard you the first hundred times, damn it! What do we do with her, then? She’ll get us all killed. Is that what you want? You’re tough, but you can’t take on all of the elite. It was bad enough getting the kids out. Did you forget you killed a bunch of the elite when you did it? They want your blood, and if they find out the girl’s still alive and you have her, they’ll double their efforts to get you.”

  My eyes widened. How many had died because of Arthur? I wasn’t friends with the elite, but the police had been friendly enough to me, and I even liked some of the werewolves. They were honest critters, revealing everything in the way they canted their heads, bared their fangs, and interacted with each other.

  They had been human once, too.

  “She’s a good source, okay? With her around, I’ll be able to do whatever I need. Unlimited power, Donald. That’s what she is. You saw. All we have to do is touch her and she’s in enough pain to harvest. Let them come. As long as I have her, we can’t be stopped.”

  I had no idea what Arthur was talking about, but I didn’t like it. He was harvesting pain from me? How? What did I have to do with his power? Was I somehow fueling his flames?

  Why couldn’t my life make sense? Once again, I had far more questions than answers, and every time I thought I was getting a handle on the weird shit going on, things blew up in my face or somehow got stranger.

  “So find some slut who likes hot sex, Arthur. They’re easier to deal with. You pay them, have a good time, harvest their passion, and you’re good to go. Everyone walks away happy with the arrangement. I didn’t sign up to torture people, let alone some poor girl who didn’t do anything beyond what she was told so she wouldn’t get expelled. Dump the girl in the bay, and put her out of her misery.”

  “She’s too good of a source,” Arthur snapped. “I can’t let the elite have her.”

  “Then you’ll either have to kill her or convince her to join us, and I don’t think you’re going to have much luck convincing her if you insist on hurting her.” There was a loud thump on the other side of the door. “Take her out of the city with the kids and dump her somewhere in the country if you don’t want to kill her or let the elite have her. You can’t keep her. You’ll get us and the kids killed at this rate.”

  There was a long moment of sile
nce followed by a heavy sigh. Arthur snapped, “I’ll deal with her tomorrow. Tonight, we have plans.”

  I tensed at the creak of movement on old, abused floors coming from the other side of the door. I held my breath until the sounds stopped.

  Tonight, I had plans, too, and they involved getting the hell out of Dodge before I found out firsthand what Arthur meant by dealing with me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I waited for a long time, tense from worry Arthur or one of his cohorts would check on me. While I could make it to the bed quickly if I needed to, I’d make a lot of noise doing it, and they’d know for certain I was awake and able to move.

  After my close brush with a vampire, it wasn’t a far stretch to believe Arthur—and other dae—could snack on my misery. After all, I had a macaroni and cheese friend capable of eating anything I gave it.

  I hoped Colby had escaped Arthur’s fires at the college unscathed.

  I forced my attention back to my more immediate problems. If Arthur could consume pain and misery, he was probably right—I was likely a tasty treat for him. All he’d have to do was touch me to feed.

  He’d already had his way with me at least once. I ached and itched as a reminder of how familiar he’d gotten with me when I had been unconscious. I fisted my hands, my anger rising the longer I thought about it.

  At least a vampire had to go through the effort of obtaining my blood. The idea of Arthur using me as a living, breathing battery—as food—horrified me. He had violated me for his personal gain. Worse, he’d done it so he could fight others. While the elite weren’t exactly innocent, not all of them deserved execution—or being burned alive.

  Maybe he meant to save a bunch of fringe kids, but I still felt contaminated and in dire need of a shower. It wouldn’t erase the marks he had left pawing all over me, but I still wanted to scrub away as much of his taint from my skin as I could.