Halfblood Legacy

by Rheaume, Laura

  “Why?”

  “Well, you can see that he’s as easily distracted as you.”

  She had to agree with her there. She pulled the gun out of the diaper bag and held it up.

  “That’s for self-defense.”

  “You know that lying is useless when I’m holding you like this, right?” The gun felt cold and heavy in her hand. She hated the things, had bad memories of the sound of gunshots and the cool, round bubbly feeling of embedded bullets. She knew how to shoot one, of course–practice with a variety of guns was one of the many required courses at Scythe’s School for Handling Yourself–but she didn’t like them, or the slices of memories that flew in front of her from Helaine.

  The woman had been using it a lot, and not once in self-defense. In fact, she loved the feel of it, the way people looked at her when she had them in her sights, the powerful sensation that filled her when it pressed against her chest in its holster. She liked to practice drawing it and talking big. She really liked it when it wasn’t practice.

  Mercy lifted out the small case and opened it. Inside was a neat row of self-injecting syringes filled with a yellow liquid. She held it up.

  “For capture and transport. It’s safe.” She really believed that.

  “Safe for who?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “Some drug. A knockout. We all use it.”

  “This says fentanil. I happen to be allergic to it. So are about five percent of Humans. Are you one of them?”

  “I...I don’t know. I didn’t know that.”

  “Let’s find out.” Mercy got up, tightening her control over the woman so that she could barely move, and stepped up to her.

  “No, don’t...”

  Without pausing, she put the syringe against the woman’s thigh and pressed the button.

  Helaine gave a little squeak, and then accused, “I can’t believe you did that!”

  “I believe your words were, ‘It’s nothing personal.’” Mercy looked at her frightened face and felt nothing for the woman in front of her. She didn’t care at all if she died, or was damaged by a reaction to the drug. In fact, she was tempted to use her power to end it herself.

  If she had only listened to what was said, it would have been different. She would have heard the words and assumed the best, putting herself in the woman’s shoes and not seeing the woman that was already in them. Mercy was the kind of person who empathized with someone. She would have told herself that Helaine was just doing a job and didn’t think that others would be hurt by her actions; she would have thought that the bounty hunter was trying her best to make a life for herself in a rough place like the bordertowns. She would have taken it for granted that the woman cared for the tiny child sleeping on the floor, as any decent person would have, with the intention of using him cautiously for her purposes, but then returning him safely home.

  Instead, Mercy knew Helaine now, had felt her comfort and pleasure with her decisions. Helaine didn’t care about others; she lived for herself. She felt nothing when others were scared; in fact, she enjoyed doing the scaring. There were other professions for someone smart and tenacious like her, but she had chosen one that both paid extremely well and gave her the excitement that she enjoyed. She was a slaver, she knew it, and she didn’t care if that profession hurt others or used small, helpless children to subvert and steal the lives of equally helpless adults.

  The woman coughed, and Mercy realized that she was squeezing again. As she eased up, she finally realized that something was wrong with her. She took a breath, shook her head and examined her self. She wasn’t feeling anger, frustration, or sadness anymore; she wasn’t appalled. She was just...blank, clinical. In the place where her emotions usually reigned with a powerful, sweeping hand, there was a deep void, a clean, empty nothing. In a pure place like that, wiping up a nasty stain was the logical thing to do.

  It was a cold, dangerous moment for Mercy, standing there in front of the bounty hunter as her eyes drooped and her head nodded forward.

  Chapter 21

  “We’re done here,” the captain said. He was the last one out of the building as usual. He liked to be thorough and to make sure there were no loose strings, he always did a quick run-through at the end himself. His gaze automatically swept the area, taking in the status of his agents as well as the Human civilians they had released from a row of cells in the building behind him. The last of the abducted Humans were filing into a pair of oversized vans to his right. A separate vehicle for transporting the mixture of Kin and Humans who had locked them up there was already secured and waiting in line with the engines running. “Everyone in the trucks. Let’s move out.” Then he mumbled under his breath, “Nothing left to do now but a headache of a report.”

  The few people that hadn’t already done so hurried to one of the cars or trucks idling in the large parking lot. The captain frowned when he noticed that Scythe was not only the single person standing still, he was also waiting for him.

  “Sir…”

  “I know your hearing is at least as good as a Human’s, trainee,” he said impatiently.

  Scythe swallowed nervously, but forged ahead anyway. He knew it was important… “I found something, when I was, um…” He didn’t want to say anything about mind reading to the captain, because the man was explicit about his disgust for it, but there was no other way to get his meaning across. “When I saw Pristla’s memories…”

  Unfortunately, he had correctly gauged the man’s reaction. The captain flinched and his eyes narrowed. He drew in a deep breath and barked, “The operation is done, halfblood. Get in the truck.” He walked past Scythe and continued to the passenger side, pulled himself up and in and slammed the door shut. A moment later, his arm was thrust out of the window, and he signaled for the first vehicle to move forward.

  Scythe knew that there wasn’t time to return to headquarters, find someone who would hear him out, and then get a team together. He also knew it wasn’t his responsibility or even his place to think about making decisions in the field. His job was to follow along and do his “trick” when they needed it, and then get in the truck.

  He walked over to the back of his transport, where every solider sitting on the benches that lined the walls in the back studiously kept their eyes off him. They tolerated his involvement in the assignment because they had to, and because he could do something that no one else could; beyond that, they ignored his existence. That was fine with him. He wasn’t looking to make friends. He was looking to get the job done.

  He grabbed the handle, put his foot on the step and then stopped.

  Four girls and two boys, bound and gagged and kept in a container in the back. The man he had read knew what would happen as soon as it got out that the place behind him had been raided. They would either move them, or get rid of the evidence. And, they would do it right away.

  He took his boot off the truck and slammed the door shut, waving to the driver, who didn’t need to be told twice before driving off. He had made it across the parking lot and was just about to cross the street and head toward the main road where he could catch a bus, when he noticed that one car hadn’t left yet. The red sedan pulled up next to him and the window rolled down to reveal the team’s Watcher, Temper. This was their second assignment together, so he wasn’t surprised that she stopped to talk to him. She was one of the very few people who would.

  “Scythe.”

  “Watcher.”

  “You aren’t returning as ordered?”

  “No.”

  “Why is that?”

  “There is a group of children that is being held by another organization.” Perhaps she could authorize something…

  “Another group?”

  “Yes, of Kin. I think they are being held for ransom as well. The third man I read was the go between for the payments for one of them.”

  “That is worth an investigation.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think there�
�s time. I think they’ll be moved.”

  “So…” She drew out the word, thinking. “What are you planning to do?”

  “Go to the location and see what I can find out.” It did sound ridiculous, didn’t it? Really, what could he do on his own?

  “You are going there to help them?”

  He didn’t answer. She must have thought he was a reckless idiot. Well, maybe he was, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He knew he had to do something. That’s what he was there for. That’s why he had left everything and everyone behind, so he could make a difference. If he wanted to sit by and do nothing, he could go back to Poinsea and become a test subject for Keyrin’s “life saving” experiment.

  He looked down the way he needed to go, calculating the time it would take him to get to his destination.

  “You obviously need a ride. I’m offering my car, my services, and those of my driver.” She smiled at his expression. “I’m in a position to assess and give orders as well, so why don’t we go ahead and call this an emergency deploy?”

  Scythe was still trying to figure out how he had so poorly read Temper’s disposition when he climbed into the back of the car. He decided to leave it for later, and leaned forward and gave directions to the driver. “It’s hard to know how much time we have, but I’m betting we don’t have much.”

  “Then, Avvel will hurry. Why don’t you give us all the information you have while we go? That way you can distract me from the terrors of his hurry-authorized driving practices.”

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the recycling plant, and, after waiting another ten, were met by a small team that Temper had called in to help them. Scythe and Avvel had done a quick survey of the buildings and surrounding area while they waited, and Temper used their information to come up with a quick plan. Scythe was assigned to the small group that was securing the children, while the larger group of more experienced agents would be led by Temper and would secure the main building.

  Scythe was the last of the five that skirted the plant between the fence and the neat stacks of various recycled products that were waiting to be shipped out to manufacturing plants. In the back, next to an enormous structure made of five by five foot cubes of recycled aluminum cans, was the container that Scythe had seen in the memory earlier in the day. In front of it was an old trailer that served as the guard house for the captives. Outside, two armed men sat in lawn chairs talking boisterously.

  Sneaking up on the Kin was usually a very difficult thing to do, but they were able to get fairly close because the machinery throughout the plant was running; the loud clanging of the presses, the whirring of the motors that ran the conveyor belts and the roaring of the engines that kept anyone from hearing any cries the children might have made also obscured the sound of their team’s approach. So, coming in from downwind and undercover, Avvel and two soldiers stepped out from behind the aluminum tower with their weapons drawn and caught the guards unaware.

  Within minutes, the guards were standing with their hands plastered against the outside of the trailer under the awning where they could not be readily seen from the main buildings. Scythe and an agent named Kiriela approached the container but found it locked.

  “Is anyone there?” Kiriela called through the crack in the door.

  It was silent, but they could both smell the evidence of the children.

  She tried again, “We’re here to help. Are there any children here?”

  This time they heard calls for help and at least one child began crying.

  Scythe crossed over to Avvel and said, “We need a key.”

  “Where is the key?” Avvel asked.

  Neither man answered.

  The time it would take time to search them and their trailer or interrogate them was more than they wanted to spend, so Scythe offered, “I can get it right away.”

  Avvel nodded, although he didn’t speak, and one of the other agents shifted uneasily; the third agent and Kiriela didn’t know anything about him, so they merely looked curious.

  Scythe went up to the most likely guard, the one that had held the more expensive gun, and said, “Hey.”

  The man looked at him automatically, and Scythe met his eyes and held them. His power was still new to him since he’d had less than a year of practice with it; even so, he easily entered the man’s mind. He stood on the edge of his thoughts and gave a suggestion. “Show me where the key is.”

  A medium-sized sphere floated forward and Scythe stepped into it. Within a few seconds, he turned to Avvel. “I’ve got it.” He went into the trailer, to the back room where a small box was sitting at the bottom drawer of the dresser. He brought the box, opening it on the way and pulling out the key.

  The second guard was cussing out the first, who rested his head against the trailer and snarled at his friend to shut up for once. None of the Kin looked at him, except for Avvel, who nodded without speaking at the container.

  By then, they could hear the sounds of the other group as they rounded up the rest of the people on site. Many were just employees of the plant, but there were several who were directly involved in not only kidnapping, but other illegal operations as well.

  Scythe unlocked the container and they ushered the four girls and two boys out. One boy was injured and extremely weak and needed to be carried, which Kiriela offered to do. They brought them around to where they had parked the car and the truck that had brought the team in. After the children were wrapped in blankets, they huddled together on the benches in the back of the truck. Two more of them had started crying out of relief.

  Having nothing else to do, Scythe grabbed the medical kit and cleaned and bandaged the scraped legs, back and arms of the littlest one, a boy of ten. While he worked, the other kids told him that he had been punished for trying to escape when their dinner was brought to them. He had been dragged behind one of the bulldozers and then was not fed for a day and a half.

  Scythe looked up when the boy asked, “What are you?”

  Scythe didn’t have an answer ready for the abrupt question. He’d never been asked that before. He realized with a start that the boy didn't know who to hate yet; still, by ten he should have learned. Most Kin parents were more responsible than his had been.

  “He’s a halfblood, stupid,” one of the girls said.

  “Oh? How can you tell?”

  “The eyes and the mouth.”

  “Wow. I never met one before.”

  “That’s because they’re hardly any.”

  A hand reached over and touched Scythe’s shoulder. “Oh. Thank you, for rescuing us.” The boy’s eyes were wide but clear and his manner was collected and confident. His behavior was unusual for anyone in his situation, but it was especially notable in a ten year old. Scythe was immediately impressed by him.

  The phantom of an older Scythe stood by the door of the truck, watching Aorin’s brother lightly probe the bandage on his arm, and thought about the small decisions that had led to that life altering moment. This young boy would influence his sister with a few words and because of that, hundreds of things were made possible, from his friendship with Aorin and the many assignments they completed together, to his return to the city after years of hiding and all the events that followed. And why? Because Temper had had faith in his conviction. Because he had taken his foot off the step and shut the door instead of getting in like he was told.

  “It’s our job,” Scythe said, and then asked, “So, you tried to escape? That was brave.”

  The boy nodded, “Yeah, but I didn’t make it because I didn’t have any plan. I just ran when got the chance.”

  “And they caught you?”

  “Eventually,” he bragged with a mischievous smile.

  Scythe grinned and nodded. Then he turned when he caught Temper’s scent and watched her approach.

  She raised her eyebrows at him and asked, “Are you a medical trainee, too?”

  “No.” He waited to see what she wanted.

  “Ah. Well t
hen, I have some work only you can do, if you would.”

  “Sure.” Scythe stood and passed the med kit to the oldest child, the girl who had known he was a halfblood. “Can you help out the others?”

  She took the kit, making sure not to touch his hand when she grabbed the handle. He stepped past her and climbed down.

  “This was good work for a trainee.”

  “I didn’t do anything, just followed along.”

  “That is true for your actions here,” she nodded, “but, before you followed, you led the way.”

  Scythe shifted in place, uncomfortable under her sharp scrutiny, and then asked, “You have a job for me, right?”

  “Yes, we have collected a few that might have some interesting information for us. Why don’t you come and try your hand at them?”

  He nodded and followed her.

  -----------

  Cord opened the door and stepped inside. He picked up the scent again as soon as it closed behind them and shut out the wind that gusted between cars. He paused, pretending he didn’t know how far to go.

  “Keep moving,” she said from behind him, all business now.

  He obeyed, but not without a small smile. She’d gotten a little huffy once playtime was over, probably because of how badly their little plan was working out. That, and she was undoubtedly embarrassed at how much she’d ended up sharing. Now she was trying to make up for it with a little hardball. He had decided to play along, mostly because he was in such a good mood, but also because he knew that he could really learn a lot from a person who thought she had all the cards.

  “Right here, on the left.”

  He stopped at the door, sliding over when she came forward and signaled with the gun for him to move aside. A slight shimmering sensation touched him and then disappeared. He moved over a little more.

  She knocked on the door, one loud hit with her knuckles, and said, “Helaine…” Then she was yanked forward into the door, flew back, slammed into the opposite door, which rattled, slid down just a bit, rose up and arced back across the aisle to crash violently again into the door to her partner’s room. She crumpled down to the ground, her head skidding along the metal, and rolled back onto her bottom.