Halfblood Legacy

by Rheaume, Laura

  “Mercy, you’ve been out for more than half a day.”

  Her energy started to wrap tightly around his arm, but it didn’t feel aggressive. It felt like the way she held on to his hand: a desperate search for comfort. It made his whole body itch.

  “Hey…” He let the air pass through his lips when no words stepped up to the line.

  She opened her eyes, staring blankly forward into his hand, and started to breathe erratically. Then she started gasping for air. He realized that she was starting to remember whatever it was that made them give her the elephant shot in the center. He pulled his hand out of hers and shook her shoulder lightly, “Hey. Keep it together.”

  She started to moan, and her hands curled into fists. Her moan turned into a long “Noooo.”

  He started to feel panicky himself. “Hold on. Just…”

  “Nooooooooooooo.” It was getting louder and more frantic.

  “Hey!” he yelled, startling her. “There isn’t going to be any screaming, got it? I still got to drive.”

  She breathed heavily for a few seconds and then nodded. She turned her body until she was facing the back of the seat and pulled the blanket over her head.

  “Good,” he said, turned himself around and started the car. He pulled back into traffic. He knew that what he was supposed to do was comfort her or some ridiculous thing.

  Nope.

  When she had gotten it out of her system with a lot of crying, she was quiet again. He thought she would fall asleep and, because he was getting tired himself, he was feeling a little envious. It turned out that he could have saved himself the envy, because she stayed awake after all.

  He heard her stomach growl.

  “There’s some bread and fruit in this bag, and I’ve also got some nuts and a few other things.”

  “Could we find a place to stop, because I need to use the restroom. Whose...whose clothes are these?”

  “Winnie’s.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, she said, “That’s not helpful.”

  “You want to know what I did to get those clothes?”

  Pause. “How about you wake me when there’s a bathroom and food?”

  She could be taught, after all. “You know, we’re moving in the shadows now, so why don’t we pull over and you can take care of whatever and then eat what I’ve got here?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Good.” He really didn’t want to stop, or come into contact with any more people than necessary. He pulled over again, this time down a side road that led into some trees. While she took care of her needs, he made her a sandwich, which she ate along with the pie, and then they got back on the road.

  She sat in the front next to him, leaning the seat back a little and closing her eyes.

  “You feel better?”

  “Yeah,” she lied.

  “Yeah” was good enough for him. He would have liked that to be the end of it, but no, she had to say something really strange.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “What?”

  “Right now, am I hurting you?”

  Did she mean physically? She wasn’t even touching him, and she was keeping her nosy power to herself. What the hell did she mean?

  “You are giving me a big headache, like always.”

  Pause. Then, “That’s it?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  She sighed. “Where are we?”

  “We’re halfway home.”

  Quiet.

  “He wasn’t there.”

  Thank heaven. Something semi rational. “No. But we didn’t really expect it, anyway, right? It was a long shot, Mercy, but I think you might find that all the shit you went through might have been worth it because I did get a lot of the data you wanted.”

  “You did?”

  “Yup. Nearly all their research, a lot of the bios on the subjects, personnel records, the company itself, and even a fairly big database filled with decades of power research and documentation.”

  “That’s almost worth it.”

  “Almost?” The data was the main reason she let herself get taken. She should have been ecstatic.

  “Actually, not worth it at all, but at least we got something useful.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Silence.

  He guessed it was.

  “Cord,” she asked finally, “what happened?”

  “Your idea was a disaster, is what happened. You freaked out.”

  “No, I know that. I mean, how did we get here? I don’t remember leaving the center.”

  “Oh. I rescued you, of course, with some help from a nice clerk. I think he’s in love with you now, so if things don’t work out with...”

  “Thank you,” she interrupted, turning her head and giving him a look that he wasn’t having any part of. She was such a pain. He kept his eyes on the road and nodded.

  She was quiet again for a while. Then she said, “I didn’t think it would be that bad. She said they were just going to do some light testing. It...it was a nightmare. I lost all control.”

  “Well, they had drugged you, so that was probably a big part of it.”

  “They did?”

  “Yeah, with a sedative at the least, and probably more than that. In the end they had to put you out with a heavy tranquilizer. Everything was down, even your shield was gone.”

  She nodded, and then leaned her forehead on the window. She stared blankly at the road flying by beside them.

  “Do you need me to drive?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Good, ‘cause I’m still tired.”

  “Sleep, if you want. I’ll need to pull over in another couple of hours for a nap anyway. You could take the watch or drive, whatever you like. That reminds me, there might be a warrant out on you, so you are to stay in the car whenever we stop and make sure not to get any tickets.”

  “A warrant?”

  “Yeah. Jenna killed Helaine and framed you for it.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know why she killed her. There was no reason for it, except she didn’t want to share the bounty with her, and splitting up took care of that anyway. As for why she framed you, I think it was because she was jealous.”

  “Of me?” She asked, confused. “Why?”

  The girl had no clue. “Some women are just like that.”

  She looked out the window again. “That’s horrible.”

  Cord frowned. He had expected a lot more outrage, but she had said it almost as if she were disappointed or bored.

  He shrugged, “It happens. People get greedy and then, wham-o.”

  “I...I almost killed Helaine on the train. I wanted to. She was so...dirty.”

  “But you didn’t.” Scythe would not like it if he heard that she was thinking of killing people, even if they were scummy bounty hunters. That was the type of thing that would get Cord on a list he didn’t want to be on: the only attendee on a month long lecture circuit.

  What was he thinking of? He was going to be long gone very soon.

  “No, I decided I didn’t..couldn’t...kill...her.” Her throat closed on the last word, and she could only whisper, “I didn’t want to be a murderer.” She started crying again for some reason, covering her face with her hand.

  He wasn’t sure what to say about her crying, but he did know what he thought about her killing people.

  “Good, because your boyfriend wouldn’t like that. I’m pretty sure he wants to be the one to wear the sheaths in the family. And, since I’m your nannyguard-slash-rescuer, I’m gonna be real clear. No killing, unless it’s for sex. I would kill for some good sex.”

  She didn’t object to the topic, or berate him, which meant that she was far more distraught than he thought. Since his attempt to lighten the mood had failed miserably, he muttered, “Why don’t you get some sleep. You’re worn out and it is making you overly emotional.”

  The tiniest little movement and then no movement at all.

  Shit.
Did I say that? Out loud?

  But she surprised him again. “Sometimes, I hate you,” she said, in that same weary tone. And what made it worse was that he could tell she was lying. She really bugged him.

  “I hated you the moment I saw you,” he boasted, glad to latch on to something that resembled one of their normal conversational topics.

  “You did not.”

  “I did.” Little girl with power coming along and making it hard for him to do his thing. Her arrival at border patrol years ago meant that he had to be more careful when he used his power. He could tell right away that she was strong and would be able to sense anything that he did. Pretty little girl who smiled at people. Pretty stupid thing. Gonna get herself killed real quick. That’s what he had thought.

  Or he might have hated her because there was a good chance he was going to have to be the one to do the killing. The only way you could contemplate murdering pretty little things was if you hated them fiercely. As it turned out, he didn’t have to get all worked up about it. She was surprisingly hard to kill, for such a weakling. Which, ironically, was why he had hated her for real later. Why did she get to live, when others like her met predictable ends? Where were their halfbreed heros?

  She was crying again. “I hate me too.”

  Sheesh. Where did that come from?

  Even though he knew better, he asked, “And why is that?”

  She shook her head.

  That was fine. He liked the quiet better anyway. He couldn’t believe he had been waiting for her to wake up.

  Just drive. Look at the road. Thinking about that car up ahead. Thinking about how much gas they had left. Thinking about how great it would be to arrive at a little winery, so he could leave it behind.

  -----------

  Scythe watched impassively as they carried out one person and brought in the next. The woman stared at the limp body of a man she recognized and then gasped when she noticed Scythe sitting quietly and waiting for her. Tiburon had, predictably, gotten so arrogant that he didn’t even try to hide himself or his people from his victims, relying on Scythe to clear the memory of their entire visit.

  So far, he had done that with every single person. He had been forced to, because the victims were tested afterwards to see if they remembered anything; if they did, Scythe was assured that there would be serious consequences. They questioned him, too, periodically, just to make sure he was following directions. Since he only wanted one more life ruined, he was very careful to do exactly as he was told.

  Even though he had made no attempt to escape, and complied easily if stoically with every order he had been given, he woke up one morning after they had drugged his food to find a thick manacle around his ankle that was affixed to a chain bolted to the wall. Scythe had been so well behaved that he had been released from his chair and was allowed to freely use the room as long as two conditions were met. The first required that he be in his chair when the door was opened to let people in and out. The second was that his suit be connected to the power source at all times; there wasn’t much he could do about that anyway, since he didn’t have a ready way to cut through the heavy cable that extended through the wall and was anchored securely on the other side.

  The woman sat down in front of him. He leaned forward and looked at the screen, skimming the list of what Tiburon wanted from her.

  “What is this?” The woman named Hope asked. Scythe liked that name, Hope. It reminded him of the Youngs and their tradition, adopted from Faith’s family, of naming their children after desirable character traits. It was similar in a lot of ways to the Kin tradition.

  Scythe didn’t answer her. Instead, he went straight to work.

  He began with, “What members of the committee will vote for Bill 67?” and went through the list.

  When he was done, he asked the same question he always did, “Anything else?”

  One of Tiburon’s assistants spoke through the computer’s small speaker. Tiburon did not always feel the need to be present for Scythe’s visits anymore. “That’s it. Clean her up.”

  Scythe didn’t so much as nod. He spread himself out again, enveloped her and started to work on her memories, starting when she was approached that afternoon by one of Tiburon’s people.

  While he worked, his power continued to search. It went through the walls and into the adjoining rooms. It found a man working on a computer. He was a nobody, just a clerk. Scythe took him. A little farther out, he encountered a woman replacing a blown fuse. He took her too.

  When he had finished with Hope’s new memories, he added a few things of his own and then he sat back. Her head fell forward and she would have fallen if she had not been fastened to the seat and pushed up against the table.

  “I’m done.”

  Scythe felt the suit power on, and his abilities faded to black. He slumped back in his chair and took advantage of the time he was given to rest, because focusing his power like that was extremely difficult. He also started to scrub himself clean, or as clean as he could get.

  Breathe.

  They carried her out and brought another one in. Scythe waited and watched.

  -----------

  Morgan read it twice, to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding the orders he was reading. It was easy to get turned around reading the messages written by people, both Kin and Human, that were heavily entangled in their respective bureaucracies. It was like they were infected with a virus that ate away their brains, and worsened as they went untreated, until they could no longer communicate with the outside world. They could only jabber senselessly with others afflicted with the same disease. Then they pointed at the sane people and laughed at how uncomprehending they were.

  He grabbed the page and forwarded it to Jaelyn. Within ten minutes, she strode through the door.

  “Why is this happening now?” she complained bitterly.

  He shrugged. It didn’t seem to him to be a huge problem. She had been planning on going out there anyway.

  “Augh! You are useless. Let me see it.” She leaned over to get a better look at the orders that Morgan’s search had discovered that morning. Since they were so heavily involved in the study of the powered community, they had to know what each of the governments was doing that affected them. One of Morgan’s many jobs was to monitor the government agencies on a weekly basis, keeping an eye out for anything that might interfere with their plans.

  Typically, it was a huge waste of his time, but occasionally something big would pop up that directly affected their work. The notice in front of them was a perfect example: the Scere had assigned a unit to retrieve a suspected powered individual with possible criminal intent. That in itself wasn’t a cause for great alarm. The powered were being watched closely by both governments now, and it was clear to Morgan that they would soon progress from watching to hunting. The thing that agitated Jaelyn was the location of the assignment: a small valley on the west coast, far from the nearest Kin city. The notable attributes of the location: a vineyard and a small winery.

  “I’ll have to leave immediately to get there before them. Get everything prepared.” She turned around and stomped back the way she had come.

  “How many should I make accommodation for?” he asked.

  “I won’t know until I get there. At least six.” She left through the door.

  “What are you going to do about the Scere?” he called after her.

  “Take care of them, of course,” she snapped from the corridor beyond.

  Chapter 27

  Scythe pulled out of the man’s mind and showed the information to Ian, who pointed and said to Orin, “Down here, second on the right.”

  According to the man’s memory, Summer was locked up down the hall and Mercy was several rooms past that. Their team had already secured the immediate area, so they moved into the hall. When they reached the correct room, Ian and Scythe went in first. Ian gasped when he saw the condition Summer was in. She had been beaten severely and was lying unconscious on a wo
oden cot. Scythe could tell from the smell that there were more injuries, bloody ones, hidden from them by the blanket that covered her body.

  Ian went to her side, but was unable to waken her. “I think she’s been drugged. Look, she’s not even tied up.” Because they both knew that Summer was a formidable soldier, the fact that she was unrestrained meant that either she wasn’t in a shape to resist, or they were keeping her heavily sedated all the time. It looked to Scythe like it was a combination of the two.

  Ian began to assess her condition, lifting her eyelids gently and examining her pupils before laying the tips of his fingers on her neck to check her pulse. I’ll get her ready to move. You get Mercy.

  Scythe turned and updated Orin on their plans. Then he and Anora moved down the empty hall toward Mercy’s room.

  He knew that Ian wanted to be the one to find his daughter, but he was also the type who wouldn’t for his own needs leave the side of someone who was suffering. So he had put himself aside and sent Scythe to her. It both surprised and honored Scythe to feel, as bold as the noonday sun, Ian’s confidence in him through the connection they shared. He believed in Scythe, trusted him, and knew that if it could be done, his new kinsman could do it. Those thoughts made him feel strong, supported, and really...full.

  When they reached their goal, he frowned in confusion. There wasn't a hint of her scent nearby. He opened the door and stared into an empty room. The man Scythe had taken the memory from had been given incorrect information about where Mercy was.

  “Hm. That’s a problem,” Anora said, striding to the next room and checking it. Scythe did the same on the other side. Then they heard the sounds of the second, larger team starting the direct assault on the front, so they returned to Summer’s room.

  “Ian, she wasn’t there,” Scythe said. “We’re going to keep looking, but our people are hitting the front. I think you and Orin should get Summer out. Can we move her?”

  “I’ll carry her,” Orin said brusquely when he saw Ian get ready to lift her. Affected by the strong smell of blood and other fluids that surrounded them, Orin was barely suppressing his fury. He left his position at the door and entered the room. He easily hefted the tall woman and waited while Ian tucked the blanket around her, carefully avoiding the deep purple bruises that were smeared over her body.