Reckless

by Selene Charles

  “Like murdering any innocent humans that find out about their real existence?” Flint couldn’t help but say.

  Grace rolled her eyes. “As I said, some rules may seem archaic and antiquated, but they’ve worked for centuries. Can you imagine the worldwide panic that would spread should humans suddenly discover they’ve been living next to a vampire or a witch?”

  Flint shook her head. “But that literally makes no sense, because even if they don’t find out, the fact is they’re still living next to a vampire or witch, right?”

  “Flint.” Grace sighed with obvious exasperation. “You’re enlightened, but not all mortals are like you or me. Believe me when I say that most of these rules exist simply to keep the fine thread of harmony in place.”

  She refused to accept that murdering anyone who found out the truth was an acceptable option, but there’d be no budging Grace with that topic, so she moved on to her next pressing problem. “Then what’s gonna happen with my dad now that he knows?”

  Licking her bottom lip primly, Grace glanced off to the left. “He’s family, love. Ergo, why I’ll be defecting from the Order as soon as can get the last of my plans in place. I find that for all the good they’ve done, the Order has also grown corrupt through the years. And I can no longer turn my back to what is really going on.”

  There was a far deeper meaning behind those words than Grace simply quitting because Dad had found out the truth, but Flint also realized that particular subject was closed.

  “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

  Not like she needed to ask really. She knew exactly what was coming. The map. Another finger-point. And off she’d go.

  She hated that Cain’s face came immediately to mind.

  “I’m sure you know what Frank had planned.” Grace sighed. “But as you can see, he came around to my way of thinking.”

  Flint frowned.

  “As I can see?”

  “Girl, do you use those eyes for anything other than checking out boys? Have you not noticed the fact that he’s left me here to get you up to speed? That he saw Death apparate and said not a word? It took him a few days to get it. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Wait. What?” Flint rubbed her brow. “I would think Dad would be pissed that my boyfriend—”

  At her grandmother’s quelling eyebrow raise, Flint cleared her throat and stuttered, “friend is a berserker and—”

  “Do not mistake his silence for acceptance. Your father is quite upset, but he knows that you no longer have a choice. As to the friend-boyfriend nonsense”—she sighed heavily—“’tis much too late to back out now. Cain has your scent inside him, girl. Berserkers do not give of themselves easily and once they do, their need—for lack of a better word—can reach dangerous levels. Not to you, mind, but to themselves.”

  Flint frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Grace’s lips were thin, almost wormy lines on her crinkled face. “It is a giant reason why separation between the races is strictly enforced. There are many of us fighting to keep these monsters alive because they are not, in fact, completely bad. Many of them are merely misunderstood. By maintaining friendly relations, we possess the advantage in that our allegiance means when the true baddies—like high demon lords—come stomping into town, we have the necessary means to defend humanity.”

  “But you’re not really telling me why it’s bad for Cain to like me.” Flint rubbed at the deep frown lining her forehead.

  Grace cleared her throat. “Because as powerful as the Nephilim and the berserkers are, everything has a weakness. For the Neph it’s the almost maniacal suppression of any type of ‘good’ emotion so that they aren’t overwhelmed by their demonic nature. But for the Berserker it is different. They are far more human than most other monsters. But their level of attachment is profound. It is why we’ve hammered into all monsters to remain aloof from the humans.”

  Okay, so maybe she was dense, but Flint still didn’t think that was a good enough reason for the kill order.

  “But why? I still don’t get it, Nana. The mechanics of what a human and a Berserker can do”—she blushed, thinking about the hot kiss in Cain’s car just a few weeks ago—“is totally the same.”

  “Aye. True. But Berserkers live long lives compared to mortals. Easily double the lifespan, if not longer. And once a rager pair bonds, it is for life. Without the bond to center them, many ragers have spiraled into madness and eventually must be put down.”

  Flint’s heart pounded. Why had Cain always kept something so monumentally huge away from her? It now made sense why he’d always pushed her away, why at times he’d even been cruel, and why so many of her friends had urged her to leave him alone. But then he’d gone and kissed her. Her heart trembled thinking about it.

  The way the world had tasted of color—reds, blues, and purples. How right it’d felt. How perfect.

  “He let me in,” she whispered, clutching at her bedsheet.

  Grace nodded slowly. “Aye. He did. But the bond has not yet been completed.” She deliberately let her words trail off.

  Flint cocked her head. “And how exactly would we complete it?”

  “You hardly need to know that.” Grace harrumphed. “Just know that the bond is not something to take lightly.”

  Why were her palms suddenly so sweaty and her pulse racing out of control? Because she was pretty sure the answer might involve something that would break her father out in hives to hear of it.

  Somehow she was going to figure out the riddle. But who in the world could she possibly ask? And how embarrassing if she was wrong? What if it was like a blood-bonding ceremony and had nothing at all to do with sex?

  Feeling herself begin to panic just a little, she nibbled on the corner of her lip.

  “I can see what you’re thinking scrawled like words all over your face. Now do you understand why I urge you to caution where he is concerned, Flint? It is more than simply a monster thing, it’s a heart thing. And I may be an odd bird for saying so, but I rather like those boys and this family and only want what is fair to them and to you.”

  “Yeah, but.” She fisted the sheets so tightly that the blood circulation in her index fingers began to cut off a little. “I guess I’m just confused about how deep this goes.”

  “What?” Grace lifted her brows. “How deep a rager bond goes? Well, all the way. For them. But not for you. What they feel, the object of their desire doesn’t have to. It is why ragers are so aloof. They need to be to survive who they are. It is a blessed day indeed for them when one is able to bond to a brother or sister or even to an inanimate object. Neph aren’t quite built the same way, but in other ways they are. Adam placed his trust in Layla, and look what she did to all of them.”

  Flint’s mouth dropped. “You know? But how? I haven’t even had a chance to tell anyone yet.”

  “Och, lassie, you’ve been out for a week. The kanlungan saw the queen’s face. That is where everyone is right now, trying to track down any leads they can to the hive queen.”

  Well, at least it was nice to know she hadn’t been forgotten.

  Fluffing a blue-veined hand down her skirt, Grace said, “Now, I said I had a story to tell and I do. So do not interrupt me further.”

  Flint gave a sharp salute before cramming another half a pie into her mouth.

  “When you were born, Becca visited a witch who crafted an inhibition spell on you. Basically suppressing the true nature of your heritage.”

  She nibbled her lip, not wanting to interrupt again... but. “I don’t get it.”

  An irritated sound emitted from Grace’s throat. “Basically that means, lass, that she made it so that you were mostly human. You’d have lived and died a human. Period. But your power was strong. Stronger even than Becca’s. It is why you had the athletic abilities you did. Why you could run and move like a wraith. It was that ability that Layla clearly locked on and why, no doubt, she had the royal guard bite you. But the witch was a level ten. Meaning the stren
gth of the spell was nearly as powerful as you yourself were. So while the guard’s bite unlocked a bit more of your powers, that’s as far as it would have likely gone had you never received another one.”

  “But what exactly is in Layla’s bite that could have done that to me? And why, if you knew I’d been bitten once before, didn’t you send out a gaggle of guards to watch over me and make sure it didn’t happen again?”

  Grace’s look was quelling. “That is not no talking. Though those are fair questions, so I’ll answer as best I can. The Order keeps tabs on all sorts of monsters. We’d known of the hive queen for years, though at the time no one knew it to be Layla. Not even us. Which rankles, to be sure. We did, however, know a wee bit about the queen. In that her chemical makeup is unique to other creatures we’d studied in the past. She was different. Vastly different. There were qualities about her that were very human and yet... not. We never understood how the two could coexist. Now we must assume that Layla’s geneticist background played a huge role in how she was able to change the human parts of her DNA just enough to straddle the line between a mere mortal and a monster.”

  Flint thought back to the conversation of the mouse with the ear growing on it and felt dumb for never even seeing that as being a dead giveaway to who Layla really was. Then again, no one else had either.

  “As to the ‘what’s in the bite’ question. We are not sure chemically, but we do know that a bite from the queen to a mortal also alters their DNA, twisting them into something rather horrific. Sort of a bee-reptile-vampire sort of thing. Quite nasty. If you’d been merely human, you would have suffered the same fate. But fae DNA is altogether a different and alien—some would even call it magical—unknown. When the guard bit you, rather than turning you into a drone, she unlocked just a hint of your true DNA codex. However, it was the second bite that has now begun to cause you to revert to your true state. And as to why I didn’t place you under protective guard, Flint, to be frank, I was never the one in favor of masking who you really were.”

  She gasped. “Are you telling me that you knew this would happen to me?”

  Grace didn’t look in the least bit apologetic when she shrugged. “I didn’t know. As I said, we had no idea who Layla really was. But am I sorry this has happened to you? No, I’m not. You are who you are, and you should be proud of that. I am.”

  “What exactly do you mean by true state, then?” Shivering, Flint glanced down at her arms. They looked the same as they always had. White, slightly hairy, thin while yet being muscular. Wiggling her toes, she realized she’d not sprouted hobbit feet overnight. That was a good thing. “I feel the same.”

  “Well, lass, you aren’t. And I reckon that within a few days’ time to a few weeks’ time, the suppression spell will wear off completely.”

  “Who will I be then?” she asked with her stomach in knots.

  Grace’s eyes were kind. “I dinna know, love. That is the thing of the fae, you can have an entire clan that is related that look completely dissimilar. Some of them glorious, others quite monstrous. And it’s really a crapshoot who’ll be who.”

  “Considering that I’m the girl who can walk through a parking lot on a clear blue day with only one bird flying in the sky and twelve friends surrounding me and I’m the one the bird craps on really doesn’t make me feel that great.” She chuckled, but inside she cried.

  What if she became a monster? What if she grew horns or a tail, or God forbid, became just a giant green blob that looked more like a wet booger than a once-pretty girl? Her jaw trembled, and the piece of pie she still held in her hand dropped like a stone to the bed, squishing against the sheets.

  Grace was by her side just a moment later. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, she wrapped her arms around Flint and hugged her tight.

  “We’ll get through this together, child. I promise.”

  She clutched at the back of her grandmother’s gown and nodded, burying her face into Grace’s neck. She smelled like peppermint and Bengay. But Flint needed the hug, so she stayed put.

  Wiping the wetness from the corners of her eyes, she gave her grandmother a watery grin. “So if Mama was half fae...”

  “Halfling,” Grace corrected her.

  “Halfling, okay then. If Mom was a halfling, then that means I’m only a quarter fae. Wouldn’t that make me lame as far as fairies go?”

  “If your grandda had been a leprechaun, perhaps.” Grace snorted. “But you’re royalty, Flint, and even a drop of royal blood makes you altogether unique.”

  Once that might actually have made her smile, but the thought that she might still turn into a squishy booger sort of squelched the need to buy a tiara.

  “Then why do you say I’m so much stronger than my mom?”

  Grace laid a palm against her chest. “Strength of spirit, child. Yours is a brilliant wash of gold.”

  Not knowing what to say to that part, she squeaked out, “Do I really not have a soul?”

  Even the demons at Diabolique had souls.

  The fear laced behind the words must have been heard by her grandmother, because the cantankerous old bird’s features softened and she smiled gently.

  “Ye don’t need a soul to be kind, to be sweet, to be wonderful. Having a soul can be terribly overrated, child. Being soulless simply means that someday when your soul has aged and your body grows old, you won’t go to either Heaven or Hell but will return back to the earth from which you were created. And then you’ll be reborn, as all fae are. And you, my love, come from most excellent stock.”

  Chapter 3

  Flint

  Flint was going to ask just what she was. Who she was really, but when the door was flung open all thoughts fled.

  Cain stood in the door, his eyes glowed a purest red. She could see their burn even underneath the dark shades he wore.

  His hair was mussed, he had a bit of scruff on his jaw and throat and was still dressed in mostly black, but gah, she totally didn’t care.

  Her heart was pitching like a ship in a storm-tossed sea and the monitor was going crazy.

  “Cain,” she breathed at the exact same moment her grandmother said it.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted him to see her considering all the revelations her grandmother had made, but he was here now and her traitorous heart forgot to be afraid when the only thing she now felt was blissfully happy.

  He walked to the bed with a purposeful stride and grabbed her hand, and the touch of his callused thumb brushing against her heated flesh almost made her purr out loud.

  If it wasn’t for the fact they had an audience, she might just have hauled him down by the collar and kissed the soul right out of him. Looking at him now, how scruffy and tired he looked, how worried he clearly was, she had no idea how she’d survived the first seventeen years of her life without knowing him.

  Cain dropped a hard kiss to her palm. Then, yanking off his glasses, he pressed her hand to his stubbled cheek and inhaled a trembly breath.

  “Flint.” His voice cracked. “Flint.”

  Flint chanced a glance at her grandmother, who was making a concerted effort to study the layout of the Good Housekeeping magazine sitting on the empty chair beside her.

  “I’m okay, Cain,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

  Nodding, he never took his eyes off her. Red eyes that had once made her feel terror and fear now made her feel loved and needed.

  Funny how near-death experiences could change things.

  Sitting down next to her, he dropped her hand but began to absently rub her sheet-covered knee over and over again.

  It tickled a little, but there was no way she was telling him to stop either.

  “Sorry, Grace,” he murmured, glancing over at her grandmother, who held up a restraining hand.

  “Not to worry, Rager. I halfway expected it. How goes the search today?”

  He shook his head, and Flint bit her bottom lip to try to stop from smiling. Because they were talking about looking for Abel, but
Cain was with her. He was safe. And right now that was all that mattered.

  “Not good. What few drones we’ve found in the area know nothing.”

  Flint lifted a brow. She was very aware of how Cain got the drones to spill their secrets. It usually involved his big hammy fists meeting their faces.

  Unable to keep from touching again, she rubbed his forearm. He didn’t turn to look back at her, instead leaning into her touch a little. His familiar scent of pine was like a warm hug she’d desperately needed.

  “Then you should go back. As you can see, Flint is fine. The search for Abel must take precedence at the moment.”

  His square jaw set into a hard line, and Flint wanted to rail at her grandmother for saying that. But as much as she didn’t want to agree with her—because she’d missed Cain like crazy—Flint also understood Grace was right.

  She was safe.

  Abel wasn’t.

  That reminder pricked at her heart, turning her happy smile into a frown.

  At some point Cain must have turned back to look at her. That small quiver of her jaw must not have passed his notice; he closed his eyes as a visible tremor tore through him.

  “Flint.” The way he said her name, like a prayer, like his hope, it made her heart ache. “I had to see you were okay for myself. I lo—” He sniffed and clenched his jaw.

  Her pulse pounded violently in her ears as she waited for him to finish his sentence.

  He loved her? Was that what he’d been about to say? Was this the bond at play? Or was this Cain really feeling these things? Her head hurt all of a sudden.

  He nodded. “I’m glad you’re safe, Flint.”

  Standing, he glanced between the two of them before slipping his glasses back on. His eyes were now mostly red but with a vein of blue around them. He turned to go without a good-bye, without even looking back.