Abomination (The Path to Redempton Book 1)

by Kimbra Swain

  “She does this every night. I saw her come in here last week. I knew you were having trouble with her. I slipped in here to watch. I figured she was hooking up with some guy. But every single night she’s in one of these rooms, doing forms. Sometimes she just sits on the floor, and doesn’t move for hours.”

  “Meditation.” I whispered.

  “Um-hmm,” Meredith confirmed. I stepped closer to the glass and watched her movements. The beauty of each of her movements amazed me. Whoever she was, she had extensive martial arts training. “That’s not all, Tadeas. I know you don’t look in the magical spectrum like the rest of us, but look at her your way.” She was right. Meredith had a slight magical talent. It wasn’t much. Like putting her hands on the doors, she knew which room Rachel occupied by touching the door and reaching out with her senses to feel Rachel’s presence. Wielders could switch their sight into the magical spectrum and see things no normal human could. For me as a shifter it was different. Especially as a Jaguar Guardian, I didn’t shift-sight. I shifted planes of existence. Our world is layers upon layers of different planes. There is a whole other world that overlaps ours called the spirit world. It’s where ghosts, demons and angels tread, and guardians like myself. There is a separate plane where the Fae live in what they call the Underworld. And beneath that is what most of the world calls hell or Hades, but it all exists in the same location, just layered on top of each other. I can’t shift into any plane, only the spirit world. I wouldn’t dare do it outside the compound without a magical partner. I had never had one. I avoided traveling to the spirit world at all costs. But here it would be okay for only a moment to take a look.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on the cool feeling of the spirit world. Its temperature was always much cooler than what we feel in the real world. I reached out with my senses and pulled on the edge of the plane. And in a moment, I felt Meredith and the world around me melt away. I opened my eyes to the monochrome bleakness of the spirit world. It was cold and motionless. In this realm, there were no walls. The wall between Rachel and I faded away. And I stepped closer to her, because I could tell something was very wrong with her. Around her entire body, an intricate black rope weaved around her body. It bound and covered her head to foot. I couldn’t even see her face or her blonde hair. I could tell it was her by her scent. She always smelled like honeysuckle and cinnamon. A contradiction for sure, but it’s how I identified with people, how I identified her. Each and every person has their own unique scent and sometimes it changes based on their mood, but there is always that underlying smell. I circled her as she followed the steps of each form and realized she was improvising through several different disciplines at once. She was highly trained, but she was bound. I had never seen a binding on someone like this in the spirit realm. I could smell the sweat on her skin. I could smell the salt in her tears even though I could not see them. A part of me wanted to slam back into reality and do whatever I could to remove the binding. Surely someone upstairs in the Agency could help her. I slowly moved back through the wall to the observation room to ensure that I didn’t reveal myself to her in any way. I did not want to frighten her.

  When I shifted back to the real world, Meredith stood there leaning against the wall with her arms folded. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the room and down the hallway to the doorway to the stairwell. “What the fuck is that, Meredith?”

  “What did you see?” she asked trying to get my perspective since our sight was different.

  “She’s covered in black ropes. Like a binding of some sort.”

  “Hmmm,” she said.

  “What? For god’s sake Meredith, tell me what that is?”

  “Don’t go all white knight on me, Duarte, but I’m pretty sure it’s a magical binding. She obviously is a powerful wielder. Whether she knows that or not, or whether she did this to herself or someone did it to her I cannot tell. I hoped you could see something that I couldn’t.”

  “How long have you known about this?” I asked.

  “Since,” she hesitated and I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward me.

  “How long, Meredith?”

  “Since the first time I saw her go in the room a week ago,” she replied, “And let go of me before I bust you in the face.”

  In my frustration, I had grabbed her too tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m just afraid she’s in pain or danger even. If someone did this to her, and she doesn’t know, Meredith, think of all the things that could happen.” I thought back to my first time shifting. It was a painful memory. The most painful. If she had a magical ability and didn't know about it, and the binding failed or released. It could be disastrous.

  Meredith knew me too well. She put her hand on my cheek. “I said, don’t go all white knight on me, Tadeas. This isn’t like your story. This isn’t what happened to you. I think she did this on purpose. The guys upstairs are very diligent to make sure none of our recruits have magical abilities. Or any abilities for that matter. No shifters. No vamps. Nothing. Just plain humans. She did this to get in here, and they probably know. Now we need to figure out why.”

  My anger flared, but this time it had an altered focus. If Meredith was right, someone was meddling in my class. I might not be much in this world, but my class was mine. “I take pride in my training and instruction. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some pretty wizard meddle in my affairs. She is so done, but not before I make an example of her.”

  Meredith stepped back and grinned. “Yep, you did grow balls.”

  Following Mr. Mwenye into the conference room, I noticed that the men and women sitting around the table gave him looks of respect, but when their eyes turned to me, all I saw was aversion and contempt. They hated me for whatever reason, but Mr. Mwenye insisted that I be by his side. They would all just have to accept me. At the head of the table, the Director sat facing the city beyond the wall of windows. We were on the twentieth floor on a high rise in Philadelphia, PA. A temporary office and headquarters that we set up for the Geo-Enhancement Alliance until we received the proper funding. Then we would move the offices inland. We were looking at locations in Fort Worth, Texas and Colorado Springs, Colorado. Too bad the place in Boulder was taken.

  Around the table sat the major players and board members of the GEA. All were magically endowed or a supernatural entity and extremely respectable in some circles. The GEA had a vision for the future. One that I was proud to share whether they liked me or not. John Mwenye, my mentor, grew up as a small child in British East Africa which became known as Kenya. He migrated to the city of New Orleans in 1852 where a free African-American community developed a thirst for dark religion and magic.

  A tall, lanky man lounged back in one of the chairs twirling a pen just above his hand. He had a three-day ever present mostly grey stubble on a slender face. He had pale blue piercing eyes. Today his hair looked like it hadn’t been cut, and a grey curly mop sat on his head. His face was weathered with time. I will admit though that when Edgar Donovan smiled it would light up a room. Not something you’d expect from an old guy like him, but of course age was relative in this room. Mr. Donovan was a Master Wizard, and a member of the Fraternity of Magic, an elite group of wizards in the official governing body of The Conjurer’s Association. I’m sure Mr. Donovan’s activities with us would be frowned upon by his fellow frat brothers, but the FOMs and the TCA did little these days beyond fluff their own feathers. Mr. Donovan said to me many times that I was lucky to be under the care of Mr. Mwenye, that way I didn’t have to deal with the pompous idiots in the TCA. I trusted him about as far as I could throw him. He had extreme power, but rarely used it. I would clearly define him as being old school. Some say that Mr. Donovan possessed a wealth of knowledge about magic that could not be matched by any wizard. Today he could pass for homeless with his unkempt facial hair, but the designer suit would be a dead giveaway of his actual wealth, power and influence in the world.

  Across from him, leaning over a very old bible sat
the man we called The Priest. I did not know his real name and apparently it wasn’t important for he had many names over the years that I’m not sure he even knew his real name. He had become our main contact for information in the religious world. He made connections over the years from Europe to South America and also here in the United States. He believed himself to be the conscience of the group. He believed in our goals and endeavors, but I was sure his goal was to see that as few people lost their lives as possible. Which I suppose is admirable to some, but frankly I didn’t care how many worthless humans died. We intended to bring change upon this world to better the lives for all. The Priest had kind eyes and heartfelt facial expressions. He was actively protected by the Director. No matter how many times he directly contradicted our plans, the Director would not dismiss him or punish him for his defiance.

  Also seated at the table, a beautiful young Japanese maiden named Botan Doro. Miss Doro is probably best described as a succubus of Japanese origin. She was thin, petite and beautiful. Her almond eyes looked upon those around her with a coy allure. She had spent the ages seducing men, amassing wealth and obtaining the respect of a large number of corporations in the Asian markets. Most of her acquisitions came from her dead lovers. She had many known husbands, many aliases and had over time morphed to whatever the culture and times dictated for her to complete her work. Even if she didn’t seduce men, she could hold her own in any board room of any business in the world. I liked her.

  Another woman on the board, a beautiful half-Native American woman who didn’t look native at all, was out on a special assignment, and we probably wouldn’t see her for quite some time. It’s a shame. She’s nice to look at and clever. Her mentor, Nalusa Chito was also not here. He was a dark-haired dark-skinned former chief of the Choctaw Nation. He joined our effort to reclaim some of the lands that once belonged to his people, and to lead them into a new era of dominance over the white man. Whatever served our purpose, I could care less about his lofty and unachievable goals.

  I finished out the crew in the room, Vanessa Vaughn, wielder, conjurer and mistress of the black arts of magic. I was definitely the shortest in the room standing at about 5ft 5in. My long black hair and porcelain skin rivaled the beauty of any woman I’d ever seen. I looked at Mr. Mwenye, and by his look I could tell he wanted me to keep quiet during this meeting. Several members of our group were missing, but I was sure they were all out on business pertaining to GEA. I had not seen Milton Trujillo in quite some time. Perhaps he had finally kicked the bucket. The nasty old man had a taste for young girls, and went to great lengths to entertain as many of them as possible, which for a man his age, relied on an act of God in itself or a lifetime supply of a little blue pill. He had propositioned me once. I almost took him up on it just to make sure I stayed in his good graces. I may look 25, but I certainly was not born yesterday. I didn’t tell Mwenye about it though. Never know when you might need that sort of information.

  “How did the demonstration go?” the Director asked, never turning to look at us.

  “It went splendidly,” Mr. Mwenye responded. “I have a couple of prepayment checks for you, as well as four other promises for investment. We need to have the paperwork sent to their offices as soon as it may be.” He laid a folder behind the Director’s chair on the glass top conference table.

  “And the two gentlemen that died,” the Director asked. Damn. I had hoped that information hadn’t made it back to the group.

  “An unfortunate accident, however the both of them doubted our abilities and in the end probably would have compromised our endeavors. It is probably best they were dealt with immediately,” Mwenye responded.

  “Either you control her, or I will,” the Director responded.

  “Yes, of course,” he then turned to me, and slapped me hard across the face I hit the floor. “I told you.” He sneered, and turned back to the Director. “It will not happen again. I assure you.” He told me before we entered that he might have to show of brute force to make an example of me to save his reputation. I rather enjoyed being slapped around by him so I didn’t mind a bit. Of course, he hit me hard enough that a trickle of blood ran out the edge of my mouth. The Priest handed me a white handkerchief and helped me off the floor. The handkerchief had a cross embroidered on the corner with the initials JCS. I handed the bloodied rag back to him.

  “No child, you keep it,” he said quietly.

  I held it up in my right hand and spoke, “Uro.” The handkerchief combusted into flame and burned in an instant. All eyes in the room shot to me with the use of magic, except the Director who just chuckled lightly. “I’m not letting any of you bastards get your hands on my blood,” I stated firmly and took a chair at the opposite end of the conference table away from all of them. Mwenye’s eyes flashed completely black, and I knew I’d pay for that one later.

  “Enough of the childishness,” Donovan said. “There were eighteen investors. You got checks from two, and promises from four others. We need not concern ourselves with the two unfortunate souls, but that leaves ten loose ends.”

  “Yes, your math is correct Edgar, but be assured, I will obtain their allegiance to this plan or they will be dealt with accordingly,” Mwenye said condescendingly. “John, I don’t doubt your abilities to kill someone, however, we can’t just off ten of the most influential businessmen in the world. I do think that would draw attention that we don’t want or need,” Donovan said.

  “Please trust me when I say, they will join our efforts,” Mwenye responded.

  With all the darkness that resided in Edgar Donovan, even he cringed at Mwenye. He knew as well as I did, that if Mwenye wanted, he could make the business partners agree to anything. He was not above going well beyond the rules to accomplish his goals. I found that to be sexy as hell. He was ruthless.

  “Donovan is right, Mwenye. We should do whatever we can to engage these partners in an open discussion and persuade them to our cause. I want as little blood on our hands as possible at this point,” the Director said.

  “Amen to that,” the Priest echoed.

  “I have Milton out on assignment. He will return to us when he has accomplished his tasks in Boulder,” the Director said.

  We all looked at each other. I suppose none of us knew that old man Trujillo was in Boulder. The stronghold of Gregory Theodoard’s Agency was based just outside of Boulder.

  “What are we doing in Boulder?” Donovan asked boldly.

  “I have a side plan in action that will assure that Mr. Theodoard’s network will be crippled to fight us when the time comes. Without him in our hair, I would say that our goals will be accomplished unhindered,” the Director revealed.

  “The headquarters for Kenward, Blake and Shanahan only compromise an extremely small part of the vast network of proxies and regents in the world. They have alternate headquarters and layer upon layer of backup facilities and safe houses.” Donovan said.

  “You speak as if I do not know our enemy, Mr. Donovan. I assure you. I am well aware of the capabilities of Mr. Theodoard and his Agency. They too, will bow to us in the end,” the Director said.

  “If she is still alive as they say, we may have bigger problems that we thought,” Mwenye said.

  “She is alive, and she will be dealt with finality this time,” the Director said firmly.

  “Who is she?” I asked after listening to the whole conversation and watching their faces as they spoke about this woman.

  “She is our biggest obstacle. She is Abigail Davenport,” the director said.

  “I heard she retired,” I said. I knew the name. Miss Davenport had established the proxy system and held all darkness in check. I’d even seen Mr. Mwenye avoid her rather than deal with her face to face on several occasions. But I knew that those in this room had dealt her a blow by killing her partner and lover Lincoln, then followed that with the gut punch of turning her fiancé and best friend in the world, Lukas Castille into an incubus. We had that poor woman wrapped up, and I do
ubted she would ever be a part of the big game as a whole ever again. Saying she was our biggest obstacle made me scoff inside. I knew I could put her down, if needed. No doubt she was extremely powerful. But after years in seclusion and hiding, she was off her game. If I came across her in the near future, I would do us all a favor and end her once and for all. Especially since none of the men in this room seemed to be able to accomplish the task. I leaned back in my chair and smiled deviously. Yes, Abigail Davenport would beg me for her life before it was over.

  “She is not retired,” Miss Doro said. “In fact, from watching the markets, I believe someone is making large moves with cash and distribution of assets known to be tied to the Agency through shell companies and offshore accounts. My people and I are having a hard time tracking the moves. The only one I know of inside the Agency who is capable of moving enormous much money around virtually undetected is Abigail Davenport. And if she's moving some we can see, I'm sure there is more we don't know about or can't detect. I assure you she is not retired.”

  “Be sure that we nail this information down, and track as many of those accounts as possible,” the Director instructed. “If she is back in the game, and moving assets, then more than likely she knows something is going on. Miss Davenport has always played the long game. She probably started making moves far before any of us knew about it. She’s always been a step ahead. I think taking her out at this point would be unwise, however if anyone gets a shot at her, I demand you take it. I will not have her foiling this plan.” The Director continued to watch the sun sink in the sky through the windows. The shadows rapidly shifted in the room, and all were silent for some time. “Is there anything else today?” No one spoke. “Then please leave me. I have some calls to make,” the Director said, and we all got up and filed out of the room. I left first, and headed to the Director's office right across the hall. The Director’s secretary sat at the desk just outside the main office.