The Blood Key (The Wander Series Book 1)

by Vaun Murphrey

  Otis advised, “You are dehydrated. Drink two glasses of water and the headache will cease.” He frowned in consternation at Dominic. “If you insist on not lying still, please let me assist you to a more comfortable seat.” The older man’s meaty arm bent in a wing as he offered it to Dom for support. Otis was back to his proper words and stiff air of authority.

  Rowena fussed and clucked under her breath as she helped move Dom to the leather couch. While they were distracted I whispered something in Izzy’s ear and she bolted for the hall at a run. She’d be back in seconds judging by her speed. Iz wasn’t near as fast as Otis but she was still quicker than the average human being. How had no one noticed before this? Surely a classmate or childhood friend would’ve seen her run like this? I shook my head.

  Dominic shuddered in reaction to his short trip from Cyril’s desk. His lips had gone yellow tinged with greenish blue around the edges. A sheen of perspiration covered his shirtless chest. The pink and white puckered scars were bright and ghastly on his tan skin. Careful movement and then his long neck was exposed as he took a shallow, steady breath.

  When his eyes slid to meet mine hardness glinted in their depths. “What do you have up your sleeve, Z?”

  Of course Dom wasn’t asking a literal question, but I answered like he had, “My arm.”

  Izzy clomped into the library and held out Tim’s heavy handgun in her opened palm as she asked, “Shouldn’t I have a weapon too?”

  Confidence was key here. If I sounded like I knew my shit, then they’d follow me. Who cared if my knees were knocking and I had no clue if my stupid plan would work? I was sure doing nothing wasn’t an option so my doubts could go suck an egg.

  “No, you’re sneaking, Iz. Guns going boom equals not quiet or sneaky. I, however, plan on fighting—and fighting is all about noise.” My words were pure bravado. Images of Cyril’s too fast strikes and the way green blood had splashed on me sprang to mind. I was no Cyril.

  Dom wrapped his forearms across his stomach and shivered. “Why does it have to come down to a fight if you’re giving these people what they want? Going in guns blazing isn’t something you know how to do, Zena, or did I miss your time at the police academy?”

  Rowena snorted in amusement as she draped a dusty sheet from the floor across Dom’s front. His sneeze was immediately followed by a grimace of pain, but he thanked her anyway for the attempted kindness.

  Otis scratched at his chin. “Why fight at all? Playing by their rules profits you nothing. Change the game. Use your own situation to the best advantage.”

  I gave myself a moment to catch up with the idea I thought he was aiming me toward. “Okay, so witnesses always complicate bad deeds right? Bad guys never want someone to point the finger and say, ‘He did it!’ so what if we had a boatload of people with us?”

  Izzy crowed, “I think I getcha now, Z. You’re a genius!”

  I slid a crooked index finger into the trigger guard of the gun in Iz’s outstretched hand. The metal weapon swung side to side until it balanced itself and I presented the thing to my stepmother. “You wanna stash this somewhere in case you need it while we’re gone? Otis has to come with us. That leaves you and Dom to hold it down here.”

  Rowena tripped on a curled edge of sheet and caught her balance against me. If fear had a bottled scent the tang that wafted from her skin would have fit the bill—sharp shredded flowers and snapped stems with a hint of vinegar.

  When my face softened she saw it. Red crept up her neck and she flung herself straighter. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, brat.”

  Her manicured hand was steady as she lifted the gun from the impromptu hanging hook I’d made of my finger. Rowena peered down the sights from the correct end, pulled the slide to check for one in the chamber and then made sure the safety was on.

  She smiled all smug. “Why so surprised, Zena? I excel at self-preservation. See that you do the same. Get your ass back here in one piece. No excuses.” Her teeth looked sharp and white as she added, “Besides, I’m your official guardian again—that means if you die I’ll have to arrange your funeral. I hate that crap.”

  Rowena’s blue eyes were cold as usual but something fleeting danced in them I hadn’t seen before—concern.

  It was gone in a blink like it had never existed.

  36 RIP IT, ROLL IT AND PUNCH IT

  I jabbed at Cyril’s smooth black desk with a frustrated grumble.

  The Dalah was inside.

  Our little plan was in danger of not happening if I couldn’t figure out how to liberate the blood key. The bad guys would at least want to see it before they let us bargain for Izzy’s family’s freedom.

  Dom coughed and then groaned.

  “You all right, sweetie?”

  I looked over to see Dom’s hazel eyes lit with an inner fire. Gray patches sat to either side of his nose and his cheek bones were sharp enough to cut glass. He frowned.

  “What’s with this ‘sweetie’ business all of a sudden? You’re weirding me out, Zena. Especially since you don’t even look like you.”

  Izzy harrumphed right next to me and tapped her temple. “Z’s just giving you the chance to fall in love with her mind. Plus, some exciting junk in the trunk action.” She patted one side of her butt for added emphasis.

  Dom crossed his eyes at Iz in response. His amusement didn’t last long. Otis was watching me struggle with detached indifference.

  Mind racing, I bent to the desk again. I hadn’t shared my suspicions with anyone yet about what the Dalah was and whether or not Cyril had tricked us all. That hidden gem wasn’t for certain anyway. I mean, I had to be sure, but I felt sure, so—

  “Shit!” I swore as my sweat-slick fingers slipped out of a narrow crack. Nail ends bent with unexpected force. Temporary half-moons burst pink and then white before they disappeared. I blew on my booboos like it helped.

  Yeah, not so much.

  Rowena added in, “Cyril just touched it before. I watched while he did it and I think he pressed it like touchscreen buttons. Maybe its fingerprint readers combined with like a DNA key or something? If that’s the case you’re not opening the drawer without force.”

  “Touchscreens don’t have buttons, Rowena,” I objected.

  My stepmother tossed her blonde hair in a breezy gesture. “Obviously, Bozena.”

  She looked at me as if to say I was missing a few bricks. If Rowena wasn’t careful I’d sprout claws and lightning bolts again. Anger churned and roiled, creeping and caustic through my blood. I was frustrated and my stepmother was a ‘victim’ I wouldn’t lose any sleep over. Should the Olympic Committee ever create a medals competition for pissing people off I had no doubt Rowena could bring home the gold. She’d set the bar and then bust it herself every four years.

  “What form was Cyril in when he handled the desk?” Otis’s voice was so low and languid it almost didn’t register as audible.

  I growled, “His dad shape, of a sorts, I think. I can’t remember if he was still altered a bit from appearing to be a distant relation or if he looked like Young Cyril.”

  Iz hiccuped. She covered her mouth, looking green. “I’m sorry, I get sick to my stomach when I’m nervous.” Her whole frame jiggled in place with anxious energy.

  How would I change form if I needed to? This wasn’t something I’d instigated. The floating head had turned me into Izzy Number Two and I had no clue how to turn back. At the thought, a feeling of vertigo erupted. My vision went black and yellow. When I blinked to try and see again a rushing sound filled my ears and pressure made both eardrums pop.

  Dom’s urgent voice filtered through but I couldn’t understand him all the way.

  When my ears cleared and my vision flickered I heard, “…kay, Zena?”

  Christ! What if he got up and hurt himself trying to check on me? It was the sort of bonehead thing he’d do too. Idiot.

  I hurried to reassure the library at large, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I feel weird—kinda dizzy. It’ll pass.”<
br />
  Izzy’s face appeared in front of my bowed one—I was taller than her.

  She gave a tremulous smile. “You’re you again, Z. Do you know how?”

  My gaze cut to Otis as I said, “Is this normal?”

  He walked closer. “No. It is not.”

  His wide shoulders were set solid and square. Determination was written plain in the angled arrows of black eyebrow focused on the bridge of his nose. I was glad of Cyril’s desk between us. I placed one of my hands in the area I’d seen Cyril touch to access the hidden drawer and it popped open with a snick.

  Plain and unassuming, the dark brown wooden box that held the Dalah sat beside a broken compass and a careworn set of iron keys. Chips of glass sparkled on the green velour bottom as if something precious had shattered inside the drawer and never been completely cleaned off the furry surface. My hands lifted the box toward me and then up as if they belonged to someone else. I nudged the drawer closed with an absently aimed knee.

  Izzy tugged at my elbow, “Okay, we’ve got it so let’s go!”

  “Slow down. I have to check, Iz.”

  Rowena slid in on my other side. I’d been so absorbed I hadn’t noticed my stepmother was that close. Better her than Otis. Yes, he’d saved Dom. Yes, he’d volunteered for our rescue mission, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. Especially with secrets that were mainly hunches and floating heads that let me change much more quickly than he or Cyril could. What if my father hadn’t called for his help at all and Otis was a setup? Shit, he could be a spy for Neith. How the hell did I know?

  Paranoid much?

  The box lid was lighter than I thought it would be. It didn’t feel like any wood I’d ever touched come to think of it. I sniffed. That neck-ruffling butane and raw meat smell was absent. In fact, the small brassy circle struck me as dead. My fingers splayed in the air over the box and then curled into my palm as I sensed…nothing. This felt wrong. Was it broken? Cyril’s handling of it had been so careful and his warnings so dire. What if it had all been for show? My suspicions about the inner AI and the floating head coalesced into surer ground for my emerging theory. Could Cyril’s use of me to topple the Master’s society been totally different than Neith thought? What if no one was in on Cyril’s machinations but Cyril? Least of all me.

  Izzy’s worried voice penetrated my churning thoughts.

  “We good, Z?”

  I slammed the lid on the box before Otis could get a better look at the Dalah then hugged it to my chest. “Yup, let’s jet!”

  Rowena’s stare was hard on the side of my head. When I turned she glared like she knew I was hiding something and murmured, “Like father like daughter, huh?”

  I struggled to keep my thoughts and worries out of my expression as I bulldozed Izzy in my haste to get to Dom. He watched me approach—intent in his visual inspection. Maybe he was counting fingers and toes to make sure I hadn’t lost any in my second transformation. Knees popping, I crouched by his legs on the balls of my feet. The box settled gently from my chest to my thighs as I smiled with what I hoped was reassurance.

  “You’d feel better if you were with me, I know. You can’t, Dom. Trust me?”

  After a shallow inhale Dom raised an arm to tug on a hunk of my hair. “You look better with your own face on. Don’t come back all banged up like me. Okay, Zena? Anyone gets out of line just worry about surviving and not anything else. You can’t save everyone.”

  Worry. Dom was very worried. I was too for that matter. He also knew something else was going on with me. I could see it in the crinkles around his eyes and the tightness of his forehead.

  “We’ll talk when I get back,” I added as I stood.

  Rowena draped herself over the back of the couch and smirked. “You bet we will, honey bunny.”

  I started toward the hall and flung over my shoulder at Izzy, “Can you drive a stick? I really suck at it.”

  Otis made a sound that resembled restrained dread.

  Izzy’s sneakers pounded the floor. “Hells yeah. I got it.”

  Dom regained enough energy to cough from the couch, “Don’t wreck my car either.”

  Otis and Iz passed me on the way to the front door as I paused against the door jamb. Rowena stood and put hands to hips. She looked too small and fragile to keep them both safe. I needed muscle though and Otis qualified.

  I winked at Dom. “You can teach me how to handle a stick when we get back, sweetie.”

  Pale as he was, Dom still managed to blush.

  PART THREE

  37 WE’RE COMING OUT

  Dread and panic filled me as I contemplated courting disaster as a plan of operation. Because that was what we were doing—playing fast and loose with other people’s lives and our own. Izzy was in the driver’s seat and Otis was next to her with his right arm out the open passenger window playing in the currents of invisible but powerful air as they resisted our speed.

  My hair whipped into my mouth uncomfortably. For the about the tenth time on our trip to the gate I unstuck stray strands from the spit in the corners of my lips and tucked the wild darkness behind my ears. Izzy’s window was open too. Apparently Dom didn’t have a working A/C in his mobile junk heap. If we were serious about each other our first ‘couple fight’ was going to be over whether or not, it was permissible for girlfriends to buy boyfriends cars as gifts. I was in favor of it.

  Hot vinyl created instant sweat when I grabbed both headrests and propped my chin on Iz’s shoulder to speak.

  “The reporters need to see me so they’ll follow. Any ideas?”

  Izzy laid on the horn with the heel of one hand but nothing happened. “Can’t honk. This car is a piece of shit.”

  I cut my eyes at Otis. “Oh, really? It worked earlier today.”

  Otis looked sideways while his fingers danced gracefully out the window. “You should buckle your seatbelt, Zena. Your father would not be happy if you were injured in an accident.”

  Hot salt burst on my tongue before I realized I’d bitten a hole on the inside of my mouth. At this rate the sore spots in my mouth were going to take over. I scooted all the way into the back bench seat.

  “Can’t, Otis. All the buckles are missing.”

  Izzy had angled her cell phone on the cracked dash in front of the speedometer so we could see the timer. Forty-five minutes was all we had left. It did and it didn’t sound like an ample amount of time. Things tended to happen when you were in a hurry.

  Good thing was—we wanted attention, so running red lights and speeding would increase the cavalry so to speak. Not a bad thing at all. Maybe we’d make it.

  Izzy snorted in reaction to my response. “Figures.”

  Otis suggested, “Try manners.”

  I cocked my head at the back of the passenger headrest since I couldn’t see Otis’s face and said, “What?”

  Otis drew his hand back inside after a tree branch scraped the hood and almost bent his arm backward at the elbow. “Stop and thank the nice reporters for following the judge’s orders about your property. They will pursue without any grand gestures or capers on our part.”

  His explanation felt like a chastisement. It was delivered in much the same tone as a disapproving teacher. Whatever smartass remark I would’ve made died in my mouth as we approached the carcass of the great brown falcon.

  Otis ordered, “Stop, please.”

  Izzy inhaled and then blew out a whistle. “That’s what got Dom? Who killed it?”

  The passenger door slammed and we watched Otis walk around the dented yellow hood. One wing on the bird was extended toward the sky as if in entreaty. Burnt bone lingered on the breeze that wafted inside the rapidly heating car interior.

  “I killed it, Iz. Fried it. But it was too late for Dom.” To my surprise tears began. I widened my eyes to keep them at bay and blinked as Izzy turned to face the backseat. “I thought he was…”

  Izzy’s mouth drooped. “I’m sorry, Zena, I screwed up. When that man called and said he had Momma and the
babies I shoulda just come to you right away. I shoulda trusted you to help.”

  My attention went from the face of a remorseful friend, my only friend really, to Otis. Jaw suddenly frozen, I watched Otis bend at the waist to heave the falcon over his head like it weighed nothing. With a great twist of his upper body he launched the dead thing over the treetops. Green leaves rustled in the distance and much smaller birds burst into flight, surprised from their daytime perches. Otis had just manhandled something that had to have weighed in at a quarter ton like it was nothing.

  Izzy voiced my sentiments exactly, “Daaaaaaaamn!”

  Otis didn’t acknowledge Izzy’s exclamation even though I knew by the jerk of his shoulders that he’d heard it. He punched the red button on the gate stand and watched the dark wrought iron roll open with his hands on his waist. His face was turned away still as he waved for Izzy to pull past.

  Once the car made it outside the estate Izzy put on the brakes with a squeal and grind of worn pads on metal. We watched Otis hit the button and bolt through the closing gate. He avoided eye contact as he settled in his seat again and buckled up. Iz and I shared a long deep meaningful look and then she took off.

  Two lane blacktop blurred as we sped toward the much larger four lane highway blocked from view by foliage. North Carolina wasn’t the sort of state one lived in well with hylophobia or dendrophobia. They were sort of the same thing—an irrational fear of wood, forest or trees. Everywhere one went kudzu vines draped over tall trunks and short brush to block what loomed around the corner or over a hill. There’d been a girl at the institution that had refused to go outside of the building. Her remembered screams of panic at the idea still made me wince in reaction.

  Izzy bumped down a depression and then we were out in the open. Vans and SUVs with station logos encasing them sat in a huddle on the shoulder. One alert cameraman aimed the black camera on his shoulder faster than the rest as most scrambled to put out smokes or raced to their vehicles just in case we were worth pursuit.