“Who are you?” the Cursed One snarls. There’s definitely no doubting this dude is Cursed with that voice. He’s not big by any means. At least two inches shorter than Sam’s six foot four frame, and not nearly as well defined. Gangly would be the first word that comes to mind. But I know looks mean nothing. This Full Blood will be quick and nimble as well as strong. Being this close, I can detect more about the Full Blood, and the smell of his blood is old, though I don’t think he’s as old as me. Just that knowledge relaxes me a bit.
“We’re just hikers, man. No biggie. Just a little turned around.”
“Are you Malcolm’s?”
The question makes me bristle. No, damn it, they’re not Malcolm’s! Sam’s hand tightens around my bicep, stopping me as I inch forward.
“Trying to be, man. You know how it is. They won’t take her, though.” Jeremy jerks his thumb at Emily. Good strategy, Jeremy!
The Cursed One actually smiles as though he understands. “She’ll make a good servant,” he rasps.
Ohh, I can see Emily stiffen from my vantage point. I don’t blame her. I also notice that Jeremy and Eric take a step back as the other girls step forward next to Emily. Huh. Interesting. They’re about to show this Full Blood just what girls can do.
“Servant my ass,” Emily retorts and punches him in the face, stunning him for a fraction of a second. But no matter how quick he is, my Hunters are ready. The girls side-step his advance, and Emily - with help from Jenna - donkey kicks him in the back making him stumble and fall forward. Not surprisingly the guys stay back knowing the girls will have no problems.
The Full Blood growls, scrambling up. As much as I want my girls to show this ass who’s boss, I’m willing them to hurry and not play with him for too long. We have things to do, and we don’t need the other Full Bloods to show up to investigate. As if they read my mind, they each have their swords ready for when the Full Blood charges them again. Amanda rams her sword through his chest rendering him useless. By some silent agreement, Emily is the one that makes the kill shot by bringing her sword down across his neck.
“Teach you to call me a servant,” Emily mumbles before turning to me. “What can you tell about him?”
“Besides his being as big an ass as Malcolm?” I ask, making her smile. “He’s old, but not as old as me. Not a word, Jenna!” I mock glare at Jenna. I just know she wants to make a smart ass remark about my age, but she actually stays quiet. “I’m impressed with all of you. Jeremy, that approach was genius.”
Jeremy’s chest puffs out with pride before he confesses that they had talked about their strategy beforehand.
“Did you notice that he seemed a bit scared of Malcolm?” Eric asks the group. “His eyes darted as though he were expecting Malcolm to just pop out.”
The others nod their agreement. The observation doesn’t make me happy. If the Full Blood was expecting an appearance, that means Malcolm or Meathead could show up at any time.
“Take care of the others, and do it quickly. Then I want all of you out of here.”
Sam’s eyes whip to me.
“Except for you, Sam. I’ve already agreed with that. Just remember what you agreed with. You can make sure everything goes according to plan out here, then follow me to the edge of the woods. I’m trusting you to stay back, Sam.”
“I will stay back unless I feel you need help. That’s my deal, Anala. I will not leave you behind.”
One thing I can say that I completely adore about being Cursed is my ability to practically fly. Okay, so I’m not actually flying, I’m more like a spider monkey. I can use the trees to move closer to the house undetected. The leaves don’t make a sound as I leap from branch to branch. I take advantage of my vantage point, making sure my Hunters are faring well, and gauging the distance to the house. There’s a large chasm between the woods and the residence. It looks as though my ‘flying’ ability is about to be put to the ultimate test.
I assess the strength of the branch I’m on, hoping it is sturdy enough to handle the force I’m about to put on it. Some of the English Oaks in this forest are centuries old - yes, even older than me - and healthily durable. I’m pretty confident that my platform will be more than adequate for what I need it for.
Be careful, baby.
Sam’s voice in my head startles me enough to almost make me lose my footing.
Sam!
I can actually feel his humor as I hear his snickers in my head.
Sorry.
I smile at his extremely unrepentant apology and assure him that I’ll be just fine. Hell, even if I don’t make the entire distance to the house, I’ll still land on my feet. It’s not like a fall will hurt me. As soon as that thought left my mind, I see a glint of something in the lawn before me. I squint to focus all of my heightened vision onto that little glimmer.
“What in the hell is that?” I whisper to, well, no one since I’m alone.
Baby?
I feel Sam getting closer to me… to the edge of the forest.
Wait, Sam! Don’t move!
I drop noiselessly down beside Sam. I wrap my hand around his bicep, pulling him back a step. I point towards the glint.
“Do you see that?”
Sam follows my finger, squinting as well. I know he’s still getting used to having all his new abilities, and it takes him a little longer to focus.
“What is it?”
“I believe the area is booby trapped,” I explain, now noticing more gleams surrounding the house.
“Are you shitting me?” Jenna exclaims, startling me once again since I’m so fixated on what’s in front of me.
“Hush!” I glare at her, not only for her practically yelling during a stealth operation, but for being here. “I thought I told you guys to finish up and leave!” I hiss through gritted teeth.
“We just finished, Ana. We heard you talking about booby traps, so we came over,” Amanda explains lightly.
“This is just one more thing Tania didn’t tell us,” Emily grumbles. “Something is really wrong here.”
“Maybe she didn’t know about it,” Sara says, playing Devil’s advocate. Snorts of disbelief were heard from more than one of her fellow Hunters.
“Sara is right,” I say before any arguments can start. I have to remember that no matter how much these kids have gone through the past few weeks, they are still kids. Emotions and hormones are going to clash from time to time. They’re still developing the ability to control those emotions. “From what I have noticed, Malcolm does not share his plans with anyone of the female persuasion. Tania was a mere servant to him.”
“But she’s his sister,” Jenna argues.
“And you saw how he treated her,” I counter. “No acknowledgement. He dismissed her just as quickly as he did the rest of us. There is no love lost between the two of them. I’m still with Eric. I think she wants me to kill Malcolm. I don’t think she knows about the traps.”
The others grudgingly accept my explanation, deciding to reserve judgment until they have more information. That’s really all I can ask of them. As for me, I don’t trust Tania one bit, but I’m willing to do what I ask of my Hunters until I learn everything I need to know. My first problem, figuring out how to get to the house without getting impaled by whatever is hidden in the ground. I really do think I can make the leap…
“What if you miss?” Sam asks softly.
“Then I try to angle myself away from anything that’s shiny,” I answer glibly, much to Sam’s disappointment.
“Okay, we obviously don’t know what’s going on. Which one of you wants to explain the plan?” Jenna asks haughtily.
“The plan is you are going back to the house. I am going to find my way over there,” I point to Malcolm’s glum dwelling, “and get the journals.”
“And how do you propose to get over there seeing that the entire yard seems to be prepared to kill you with one wrong step?” Amanda’s hands were on her hips, again, and the look in her eyes makes me think she was n
ot happy with my plan at all.
“I’m going to jump from up there,” I answer, gesturing to the branches above me.
Here goes nothing.
Much to my dismay, my Hunters disobey me - again - to stay behind. They said it was to be able to help in case I ‘didn’t make it’. But I think they just want to watch my attempt. We’re really going to have to have a talk about who the leader is and what that leader expects. Anyway, back to my task at hand. I have to clear my mind and concentrate.
“Dang Hunters are going to be the death of me,” I mutter, causing Sam to chuckle. Yes, I see the damned irony.
Standing on the thickest branch of the closest tree, I take a deep breath and bend my knees to lower my center of gravity. I focus on the bit of flat roof that is covering a balcony, and hope to everything that’s holy that it won’t crumble beneath me if I land on it.
I push off the branch with my powerful legs, and I hear it crack and fall behind me with the force. I lengthen my body making it more aerodynamic as my cloak flows behind. I know I’m holding my breath, willing myself to be positive as I pass the half way mark. Damn it, it feels like I’m flying in slow motion! In reality, I’m hitting the roof within seconds of my takeoff, and my feet immediately slide over the shingles. I use my hands, trying to grab anything I can to stop me from going over the edge.
“Shit!” I feel my feet fall off the side of the balcony, and I can actually hear the gasps from my Hunters that are still in the woods. At least they better still be in the woods, I think as my hands grip the edge of the roof. I take a moment to breathe and take in my surroundings as I dangle by my fingertips. Too damned close.
I drop softly onto the balcony, and peek in the double doors leading into what looks like a study. Lucky. The journals should be in this room, hidden behind a trick statue. That’s if Tania was telling me the truth. Hopefully my luck keeps going and the damned room isn’t tripped like the yard is.
Make them leave. I tell Sam. I do not want them to be around if something goes wrong here.
They’re going, baby. Be careful. I’m going to look around and see if I can find another way over there.
No! Stay there. Please?
Anala, you’re going to have to trust that I know what I’m doing. I may be newly Cursed, but I’ve been a cop for years.
Sigh. I know he’s right, and I really don’t want to stand here having a disagreement with Sam while I’m trying to break into a house of Enforcers.
Fine. But I swear if you get hurt I will not forgive you.
I feel the vibration of his soft laughter rumble through me, making me shiver. An entire lifetime of this feeling I have with Sam. That’s what I want. Don’t take that away from me, I think, knowing Sam would hear me.
I place my hand on the lever style doorknob, finding it locked. With just a quick tug, I pull the door open. I brace myself, waiting to hear some kind of alarm, or maybe have poison darts come flying at my face. I laugh to myself at the silliness of that imagery. Perhaps I should have put on a fedora and carried a whip instead of my cloak hood and swords. I feel so Indiana Jones dealing with these idiotic traps in the yard. Now let’s see what I’m dealing with inside.
Gingerly, I step over the threshold. No trip wires so far. Perhaps the Idiot Society is afraid of darting their own faces if they rig up the inside. Ooh, I wonder if anyone forgot that the yard is full of shiny, sharp things and went out there to take a leak. Heh.
You’re very entertaining, baby.
Oh lord. I forgot I had company in my brain.
Sam.
I know, I know. But it’s not like we’ve had time to work on me staying out of your thoughts. Besides, I’m making sure you’re okay. Obviously you are.
Can you get near the house?
Yes if I walk up to the front door. They’re actually smart enough not to trap a way in and out of the house. But I’m staying back for now. And, before you ask, I’m very aware of my surroundings.
I know you are. I’m going to get those journals, then I’ll be out.
How will you get back to the woods?
I’m going to go out the front door.
The ridiculousness of these ‘Enforcers’ is almost laughable. And I say almost, because really I just want to kick their asses for the theatrics. Seriously? The booby traps, the gothic house, the hidden journals. If I wasn’t standing here in this hideous house, surrounded by over-grown idiots and the dramatic measures they’re going through to seem important, I wouldn’t believe it. I can smell them. Either sleeping or passed out because I can smell the strong odor of alcohol all around.
I move closer to the statue that Tania told me about, staring at it. A gargoyle? Jesus, this really is like a role-playing game to these weirdos. They’re going to be sorry for getting involved with all of this now that I’m here.
Tentatively, I touch the statue, moving it slightly to one side. When it doesn’t move, I try twisting it. It makes a slight hissing sound like the inside is air-pressurized. I look around before reaching inside. There’s a stack of books, about seven of them that I can count. It can’t possibly be all of them if they’re supposed to be as old as I am. Even though they’re thick, six centuries worth of information would surely fill up more than seven books.
I shrug, hoping that since these are hidden they are the ones that are the most important. I extract the top book, and begin flipping through it quickly, stopping when I notice something is off with these journals. Running my fingers over the pages, I recognize immediately what’s wrong. These journals are not the originals. Mere copies. Makes sense, I suppose. I never thought to consider what made Malcolm important enough to the Priestess to have the originals. Obviously he’s not. Now the question is, does the Priestess give all of her ‘Rulers’ copies or did Malcolm get these by some other means?
“So many damned questions and not enough answers,” I mumble to the empty room.
Baby, a light just came on. South side. If I remember correctly, that’s the kitchen.
Got it. Keep an eye on it. I have the journals. Once the light goes off, let me know. I’d like to get out of here. Gives me the creeps.
I throw the books into the messenger bag I have strapped around me under my cloak, and put the statue back in place.
“Ugly ass thing.” I want to smash the damned thing, but don’t think that would be a good idea since I’m trying to be covert.
Sam?
Light is off, baby. Everything looks quiet.
Okay. I’m going to make a run for it. Meet me in the woods.
I crack open the door to the hallway, using my heightened senses to make sure I wouldn’t have any company on my trek to the front door. Once I’m satisfied I’m alone, I close the door quietly behind me, and use my speed to make it to the end of the hallway in less than a second. Next obstacle, stairs. I obviously can’t see around the corners, so I have to rely on my other senses to guide me. I close my eyes briefly to see the layout of the house in my head. Right and I’m in the living room. Left, the kitchen. So, I’ll go straight. Even if the door is locked, it won’t hold me back.
With a deep breath, I secure the messenger bag and make a run for it. I reach for the door handle and immediately feel my strength diminishing. Silver. Fortunately for me, drinking from Sam makes silver less effective on me. Still don’t know what that’s about, but I’m not complaining. I contemplate just tugging the door open, but that would break the deadbolt and door jam. Instead, I take the time to unlock the door and slip out.
“Hey.”
Sam stands there with a wicked grin, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. Again, I’m glad I can’t blush.
“Hey yourself,” he smirks. “I never realized how entertaining it is to be in your head.”
“Ha. Ha.” I gently backhand his abs, secretly loving how hard they are. I see his grin widen, and I realize it’s not so secret. Sigh. “Let’s go before we get unwanted company.”
“Sure. Just tell me we’ll be able to get a li
ttle time to ourselves. Please?” Sam becomes suddenly serious. Our bond grows every day, and it has been difficult to find alone time to explore that bond. Not to mention our hunger for each other - in many ways - grows. I, for one, will be glad when all of this is over and we can begin our eternity together.
“We’ll make time, baby. I promise.”
I unceremoniously throw the messenger bag full of books on the dining room table. The others jump at the loud thump, but honestly I’m too irritable to care. The trek back from the Enforcers’ place was tense to say the least. Sam was especially quiet. Even in his head, which I found disconcerting. His hands, however, were not as quiet. He couldn’t keep from touching me. Holding my hand, touching my thigh, pushing my hair behind my ear, brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers. And I felt each one of those touches in my (hopefully existing) soul.
By the time we arrived back at our rented house I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides being alone with Sam. This thing that’s between us is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before. And I don’t believe that it’s just because I’m his Maker. That’s merely intensifying the feelings. I was destined to be a killer. It was why I was born. I never, even with Thomas, believed that love was in my future. But now, with Sam? I can’t imagine living any longer without it. I can’t help but think that Sam and I were destined to meet.
“I would like for you all to start going through these journals. They’re not the originals, so I don’t know if anything has been altered. Just make notes about what you think is important for us to know. And if there are questions, we’ll ask Tania about it.” I turn my attention to Amanda. “Could I see you for a minute?”
Amanda nods, and if the others had a problem with my singling her out, they don’t show it. Instead, they each grab a book and start reading. I almost shook my head wondering if hell had frozen over. I gave an order and there were no arguments, no sighs, no rolling of the eyes? Unbelievable.
Destined to Meet: A Destined Novel (Destined Novels Book 3) Page 3