by Dannika Dark
“Yes?”
“What is her name?” he ground out through clenched teeth.
Hannah curled her red lips, as if uttering the word would bring her shame. “Ella.”
As alluring as Hannah’s offer was, bribing those trollops to service Simon had been an insult to his manhood. He preferred the slow dance of seduction. Their dull energy wasn’t as sweet since they’d been bribed to throw themselves at him. It was as appetizing as a dead carcass to a lion in a zoo. A predator savored the hunt and the sweet taste of victory.
Simon enjoyed women as long as they were between easy and hard-to-get. Anything on the opposite ends of the spectrum brought problems, such as relationship-seekers, and Simon didn’t engage in relationships.
Ever.
He enjoyed their company and moved on. The only woman he’d ever felt an emotional connection to was Silver, but that was on a different level because of their friendship, and he’d never been friends with a woman before. Simon was incapable of feeling love for a woman—not the way he’d often heard people talk about it. Not the kind he saw kindling between others. The closer he got emotionally, the quicker he put up walls.
After Simon made it back to his apartment, he kicked off his boots, switched off the light, and crawled into bed. The sound of the drippy faucet in the adjacent bathroom lulled him into a deep slumber.
Then the dreams came. Only they weren’t dreams, they were memories.
Nightmares.
Simon shivered from the frigid air that cradled him in the darkness. With each passing day, it sank deeper into his bones, invading the marrow and becoming a part of him. The metal collar around his neck cut into his skin, and the marks on his body healed too slowly. He knew a Mage could heal by borrowing energy, but it was a luxury he’d never experienced.
Since his creation, Simon had spent his days chained to a wall in a basement that resembled a medieval dungeon. His Creator’s mansion was nestled deep in the English woods—an impressive piece of property for the late 1700s. It had the grandiose style of a castle with walls made from heavy stones.
Simon tugged at the chain affixed to a loop in the wall above him—just long enough that he could lie down on the cold floor, but he preferred sitting or standing. In the darkness, he could hear the insects scurrying about, searching for something to feast on.
Julian would shackle Simon’s wrists when he misbehaved, but he mostly bound Simon by the neck like an animal. This wasn’t the life he had chosen when he accepted Julian’s offer to become a Mage.
Footsteps above thudded around, and his heart began to race. He sat down, knees tucked against his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, eyes submissively low to the ground.
He shuddered when the latch released on the door at the top of the stairs and the soft glow of a lantern illuminated the steps.
“Simon, Simon. Oh how I’ve missed my Learner.”
Simon gasped and woke up in a cold sweat. He reached over and switched on the lamp, still panting. Gradually, his heart slowed as he took in the familiar surroundings.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured, rolling across his black sheets.
Sleeping seemed pointless, so he swung his legs over the bed and leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. He stood up and stretched out his stiff muscles, then decided to plop down in his favorite cozy chair by the bed. He draped a fur blanket across his lap when a chill swept over him. Simon always kept his apartment colder than he needed to—an unshakable habit.
He stared across the room at the stack of science books on a desk. The most valuable weapon a man could possess was a sharp intellect. In his formative years, he’d thought science would help him understand what he was, and why he was. His Creator had never fully explained what it meant to be a Mage, and years later, Simon wanted to uncover the logic behind Breed magic. Why did Vampires not require food to survive? Blood was more of a recreational meal for them, but by no means did it sustain their life as depicted in human movies. How were Relics able to pass on knowledge through their DNA? How could a Mage use core light to move at high rates of speed? Why did Chitahs display some physical changes when their animal instincts took control but not transform into an animal the way Shifters did? There was so much to learn.
Simon came from the human world when science was in its infancy. Their differences were referred to as Breed magic, but Simon refused to believe in magic. Years later, he still wanted to shun the idea, but the inability to piece together hard facts had led him to a dead end.
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a cinnamon stick, nibbling on the end and thinking about Ella. He wondered how much of her appearance was contrived and how much was really her. The hairpins were clearly Hannah’s influence, but he couldn’t imagine why a woman would want to pin back such exquisite hair. He’d always fancied the gingers, and hers was a light golden shade that reminded him of early morning sunshine on autumn leaves.
He folded his hands together, still sucking on the cinnamon. Although Hannah didn’t have many Learners, they’d all gone on to do great things. Everyone knew Hannah’s light was inferior, but all her progeny who had survived were Councilmen, financial advisors, and in one case an architect. Every Mage—especially women—had to learn the basic techniques of self-preservation, including how to fight.
For thousands of years, women were brought on as concubines. A Mage couldn’t reproduce, so there was no need for women among their kind. But since the addictive act of binding sexual energy could only be done with another Mage, many Creators kept women around for their convenience. These powerful Creators were kings and created armies to protect their land, but they’d never anticipated the uprising of their female Learners until human women were granted the right to vote. That ripple in the pond caused a wave of change, and Mage women were finally granted their independence. Some without skills sought protection in a world full of Mage men, while others aspired to do greater things. The Mageri was founded by a bunch of antediluvian ancients who held fast to their beliefs, and they rarely selected female candidates. The women who’d managed to acquire a seat in power were cunning, intelligent, and changing the tide.
Sexism, racism, and all those isms phase out with each generation. So it wasn’t a surprise that ancient immortals hadn’t changed from a way of life they’d been living for a millennia. Hannah undoubtedly wanted a female Learner who would outshine the men in all ways. What an embarrassment Ella must have been.
Why would a modern young woman willingly choose this life—knowing the uphill battle she would face as a woman in their world? Simon had accepted this life under the guise that he would become immortal. It was a foolish decision born of ignorance and ego. The Mageri no longer dressed it up as a golden ticket to immortality; human candidates were well-versed in the complexities of their world. They often lived with their Creator for a few years to immerse themselves in the culture before their first spark. Simon wasn’t sure where these humans came from, but the Mageri drew from a trusted pool who already knew about the Breed.
Ella seemed so different. How had she and Hannah come to meet? He analyzed the possibilities, knowing he wouldn’t get the answers from Hannah.
He sure as hell wouldn’t get them from a deaf girl either.
Frustrated, he slung his blanket on the floor and stalked out of the room. There had to be a better way to get the answers he needed. He swiped a juicy pear from a bowl on the kitchen counter and shined it across his bare chest before picking up the phone and making a call.
“Yes?” a barely intelligible voice murmured.
“Justus, I need your assistance on a delicate situation.”
He took another bite of his pear, listening to Justus grumbling on the end of the line. A few drops of juice dribbled down his chest and into his long johns.
“It’s four in the morning. My assistance is still asleep.”
“Who is it?” a sleepy voice asked in the background.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll just be a minute,” Justus replie
d.
Simon waited patiently and strolled into his living room, drawing open the curtains to watch the sunrise.
“This better be good,” Justus said, his baritone voice filled with all the grumpiness that Simon adored.
“As a friend, I don’t go around asking for favors,” Simon began. “I need you to surreptitiously locate information on a woman named Ella Freund.”
“Freund. As in Hannah Freund?”
Simon licked pear juice from his finger. “Well done, mate. Your prize is in the post. I want to know where she’s from and how Hannah came to meet her.”
“What’s this about, Simon? If I open an investigation on a Councilman and someone finds out, it could be perceived as treason.”
“I’m not asking for an open case. Just see what you’re able to dig up. You have inside connections, so I’m sure it won’t take long. You owe me, Justus. And not because I’ve done you a number of favors, but because I’ve never asked for one. As a friend?”
After a few reluctant grumbles, Justus agreed.
“Daddy? Can I have marshmallow cereal?”
Simon snorted and heard Justus trying to refuse little Rose’s wish. She didn’t seem to comprehend why she had to go back to bed, so she started to whine. Simon listened as Justus must have picked her up, and that’s when he heard him whisper, “Don’t tell your mother.”
“I’ll tell Mummy,” Simon quipped. “You need to say no to that child or she’s going to grow up to be quite a handful when she’s a turbulent teen. Daddy, can I wear this halter top? Puh-leeze?” Simon laughed like a hyena and set his half-eaten pear on the windowsill. “It’s a good thing you hooked up with a sensible woman. Maybe there’s hope for little Rose in not becoming the terror of Cognito.”
“I hardly think one bowl of cereal will turn her into a criminal.”
“First it’s marshmallows, then it’s boys,” Simon said in a singsong voice.
After a brief pause, Justus said, “Go back to bed, Rose. We’ll eat breakfast when your mother wakes up.”
“You don’t love me,” Simon heard her whine.
“Oh for pity’s sake. Call me back when you have some news.”
Justus sighed, and Simon knew he was getting out the box of Lucky Charms. She had Justus wrapped around her tiny finger. She often rode around on his shoulders so she could be taller than everyone else. That girl was going to grow up with her father’s attitude joined with her mother’s smarts and tolerance. What an interesting woman she’ll become.
“It might take a couple of days,” Justus said. “I’ll see what I can find. If they catch me digging into the records, I’ll have no choice but to give up your name.”
“Just be sure to give them my measurements in advance. The last time I was in Breed jail, they were all out of shirts.”
Chapter 5
After a breakfast of orange slices, berries, and walnuts, Ella changed into her training attire. Hannah believed in keeping the body pure, so their meals consisted of fresh foods in small portions. Ella’s life had become routine and mundane since Hannah had quit training her, but she still went to the downstairs gym out of habit, staying in shape but learning nothing new.
Ella could no longer use the sound cues she previously relied on: footsteps, clothes rustling, and the inflection in her opponent’s voice that gave away their fear or confidence. She felt disoriented—caged in a silent world that didn’t make sense. If she dropped her dagger, she couldn’t hear where it had fallen without looking, and turning her head made her vulnerable.
Hannah kept her inside a gilded cage, never allowing her to leave the house. Ella’s resentment festered and caused outbursts. She understood what she’d signed up for in becoming a Mage, she just had no idea she would live under one of the most oppressive Creators imaginable. Insubordination or violence could be perceived as mental instability, and she’d heard stories about the Mageri executing disloyal Learners they considered a threat. Ella wasn’t a traitor, but Hannah made her uneasy, so she quelled her anger and released that negative energy in the gym.
Ella shut the heavy door and flashed across the room, slamming her palms against the wall. How could she endure such mistreatment for the rest of her immortal life? She’d become nothing more than a shameful secret. Writing letters to Hannah about her feelings on the situation was pointless. What good did that do when the woman couldn’t even read English? Hannah would never reveal her weakness by having a servant read to her, so what did Ella’s future hold?
Someone touched her shoulder, and it galvanized her into action. Without thinking, she grabbed the person’s wrist, spun around, and yanked him forward. Before her knee made contact with his groin, he maneuvered out of her grasp and threw her to the floor.
He fell on top of her and crossed his arm over her clavicle. Ella focused on his face, and it… it was him.
The chess player.
The man who’d played thumb wars with her while wearing a ridiculously inappropriate shirt.
He hadn’t settled all his weight on her, but she stopped struggling. Up close, she could see the intelligence shining in his eyes. There was a faint crease in his cheek where his dimple appeared when he was smiling, but he wasn’t smiling now. He had the perfect mouth for a man—wide with a full bottom lip. A light dusting of whiskers covered his chin and drew attention to his mouth. They were so close that his brown hair tickled her forehead. Ella’s heart thumped wildly against her chest, and she knew he could feel it too.
She tried to shove him off, but he wouldn’t budge. He scrutinized her as he would a lab rat.
With her free hand, Ella slowly sucked on her index finger from base to tip. His lips parted at her unexpected action. These were tactics Hannah had scolded her for, but Ella had discovered that behaving unpredictably could give her an advantage. Once her finger was good and wet, she shoved it into his ear and squished it around. He reactively quirked his head to the side in disgust, his nose wrinkling, and she delivered a sharp blow to his ribs.
He grimaced, rolling onto his side. When he lifted his tattered T-shirt to dry out his ear, the light glinted off a silver loop affixed to his left nipple. For a man who wasn’t thick with muscle, he had well-defined abs.
Ella stood up and brushed off her arms, taking a wide stance. He muttered something and finally stood up, straightening out his shirt.
Somehow this guy knew she was deaf. Ella had been thinking about it since the party last night. Hannah must have told him, but why? She thought about the women who had thrown themselves at him, and the look of satisfaction on Hannah’s face. Now he’d shown up at the house again. What was Hannah trying to accomplish?
She watched as he moved his hands in an animated fashion, but he didn’t speak. After a few curious movements of his fingers, she realized he was trying to use sign language. Ella shook her head.
He paced in circles, pinching his chin and flicking his gaze up at her a few times. Lip-reading only worked with short sentences, and she had a feeling that with a mouth like his, he had a lot to say.
Ella used her own hands to imitate writing and typing. He looked around the empty gym and shrugged his reply. This was growing tiresome. What could he possibly have to say to her that was so important? Ella pointed upstairs and then turned her back on him to do squats while he figured it out.
He seized her hand and yanked her toward the door.
The nerve!
She wrenched away and he turned, shaking his head and clasping her hand once more. This time he entwined their fingers and tugged hard.
Bloody hell. Why do I always get stuck with the charity cases?
Ella gasped and widened her eyes. The man glanced over his shoulder with a perplexed look on his face. She stared at their hands in disbelief. It couldn’t be! His voice had rung in her head just as clear as day—British accent and all.
I suppose the Ice Queen selected a vestal virgin who has never held the hand of a real man before.
Ella burst out laughing, and the
man quirked his brow.
And a loon at that. I suppose now she’ll want to dance with me.
Ella did a curtsey and eyed him stealthily.
That’s when his expression altered, and he studied their hands.
Surely she can’t hear me.
Ella nodded, gripping his hand so tight that his skin whitened around the press of her fingers.
His eyes narrowed. If you can hear my thoughts, then… strip out of your clothes.
Ella rolled her eyes.
Touch your nose, he thought.
When she placed her finger against the tip of her nose, his smug expression evaporated.
Impossible, he said on a soft breath, moving his mouth with the words. This is not a gift I’ve heard about.
Maybe I’m special, she thought to herself. When his jaw slackened, her heart clenched with a hopeful realization.
Can you hear me? she thought to him in a flurry of excitement. Oh God, it had been years since anyone could hear her words, and how she longed to communicate with someone—anyone. She stepped closer. Please nod if you can hear me. Please, please, be able to hear me. Oh God… Please.
Very slowly, the man nodded.
Ella broke their connection and fell to her knees, covering her face with her hands. She felt him tug on her long braid, but it was all too confusing. Even her hands were shaking. Ella didn’t show emotions like this to anyone, and now it seemed impossible to stop. Four years in silence, shut away from the world and unable to express a single word to anyone. A desperate thought flew into her head. What if he was the only person she could share this connection with? What if he turned around and walked out, never to return?
When she felt a tap on her knee, she lowered her hands and saw him kneeling before her, wiggling his fingers in an invitation to touch him once more.
Nervously, she slipped her hand into his.
I’m Simon Hunt, he said.