Heir Of Doom

by Jina S Bazzar

  I raised my eyebrows, a suggestive gesture that said “go on”, but he didn't get it. Instead, his brows furrowed, no doubt puzzled that I wasn't groveling at his feet.

  I crossed my arms, tamping the urge to check if the vampire's bite mark was visible. “If you're done ogling, I'd like to train now.” My tone sounded bitchy, and although I mentally cringed, I didn't apologize. I didn't sign anywhere that I was supposed to accept ridicule and humiliation well.

  Someone guffawed by the machines, the sound cutting off when Diggy twisted his upper body to glare at the group.

  Shit, this was going to get bad soon. Should I walk out and go home? Or should I take a page from Bellemeir's book and act like Diggy wasn't here? The former would be like signing my weakling papers, the latter a likely dress-down from Roland. In the end, it wasn't really a choice. Stomach twisting, I turned my back on Diggy and moved away. Tai chi was next on the schedule; then, if the treadmills and elliptical were still occupied, I'd bench-press for one hour.

  I moved to the very corner of the mats and began the slow tai-chi motions, aware that Diggy still stood, arms crossed, watching. Conscious of all eyes focused on us, waiting to see what transpired next, my motions felt stiff and rusty, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing.

  Maybe part of me was trying to show off, trying to impress, to prove that I was good at something. I had become so familiar with this martial art, I could do it without thinking, the moves embedded in my muscle memory. Even Vincent had praised me on my achievement, telling me it usually took people a lot longer to move so fluidly.

  When I'd gone through all the motions Vincent had taught me, I repeated them, aware the gym was way too packed. Besides, Vincent's schedule had said to do the tai-chi twice, though it hadn't been typed back-to-back.

  “Is that all Vincent taught you?” Diggy spoke from right behind me, startling me. I hadn't forgotten about him, far from it. It was that I hadn't expected him to come so near, to invade my private space. Stepping away, I turned and glared. He had about half a foot over me and at least a hundred pounds of pure, hard muscle.

  He smirked, and I scowled in return.

  “If you're done playing, let's go.”

  “Go where?” I asked, trying to remember if he'd said anything about us going anywhere while I'd been caught up in the tai chi.

  “Train somewhere else.” The muscle ticking in his temple told me he was out of patience, though his eyes were still calm, maybe a little flat.

  “No, thank you. I'd rather train alone.”

  Someone coughed in the group, and I wondered if it was real or mocked.

  “Too bad,” he replied and angled his head toward the lockers. “Now, unless you want to go barefoot, I suggest you change. You have two minutes.”

  By now, the entire gym had stopped pretending they weren't watching.

  A ball of nerves began knotting in my stomach. “Train? With you, somewhere else?” An image of him downstairs doing that macabre dance flashed in my mind.

  Diggy cocked his head, his eyes studying me. “Yes. I just said so.”

  “No, thank you. I'll train alone,” I repeated, shaking my head for emphasis. It began to dawn that he hadn't come to update me. Diggy was third in command, which meant he took his orders from Roland or Vincent. And it was stupid and shortsighted of me to have assumed he had come here to give me an update. No, he'd been ordered to fill in for Vincent as my trainer.

  “I'm afraid that's not an option.”

  I glared. “Actually, it is.” Short of dragging me and causing a scene, I wasn't going to follow him out of here. And I couldn't see Diggy deliberately causing a scene. I should talk to Roland and see what else I could do until Vincent returned. He'd mentioned desk duty once.

  I was already turning, trying to avoid more embarrassment and save face when Diggy moved. Fast enough to be considered a blur, giving me just enough time to barely dodge a punch. But not the kick square to my sternum that followed, flinging me backward and face down on the mat, unable to catch a decent breath.

  All around the room went quiet, save for my wheezing, panting breaths.

  “Get up,” he ordered, “We will train somewhere with no audience.” With that said, he bent, grabbed my forearm and pulled me upright. There were green flecks in his hazel eyes, now blazing with anger.

  The gym was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop.

  No whirring treadmills, no clinking metals, no moving feet, no punching bags, no labored breathing. Nothing to indicate there were still people there who'd been exercising hard just a second ago. I flushed with embarrassment. Slowly, the stabbing pain in my gut began making way to anger.

  Diggy's hand, still clamped around my biceps, squeezed hard enough to hurt as his eyes narrowed. He turned his head, glaring at no one in particular, but no one glanced away, the excitement of a superior kicking my ass worth the scolding. “Your meeting will start in fifteen minutes sharp. Anyone who isn't in the conference room within ten will be banned.” He bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl and added, “Anyone still stinking of sweat will also be banned.” Then his eyes returned to me and the room flashed white, and I felt myself being lifted and hurtling away. There was no ground, no ceiling, no walls, no sky, no earth. No air to breathe.

  I reached for Diggy, the only solid thing in the universe, clung to him as the world spun out of axis.

  Chapter Five

  I stood slowly, afraid of what I was going to find and turned, searching. Indeed, for as far as I could see, about a fifty yard radius of dim lighting, the ground was nothing but packed, hard and cracked soil that hadn't seen water in centuries, the trees blackened husks and dead twigs of a life long gone, and in the dark sky, a dreadful and beautiful cluster of planets still stood, imperious and indifferent rocks that marked the universe with color and mocked my existence.

  The Low Lands.

  Exactly the way it had been when I'd been dragged here by Dr. Dean two months ago.

  “Why?” I asked, my voice soft and low – to keep him from hearing my fear.

  “To train,” was his flat reply. He stood straight, unperturbed. There wasn't a single strand of sandy hair out of place on his head.

  In contrast, my sweat ran in rivulets despite the frigid temperature, my hair was in disarray, some sticking to my temples and wet neck. I clenched my hand into tight fists to stop their uncontrollable shake.

  “No,” I whispered. “No, you will take me back now,” I said louder, straightening, ignoring the sharp rocks that dug into my bare feet.

  “No.”

  Was he the business partner Angelina had mentioned?

  I narrowed my eyes. “There will be no training in this place.”

  “Oh? Who said you have a choice?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

  I took a step forward, tightening my fists hard enough to feel my short nails digging into flesh. “I refuse,” No sooner had I begun speaking when I was flung back with another kick to the stomach. This time the pain was intense, like tidal waves spreading from my midsection and outward.

  “Then I will just keep beating you until you fall unconscious.” Diggy began circling me like the vulture that he was, keeping some distance so I couldn't grab him. My breathing was short, shallow gasps of air that seemed to elude me. “Then when you wake, I will do it again. And again. And again until you have had enough and start learning.” He stopped by my head and eyed me with disapproval.

  “Go to hell,” I wheezed between pangs of agony. There was blood in my mouth.

  He chuckled , a grating sound that held no humor, and crouched in front of me, his eyes cold. “Let me make something clear to you, love.” He gave me a once-over, his eyes saying he wasn't impressed. “I like having to stick with you and endure your presence as much as I like to do paperwork, stuck inside a box-sized office in a crowded building. But I got my orders, and unlike you, I respect my chain of command.” He threw a napkin at my face and surveyed me once more. “Now, you have two choices. Y
ou get up and learn, or you keep stubbornly refusing.” He bared his teeth in a savage smile. “And I assure you, I am going to enjoy beating the crap out of you.” He stood and said under his breath, “a human hybrid, no less.”

  I spat a wad of blood on the napkin and balled it into my fist. Soon the metallic taste was filling my mouth again, and I probed the shallow cut on my cheek with my tongue before spitting the next ball of blood at the ground between us.

  I swallowed the next mouthful of blood, not sure I could afford to lose it again so soon after Angelina's attack, and ignored the rocks that dug into my feet when I stood up. The land was nothing but a vast emptiness of cold darkness, and I was way underdressed in a soft turtleneck and yoga pants. Still, my sweat ran, as if I were a slab of fat above an open fire pit.

  “You,” I began, stepping forward, fists clenched, trying not to step on needle-sharp rocks without looking down. “You are a despicable excuse of… of… shit,” I finished lamely, unable to find a filthy enough name to call him.

  His lips twitched with sarcasm. “Good enough.” He motioned me forward. “Show me what you got.”

  I flew at him, talons out, wanting to scratch that smirk from his face.

  He evaded me without much effort, dodging my kicks, blocking my punches, always managing to stay ahead, anticipating my every move, every step, every thought. His moves flowed as fluid as water, while mine were clumsy and uncoordinated.

  I feinted right, kicked air, and went for his exposed arm. But Diggy had either seen it coming or he really was that fast, grabbing my wrist and twisting hard, making me fall onto my knees with a painful gasp. I bent to diffuse the pain as he pulled my arm toward the nape of my neck, my nose hitting the hard ground.

  He mimed stabbing me in the back with a finger, poking hard enough to bruise. “You're dead,” he said before letting go and retreating a step.

  “Lesson number one,” he went on, circling me again, “Never leave your back defenseless, unless you want to be attacked from behind.”

  I waited for him to pass, jumped up, wanting to fight dirty, but again, he had seen that coming. He whirled, blocked my kick and punched me in the chest, the blow so effective, I had a hard time breathing. Even my heartbeat grew erratic.

  A few feet away, he waited patiently for me to regain my breath so we could start again.

  An hour later, I was panting from my lame efforts, and Diggy still smirked, every hair on his head still in place. My feet throbbed, skinned like fine fillets. I was aware of every single bloody footprint I was leaving behind. I eyed his sturdy, combat boot, the one he'd just slammed on my abdomen, hugged an arm around my middle and waited for his next attack. I had no doubt my stomach muscles were all bruised and tender. At that point I was not only in pain, but having a hard time standing up, staying conscious. My vision was splotchy, my head reeling. Diggy hadn't even broken a decent sweat. He was probably used to walking on burning coals, or sleeping on a bed of needles. He probably didn't even have a nervous system.

  When he took a step forward, I moved back a step. “You arrogant prick,” I hissed when a needle-sharp rock dug into a previous cut.

  Diggy chuckled, amused.

  I saw red.

  With a mad scream I lunged for him, and this time he didn't step away, but met me head on, caught my wrists – mindful of my sharp talons – and twisted them outward and down. Then he pulled me forward until our faces were inches apart, his gaze going flat at the hatred in my eyes. He shoved me back, flinging me away like an annoying bug.

  I skidded on the hard ground, teeth clacking on impact, needle-sharp pebbles shredding my backside.

  I stayed down, my breathing heavy. How was I supposed to sit down when my backside was all cut up? Diggy's combat-clad feet paused beside my head, and I looked away, defeated beyond belief.

  “Lesson number two,” he said, his tone mild, “anger is a weapon. Unless you can control it, it will only be used against your own self.”

  He bent, took hold of my forearm and the world flashed white, and I was falling, falling, spinning out of control, thudding to a breathless stop back on the blue mats of the training room, Diggy's face above mine, his eyes wild with exhilaration. The smell of my blood and sweat filled the room, mixed with the scent of the old and the new. The gym was so silent, I thought we were alone, then someone chuckled, and I closed my eyes, my humiliation complete.

  When I opened them again, Diggy's face was still above mine, the exhilaration having been replaced by a calm façade. “You be here tomorrow at seven thirty sharp for our training.” He turned and left.

  “Go to hell,” I murmured loud enough to be heard across the gym. There was a collective intake of breath, and Diggy paused at the edge of the mat. For a horrible moment I thought he was going to come back and flash us back to the Low Lands, but then he kept going, not once glancing back.

  Chapter Six

  I didn't go back to base the next day. Fortunately for me, no one came to drag me like I'd feared. It didn't matter if Diggy was the third in command and a superior, he was not in my contract and I refused to be subject to scorn and derision. Instead, I soaked my ribboned feet in warm water and bandaged the deeper wounds on my backside and the backs of my thighs, though the bleeding had long stopped.

  I missed Vicky a lot. Her non-stop chatter, her laughter, her witty remarks. Her companionship. I hadn't realized how attached I'd gotten to her until she'd left. She was all the normal I had.

  Grimacing in pain, I stretched my bandaged legs atop the coffee table and turned on the TV on low for Frizz. He hopped beside me and settled down in his usual crouch, his wings limp. He smelled of the strawberry shampoo Vicky had bought for him, his pelt softer than any animal had the right to have. I watched him for a moment, wondering if he possessed the capability to miss someone. His ears flicked back and forth, sensing my attention.

  With a deep groan I couldn't help, I leaned back on the sofa and picked up the Guidebook of the Preternatural, flipping to an earmarked page about types of bonds, still trying to find a way to free Frizz. There was the bond of the clan, the bond of soul mates, the bond of motherhood, the bond of familiars, the bond of a pack, the bond between master and slave, the bond of bargainings, among many others that sounded so strange, even the titles had no meaning. Like the chimera bond, or the one between a volech and a subject. What was a volech? I read them all, paying special attention to the bargaining bond and the master and slave bond, figuring our bond would fall under either.

  There was nothing there to help, however. In the bond of a bargain, formed when a bargain was struck, the connection between the two would dissolve once the bargain was fulfilled. This was not the case between me and Frizz, seeing that I'd already asked him for a few things and he was still around. The master and slave bond was another dead end, seeing that this bond was formed once a dominant subjugated the other to his will. I subjected Frizz to nothing, and he certainly wasn't fighting the bond. What kind of bond did Frizz and I have?

  I sighed, closed the book, and put it aside. Maybe there wasn't really a bond between us and Frizz was here because he wanted to be. I scratched his head gently, admitting to myself that I liked to have him around. Maybe he liked to stay around, too.

  When hunger became something I could no longer ignore, I limped to the kitchen and prepared a box of macaroni and cheese for myself and a bowl of warm, ground meat for Frizz.

  No one came – or called – on Wednesday, either.

  On Thursday, around 7:00 a.m., I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. The hazy reminiscence of a bad dream lingered on my tongue, coating my mouth with a bad taste. I sat up, picked up the small device, and read the display.

  “Hello?” I asked, still groggy.

  “Get up, get dressed and go back to base,” Vincent said in lieu of a greeting.

  “Are you back?” I asked. But Vincent had already hung up.

  I dressed slowly, putting on thick socks and running shoes, mindful of the way t
he soles of my feet stretched and pulled with the newly-closed wounds. Then I went against tradition and hailed a cab.

  I took the elevator to the fourth floor and searched the gym first – Barbara, Jeremy, George and Raji, no Vincent – so I checked the locker room next, since it wasn't uncommon of him to wait for me there.

  It was Diggy I found, lounging on the bench with legs stretched long and muscular, typing on a touchscreen cell phone. He had on a plain white tight T-shirt and dark jeans, plus the same boots that had kicked the stars out of me the other day. He'd gotten a haircut, the sides shorter than the top, giving him a bad-boy look I was sure had women tossing themselves at his feet, begging to be noticed.

  “Don't even think about walking out of here,” he said to my retreating back.

  I stiffened at the commanding tone and turned. “Look, I know you said you were following orders, but you're not part of my contract,” I said, nervous with the idea of returning to the Low Lands, especially with him. What if he decided to leave me there and claim he had no idea where I was? Who would challenge his word? No one would care, actually. No one would accuse Diggy of any foul play, no one would even consider the possibility.

  “Does it say on your contract that you'd be exclusively training with Vincent Vagner?”

  I opened my mouth, snapped it shut again. I said nothing. Because there was no exclusivity clause anywhere in my contract.

  Damn him all the way to Hell and back again. Roland had told me Vincent would be overseeing my training, and I had taken him up on that. Maybe I should take a trip down to his office and explain I could follow Vincent's last training schedule until he returned. If that would keep Diggy away, it might even be worth the verbal – or silent – war with Valerie.

  “No? I thought so.” Diggy got up, stuffed his phone in his back pocket, and shrugged on a black suede jacket before approaching.

  I took an instinctive step away.