by Skyler Andra
“I’m fine.” I took a seat next to Raze. “Thanks for asking.” For good measure and under my breath, I added, “Jack off.”
When I sat down, the packet of mermaid pearls fell out of my pocket, landing at Knoxe’s feet.
“What’s this?” The bastard was fast and picked it up before I could.
“It’s mine.” My heart hammered as I tried to snatch it back.
“Fuck, Tor.” Knoxe rubbed his forehead, keeping the pearls just out of my reach. “What did I say about this?”
“Come on, man. I need this.”
“What did I tell you?” He spoke loud and slow as if I was stupid.
The rest of the team stared, except Pascal, who bent his head because he didn’t like conflict. Said the frequencies upset him. Raze’s disapproval practically burned into his forehead. Supergirl’s gaze jumped from me to Knoxe as if she didn’t understand. She didn’t know about my little side hustle. Didn’t need to know. The less people sharing my secret, the less chance of me getting in trouble if the warden ever came sniffing and asking questions.
Knoxe’s penetrating stare harpooned me. He wanted answers. I wanted my fucking pearls back.
“What I do isn’t your business.” My jaw tightened so hard it almost locked. That wasn’t what he’d said, but this was between me and the warden who had yet to catch me. Without this snitch bitch, Vartros wouldn’t either. But I needed Knoxe to keep his fucking yap shut.
Knoxe didn’t have a family to support. A mother with Multiple sclerosis, who just lost her house, was put in a home, and who needed medicine and full-time care. A sister with two kids without a father and no income, living off government benefits. I had fucking responsibilities he didn’t. No matter how many times I explained, he went holier than thou. I needed this side hustle.
Knoxe’s finger jabbed into my chest, hard and unyielding. “This business of yours jeopardizes the team’s ability to go on missions. If you get caught, and thrown into maximum security, and us along with you for knowing about it and not reporting it, then how the fuck will we find Styx, make him pay for what he did to Jaz?”
Fuck. That was all he cared about these days. He didn’t give a shit about my family, or Raze’s lost tribal spirit or Pascal’s struggles to fit in. Probably didn’t even know about our problems since he’d been so far up his own ass.
Besides, I didn’t do this shit for the fun of it. I knew the risks of getting caught. Risks I’d happily pay for if it meant my family had what they needed.
“Just give me the damn pearls,” I growled.
Knoxe stuffed them into this pocket. “Do you swear not to do this again?”
Fuck. That was a big ask. One I wasn’t ready to commit to yet. “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 11
Knoxe
“As you can see, team leaders, the statistics aren’t good.” Andrea, the prison’s Work Health and Safety (WHS) Manager, spat the words as if they tasted sour, but I’d heard worse.
The bureaucrats from head office—one in traditional Guardian garb that consisted of the black bodysuit that was better suited to bodies not out of shape from sitting behind desks, and the others in business ware pantsuits—shifted uncomfortably at the table in the front of the room. One toyed with a non-existent tie, the second took a long sip of water, and the third cleared his throat and glanced at the warden beside him.
Fuck. The Guardians sending down their representatives for a series of interviews about incidents and breaches of safety protocol could only mean trouble for us.
Thanks to Tor, our team was on the interview list for tackling a Chimera without backup. Typical. Tor, second in command, had a habit of disobeying orders, putting others at risk, and assuming leadership responsibilities he didn’t need to assume. He had a superhero complex. But at some point, the fact he wasn’t Thor even though he acted like he was would come back to bite him. I couldn’t stop him, but I was sick of pulling him into line. It was getting to be an everyday thing. Fucking Tor was the reason I’d been forced to attend team leadership courses.
Andrea used her laser pointer on the large wall screen to highlight the death rate on the graph. “Fourteen deaths is a thirty percent increase from last year. Don’t get me started on the injuries.”
Statistics meant shit when the people keeping track weren’t the ones in the field. People died at the Guardians. Fourteen of them apparently. We were sent on the most dangerous missions, treated as if our lives didn’t matter. What did they expect?
After Jaz died, my heart hardened to death, even though the thought of losing another friend scared the shit out of me. While we may not have been as close since we lost Jaz, Tor, Raze, and Pascal were my team, I loved them like brothers, and I’d die to save them. That also meant training them hard. Teaching them how to survive when all hope was lost. They had to be elite. The best of the best. And if they failed, died, it was my fault. And no fucking way was that shit happening again. Not on my watch.
The warden removed a roll of Quickease tablets and popped two. Heartburn. No wonder. He had bureaucrats to deal with.
“Four deaths of the fourteen resulted from recklessness perpetrated by teams whose leadership failed.” Failed, even when said in Andrea’s slow southern drawl, was an ugly word. I sat straight.
Across the table from me, Devon squared his shoulders. He was in his brother’s chair, representing his team. His focus, during the entire meeting, never wavered. He stayed honed in on me. He had a stake with my name on it.
I didn’t give him anything. He didn’t scare me. Nothing scared me anymore. Not even Styx, the fucker vampire I was going to take down to avenge Jaz’s death.
“Nine deaths stemmed from a lack of procedural discipline.” Andrea moved the laser pointer and the red light blinded me for a few seconds. Fuck. She always did that. If I was careless like that with a weapon, people died. I wanted to put her fucking laser pointer on a chart and see how she liked it.
“Gentlemen, we create Operating procedures for your safety. For the care of your crew. To save lives. If you aren’t going to follow them”—she swung around and highlighted the number fourteen again—“this number is going to be much bigger next year and the year after.”
Her tone and pitch rose. She was frustrated. Because the numbers didn’t favor her. Because the policies she’d written didn’t make sense when we tried to implement them in the real world. Because prisoners died and she had to answer for it to families who didn’t know the dangers we faced. Because the Guild of the Guardians didn’t let us tell. Gave us leaves and “vacations” so we could visit our families like this was any ordinary job, like we were normal, somehow and didn’t chase demons and vampires, chimera and werewolves, along with all their fiendish friends.
In a way, she reminded me of my dad.
“You’re useless, boy!”
“A mindless twit.”
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” That one came after I missed getting into a leading Victoria learning institution after she’d been accepted with all the fanfare of a parade—felt like it anyway—and a popping bottle of sparkling grape juice.
Fuckin asshole. He’d be so proud of me now. A criminal. Imprisoned for my best friend’s death. I’d be disowned.
“Complete your Risk Assessments before every mission,” Andrea continued. “Freshen up on your Safe Work Method Statements. I need next month’s audit to be failure free. Or I’ll personally break your legs.”
They could train us in safety all they wanted, but shield walls were only effective when we could form them without being venomed or burned to ash. And risk assessments were fine when the gantii didn’t congregate and the one we were after didn’t use his angry reinforcements to escape.
But as team leader, I had to attend every monthly safety meeting, distribute any safety bulletins, and train the team in new procedures. The paperwork never ended and had to be completed before we were approved to leave for a mission. We might be nothing more than di
spensable assets but skyrocketing supernatural insurance premiums resulting from the recent spate of injuries and deaths, and the small fortune of death benefits payouts to member’s families, forced the Guardians to buckle down and push the safety courses.
All this paperwork and politics was bad enough for my sanity, I didn’t need Andrea’s disapproval on top of it all.
And of course, no one accounted for a mistake like Nomical when they designed safety measures. Up until Tor’s recent injury, we had a good safety track record and got rewarded each year with a subtraction of sentence credits.
She was green and ill prepared. Bound to get one of us seriously hurt or killed. She would drag us down. Add years to our time. None of us could afford that. And no way was I letting her get in the way of my objective. I was going to catch Styx and kill that bastard for what he did to Jaz.
Andrea went on with her irritated monologue. “The last death was pure irresponsibility, resulting from using a dragon’s wart grenade on a dragon.” She held her hands out and let her mouth fall open. “My God, Tollens. We don’t deploy that herb against a dragon because it makes them stronger!”
I shook my head and folded my arms. There were some dumbasses in this prison. Rejects from the Shadows with cool talents but no skill in applying them. I wondered if Nomical fit into that category. If so, I’d shake it out of her real soon, that was for sure.
Andrea laid her palms flat on the steel table. “Our bite injuries spiked last month. Werewolves, banshees, goblins. A unicorn, for fuck’s sake! We shouldn’t need a sign telling you and your crews not to feed those vicious bastards apples!”
If she didn’t lower her blood pressure, she was going to pop that vein in her forehead. This woman was in dire need of a holiday. In the mood she was in, she’d hunt down every offender and skin them alive. A human-skinned scarf would make a nice fashion statement to complement the unicorn horn ivory glasses she sported.
“Antivenom for these bites isn’t cheap.” Her face reddened. “We blew our yearly budget alone last month.” Andrea slammed the table with each word. “Follow. The. Procedures. Or I’ll shove a grenade up your ass myself! Your mistakes kill people. Cause injuries. Piss. Me. Off
Who cared about antivenom? The dragon fire Andrea sprayed was far deadlier. It burned hotter than a furnace and left piles of ash in its wake.
She turned to the warden and held out her hand. “Give me one of those Quickease tablets, would you? I’m getting heartburn.”
The warden complied, dispensing one into her palm.
Heartburn was the least of her worries, and mine, when members of the Senior Safety Team were here to investigate us. They’d never spent a day out in the field. Wouldn’t have a clue about how to fight a surprise gantii attack while not having the right weapons on hand. Shit happened. Of course, shit had happened to Jaz because we weren’t prepared.
I glanced down at Nomical’s paperwork. I’d brought it with me to pass on to Andrea. Heat flared deep in my core. I was still pissed at Nomical and not in the mood for a fucking WHS meeting with a batshit crazy WHS Manager, a bunch of bureaucrats from head office, and a bunch of idiot team leaders like Devon.
I’d give Andrea one thing; she had spunk. Reminded me of a tamer version of Nomical. Her extreme feistiness was the only thing that kept these meetings interesting. I exchanged a smile with Mike beside me. Sometimes we tried to aggravate her just to set her off. Only when things got real boring though. But if the teams didn’t step up their games, Andrea’s wrath would be the end of us all.
She sighed, the vein in her head receding a millimeter or two. “Take extra precautions this month. Follow procedure. Brush up on your SWMS and Risk Assessments.” She lowered her head and rubbed the back of her neck. “That starts with signing your damn SWMS. My audit last month revealed three teams didn’t sign theirs.” She didn’t have to check her clipboard and we all knew it, but she made a production of flipping the pages. “Devon, Nick and Trevor, you’ve all got latrine cleaning duty for this month.”
“Fuck.” Devon’s jaw hardened, his eyes sharp and still focused on me.
Nobody wanted latrine duty. The other two team leaders shook their heads.
“Meeting dismissed.”
I exhaled long and hard, collected my folder and stood.
While the other ten team leaders left, I approached Andrea, clutching Nomical’s registration, induction, insurance forms and waivers. Before Nomical could go on a mission, this all had to be run across Andrea’s desk for processing.
“Here’s the paperwork for our new team member.” I handed the packet to her.
She took it without even looking away from the bureaucrats waiting to chew her ass. “Thanks.”
And no better time for me to get the hell out of there than now. She’d chewed enough ass today without adding a patch of mine to her collection.
Out in the stone hall, Devon leaned against the wall. “Be seeing you, Knoxe.”
I licked my lips and lowered my voice. “Don’t threaten me unless you mean it.” He flipped me off and I huffed. I didn’t have time for a pissing match with him. There was a risk assessment to be done for the next mission. And so help me God, if Tor started any more shit with Devon or his guys, I’d have his ass up on disciplinary action.
Fuck. I needed a good break. A few days off to clear my head and deal with the new appointment on my team. It felt like a betrayal to replace Jaz. Thirteen months might have passed, but it still felt like yesterday, and cut just as deep.
We didn’t need anyone else. Least of all a distraction with a lean figure, orange streaked hair, bright blue doll eyes hidden behind a pair of uber sexy librarian glasses. I didn’t want to like her. Didn’t have to. This was the Guild of Guardians, not the Guild of Friends. But, if Vartros ordered me, I’d lead her. I’d make damned sure she’d never be a part of the team, never replace Jaz. She was on a last name basis. Strictly professional. Nomical was a substitute. Nothing more. She didn’t deserve the friendliness calling her by her first name implied.
And she’d earn her respect, too. Not much chance of that. Too brash, too sassy. And that mouth. Too big for her own good. But she came from the shadows, like Jaz. So… she could have a power we needed. Although, no way would she ever be able to replace Jaz’s ability to control veil energy.
Thinking of Jaz never did me any good. Usually, it went the opposite way to think of him. My best friend. My brother.
I didn’t understand why Vartros had thrown her in with us. All this time he pretended to care for our team, to care we didn’t deserve to be here. Didn’t explain why he’d assigned us someone inexperienced, someone who’d get us all killed or loaded with so much credit that we’d all die here.
Back in my office, I sagged into my chair, spinning, trying to clear my head of all the conflicting emotions.
The rest of her paperwork, which I had to submit to Gloria in the front office, sat on the middle of my desk. I scooped up the remaining pages and stood, ready to go for a walk, drop these off and get some fresh air in the recreational area.
When I submitted the form to Gloria, she flicked through them, and said, “Oh, honey, she didn’t sign this form.” She pointed to the last page and the clearly blank signature line.
Fuck. Not signing was a sign. She couldn’t even get her paperwork right. Last thing I needed was to add another screw up like Tor to the team.
“I’ll get her to sign it,” I promised Gloria, taking the damned page, folding it, and stuffing it in my pocket.
Fuck, for Nomical’s welfare, and my own, she better have filled out the paperwork properly.
Chapter 12
Raze
Secrets and lies. That was my special skill. My life and the safety of my tribe depended on it. I squeezed the item in my pocket tighter. If I was caught smuggling this out of the Guild, I'd earn time in the hole or extra years on my sentence. Time I couldn't afford to lose.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. Every nerve shouted at me to g
et it together, wipe the moisture away, along with any hint of guilt. But I couldn’t with Ford, the sentry posted at the Guild’s exit, eyeing me as he completed my exit paperwork. I sent a silent prayer to the Munyara, my tribal spirit, to protect me and ensure my release for the day.
After two weeks of freedom from The Hole, the warden had finally granted Tor, Pascal and I a relief pass. I was looking forward to seeing my family. My Uncle Jim passed away two weeks ago, and the Guardians refused to let me attend his funeral. Rules were pretty strict here. But I’d come to respect them as I respect everything in life. My people raised me to respect our elders, respect nature, and all living creatures. Everything had something to teach us. That was how I’d become the best gantii tracker the Guardians had ever had.
Ford pointed at the metal bench underneath the magic proof glass counter. “Scan your bracelet.”
Standard procedure before prisoners were released for missions or leave. I thrust my wrist under the glass window, where a female Gildron passed her hand over the bracelet. Green mist poured from her palm, swirling over the metal, igniting the runes in it, and they illuminated. The two halves of the bracelet circled in opposite directions and locked into place with a click. A countdown for the next forty-eight hours. If I wasn’t back in time, the bracelet would incapacitate me, and the warden would multiply my punishment by ten.
“Clear.” Ford scribbled the date onto my paperwork.
“Visiting your family?” Ford enquired.
I didn’t engage in friendly chitchat. I couldn’t afford to get close to anyone. No one must discover my secret. That’s why I kept to myself. Hand pressed tight over the lump in my uniform, I nodded.
“Give them my regards.” Ford finished writing on the form and slid it under the glass screen with a pen.