Half-Breed (Taming the Elements Book 1)

by Hickory Mack

  He looked her over again, with compassion instead of predation and yes, her entire right hand, the one pressed to her belly, was discolored and swollen. Under the dust and dirt were faded bruises in the shape of handprints around her throat. She saw him looking and twisted her leg, allowing him to see the evenly spaced slices on the back of her calf. Eight of them.

  “One for each day since they killed Harry,” she said.

  This explained why the girl had been so determined to come into the wilderness where she obviously didn’t belong. Knowing what she knew about the people missing, walking onto and then leaving that path must have been terrifying. The halfling was a perplexing contradiction of bravery and cowardice.

  “You have no idea what you are, do you?” Makkai muttered under his breath. His tails twitched peevishly, and his full mouth turned downward in a dour frown. This child and her story were not his burden to bear, but her invasion of his territory and time along with said tale perturbed him. He didn’t like what he was hearing and his hackles were raised in irritation.

  Humans, it seemed, had somehow contrived to become even more obnoxiously vile than they’d been when his own elders had bound him here. Exile was his punishment for killing too many of the quick breeding vermin when one of their endless wars had caught him unawares.

  Their petulant bickering had come crashing down around him when one of their errant missiles scorched patches of fur off two of his luxurious tails. He’d only had five then. The sixth emerged in the middle of his rampage across what used to be Europe, bringing him even more power. One more tail and he would reach Demi-God status. Three more until he became a God. Not that he would manage either while stuck here.

  He’d seized upon that extra power and slaughtered his enemies until his glorious, deep red fur had darkened to the blackest of night. Makkai had brought about the end of humanities rape and plunder of the Earth, sparking the rise of demon-kind. The elders of his race, in all their ambivalence, had not been amused, though they’d benefited from his actions. They’d bound him to this land, half a world away from his kin.

  Thinking of that day made his skin crawl angrily, his muscles grew taught. Makkai’s upper lip curled distastefully, but he shuddered and shook it off, forcing himself to let it go.

  “You came here seeking to die by the hand of any monster or demon you happened to find. Unfortunately for you, you found me. I am no tool to be used at your whimsy. The answer to your request is no. Seek your end elsewhere,” he said. Leaning back against the great tree’s trunk he closed his eyes.

  The girl would leave. No lesser being had ever contradicted him. All he needed to do was ignore the hunger and allow her retreat without giving chase. Everything was so quiet he had nearly fallen asleep when a muffled thud disturbed him. He peeked out of one eye.

  “Please reconsider, sir. I can’t go back.” The girl was begging on her hands and knees, her forehead pressed to the ground.

  ‘Now where’d the little beastie learn something like that?’ Makkai wondered. This wasn’t the East, where cow-towing was a familiar practice among those ingratiating themselves. These lands were the former Americas, home of some of the most crass and degenerate brand of humans he’d ever come across. At least the elders had grounded him in the North, where so few remained. His ponderings over her position on the ground did not spill over to inquisitiveness.

  He gave an audible sigh.

  “I am not known for patience, even among others of my kith and demon-kin, Youngling.” In a smooth movement he dropped from his branch, landing elegantly in front of the child. She gasped and scrambled to her feet. He frowned down at her, such a little thing, even smaller than he’d thought. She boldly looked up at him with so much hope in those gray-blue eyes it made him nauseous.

  “Do not attempt to return here, Little One, you will not find my forest so welcoming a second time. The trees will not allow you passage,” he warned. Raising his palm he slowly waved it in front of her, left to right, as though he were wiping her away. The child looked panicked for the first time.

  “Wait!” she cried and then the space she’d occupied was empty. Only the scents of her fear, sweat and shampoo lingered. The trees and bushes he’d moved aside for her relaxed and settled back into place.

  Instead of sending her home, he’d sent her to his favorite nest to hunt from. Perhaps in time her witchy powers would make the place a more interesting conquest. Surely those in charge or the other witches there would keep her, or help the youngling find her way home. The nests formed clusters, communicating amongst those closest to each other.

  Makkai picked up her walking stick, gnarly as it was and returned to his branch, meditating morosely on the girl’s situation. In most demon species, offspring were precious and treated with devoted tenderness.

  Adult humans didn’t practice the same intensity of protection and care, and as it always had, it confused him. Their young were enabled to injure and torment other young to the point of seeking death? What cruel, pointless little lives they led.

  Perhaps it was a side effect of their sheer numbers, the proliferation in which they bred. He remembered it wasn’t all that uncommon for a single mated pair to have as many as five or six younglings in a solitary decade.

  Perhaps the adults felt offspring were replaceable, so losing one or two wasn’t such a tragedy to them. Then he thought of the she-cat he’d once seen, five kittens and two chicks under her attentive and loving care. The cat could have a dozen offspring in a year, and still she would ferociously protect her kits, along with the young of another.

  The very idea of younglings encouraging and even forcing other younglings to kill themselves continued to disturb him hours later. The hopeful look in the girl’s eyes would haunt him for years. Humans, he decided, were just an uncategorized type of monster.

  Chapter 2

  Alice landed on her feet, but she was so startled she fell backward onto her rump with an “Oomph!” Her head spun and she wheeled onto her knees, retching the contents of her stomach onto the pavement. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand Alice moaned and scooted away, holding her head until the world stood still.

  She scrambled up as soon as it did and looked around, wide eyed with wonder and fear. Nothing had ever prepared her for abruptly being moved from one location to another in the blink of an eye. She hadn’t even known demons could do that, and the more she thought about it, the more unsettling it was. The knowledge of their capabilities was nothing compared to what she was seeing.

  Her surroundings were unfamiliar. This place was not her home.

  Perfect houses with perfect lawns and electric gated driveways lined both sides of the perfect street she’d landed in the middle of. Alice wasn’t sure where to look first. She’d never seen a street so smooth and black before, and there were sidewalks with boulevards. Something only the affluent side of the nest she’d grown up in had boasted. The walkway was level, with no cracks or graffiti or glass shards anywhere in sight.

  The houses all had fresh paint and not only were there no bars over the windows, but all the window guards were open! Where Alice came from, window guards were to remain closed tight. A quick airing out of the house was allowed on rare occasions, but the guards were to be shut again immediately after.

  A pair of sleek guard dogs, bigger and shinier than any she’d ever seen patrolled one yard several houses down. Security dogs were normal in her life, every family owned a dog or cat, or a large bird as she had. Several people in her neighborhood owned roosters, peacocks or guinea fowl, loud territorial and alert animals, useful to their owners. They were not kept as pets, but to raise the alarm if demons or monsters came calling.

  It wasn’t the dogs giving Alice a creeping sensation down her spine. In this strange place, it was the evident lack of them. Aside from these two dogs, every other yard in sight was empty. How did these people comfortably go about their days without the security of their protectors? Did they not have to contend with the constant thr
eat of invasion?

  Alice wrapped her arms around herself.

  Monsters were the mindless beings created by the wars of the ancients. Two hundred years ago, human arrogance built up and ended in a nuclear war, demolishing the environment and 90% of the human population. Of those who’d survived, it was estimated that two in every five were altered, genetically damaged to the point of degenerative mutation. They were fragile and easily sickened, and they passed their mutations onto their offspring.

  It was said that in the beginning the first generation affected was both pitied and scorned. Some of the unaffected tried to help them, made sure they were able to eat and find shelter, even loved them. But when their offspring were born misshapen and murderous, with a single-minded hunger for flesh, attempts were made to eradicate any with the mutation. Even those thought to be healthy were affected, some of their children were born with the anomalies. They resisted. Those who survived went into hiding for decades.

  After a couple of generations, when their numbers had grown, they’d returned. Now they traveled in small groups and they sought out weaknesses in the barriers. They could take out the occupants of an entire block before reinforcements arrived, making security animals incredibly important. A warning call from those animals gave people time to arm themselves, or retreat to their safe rooms.

  Once the humans had all but gone extinct from their wars, the ancients had declared the end of the age of men. Out of hiding had come all manner of creatures from nightmares and legends. Few were sympathetic to humanity’s plight. Those with a taste for human flesh took to farming them, the flesh trade in the south made many demon Lords into kingpins, their names inspiring fear.

  Far fewer of their kind had been affected by the nuclear holocaust. Their bodies were stronger, and they adapted more easily. And, unlike the humans, the other races cleaned house of their mutations immediately after they got their bearings, finding such weakness disgraceful.

  A small amount of relief had come to the weaker races when political clashes between the ruling demon class and the fae sent the latter retreating back to Underhill, their ancestral home. They preferred their fairy courts and magics over demonic tyranny.

  In the north where the days were colder and fewer demons had taken up residence, the humans lived in clusters of nests they’d dubbed colonies. Each nest was an independent town, doing its part to earn protection from the stronghold of the colony, each within a day’s journey of at least two more.

  Every colony governed itself with laws created by the people within. And while it was possible (though difficult) to change nests, Alice had never heard of anyone changing colonies. They were hundreds of miles apart in strategic areas of land to make the best use of resources.

  Her colony was called Prosperity and the original people had settled it over a series of small aquifers and underground springs. They were deep enough to avoid the worst contamination from the nuclear war, and far enough from what previous generations had called “Tar Sands” to avoid poisoning from fracking chemicals. Clean water was life, and Prosperity’s leadership liked to brag about their numbers.

  “No other colony can boast of such population growth.” Was their claim, not that anybody could claim otherwise. Communications between the leaders of colonies were not shared with everybody else.

  It wasn’t always the case, but more often than not, people with similar skill sets began to stick to their own, forging out entire neighborhoods based on their abilities and fostering a sense of cohesiveness.

  In their old lives, her father had been a field researcher, he partnered with a pair of hunters who would take him out to gather data on movement patterns of different monster groups in the area. He’d spent more time in the field than at home with Alice and he knew his monsters better than his own daughter. She tried hard not to resent him, knowing he was doing what was necessary to keep everyone safe. Their nest consisted of a nearly perfect mix of intellectuals and those with physical abilities. It was aptly named Balance.

  The hunters were an elite group, entrusted with keeping the colony safe. They kept monsters and demons away and directed manual activity to clear out any forest that came too close to the border wall. They began evaluating and choosing apprentices at age twelve. Alice had been so close. She was top of her class, and many respected hunters had given her knowing nods and secretive smiles. She would be selected and apprenticed to one of the senior hunters.

  It had gutted her the night her father had returned from the field and abruptly announced they were moving to Tallow. She’d been eleven years and eleven months old. It was the first time she’d ever spoken to her father with hostility, declaring for all the neighbors to hear that he was ruining her life and she refused to go along with his plans. He’d back handed her, putting an end to her open defiance, but not her growing resentment.

  Proud of their way of life, citizens of Balance raised their young with intense physical activity and vigorous education. Spending a day racing classmates up a stone wall or through a nearly impossible obstacle course was not unheard of. The physical activity was often followed by puzzles meant to push exhausted young minds, testing their limits. Alice was small for her age, but she’d excelled under her teachers, trainers and mentors. She was strong and bright; she knew who she was and what her future looked like.

  In Tallow she was too smart, especially for a girl. She’d been skipped ahead two grades and her strong, lean, boyish body made her an instant target. Not just for girls in her own grade, but those above and below as well. Girls in Tallow weren't ambitious, they weren't leaders or protectors. They were breeders.

  As bad as moving to Tallow was, her father had made it even worse by giving up nearly everything they’d owned in order to get his sudden request granted quickly. His research work had once afforded them a clean, warm, 950 square foot house, with its own small library and fenced yard. In Tallow they had a 400 square foot apartment in a run-down building with three other families living in it.

  Children were raised to be suspicious of strangers. Anyone they did not know was an outsider, possibly a monster, or even a demon in disguise. Some monster spawn were called throw-backs and could physically pass as human, though the blood lust and mental illness deteriorated their minds.

  Alice had told her father of her troubles, but he refused to allow her to homeschool, or at least try the atmosphere of the one other school in Tallow. He dutifully did his menial labor at the energy plant, coming home exhausted in the mornings, after she’d left for school. Alice spent most nights alone.

  She was not allowed to speak of the things she had lost. Both Alice and her father had been forced to swear binding oaths, preventing them from speaking details about their old lives. She’d screamed and cried and begged, but they’d taken her security animal, a graceful and beautiful lynx she’d raised from a cub. He’d been replaced by a scrawny, ill-tempered young rooster.

  Alice had initially hated Harry for taking her cat’s place, but as time went on he’d become her only confidante and friend. She couldn’t get in trouble for telling him how much she missed her home. How different it was here compared to Balance. How here, she no longer knew where she belonged. Alice shared her meals with him and while she wasted away and starved over the following months, he’d flourished, taking on a fiery luster in his rusty orange feathers. In the end she’d loved that rooster, which only made it worse when Miranda and her friends had killed him.

  Looking down the perfect rows of houses, Alice wondered what type of work these people did for Prosperity that afforded them such a privileged life. What could they possibly do to have more wealth and security than the hunters, the people protecting everyone?

  The sterility and monotony of the cookie-cutter domiciles made her uncomfortable and her nerves couldn’t take much more of standing out in the open in such a strange place. She wasn’t sure where she was, but if she could find a bus stop she could find the transportation hub.

  Each nest had ambassadors a
nd tradesmen that traveled between them, and they used the hubs to get there. Alice doubted this place, wherever it was, had a direct connection with Tallow. She’d have to sneak into the transportation hub and convince the station master that she’d arrived by accident. Depending on how far away from Tallow she was, she could pretend she’d fallen asleep, and the attendants would get her home.

  Not that she wanted to be there, but it was better than not knowing where she was. Her father would blame her for the trouble she was in. He always did. Stanley never had any advice on blending in or making friends or avoiding the savage beatings she received from the other kids. With him, it was always the same. Whatever the problem, it was always her fault.

  Sometimes, he would slowly look around their tiny, dingy apartment in disgust, resting his contorted and angry gaze on her as though she’d been the one to drag him kicking and screaming away from his life and home. She’d never actually asked, but she was certain he blamed her for their having to leave Balance.

  Reluctant or not, she had to go back. The monster’s refusal had left her living and constrained to familial obligation. Stanley was her only family, and he would be humiliated if she disappeared without a trace.

  Alice entertained the idea of taking the tram back to Balance instead of Tallow. Her stick thin shadow made her give up the idea almost at once.

  She’d been strong enough to impress them before but in the past ten months she’d withered away. Nobody wanted a project as an apprentice. They wanted potential, not extra work.

  She sighed and picked up the purple backpack from beside her on the ground, it too had been transported here. Alice walked away from the house with the big black dogs in its yard. They would not recognize her scent, and she’d been close enough to the demon that he might have left lingering traces on her person. The dogs would sound off and might even attack, bringing people who would demand to know everything about her.