Hate

by K. A Knight

  I turn with a gasp, my mouth curving with the power flowing through me. Usually I change straightaway and I feel it coursing through me now, so surely I can send it back as well?

  I drop to the floor, my body forgotten as I use all my power and turn it inwards, stopping the change. It halts, and as I push harder, sweat breaks out on my brow until slowly, ever so slowly, it starts to recede. When it’s done, I can still feel it there, waiting to be used, but I can function and I’m still in my own body. The whole plan depended on that.

  I open my eyes and they lock with the vamp’s to see him watching me curiously. “Don’t worry, I’m getting us out of here. Be patient, hot stuff.”

  I rise to my feet gracefully, power flowing through me as I start to stroll towards him, but I hear the door open and turn to face them instead. I grin at the guards there as they gape at me. “Hello, boys, thanks for the vacation spot, though I wouldn’t recommend the service.”

  Eyes narrowed, they step towards me, so I wave my vampire goodbye and he blows me a kiss. Only then do I realise just how much my blood has affected him and it makes me stare for a second.

  I was right, he is breathtaking, like a warrior of old. His face filled out, his body strong and muscular, skin golden and gleaming, eyes alight as he watches me be dragged away. He looks powerful and oh so fucking formidable that I debate killing the fools holding me and heading straight back to him to finish what we started, but no, I have a plan.

  So I let them haul me out. They whisper amongst themselves about what to do with me, all of them worried how their masters will react when they realise I’m healed and untouched. I whistle and hang in their grip, kicking my legs gently in the breeze, looking around at the walls.

  “Who’s your decorator down here? ‘Cause it’s very depressing. You could do with a splash of colour instead of all the grey and brick...maybe red.” I turn my head, grinning at them then, letting my eyes go black as I lick my lips. I watch the pulse of the one I’m staring at jump in his throat. “How about the red in your veins, boy?” I start to laugh as he gapes at me, horrified.

  “Assmos wants her back in with the bull, said something about getting what they need…” one of them looks me up and down. “Another way.”

  They drag me away faster now and throw me back into a familiar cell. I spin when the door shuts and stare at my bull. “Hi, honey, did you miss me?” I look around then, my eyebrows rising at the dead bodies everywhere. “I see you did some redecorating, love what you’ve done, very macabre.”

  “You were gone,” he snarls, completely bull now, no hint of my gentle, confused Dume.

  “Oh, are we back to playing?” I coo, sauntering towards him, his chains slinking across the floor as he steps further into the dark corner. “I do enjoy our games and I have a whole lot of energy to burn, what do you say, my bull?”

  “On your knees,” he snaps, and I see a hint of Dume peeking through now as they both comprehend I’m more than fine. I’m fucking thriving despite being kept prisoner.

  After all, you can never keep a bad girl down.

  I follow the lackey like the good little dog they called me, and I wonder for a moment where he will lead me. The dungeons? The tower? The sitting room? But no, I should have guessed, everything with these people is a game, a way to lord power and use others’ weaknesses. I know this path, I was dragged this way many times before and thrown before them in their throne room…where she died.

  Each step closer has the madness spinning faster and faster, searching for a way out, imagining Dawn in there waiting for me like my mother was, seeing her die. Fisting my hands, I try to slow my breathing before it bursts from me and I do something stupid like slay them. I have to be smart, I have to be in control for once. For her I have to accept their form of torture and I have to be stronger than I have ever been before.

  “Oh, my little Griffin, don’t you listen to them. Your emotions, your love for me does not make you or your father weak, it makes you impossibly stronger. You’re stronger than they or even you know, because they only fight since they are ordered to, but you, my boy? You fight because you have to, because you have people expecting you, needing you. Fighting for love, not respect, will always win. You will always triumph, Griffin. They think it a weakness, show them it is the exact opposite. Use it, let it fuel you.” She smiles softly at me, her human eyes filled with love even as tears trail from my angel eyes, like my father’s. She rubs the wet cloth across my face, dabbing away the blood from the fight.

  We are not permitted to fight outside of training, but I was cornered in the bathroom by five other kids, kids like me. They attacked me, ganged up on me. I fought as hard as I could, wanting to prove to my father and to them I was strong enough, but they just laughed. They called me weak, told me my human whore of a mother made me worthless. It infuriated me, I saw red, and when I came to, they were all crawling away with disgusted sneers on their faces. I watched them go, my muscles shaking, and only when I was alone did I break down. That’s where she found me, and like always she picked me up, dusted me off, and loved me.

  How can they think she’s nothing? How can they think this, her loving me and me loving her, is nothing more than normal? I find myself asking her that, and she sighs softly, her nose crinkling like it always does when she is thinking, her brow furrowing and her blue eyes sad.

  “It is jealousy, my love,” she whispers, gripping my shoulders with all her strength, which is admittedly not much. Her human body is frail, but her spirit is stronger than any person I have ever met, angel or otherwise. “Their mothers, well, they aren’t like me. They don’t understand why you get to have me, why you get to be loved and they aren’t. They see you with me and your father and they envy it. You have to understand that. Because to understand someone’s motives and emotions is to understand them, and then and only then will you know what the right thing to do is. Trust your heart, Griff, you have the biggest one I have ever seen. It will never lead you wrong.”

  “Fallen,” the lackey snaps, and I realise I’ve stopped just before the grand double doors. The grandiose entrance is another game for them, used to intimidate and show their wealth and power, but I’m starting to learn some of the strongest of our kind do not need tricks to amass fear and love—it’s simply just them.

  Gritting my teeth, I step up next to him and he leans closer. “Worthless dog,” he spits, and then pushes the door open, striding inside with his head held high like he owns the place, even though he’s nothing more than a servant. When they are bored with him, they will toss him away like they do everything else.

  I know the drill by now, so I wait, not wanting to give them an excuse to punish me. He strolls down the empty aisle of chairs. There is no court or ceremony today, so the space is empty save for the council members who sit at the end of the way too fucking long room filled with candelabras, chandeliers, and golden chairs like they are kings of old.

  Pretentious bastards.

  Veyo sweeps into a low bow, almost scraping the floor. “My lords and ladies, our esteemed council, may I present, as your humble servant, the fallen they call Griffin.” He stands and turns, and everyone does the same to see me standing at the door.

  I hesitate. If I cross over this threshold, I’m giving them power over me even if they don’t know it. I’m giving them everything, my very life...for her.

  It’s worth it, after all, like my mother said, if I’m not fighting for love...what am I fighting for? I step through the doorway, my head held high, and storm down the aisle towards them. They get no theatrics from me, and they don’t expect me to beg and scrape, they know me too well, know that I hate them, so if I started to act otherwise they would suspect me as a mole or a spy straightaway. No, I need to play this right.

  This time my fight is with words and intelligence, not my swords and wings.

  I don’t bow. Instead, I tilt my head back, letting my eyes run across all five council members.

  To the left and in the first sea
t is the least powerful of all the council. At only four hundred years old, the vampire, Harald, is practically a baby, but he’s known for his mean streak and made his way to the council by carving a bloody path to the position and clambering for power.

  Next to him is the second least powerful, an incubus named Derrin. No one knows where he originally comes from, but I know better than to get on his bad side. He can be kind when he needs to be, but don’t let that angelic smile and charm fool you, he’s one mean bastard. They have to be to sit on the council.

  In the middle is Amos, the head of the council and the man who ordered my mother’s and father’s deaths. His eyes gleam in triumph as he watches me, thinking he has finally broken me, finally got what he wanted. He is the worst of them all. The others pity me, see me as amusement, a servant, but Amos? He wants to crush me, rebuild me in his image, and own me as his own personal fucking dog. He plays games the way others breathe, his every word a move on the chessboard, and I just stepped onto the checker opposite him.

  Next to him is Gina, a shifter, and the only female to sit on the council, but she is the biggest snake of them all. She spies for the men, using her sexuality and charm to get what she needs. I’m pretty sure she’s fucking both Amos and Derrin. Her icy eyes lock on me in hunger, not for my body but for the secrets I hold and the surrender she wants from me. She is one ice-cold bitch.

  On the very right is the last member of the council. No one knows what or who he is. All we have is a name—Titus. There are rumours that he was sent from the sleeping council as their spy, and it could be true. No one can get close enough to him to even know his true name or what he is or capable of. His seat was empty up until about six hundred years ago when he suddenly appeared and took the chair overnight. The council did not explain why, but you could see they were unhappy about it. Even now he’s leaning to the side, reclined and relaxed, watching everything happen with sharp eyes while distancing himself from the council pigs...he appears almost angry. Well, me fucking too. He catches me staring, and his lips turn down in a frown for a moment as he takes me in before he blanks his face into one of disinterest, and then leans back like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  Amos speaks first, as always. “Fallen, this is a highly unusual occurrence. We did not call for your...services, did we?” His tone is mocking as he looks at the others who shake their heads, all the while knowing they didn’t. Dramatic bunch of bitches, all of them. “I didn’t think so, so tell me, fallen, why are you here?”

  This is where it either goes really right or really fucking wrong. I need to make them believe I want to be part of this again without them thinking it’s a trick or laying it on too thick. With a sneer, I start, but make sure to drop my eyes just a fraction to seem somewhat respectful. “You asked me once to stay here, to be closer to the council. I’m tired of the sheep, tired of the stupid fucking hunts I’m sent on. I’m tired,” I admit, and let some of my true frustration leak into my voice. “Tired of sitting on the fence, of not being in either world. I—” I rip open my old wounds, my own fears of never being good enough, and hand it to them on a platter, knowing they will use it against me, but she’s worth it. “I want to be part of this world, I want to belong, to have a family and a home again.”

  That’s the key to making them believe, to show them I still hate them but they are the lesser of two evils...to make them think they have finally broken me. My hands are clenched into fists from being so close to vengeance, yet giving my fucking enemies everything they want.

  One of them laughs, I can’t tell who. “Took him long enough, fucking experiment.”

  I grind my teeth, wanting to lash out, but I control the urge...just.

  “If you truly feel that way, boy, you are, of course, welcome here, but we need to trust you, depend on you, so we need your obedience. Prove that to us,” Amos declares, sounding sincere, but I can see the glee in his eyes.

  I know what he wants, the only thing I never gave him, gave them—my loyalty...my servitude. They want to see me on my knees before them, showing everyone that their power is beyond measure, that they can control everybody, even the fallen who evaded their clutches for years. That I’m finally theirs to do with what they wish.

  Sucking in a breath, I force myself to fall to my knees in the same place my mother was slain. I kneel before the people who wielded the sword. I hate them, I knew it before, but this...this rage towards them is morphing into a hatred so strong I can barely contain it.

  I want to see them dead and bathe in the ashes of their demise. I want their blood coating my wings and hands knowing I finally got my revenge. I want their screams, I want their weaknesses, but I can’t. Because my mate comes first.

  Save her, then together we can kill them, because these smug bastards are as corrupt as they come, that much is clear, and I’m not letting them get away with it anymore.

  They killed my father.

  Murdered my mother.

  Stripped me of my wings.

  I survived it all, but what I can’t survive is them taking my mate from me, thinking she’s disposable, that she is theirs to bend to their whims.

  They will pay for it.

  I will unleash the madness they created in me, becoming their worst fucking enemy. They won’t see it coming, thinking they can control everyone and everything, but for now I bite my tongue and lower my head, staring lasers into the floor as my knees hit the marble with an audible boom.

  To them it’s the sound of my defeat, to me it’s the beat of my war drum. This is the beginning of their end. Either they’ll die or I’ll die trying. I can imagine it now, my mate at my side, striding through the fight with blood covering her as she tears them to pieces. The very person they took, locked up and thought to use, bringing them to their knees. They will kneel before us, before her, see her strength and what real power looks like...and real loyalty.

  I can feel their glee, their absolute confidence they are too powerful to touch, but that’s the problem with being at the top, there is only one way to go—down.

  “I am whatever you wish me to be,” I growl out, true anger in my tone, I can’t fake that.

  They leave me like that, letting everyone see, allowing me to stew in my hatred, another game, another test. I pass it, I don’t move, I don’t lash out, I let them believe they have finally tamed me. Tamed the madness they created.

  “You are on your knees, fallen, but I don’t know if we can trust you. You have been vocal in your disdain for the council and our people, your people. You are too mad, like a wild animal, how do we ensure you do not attack us, turn on us?” Amos challenges, always the smart one.

  I raise my gaze, which is shimmering with the mist of my madness. “You don’t. Prove to your people how strong you are by controlling me. The mad fallen, the strongest of his kind under your orders, it will send them a message. It’s a chance to prove your powers and inspire fear and loyalty again.”

  “Again?” Derrin repeats, narrowing his eyes.

  “Our people are loyal!” Amos snaps, leaning forward. “They know of our great powers, that we lead them for their best future.”

  “Do they?” I taunt bitterly, and my lips tip up in a mocking smirk as Amos’s eyes narrow on me. “You have me out there, among the sheep, doing whatever I want, and they see that. They think that makes you weak, that you can’t control your own servants.”

  “He’s right,” Titus chimes in, and then covers a yawn.

  “Put him in the barracks, have the other...experiments watch him. If he steps out of line, let them punish him, they hate him enough. We can use him like a lap dog. String him in chains in here for the next ball, let them see our fallen decoration, a mere toy for us, someone so powerful worshipping at our feet,” Gina adds, watching me with that same snake-like expression, ready to strike.

  “Hmm, that does have its merits. Veyo, for now take him to the barracks, let the others keep a close eye on him. If he so much as looks at them wrong, they are allowed
to punish him as they see fit,” Amos calls, and looks at me with an evil grin on his face. “You can be their whipping boy, fallen. Let’s see how that stubbornness keeps you alive now. Get used to being on your knees, you will be living like this now.”

  I grit my teeth, not responding because I’ll say something that will blow my cover, until finally, they dismiss me. I get to my feet and follow Veyo from the room, his mocking laughter wrapping around me as he leads me through the servants’ corridor, out of the back of the mansion, and across the lawn to the barracks hidden behind a maze of flowers—they can’t have such hideous creatures and servants be seen, after all.

  I prepare myself for what’s to come, this won’t be easy. They will use any excuse to hurt me, punish me, but I will endure it. For her. For her I would survive anything. I’m led through the flowers to the hidden building there. It looks like an army barracks with an assault course and a training area for the nephilim out back, it even has a gym building attached. Inside is a long room filled with beds where they sleep. They aren’t given rooms or possessions, just the essentials. They don’t need anything else as servants. It chafes against me, how everything is controlled. The nephilim have no life, they are just here for the council’s use.

  Yet they don’t care, they covet the attention, proud of what they are and who they fight for. I wonder if they know the true depth of the corruption?

  The door is yanked open. I would expect noise, rowdiness, laughing, and teasing since that’s what the sheep are like, but it’s deadly silent as we step through. They are here though, some sleeping, some cleaning, some reading...they are all just waiting. Like good little servants, they make no noise, waiting to be called to duty.

  They turn my way when the door slams shut, every golden eye locking on me, and suddenly there’s an uproar as their anger...their hate is thrown my way. They slowly get to their feet and Veyo turns to me with a laugh. “Hope you are ready for a world of pain, fallen.”