Huntress

by Elizabeth Hartwell

  Elizabeth nods and presses a few more buttons. The screen comes to life, and a handsome, dark-haired man appears. He’s got shaggy hair that’s about shoulder length and piercing green eyes that seem to be even more lifelike than what you’d normally expect from a high-grade holoscreen.

  “His name is Brandon,” Elizabeth says, letting the holoscreen rotate the man’s image around, zooming in on his face and other features that might be helpful in identifying him. He’s got a scar on his left forearm, an ugly deep band of tissue that looks like a badly-healed knife wound. I know I’ve caused a few wounds like that in my time.

  “What’s so important about him?” I ask, but for once, Elizabeth doesn’t answer my question directly.

  “He lives in Bane and was last seen in the vampire district,” she says. “We know he’s not a thrall, and he doesn’t work for the vamps. I’ve got data downloads for all of you with everything we know about him. Your mission is to find Brandon, get him out of Bane, and take him back to Solace for . . . safekeeping.”

  “Safekeeping?” Tym asks, his voice tight. “What sort of safekeeping? And why not find him yourself?”

  “The city authorities wish to find him as well. More than that, I cannot tell you,” Elizabeth says. “But it is vital that you find Brandon before the city government does. You start tomorrow at sunrise. In the meantime, you’ll be given full use of the embassy facilities. Lance, you can use our autodoc to make sure your arm is fully healed, and before you leave, you can fully replenish the rounds for your Gauss rifle. Also, if there are any weapons that you think might be helpful, check with the armorer. I’ll give you full authorization for anything you think you need.”

  It’s a clear dismissal, and I get up, my body sighing in regret at not being coddled by the awesomeness that is the chair I’ve been sitting in. Tym and Cerena do the same, but Elizabeth waves Cerena back down. “It’s been a long time, Cerena. I’d like to hear how things are going, personally. So if you don’t mind?”

  “No, not at all, Elder,” Cerena says, glancing at me and Tym. “Uhm, I’ll catch up with you guys later?”

  I nod, and this time, when we try the door, it opens easily. In the corridor, Tym and I get directions to the medical bay and head on our way. “I swear, I’ve got three things in mind at this point.”

  “What’s that?” Tym asks as we turn the corner and head toward the medical bay. “Why the Elder lied to us there at the end? Even Cerena seemed surprised.”

  “No . . . well, four things now,” I reply. “One, I’m going to eat every damn thing I can find for as long as we’re here. I’m tired of ration pills and scavenged Scorched Earth offerings. Two, I’m going to raid the armory for the sweetest sidearm I can find. Preferably a Gauss pistol. I’ll take the shorter range for the weight trade-off.”

  “And three?” Tym asks. “You did say three things.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m going to demand that half my pay goes to buying one of those damn chairs. In fact, when I die, bury me in a chair like that.”

  “Understood.”

  Chapter 16

  Cerena

  I sit back down, wondering what it is that Elizabeth actually wants with me. Despite the warm tone that she took with Lance and Tym, Elizabeth’s never been that close to me. She’d check in from time to time, of course, I’m sure as a favor to Edward, but the reality is she’s treated me like she treats most of the Hunters, holding us at arm’s length.

  “How may I help, Elder?” I ask, and Elizabeth studies me for a moment before a knowing smile appears on her lips. Maybe she did smile for Tym and Lance, but that was an amused smile. This time, though, she’s genuinely pleased, and as she studies me, I resist the urge to squirm.

  “How do you like your new teammates?” she asks, never taking her eyes off me. “I was worried when I requested them, but I knew they’d be the best choice for helping you on this mission.”

  “They are . . . capable fighters,” I report honestly. “I’ve had no problems working with either of them, beyond some initial feeling out.”

  Elizabeth lifts a finely arched eyebrow, and I wonder if I’ve said too much when she laughs, dropping her haughty persona. “Oh, come on, Cerena. It’s written pretty clearly on your face that the feeling out has been . . . very touchy. I don’t fault you. Tym’s quite the hunk, as we said when I was a child.”

  I keep my face impassive, even though I know my skin must be burning, and I wonder how Elizabeth would react if she knew I’ve also fucked Lance. “He is very powerful, Elder.”

  “Will you please drop that Elder shit for a few minutes?” Elizabeth says, still smirking. “I spend an entire cycle getting called Elder this, Elder that by everyone. It makes me want to go back to sleep by the end of it, if only so I have that week where I can actually talk with Edward as an equal.”

  “Even if you don’t always see eye to eye,” I point out, making Elizabeth chuckle. None of the Elders are perfectly copacetic, and Edward’s told me more than once his own issues with Elizabeth and Thomas.

  “True . . . but the three of us agreed on that when we volunteered to become Elders,” Elizabeth says. “We knew that Solace would need leadership that would change from time to time. And yes, we all did volunteer. Do you think we enjoy watching our friends, our loved ones, get old and die while we sleep? May you never be cursed in such a way, Cerena.”

  “I . . . I never thought of it that way,” I admit, thinking about the gap in my childhood I experienced during Edward’s sleep. For me, it was long years. For him, it was go to bed as I was a child, wake up and I’m a teenager. It must have been disconcerting. “I apologize.”

  “It’s okay, all three of us handle the burden in our own way. I tell you, I’m not always fond of Thomas’s puritanical bent, but he does help after my realpolitik and Edward’s . . . style.”

  I nod, knowing what she means. Edward is on one hand fiercely pure in his actions, some would say harsher than Thomas in terms of making sure the Hunter bloodlines stay strong and pure. He often encourages couples to have children even when the couple might not be ready for it, in my opinion, and I know he will be antsy for me and Crassus to breed.

  On the other hand, though, he’s more liberal in his treatment of outsiders. He often opened up Ringtown more, handing out residency permits that I would have objected to, if I’d been in a position to object.

  “I understand . . . Elizabeth. So, what did you want to talk about?”

  “Brandon,” Elizabeth says, getting out of her chair and going over to a cabinet in the wall. She opens it, and I’m shocked to see her pull out a bottle of clear liquid along with two tumblers. “Share a vodka with me? Well, it’s not real vodka—someone would have to grow enough potatoes to do that—but it’s pretty damn close.”

  I nod and watch as Elizabeth fills each tumbler a quarter full before handing one over to me. “Thank you.”

  “Take it slow. It kicks like a mule . . . wait, those don’t exist anymore. Anyway, it kicks hard. So, about Brandon . . . the reason I asked you to be tasked with this is that he’s wanted by Bane.”

  “You already said that,” I point out, sipping the alcohol. It burns, rolling down my throat and making tears spring to my eyes. “Jesus, just call this stuff what it is, rocket fuel.”

  Elizabeth chuckles and takes a deeper sip of her own drink. “Hardly . . . but it is better when it’s on ice. Don’t have any here, unfortunately. But I don’t mean the city authorities.”

  “You said he’s wanted by Bane, so—” I start before the meaning hits me and I have to hurriedly set my tumbler on the table next to me before I drop it. “You mean the dark god.”

  “The one and only,” Elizabeth confirms. She watches me for a moment, letting me take it all in. “What have they told you?”

  “Insanity,” I reply, but in my mind a little voice is whispering that maybe the insane one was me. “They claim to be demigods.”

  “Not technically,” Elizabeth says with a chuckle, �
�that’s reserved for the actual children of the gods themselves. But close enough. They are of divine bloodline.”

  “So . . . so it’s all true?” I ask, shocked. “How much, and why, and—”

  “Let me start at the beginning,” Elizabeth says, holding up a hand. “There are thirteen major gods, and a few minor ones that you don’t really need to worry about. The highest is Dyeus, or the Allfather, depending on how you want to name him and your cultural background. Those thirteen have, in some form or another, been responsible for every myth, religion, and belief system ever started on this planet, except for atheism, of course.”

  “Who are they?” I ask, and Elizabeth shakes her head. “You don’t know?”

  “I know some, but not everything. I don’t know where they come from, for one. Only Dyeus knows that I suspect, and apparently, he’s not really involved in all of this. His wife is also pretty passive, while ten others are the next generation. They’ve gone by many names. Sune, the goddess of love and lust. Tyr, the god of knowledge, wisdom, and courage. Sulis, the goddess of light and family, and Sune’s twin sister. Adonis, god of strife and war, and his twin brother, Bane, the god of death and darkness. There are others, but those are the major players in the Earth right now.”

  “Wait . . . what about Loki?” I ask. “Lance claims him as his grandfather.”

  Elizabeth nods, chuckling. “Loki . . . the only one who wasn’t originally a god. The trickster, the deceiver . . . but like all tricksters, the biggest trick of all is on him. Anyway, the gods more or less hate each other. Well, not totally. They exist in a constant game of shifting alliances, scheming, backbiting… well, pretty much what you’d expect any thirteen individuals to get up to when you have immense power and nothing but eternity on your hands. With Dyeus sitting this one out, they’ve fought among each other for a long time, trying to take the old man’s place as the top god in the pantheon.”

  I feel stunned, but maybe it’s in that shock that I’m able to open up my mind and accept what Elizabeth’s saying. “So they caused the war? Tyr and Lance said they saved humanity.”

  “Meh, it’s a toss-up,” Elizabeth replies. “Long ago, maybe four or even five thousand years ago, maybe longer, Dyeus severely restricted them. They couldn’t walk the world in their divine forms any longer, so they were restricted to signs, prophets, mortal vessels . . . which proved to be imperfect at best.”

  “Why?”

  Elizabeth laughs. “Imagine taking a human brain and suddenly exposing it to knowledge and power on levels never before seen. It tended to burn out the vessels, drive them insane, or at least make them seem that way.”

  I blink, taking a deep breath as my heart races in my chest and my stomach churns with the knowledge that everything I’ve been brought up to believe in is a lie. “But, Elizabeth . . . why are we not taught about this in the Academy? Why are we kept ignorant?”

  Elizabeth hums and traces something on her tumbler. I realize what it is. It’s on my tumbler too, a symbol I’ve known since I was a child. The half-moon, half-sun, it’s the sigil of Solace. “Our ancestors were in the bunkers when Dyeus, at the pleading of the other gods, lifted the veil somewhat. Each of them did what they felt best for preserving this little experiment called humanity . . . well, all except Bane. He wanted to take over, so he created his offspring, the vampires and the werewolves.”

  “And what’s that have to do with us?”

  “Patience, young one,” Elizabeth chastises me gently. “Sulis knew Bane’s plan. He wanted complete power, to rule both here and in the heavens, but he was unable as the god of darkness and death. He needed an immortal body in the flesh, but to do that, he needed to combine the powers of light and dark . . . of him and Sulis. So he had his offspring capture representatives of her bloodline and attempt to . . . force breeding with them.”

  I shiver, understanding her words, and sigh. “It didn’t work?”

  “The bloodlines are not easily compatible,” Elizabeth says. “The first experiments, with demigods themselves, proved disastrous. The conflicting natures would twist the child in the womb, and when it was finally birthed, it was more monster than human, if it lived at all. By then, all of Sulis’s first offspring were corrupted or hunted to near extinction. Meanwhile, Bane was patient. He knew that someday, he’d have a direct blood descendant whose distance from him was weak enough he could survive joining with a descendant of Sulis.”

  “How’s that involve us?” I ask, but a cold twisting in my gut tells me the truth. “Brandon.”

  “When Sulis approached our ancestors, she did so with two missions. First, to protect her bloodline. Second, to fight his. There’s a third and secret mission . . . to find Bane’s chosen one. I am certain it is Brandon.”

  “So this is an assassination job?” I ask. “What has he . . . is he paranormal?”

  “No more so than Lance or Tym,” Elizabeth says, “and no, it is not an assassination. He is to be brought back to Solace for protection. Hopefully, our scientists can figure out what it is that makes Brandon so special to Bane. Because if we can, we can figure out how to prevent another Brandon, and another, and another. Because the only other option is to kill every offspring of Bane in existence, and quite honestly, we’re failing in that particular Grand Hunt.”

  I nod, swallowing. If every vampire, every werewolf was part of Bane’s bloodline, we were vastly outnumbered. “Why—”

  “I do not have all the answers, Cerena,” Elizabeth says, finishing her drink. “I wish I did. But the goddess keeps her secrets just as the other gods do. And I’ve never spoken to her directly. I wish I had. I just have what my father taught me. But it is essential that you defend Brandon before he can be forced to absorb Sulis’s essence.”

  “If I fail?” I ask, my head starting to ache.

  “His body will be able to be a vessel for Bane himself. I’ll let you fill in the details about what would happen to the world if the god of death and darkness is given an immortal body with full command of his powers here on Earth.”

  I shiver and stand up. “I understand. If you don’t mind, I need to rest and prepare for my mission.”

  “Of course . . . but Cerena, realize that in all the years since our ancestors stepped out of the shelters, you are the first non-Elder to know the truth of the gods. I insist that you swear yourself to secrecy on this matter. It would shatter our society otherwise.”

  I nod, still trying to figure out what’s going on in my head. “Of course, Elizabeth. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Then good luck with your Hunt.”

  Chapter 17

  Cerena

  The guest quarters in the embassy are luxurious, with real wood furniture that’s nearly as comfortable as the chairs in Elizabeth’s office. Tym and Lance are waiting for me when I get back, Tym flexing his hands in a pair of power gloves that fit his massive hands while Lance rolls his wrists, a new pair of knives flashing in the air.

  “Hey there, Cerena,” Lance says, flipping both knives into the wooden cutting board that I guess he borrowed from the kitchen for just that purpose. “Check it out, the left-handed bandit’s back!”

  “Nice,” I murmur distractedly, dropping into the nearest couch with a flumping noise. Dimly, I’m aware that our packs are lined up against the wall, mine looking disheveled while Tym’s looks trim and square. “They roomed us together?”

  “Not quite,” Lance volunteers, grabbing his knives and pulling them out of the cutting board. Seeing my face, he goes over to his own pack, which looks like a mess, and tosses them on top. “Fuck it, I can tell you about the new toys later. What’s going on?”

  I take a deep, watery breath, sighing as I shake my head. Since leaving Elizabeth’s office, I feel like my entire world’s been shaken apart at the very foundations. I cannot even answer for a long time, so long that Lance and Tym exchange looks, Tym sitting down next to me while Lance leaves the quarters, coming back sometime later with a whole pot of warm tea. He pours a mug and
brings it to me, holding it out.

  “Go on,” Tym says quietly, encouraging me. “Take your time, Cerena. I have found . . . well, I have found that when my emotions and inner turmoil are too great, I do my best by just letting them exist. Don’t fight them, don’t deny them, but just . . . let them be.”

  I nod, sipping my tea until I feel like I can speak, and I look up at Lance, who’s still standing, looking at me with concerned eyes. He smiles, and I realize that for all his teasing, all his harassing me . . . he really is a pretty decent guy.

  I turn my head, looking at Tym, who just watches me, those honey-brown eyes soulful and introspective. Looking into them is like looking into twin perceptive amber orbs, and I realize I’ve misjudged him too.

  “I owe each of you an apology,” I start, setting my glass down. Lance sits down next to me, and I reach out, taking both of their hands. “Ever since meeting you both, I’ve . . . I’ve thought you both were insane.”

  Lance chuckles. “Cerena, if I had a holochip for every time someone called me insane, I’d be the richest man on the Scorched Earth.”

  “I’m sure, but that’s not what I mean,” I reply, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve thought you two were insane for what you were claiming about your heritage. Instead, I’ve just been told that I’ve been lied to my entire life. That my entire city, all my friends, my other Hunters . . . we’ve all been lied to. That we’re all pawns in some game and I’m the one who’s been insane this whole time.”

  “Insanity is a hard word to use for your beliefs,” Tym corrects me gently. “Consider yourself . . . led astray.”

  “You’re being too nice about it,” I growl, getting up and shaking my head. I start pacing back and forth, my hands twisting behind my back. “I believed in what they taught me, that the paranormals were just mutations. That every parallel with mythology or legendary creatures was chance or a freak accident of circumstances that brought the two stories together. Time after time after time, I’ve ignored the evidence in front of me, creating logic games in my head, splitting hairs. Oh, werewolves can’t be mythological. The modern ones aren’t bound to the full moon. Fairies and nymphs don’t have wings, aren’t tiny little thumb-sized creatures, so obviously, all that’s just bullshit. We borrowed the words for convenience’s sake. I was a fucking moron.”