For Blood & Glory Page 6

  “Thanks.” The woman took her baby off the examination table, bundled her up, and fastened her into the stroller. All of this “attention” she was receiving was becoming a problem. A big problem. The last thing she wanted to do was to draw eyes her way. She tried a few “repellents”—no make-up, frumpy clothes. Unfortunately, her efforts were for naught. It appeared that she was just as attractive in this world as she was on hers.

  “Mind if I ask you a personal question?” asked the doctor.

  Here it comes. “Sure,” she answered, wincing while tugging on her hair. Apparently her long, thick goddess braid was snagged somewhere within her jacket.

  “Let me help you.” Within seconds the doctor was behind her, gently untangling her tresses. “So, Ms. Rebeaux. Can I call you Delilah?”

  Delilah rolled her eyes. “That’s fine.”

  “This is a little awkward for me.” The doctor lowered his voice.

  Delilah turned, facing him. “Let’s not make it awkward for both of us.” She pulled away. “Thanks, Doc.”

  Upon stepping through the double doors of Manor Oak Hospital, her face was bitten by the icy coolness of winter. As cold as it was, it wasn’t very windy for the Windy City, and she thanked God for that. Even so, the air was brisk, and she could feel it weaving its way through the tapestry of her shawl and gloves, causing her knuckles to stiffen. Exhaling, she rubbed her hands together and watched as her breath spiraled into soft frozen clouds diffusing in the wind. If this virus doesn’t kill my child, this cold air surely will.

  Leaning over, she double-checked her stroller, making sure its canopy was as airtight as possible. Satisfied, she tugged at her knit cap as she glanced around the huge hospital parking lot and was rather surprised by what she saw. During the time she sat waiting to see a doctor, it had apparently snowed quite a bit. Interesting, given the “chance of snow” weather forecast she’d heard through the talking television earlier that day. Regardless, the aftermath was breathtaking—like something torn out of the pages of the winter pictorial she’d seen lying around the doctor’s office. The air was thick with the smell of burnt wood and the tall, naked trees aligning the walkways were covered in fresh white powder that sparkled like pixie dust under the full blue moon. The few cars left in the lot transformed into curios, glowing against the darkened sky.

  Ice crunched under the weight of her stroller and beneath her tall, black boots as she navigated through the humps and mounds of snow. Occasionally, the wheels of her stroller would get stuck in the drift and she would have to back up and shift gears to make her way through. For the most part she fared well, as she was careful to follow the packed trails left by previous patrons. No point in rushing to the car anyway. As the lot was full when she arrived, she parked in the back around the corner, leaving her with a long walk and plenty of time to think.

  Six months passed since she arrived on Earth, but it felt more like six years and nothing, absolutely nothing, had gone as planned. By now she should have heard something about her family, her beloved Durant, and the state of the war on Hyperion. The fact that she hadn’t was troubling to say the least. The entire realm could’ve languished to rubble for all she knew, triggering an anxiety not easily ignored. More than once she was tempted to go back, but she knew she couldn’t. Not with a baby. Not until she was certain it was safe.

  Shaking her head, she scoffed at herself. Love. In the abstract, it was a simple word and an even simpler concept. Yet when it fell from her lover’s lips and dribbled upon her heart, it wasn’t so simple anymore. If Durant had been an Atori, or even from another well-bred Tribe, things would’ve been fine. But no, she had to go and find a mortal enemy to love; worse still, he was off-limits.

  Of course, she’d never imagined herself with him. She’d heard the worst of the worst about his family and had all but sworn not to have anything to do with any of them beyond observing basic political etiquette. Where did she go wrong? Somehow, she’d allowed Durant to pry open the door of her heart. Wooing her. Purposefully. Patiently. And she’d allowed it to happen. Once the door of their romance opened, it became increasingly difficult for her to shut. Before long, they were plotting secret rendezvous and planning their lives together. She remembered thinking that life couldn’t get any more exciting or complicated than it already was—until it did. When she discovered she was pregnant, they learned first-hand just how complicated life could really become.

  With little ones on the way, nothing mattered more than being together. Not the throne. Not her father or The Order. She sucked her teeth. How could she have been so naive? So selfish? Their budding romance, innocent and precious as it was, ripped the seams of the delicate fabric of peace that The Collective had so carefully woven, becoming the impetus of something so horrid, so abominable that she felt physical pain at the thought of her association. Their recklessness sparked a full-on civil war. And to think, hundreds, if not thousands of her people were now fighting his, and what was she doing? Muddling along in this backward realm, hiding essentially, while countless people died—right down to her own sister, Yora. Tears welled as she recalled the moment the light left her sister’s eyes. Could she truly say that loving Durant was worth all of this?

  She pressed her lips. The ghosts of her past haunted her relentlessly, unleashing a hellfire of worry and regret, even in her sleep. The only thing that kept her from going mad was the sweet solace she found in planning her revenge. When she returned to Hyperion—and she would return, she would slay those responsible for taking the lives of her people, her dear Yora, and her dead children. They would pay—all of them, starting with Durant’s sister, Nivea. And if she so much as laid a hand on Durant or the rest of her family…She shuddered, thinking of what she might do. Calm down, she told herself.

  After decimating her enemies, she would take her rightful place beside her husband, restore peace with her allies, and then, maybe, just maybe, she could begin to try to make up for what had happened.

  A piece of paper tumbled across the snow and blew onto her stroller. Its tattered edges stuck to her gloves and she stopped to peel them off. It was an advertisement. They were everywhere here. Between the scratches and fissures, she made out, “If you’ve seen this child, please call…” A phone number was listed underneath a magnified picture of a young boy, probably no more than eight years old. His dark hair was neatly combed, and his crooked smile revealed a gaping hole where his two front teeth should have been.

  She shook her head. Such a sad state of affairs, she thought, as she continued on. Since she’d been here, she’d heard numerous reports of abductions, slayings, and the like. Interestingly enough, the humans appeared most eager to advertise bad news. But that was good. The news served as a reminder—don’t get too comfortable. Humans were deceptive and dangerous, plain and simple. Even places of refuge and healing were fair game. If that nurse at St. Magdalene’s Hospital hadn’t tipped her off, there was a very real possibility that both she and her child would have ended up cold lumps on the good doctors’ table.

  This realization led her to vow never to allow herself to become that weak and vulnerable again. When she leapt from the sixth-story window that fateful night, the hospital wasn’t the only thing she’d left behind, she’d left Lyrica too. The princess was still holed up in the bed with the lines attached, where she would have to remain until the smoke cleared. Right now, she needed to become someone stronger and colder. Someone willing to get their hands dirty and do all the things a royal, well-bred Atori wouldn’t. When the soles of her feet hit the pavement that night, she arose a new person—Delilah Rebeaux.

  In her haste to get to the car, she forgot to check the time. A street lamp burned brightly up ahead, and she stopped to take advantage of it by angling her wristwatch just so and swiping the frost off its face. Four a.m. Wonderful, she thought. According to her watch, she had less than four hours to fill the script and get some semblance of sleep before her shift began.

  Waitressing was her occupation o
f choice, and Christie’s was her latest place of employ. A small 24-hour dive outside of Chicago, Christie’s was well-known for its great chicken pot pie. However, amongst the wait staff, it was known for an even greater number of drunken idiots who stumbled in early mornings seeking more than a cheap meal. Dealing with that kind of nonsense was a pain, especially, since she didn’t have to work to put food on the table. Durant had made sure to give her enough currency to make life easy. Nonetheless, she was frugal. She figured the best way to lay low was to blend in, even if it meant working odd hours and long shifts. She couldn’t just look the part, she had to be the part. So far, she was doing an excellent job, and had dark circles under her eyes to prove it.

  A slight whimper emerged from the stroller. “Shh. It’s okay, sweetheart, we are almost there,” she said.

  Funny, it didn’t seem like she’d parked so far away when she initially arrived. At the time, she was totally focused on Sefira’s well-being, so the distance must have escaped her. Now exhaustion was settling in, and all she could think about was collapsing onto the bed in the backhouse with the goose-down pillows—the one that her landlords Mr. and Mrs. Noble gave her. The bed used to belong to their eldest daughter, but she had since grown, married, and moved away. For whatever reason they didn’t seem to have much of a relationship with her anymore. Delilah never asked why. She figured it was part of the reason why they were so good to her. They were truly Godsends; exceptions to her presumptions about the human race. Clearly, they’d hoped for grandchildren, and since they had none, delighted in hosting and entertaining Delilah and her child—no questions asked. It felt good to have people in her corner. The last time she’d felt like that was when she was with Natalie. She sighed, reflecting on the nurse’s kind eyes and the warmth of her smile. Quite frankly, she often wondered what became of her and wished she’d had the chance to properly say goodbye. The Nobles were a lot like her. Kind and trustworthy. Hopefully, she could stick with them until it was time to go.

  The area she was now in presented like a heavily wooded park. It was wide and filled with trees whose long, slender limbs so entangled with one another that they’d formed a heavenly canopy. Several paths snaked through the area; some led to island-like parking lots, while others eventually led to the street. Her lot was still a ways off, but it was in sight. She was knee deep in thought, contemplating whether or not to call off work, when she saw something move in her peripheral—shadows. She whipped her head around. Nothing. But then, a heavy, distinct thump cut through the air. Something hit the ground. She froze. Acorns maybe? There were a few forlorn looking ones lying in the snow. Wings flapped overhead; she looked up and was able to make out the shape of large birds flitting about the dead spaces of the trees. Her eyes followed the birds to a tree where she spotted a family of squirrels. Branches crackled as they jumped from limb to limb. Nothing out of the ordinary. A frigid breeze blew her hair back, bringing with it the smell of burnt cedar, and a hint of something else she couldn’t quite put a finger on. She shook her head, chuckling. Get yourself together Delilah. It’s dark, you’re tired—let’s go. Tightening her grip on her stroller she pressed on, albeit with a quicker pace.

  As much as she had tried to remain calm, she couldn’t help but feel she wasn’t alone. Another corner was turned and her sleek black Jeep came into view, allowing her a small measure of relief. It was covered in powder amongst a spattering of cars, but it was there.

  With renewed energy, she powered forward. A gusty wind pushed back. This time the odor it carried was unmistakably foul, and suddenly she remembered the last time she’d happened upon it.

  “You smell that?” Durant had asked her as he’d lowered a piece of cloth under her nose. It seemed like so many years ago. “You smell that, and you run. You understand me? Don’t hesitate, don’t retaliate, run.”

  Her heart careened against her chest and a fresh sheen of sweat moistened her brow as she sprinted toward her car, white-knuckling her stroller. Moments ago, it seemed so close; now every step taken in her black boots felt the equivalent of trudging through a tar pit. She was quickly getting nowhere. Her thoughts raced. Somewhere between the sounds of crackling ice beneath her feet and her own belabored breath pounding in her ears, she realized she’d experienced this before. Yes, she’d had a vision at St. Magdalene’s Hospital as she slept. She swallowed hard. The vision didn’t end so well. If her memory served her correctly, a massive creature stepped from amongst the shadows and ripped her child right out of her arms. Before she could retaliate, a sharp pain ripped through her breast. When she looked down, a horn protruded. There were no screams. Only gurgling as the warm, metallic brininess of blood filled her throat and gushed from her mouth. Luckily, Natalie the ever-vigilant nurse, woke her up, saving her from having to experience the totality of her impending doom. But this was different. This was real. Natalie wasn’t here to shoo the demons away. God help us.

  Snow began to fall—a silent, steady whirl of innocence amidst chaos. The thought of anyone or anything defiling a night such as this seemed blasphemous. The recurrent sound of popping twigs and the growing stench around her suggested otherwise. Don’t hesitate. Don’t retaliate.

  She’d reached the wood’s edge and was only a stone's throw away from the lot when she heard it. Low, guttural grumbles, so deep they rattled the ground beneath her feet. Her head was pounding now, outdone only by her heart. Sefira’s sharp screams cut the air as the growling grew closer. I can’t do this anymore. She stopped, her boots skid slightly in the snow. “No more running,” she whispered to her child, catching her breath. “Sometimes, you must stay and fight.”

  In one fell swoop, her parka, shawl, and gloves were cast into a heap on the ground. Yes, I’ve been waiting for you. Her fingers tingled with anticipation as she reached into the lower compartment of her baby stroller and grabbed her sphere. She embraced it and observed her reflection’s change. The beautiful brown eyes that gazed upon her child were gone and replaced by an azure light that burned brighter than glowing furnace embers. Delilah’s lengthy raven locks were also altered, briefly casting an ethereal glow. The sphere took on a light of its own, illuminating her transition from something that appeared human to something disparate.

  Spinning quickly on her heels, she lifted her chin, peering through the vast darkness to address her invisible adversary. The contempt in her voice was very different than the voice in her head only a few minutes ago. “I know you’re here,” she stated clearly, puffs of steam trailing every word. “What are you waiting for? Show yourself.” No answer. “Make haste,” she said to herself. “I’ve got prescriptions to fill.”

  Again, there were growls. Sounds from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. There were several adversaries—that much she could tell. What were they waiting for? And then it occurred to her. They were playing a game—hunting her for sport. We’ll see about that.

  No sooner had the thought left her mind, three massive shadows emerged from behind the trees, all from different directions. As they had their backs to the moon, she could only discern outlines, but what she could see sent cold chills down her spine.

  They stood upwards of seven feet tall, surrounded by a halo of heat radiating from their broad, heaving chests. One of the beings moved and she realized that what she’d mistaken for branches were two spired horns jutting from its skull. Still growling, they looked at one another and disappeared. Delilah’s heart stopped and suddenly the woods came alive: every creak, every snap was suspect.

  The snowfall escalated, harsher and thicker, lowering visibility; complicating her plight. They were moving; she could feel them like ghosts amongst the trees. Occasionally, slivers of revelatory light passed through the snow-covered branches and a hoofed foot or long spindly fingers were unveiled. Her instincts were correct. They matched the description of the gruesome Kredon—mutants known for their formidable hunting prowess. They were Nivea’s employ, no doubt. Until now, their existence was only rumored. She had never seen one,
much less fought three, and now they were several yards away and closing in. It was about this time that she realized her dream may have been a warning. In it, she’d lost the battle because she couldn’t see the creatures until it was too late. She needed the benefit of sight—there was only one way to achieve that.

  Having never mastered the ability to alter her mental state, she cringed at the thought of attempting to do so in battle. On the other hand, there was little room for debate. Eyes clenched, she measured her breath followed by her heartbeat, allowing her senses to take over. Sound and light suffocated and for one long moment, she feared her efforts were in vain. Right before she’d given up, everything became black as pitch in her mind’s eye except for the glowing yellow brilliance that now revealed her enemy.

  Delilah positioned the stroller behind her body with the fastidiousness of a feline, tossing the sphere into the air. It slithered around her arms like a snake charmed by its master; a crimson glow trailed its every move. It stopped above her head and divided into two long, thin Ngulu blades—executioner’s swords. She snatched the silver hilts out of the air and assumed a defensive position. Beveled handles gnawed at her palms as she twisted them over and over again, one at each side, awaiting a strike. Perhaps out of arrogance, curiosity, or maybe even fear, only one of the creatures rushed her. The other two hung back amongst the trees, as if awaiting the battle’s outcome. Whatever the case, her heart thumped, and a surge of adrenaline pumped through her veins.

  She managed to anticipate the Kredon’s first swipe and didn’t wait for the next. The wind whistled as her swords slashed furiously at something the rest of the world couldn’t see. Despite the creature’s massive stature, it was quick—rearing back and stepping away as she thrust her blades in its direction. She managed to corner it against a tree and drive a sword through the pit of its arm. The creature roared, and the tides turned. Dagger-sized claws ripped through the air, using her head as target practice. She ducked, and the creature’s entire left arm barreled straight through a tree trunk, blowing chunks of bark to the ground and leaving the tree to teeter. Her eyes widened just a little bit, seeing what could have become of her skull. Before the creature could recoil, she plunged both blades into its side, and the creature materialized. Thick, green goo oozed from its flesh as she retrieved her blades and quickly surveyed the gruesome sight before her.