Heir Of Doom Read online

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I know none of this is your fault, but it doesn't negate the fact that you keep surfacing at inconvenient times and I have to put things aside for you.”

  “I didn't ask you to put anything aside for me,” I said with annoyance.

  Diggy nodded once. “But I keep getting dragged into the mess anyway. Vincent botched the operation in Vegas because of you. I had to get involved in Logan's plan because Rafael sniffed a trap. And now I'm stuck at base because you need a mentor. And you're being difficult… And you were at my apartment, peeping.”

  “I was not!” I burst out, mortification warming my cheeks. “And Rafael is a nosy asshole with a chip up his ass. It was not my fault Logan kept the truth from you guys. And I certainly didn't ask for Vincent to botch your plans of grandeur!”

  Diggy angled his head sideways. “I know that. As I said, you kept surfacing at inconvenient times. I don't have anything against you, Roxanne. I just rather be somewhere else, doing something else.”

  I studied his face, not sensing any malice or anger. Suspicion started nagging at me. “Were you the one supposed to go down south instead of Vincent?” I recalled that Vincent had been in a bad mood the week before he left because Roland had refused to let him lead the case.

  “No. But I was supposed to have gone down with him. Only a handful of preternaturals know I work for the Hunters, so there's less of a chance I'd have been recognized. I was supposed to be the mole while Vincent worked on other angles.”

  “So why not assign someone else to take up my training? I know most of the members would relish the idea of beating the crap out of me.”

  “Because Vincent and I are the only two Dhiultadh in the group,” he replied simply.

  An unwelcome kernel of guilt started taking root inside me. What if something happened to Vincent because he was working this case alone?

  “What if he's recognized?”

  “He's using a spelled charm to look different.”

  “But—”

  “It's an excellent spell. Exceptionally hard to detect.”

  I nodded, but the uneasy feeling didn't go away. An awkward silence fell then, and I had no idea what to say.

  Diggy gave a resigned sigh. “Look, I know it's not your fault and that I've been harsh with you,” Uncomfortable, he trailed off.

  I waited a moment, then took pity, recognizing how hard it was for him to admit he was in the wrong. “How about a truce?” I asked, offering a tentative smile.

  In the end we resumed our training, Diggy relentless with his instructions, no traces of the apologetic, flustered man from my living room. If he held back on the strength of his punches or kicks, neither of us mentioned it.

  Chapter Eight

  January came and went without any sign of Vincent. I had long since started learning to defend myself, to block attacks, to break holds, to punch or kick in the right places to cause maximum damage: acute pain, bone breaking, internal hemorrhaging, death. I improved defense on my left side, which Diggy kept pointing out was my weak spot, and learned to punch with the left as good as the right.

  I listened to every word he said, taking his clipped and rare advice to heart, wanting nothing more than to step up my next level of training, the one where I'd explore my preternatural abilities. This time my mentor would be Natalia, the witch who had known my father. I had yet to meet her, but it wasn't the possibility of another instant enemy that made my heart beat faster at the approaching day. No, it was the alien excitement I felt deep within, of the knowledge that my Unseelie was finally going to come out to play. It was that excitement, coupled with the knowledge that I could never let the monster within me gain the upper hand, that squeezed my heart with the urgent need to run and never look back.

  By the end of that first month, Mwara was so far from my thoughts that I'd completely forgotten about her. True, my training in real time took less than twenty minutes, but the long hours in the Low Lands were as real as the bruises and abrasions I brought home. Not to forget that it took me the rest of the morning soaking and bandaging wounds, then sleeping most afternoons, an unconscious restorative dream-like state that took me so deep under, I slept through Vicky's dinner preparations a few times.

  Aside from her two-week vacation out west, I saw her most nights, except for those times when she had a date. She'd begun to realize life as a preternatural wasn't all candy and chocolate, having sometimes come early enough to see my deeper wounds not yet healed. Although we'd never talked about it, I knew she was excited about the knowledge of preternatural existence, the ability to heal, the strengths and near immortality, having sometimes sensed the vague envy she felt when talking about my job, my life, even if that envy was always followed by a heavy dose of guilt. Now that she was seeing one of the nastier sides with her own two eyes, she was beginning to understand that being extraordinary wasn't all roses and fun. At least, that's what I thought the worry I occasionally sensed meant.

  I was wrong.

  * * *

  It was early February; the temperatures had dropped considerably both in the real world and in the Low Lands, and of Vincent there was no word.

  Diggy and I had paused for water and an apple, the latter earning me a scowl. I bit into the sweet fruit, shifting from foot to foot, trying to retain some warmth from our training. Beside me, Diggy stood motionless, munching on his energy bar, his eyes scanning the edge of the dead forest ahead. Ever since that day he'd left me behind, we'd trained in this same spot, the foot of a sloping mountain full of giant dead trees. Diggy said the mountain was the highest point in the land, and at the top time ran in a different, chaotic manner. People usually steered clear of that part of the land, afraid to lose days in mere seconds, or of getting trapped in a slow-running loop where years could go by before one finished taking a single step. Sounded scary like hell, but it seemed like Diggy knew enough about the Low Lands to avoid these “pockets of chaotic time”.

  I studied the black edge of the forest, or what I could see from Diggy's circle of illumination. Did it used to have a name before, once this land had been green? A million years ago? A billion? While I contemplated the possibility, I stuffed the apple core in a pocket and extracted one of two Snickers I'd brought along, earning another scowl. I flashed him an innocent look and bit into peanut and chocolate and caramel. Although I'd learned to block most of his attacks and started hitting back, forcing him to maneuver and work harder to hit me, he still beat the stars out of me every session. I guess it was easier to teach someone the art of hand-to-hand when one enjoyed giving a thorough beating as an effective stress reliever. Still, ever since our heart-to-heart in my living room, I'd begun to see a friendly side to him, even if he tried like hell to hide it.

  Less than half an hour ago, I landed a kick so effective he skidded a few inches on the hard ground. I had cheered at his grimace, and even if he'd scowled at my glee-filled laughter, his eyes had glinted with amusement.

  I returned my attention back to the empty land; like always, we were alone. It was quiet, as usual, our breathing the only sound. It was so strange to be in one place and not hear or smell anything but the person next to you. Whatever happened here, I wondered for the millionth time. If I lowered my nose close enough to the ground – something that, sadly, happened all too often – I could smell the faint scent of dry earth, a whiff of dust. But aside from that, there was nothing else. No breeze, no humidity, no buzzing of insects or scurrying animals. The land was dead, utterly and completely so. It was a chilling, creepy sensation, but Diggy seemed comfortable here, more so than he did back in base – his posture and demeanor relaxed.

  It made me wonder what kind of man he was, aside from an aloof, ruthless, brutally honest, and no non-sense merciless instructor. I shifted my gaze to his green aura and puzzled over it. He gave me a sideways glance, brow rising in question.

  “How come Vincent is second in command and not you?” I asked, because if I got it right, Diggy had bee
n a Hunter longer than Vincent had been alive.

  “You think He isn't worthy of his position?”

  “I didn't say that. I'm just curious about how it happened. I mean, you've been a Hunter for a long time, longer than Vincent. I don't think you're weaker than him, and you obviously have plenty of experience with the job.”

  Diggy grunted, looked away. “I used to be an undercover agent. When my cover was blown a couple years back, Vincent was already second to Roland. He offered to step down, I suppose as respect for an elder, but he didn't get up there because he's a sweet talker or because of his good looks. If he holds second in command, it's because he earned it the hard way.”

  That actually made sense. “I'd like to learn how to fight with a weapon,” I said next, recalling the day I'd spied on him training in his quarters.

  Diggy raised a brow, looked away. “No.”

  “No?” I huffed with disbelief. “Not 'I'll think about it', or' I'll see what I can do' or maybe a dubious 'maybe'? Just plain 'no'?”

  Diggy shrugged a massive shoulder. “No need for delusion. You want to learn to use weapons, you take that up with Roland. Maybe he'll assign you someone else. If you have a problem with my technique, also take it up with Roland. Maybe he'll relieve me of my duties.”

  A hopeful tone escaped his voice and I stiffened.

  Diggy glanced at me, saw my rigid posture, sighed once and added, “My job is to see that you can defend yourself when there's nothing,” he motioned at the barren land, “but your wits and body to do it with.”

  “Yeah, well maybe I will strip down and distract my opponent to death,” I said sarcastically.

  Diggy gave me a considering look, his eyes cold. “That will only get you killed faster. Maybe raped during the process.”

  Unbidden, an image of Dr. Dean's face came to mind, a letter opener sticking from his cheek, his face red with rage and pain. I lowered my head and bit off a chunk of protein and chocolate, not wanting Diggy to see the quick flash of memory in my eyes before I could mask it. When I glanced up, Diggy was studying me with an unreadable expression. Had he seen?

  “How come your aura is green like a were's?”

  “Hmmm.” He watched me for a moment more before turning away. “How come you're asking me that?”

  Brows furrowing, I played back the question, said nothing more.

  “It's innate, an inherent trait we're born with, to recognize what's within,” he said, his focus somewhere in the distance.

  But if Vincent hadn't told me you were a Dhiultadh from the other line, I'd have never guessed otherwise. “I guess sometimes though there's more to it, huh?” I said instead, fishing.

  When his eyes met mine again, I shrugged, suddenly unsure under his scrutiny. “I mean, like when Vincent's aura just turns simple blue and no one can tell the difference. Like you're disguising your aura right now to make it look like you're an ordinary were.”

  Diggy frowned, chewing slowly on the power bar as if I hadn't said anything. “I guess it's not inherent with you,” he muttered a moment later. It wasn't meant to insult, I told myself, trying to shrug the sting. “Hasn't Vincent explained things to you?”

  “The subject never popped up,” I replied honestly.

  Diggy's lips pressed together, expression irritated.

  “I'll ask him when he returns,” I added, dismissing the subject so he wouldn't feel obliged.

  Diggy turned to face me. “Some of us disguise our auras to make it harder for people to sense what we are.”

  I nodded. I had figured that out for myself.

  “Not every green aura you see is a were, just as not every blue aura you see makes that person human. You, of all people, should know that.”

  I flushed with embarrassment and lowered my head. It was a jab at my mixed-breed status. Or, maybe he didn't know this was how my aura appeared at all times. Maybe he thought I was disguising it, like the way he and Vincent did theirs.

  Diggy sighed, the sound long-suffering. “The rejected, no matter the line, can still read auras and see through the disguise. Apparently though, you can't. Which is something Vincent shouldn't have missed, should have known and addressed sooner.”

  “Because there's one other human hybrid,” I guessed.

  Apparently I guessed right, because Diggy's eyes narrowed at that. “Who told you about that?”

  Cool, a secret I shouldn't have known. Score one for me. I shrugged. “I heard it mentioned once.”

  Diggy looked down at his half-eaten bar, his expression pensive. “Have you met this human hybrid before?” He shifted to look at me, searching for the truth even before I replied.

  “I don't think so,” I said with a frown. “Unless he or she is a Hunter member.” Silence fell then, and I finished my candy, stuffed the wrapper in my pocket, crouched and started picking off small sharp rocks stuck to my clothes, embedded on my legs and knees.

  Diggy stuffed the wrapper of his candy in his pocket and ripped open a second one. When he spoke again, he didn't look at me.

  “There are very few people out there who can both see and read auras. But a lot of people, like weres, oracles and even shifters, can get a general sense of someone's true nature by the vibes they leave behind or by their smell.”

  Again I nodded. Logan had once told me he trusted his senses more.

  “We Dhiultadh inherited this ability through our fee blood. No matter which line we hail from, we can sense whatever is hidden underneath the aura, even when disguised. Some people use charmed bracelets to see auras, but they don't know how to interpret it. Some people take lessons to learn to read others by the way they move and react, the way they smell.” He crouched, and I was thankful I didn't have to crane my neck to look up.

  “Like pheromones of strong emotions,” I said, “I can tell what a person is feeling even if they have no expression – provided it's strong enough, I mean.” Usually I avoided the topic but, damn it, I wanted to know. If the price of learning was letting Diggy in on this secret, then maybe I should pay it.

  Diggy paused for a second, a hesitation I wasn't supposed to see. “You can sense that?”

  “Can't you?” I countered. Maybe this was a trait only the rejected from my line possessed. Maybe the other human hybrid was so weak, even this trait was beyond him or her.

  “That's called empathy. It isn't reading auras per se, but I suppose one can attach it as a subtext.”

  I nodded, aware he hadn't answered my question. “I can sense the animals from the aura, if that person is a were. The element he can control, if the person is a mage. Sometimes I get a general feeling, sometimes I can pinpoint it. With you, I can sense there's an animal. But you're not a were, which is what I would have pegged you for if Vincent hadn't told me about you.”

  Diggy nodded once. “That's the intent. The Dhiultadh, from both sides, like to stay anonymous, even among the predators. What else can you sense?” he asked, fully interested now.

  “I can tell magic wielders from humans. I can see a vampire without the glamor.” I gestured with an open palm before my face when he stared blankly. “You know, this corpse-like thing. And there was this once, with Rafael – before I knew what he was – I could sense the jungle in him.”

  Diggy looked down, thoughtful. “You can sense all that, yet you can't tell when an aura is being disguised?” he asked, baffled.

  “Your aura confounds me. And Vincent's. If I hadn't seen it shine that silvery blue the first time, I'd never have been able to tell he wasn't human.”

  He nodded again. “Ok, I suppose Vincent and I are different. His is not a normal animal, and you can't sense mine because I can shift into more than one. Now, for the colors… Vincent's aura, when disguised, becomes blue because of Madoc. But there isn't any of Madoc's blood in my line, though a variety of others. Because of our diversity and willingness for interspecies breeding, our aura, when disguised, feels and looks like that of a were, sometimes even a shifter, depending on how many alternative forms
that person can take.”

  I mulled over his words, recalling that Elizabeth had told me that Madoc, the first ruler of the Unseelie Sidhe, had a bluish complexion. He'd fallen for Verenastra, the daughter of the Seelie Queen, and produced an offspring, Oonag. My line of rejected started with her, who had mated Finvara – also an Unseelie fee.

  On the other hand, after Verenastra fled the Sidhe land to protect herself and her daughter from the Seelie queen, she mated Elvilachious, a being from the Tristan star. Diggy's line came from this bond. Both lines were Sidhe rejected, though each carried a different title. Mine was the Unseelie Dhiultadh Clan, and Diggy's the Seelie Dhiultadh Clan. Aside from the title, the biggest difference between the two clans was the capability to reproduce. While Diggy's clan mated and bred outside their clan and had no trouble reproducing, my clan forbade interspecies marriages , afraid to dilute their fee blood, and so developed the Sidhe difficulty to conceive.

  I'd learned from one of Vincent's lectures that the Unseelie Dhiultadh felt superior to Diggy's line because Diggy's line had diluted their fee heritage. Which, according to Vincent, wasn't true since fee genes were very dominant and strong. It was this reasoning that made Vincent confident that if I could shift hands into talons, then I'd one day be able to fully shift into my beast form, the Dracha.

  In silence, Diggy finished the rest of his power bar, crumbled the wrapper and stuffed it with the other. He glanced at me, his expression still thoughtful, and finally got up.

  I got up too, assuming conversation time was over. Honestly, I was surprised he'd talked that much.

  Diggy motioned me back. “Watch this.” His aura suddenly shimmered, acquiring a silvery shine to the previous forest green.

  “Wow,” I said, awed. The color shone like – like a beautiful, metallic forest green , a vibrant color filled with power. It flashed again and returned to plain green, and although the green was still vivid, it somehow seemed dull without the silvery sheen. He retreated a few steps. “Keep watching and let me know when you can no longer see it.”