Fangs of Fate (Untish #1)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

TATE

I awoke with a start; the blood-orange sunlight began to spill through the windows. Blearily, I opened my eyes and focused on the ceiling. I was lying on a stiff sofa in the waiting room of the judicial building. Blood, I tasted blood. Glancing down at my arm I could see splatters of it. My blood coated my shirt and skin. The tattoo. I yanked back my right shirt sleeve, and I could make out part of the guara insignia. Inked in silver, branded to my flesh.

I leaned over the couch and vomited.

My stomach heaved, again and again, until the floor was covered in red bile, and I could barely breathe. Enlisted. I was now a guaraman. I was a soldier to the very cause I hated. Days, I had mere days of freedom before these bastards would claim my life. I needed Fletch. I stood, not caring that I was standing in my own vomit. They could clean it up. I was done. Done with this place, done with the Glenn, and certainly done with the guara. I could run, but first I needed to say goodbye to Fletch.

It was early evening by the time I walked into the living room. Judging by its current state, Fletch still wasn’t home. I began to massage my temple—this was all just too much.

Worry began to gnaw at me. Disappearing like this was not something he did. I tried to picture him strung out somewhere, hungover, shirking his responsibilities, but that just wasn’t him. Could he be holed up with a female somewhere? Somehow, that also didn’t scream Fletch. In the years since I’ve known him and the past year when he moved in to look after me, not once had I noticed him sleeping over somewhere. Sure, there was evidence that a female friend had recently been at our home, but he never spoke of them. And he never introduced me to any of them.

“Fletch?”

Nothing. Only silence. I walked back to his room to be sure. His bed sat there, unmade just like I saw it last time. Uneasiness began to settle in. I walked over to my room and pushed open the door. I needed a shower and a change of clothes and then I’d leave. I wanted to say goodbye to Fletch. To get answers. But he wasn’t here, and I’d be damned if I spent more time than required this side of the veil. I cranked the water to its hottest setting and savored the way it heated my skin. The pain was welcoming. A balm to my anger. If only it could cleanse my soul, wipe away the guara’s mark, free my magic…

After soaking in the hot water until it went cold, I stepped out and toweled off. My usual choice of clothes included black leather pants and a black V-neck T-shirt. Today was no different. Consistency. I needed to pretend it was all normal, that I wasn’t a flight risk. I threw my blonde hair in a high ponytail and blotted on some pale purple lipstick. Not perfect by any means, but at least I was fresh. I needed to hurry, I’d wasted too much time in the shower and the longer I waited the harder it would be to sneak out of the Glenn. I chewed my bottom lip. What if I never saw Fletch again?

I walked down the hall and paused at Mom’s old door. Deep breath, Tate, one foot in front of the other. I needed to leave, but I also wanted to say one last goodbye to her. The female who raised me and died without so much as a grave marker.

Pushing open the door I stepped inside. Even with years of disuse, I could still smell her: honey lavender. I walked over to her bed and pulled her pillow on my lap, smoothing the wrinkles. Across from me hanging on the wall was Maple . She was a painting I’d made for my mother when I was ten. I’d taken a piece of an old maple tree and painted our home on it, it wasn’t good by any standard, and yet she hung it up in her room with care. She told me she wanted it close to her heart always. Tears began to prick at my eyes, I missed her so much. She would know what to do. She would understand my inner conflict, the bloodlust last night, the fire breathing—she was my haven, and she was gone.

I was all alone.

“What do I do?”

The house just creaked as the wind blew against it. I curled up in a fetal position and allowed myself to cry. Call it self-pity or pathetic, I didn’t care. I was tired, alone, and scared. Things I’d never admit to anyone and rarely myself, but here in my mother’s ghost, I could be a child and cry.

I would come back to say goodbye to Fletch. No more missing goodbyes.

Sneaking through the veil was a harder task than normal. It was heavily manned and finding the weak spots had taken an hour of surveillance. I had finally located one exit point with only six guards, four of which were new, and a large group of world-walkers were getting ready to pass through—perfect. I sauntered right through with them, pretended to scan my world-walking pass, and didn’t wait for permission. It worked. I was a little shocked, but grateful all the same.

At least one thing went right today.

My blood was boiling, and I needed to exact vengeance. Normally, I would start with the henchman and slowly work my way closer to the kingpin. But seeing as I was about to be shipped off to some blood-forsaken outpost, time wasn’t a luxury I had. If I was going to take down Gari, it had to be now. Tonight. And I was ready.

I cracked my knuckles as I squatted in my perch. It looked like six men were guarding the entrance to the warehouse—all heavily armed. From the two hours I’d spent up here, at least six other men entered the warehouse. Gari’s Escalade was parked in the driveway, he was here, he had to be. Still, visual confirmation would have been nice. I could do this. I had to, and worst case, I get shot and experience a little more pain. Even so, it wasn’t all bad as it would take longer for the guara to hunt me down and bring me back.

Perhaps I could go to the outpost and then make a run for it to another Vamp, maybe that rogue group my mother had spoken of often or possibly the Fern. Would they take me in? My stomach soured further at the thought of betraying the place my mother honored by protecting.

Laughter from below sounded as two of the larger guards popped off some beer caps and took swigs while, apparently, telling stories.

Deep breath, just think of it like a dance.

I assessed each of the henchmen, deciding the big one would be my first target. Take him down, then the large meathead with a buzz cut, and then I’d take the four skinny ones as they came. I’d have to be fast. Even with my increased speed and strength, I couldn’t outrun a bullet and if the guards inside came out before I finished, I’d be toast.

This was it.

I thought of Shae and her voluntary enlistment. I thought of my forced enlistment—of the brand now marking my skin. I thought of my mother, killed by the country she spent her life serving…

Fueled by rage, I jumped from the building and began to run right for the big bald one. I was on him before he could react. I grabbed his head and twisted it, snap! I twirled and sure enough, buzzcut was right there raising his AR-15. But I was too close for him to fire, and I used my increased speed to kick out his feet from under him before unsheathing my dagger and burying it in his chest. The next moment was a blur. All four skinny guards were shouting and rushing toward me, knives extended, guns raised.

I grabbed the first one’s forearm and turned his own knife on him, stabbing his artery. The next one, I snapped his arm and threw him against the wall. A hand landed on my shoulder, and I whirled. Pain erupted in my side. No time to look down to confirm what I already knew to be true; I was bleeding. I grabbed the arm and yanked, it went flying and blood began to spray as the man clenched his stump trying to stop the bleeding. I yanked the dagger out of its sheath and swiped it across the last guard’s throat. Sloppy, this had all been sloppy. They never should have been able to land a strike on me, not with my speed.

I cursed myself for not spending more time sparring when I had the chance. No time to reconsider. Shouts from inside came and I ran through the door before they could come to me. Three men, all in black, running at me. One open fired. I jumped and dodged the bullets, barely making it to the side before the first guard pulled out a razor.

No, I would not get stabbed again.

I landed a foot to his well-built side and struck before he could react. His body crumpled. The next guard, a male with unusual auburn hair, threw a punch. I ducked but couldn’t evade his follow swipe as he caught my left shoulder. I flew backwards and impacted the wall. There was no way he should have that much strength. Something was not right.

I struggled to my feet, blood oozing from my side. He ran at me, blade extended, and he swiped at my head. I ducked and pivoted before burying my blade in his chest. He gasped, clearly surprised, before dropping to his knees. Two down, one to go. I yanked the dagger free and turned on the third guard who was raising his gun from fifty feet away. I lunged.

The fallen guard behind me grunted. I heard the shot before I felt the bullet impact my shoulder. I was thrown forward as red bloomed just below my right clavicle. The floor came closer and closer until I made impact with it.

Pain erupted everywhere.

A bullet should not hurt this much. I’d been shot before, it was painful, but this stung. Poison? I turned my head and saw the guard I’d stabbed stalking toward me. Dark gold blood interlaced with cherry red blood was dripping down his chest from where my blade had been. He wasn’t human. How had I missed that? He smiled at me as he planted his foot on my chest and pressed.

“What do we have here?” He raised the butt of his assault rifle and then slammed it down on my skull.