Heir of Ashes (The Roxanne Fosch Files #1)

Chapter 26

I didn’t let disbelief cost me my one chance to escape. I rushed at the door, talons extended, reaching for the boiling rage inside me that I had kept suppressed, always afraid to acknowledge it.

My fury was a searing, boiling red—a monster with tentacles, wrapping barbed limbs around my neck, arms, legs, and eyes. I let all my rage out, holding nothing back.

The door began to open. Just a crack. Shoving the barrel of the tranquilizer gun aside with one hand, I pushed the door open and jumped the guard, slashing his face with my talons. Four gashes on his cheek instantly began weeping blood. The next second, my talons shredded his shoulder, tearing through his clothes like paper. He grunted, stumbled back, and let go of the gun, which I deftly slung around my neck. I pushed through the door, spun the guard around, and took cover behind his body. Three thumps hit him almost simultaneously. The guard went limp, but I held him upright effortlessly. Ahead, someone swore. Running footsteps approached, accompanied by heavy breathing and the scent of dust, sweat, and fear.

I laughed, long and hard, the sound alien even to my own ears. I was pumped full of adrenaline, engorged in the ruthlessness of ten years of suppressed anger. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, my conscience screamed at me, but I didn’t care. I wanted to kill and dismember every single person who had dared to imprison me. I wanted to continue tearing into the guard, to bathe in his blood. But I needed him for now. I pressed a talon over the pulse point in his neck, careful not to give the other guards any opening at me.

“Get back,” I called, my voice unnervingly cheerful.

“Miss Fosch, you don’t need to do this,” one of the guards called back.

I chuckled, the sound harsh. “I said move away.” I flexed my talon for emphasis, breaking the skin.

There were muttered curses, but they complied.

“You shouldn’t have pissed me off,” I crooned.

“Miss Fosch, that was never our intention,” the same guard said tactfully.

I snorted, letting a drop of blood well up under my talon.

“Miss, you don’t want to do this,” another guard said in a harder tone.

“Really? And how the hell do you know what I want?”

More footsteps approached. “Tell me where my friends are,” I demanded, but only silence and heavy breathing answered me. I could almost see the guards eyeing each other, communicating silently.

Maybe they needed some incentive to cooperate. “I’ll count to three,” I said. “One.”

“Miss Fosch, there’s no need for this. Let the guard go and we’ll talk,” the same guard insisted.

“Roxy, don’t do this,” a familiar voice called, one I thought—hoped—I’d never hear again. “We’ll work this out. If you let him go now, I promise we’ll find something that works for both of us.”

“Dr. Maxwell,” I said flatly. “I wondered when you’d join us. What took you so long?”

“I was a little busy. But I’m free now. What can I do for you? Why don’t you let the guard go so we can talk? We’ll go to your previous suite and close the door behind us. Just you and me. No guards.”

“How brave of you,” I mocked. “And if I promise to behave, will you bring me chocolate and cookies too?”

“Of course. Anything you want.”

“And will experiment days be only once a week?”

“We’ll work something out,” he soothed.

My sarcasm seemed to bounce right off him. “How nice of you. And over the next fifty-seven months, you’ll be such a warm friend, visiting me and sneaking me magazines and junk food—”

“Yes, of course, anything—”

“And,” I raised my voice in fury, “turn a blind eye when I get unexpected, excited visitors in the middle of the night?”

A shocked silence followed as the meaning of my words sank in. I laughed, a bitter, hysterical sound.

“Come on, Dr. Maxwell, don’t act so shocked. You were aware of Dr. Dean’s nightly escapades. You just weren’t man enough to confront him and risk losing your precious job.” Inside, I was horrified by the open revelation.

“Where is he now? Dr. Dean?” the guard asked, recovering quickly.

“Ah, well, aren’t we the concerned employee? I’m afraid Dr. Dean’s meeting with Remo Drammen didn’t go as planned.”

“He was heading the operation to rescue you—”

I scoffed. “Kidnap, you mean.”

The guard continued, “All the guards who accompanied him were killed in the process. Dr. Dean never returned. His body was never found. Did you kill him?”

“And you’ll never find him. He got what he deserved. Did you know he was in league with Remo Drammen? You know about him, Dr. Maxwell. I’ve heard you talk about him before. The black sorcerer? Yes? Dr. Dean made a bargain with him. He got to have that old man you had locked up in exchange for me. Except he broke a rule by taking me to the Low Lands without permission. Did you know that, Dr. Maxwell? Traveling through the paths without permission warrants the death penalty?”

My comments were met with a thick, heavy silence.

“Did you kill him?” Dr. Maxwell finally asked.

“I didn’t have to. He broke a rule by taking me to the Low Lands without permission.”

“You’re saying that Remo Drammen killed him?”

“No,” I replied coldly. “I’m saying Dr. Dean broke a rule of the other worlds when he dragged me—unauthorized—to the Low Lands. But what do you know? I might not be telling the truth. I might just have gone mad, and this whole thing could be a figment of my imagination.”

“This Low Lands, where is it?” he asked, still in that soothing tone.

I rolled my eyes. He was clearly stalling. I wasn’t letting go of the guard. And their time was running out. “Time’s up. I want you to send someone to fetch my friends. I’ll count to three, and I’ll start killing each one of your guards every time you delay. One.”

“Roxy! We can work this out!”

“Two.”

“Miss Fosch, three seconds isn’t enough time.”

“Three,” I finished, retracting my talon from the guard’s pulse to adjust my hold on him. Then I raised the tranquilizer gun I’d slung around my neck and began firing blindly at the guards. Clearly, they had forgotten I had it. A few darts hit their mark, followed by startled grunts and the heavier thuds of bodies hitting the floor. Chaos erupted as everyone else tried to dodge the darts. There were muttered curses and name-calling, but all I focused on was the bloodlust urging me on. My raging otherness wanted every single one of these guards dead—agonizingly so.

I risked a peek from behind the slumped guard I held and, sure enough, the corridor ahead was empty, save for four unconscious bodies. I made my way forward, pausing to snatch up another gun from beside a fallen guard. I let out a vicious snarl at the sound of heavy breathing coming from the remaining guards hiding to the left—the side of the elevators. They were blocking my escape route.

“Unlock the elevator and move to the other side. Take cover inside the emergency stairs.” No one moved.

My talon made a deep cut on the guard’s neck, and blood began to trickle down.

“Crazy bitch,” someone spat venomously.

“Do as she says,” Dr. Maxwell urged from his position on the right side.

Footsteps shuffled ahead and to the right, heading towards the emergency stairs.

The elevator door dinged and, protected in front by my human shield and behind by the wall, I waited. The alarms began blasting as soon as the heavy door to the emergency stairs opened. The blaring claxons felt like spiked lances piercing into my brain. I clenched my jaw tightly. Only when the last guard left, the emergency door thudding close behind him, did I move toward the open elevator.

I made it as far as the lobby downstairs before another group of guards intercepted me. Johnson, the head of security, addressed me next.

“Ms. Fosch, please release the guard you’re holding hostage and surrender,” he said calmly. “This building is secure. You are only making things worse for yourself and your friends.”

I raised the gun and fired blindly—left to right, right to left—until the gun clicked empty. I snarled in frustration.

“Ms. Fosch, this is your last chance. Will you surrender?” Johnson asked, unimpressed.

I hurled the empty tranquilizer gun in the direction of his voice. In response, I felt the impact of a bullet on the slumped guard I was holding even before I registered the discharge. I chuckled darkly. My humor was short-lived as I realized the unconscious body I was using as my shield had stopped breathing. They killed him, one of their own. To what end? There were no limits to what they were willing to do.

Roaring in outrage, I dove deeper into that seething, untamed thing inside me and charged ahead, a whirlwind of fury, talons, and teeth. I reached the first guard to my right and ripped into his throat with my talons before he realized what was happening. I threw the body of my dead shield at the one beside him, unbalancing him with the unexpected weight, and kicked his head into an awkward angle the moment it was level with my foot. I was reaching for the third guard, hiding behind a riot shield, when the first dart hit me. I had enough time to pull him upright, spin him around, and slash his throat before the numbing pull of the tranquilizer dragged me under. As the ground rushed up to meet me, I wished someone would end my misery and just kill me.

***

I woke in a cage, one I knew all too well. As I’d once told Logan, I was familiar with every inch of the PSS headquarters—the parts that prisoners were allowed to see.

I was in Building C, the fourth level, first room on the right. The bars of my cage hummed with a magnetic field. It would jolt and burn me if I touched it. I looked around at the sterile, empty lab. I was alone and would probably stay alone for a while. Even if someone unlocked the door, I wouldn’t be able to reach them.

I didn’t regret trying to escape or hurting the guards. It didn’t even surprise me that they had killed one of their own to prevent me from using him as a shield, to remove the obstacle between us. What bothered me was the thrill I’d felt when I relinquished control. The knowledge of what I could do, the power and strength I could command was heady, even now, with the headache spiking inside my skull some three or four hours later.

Was this why Logan emptied himself before a kill? To avoid succumbing to the thrill? What was happening to him? What were they doing? How was he reacting? How severe was his injury? Were they torturing him? Or did the fact that werewolves were common guests in the PSS lessen their curiosity about him? Or would his status as a free guest give them the liberty to pursue whatever dreadful things they couldn’t do to a willing volunteer?

The door of the lab opened with a hiss and a swoosh. I was sitting in the middle of the cage, my back to the door, chin resting on my knees. I didn’t turn around to see who had come in. I heard two pairs of footsteps, one lighter than the other. One stopped by the door—no doubt a guard—while the other approached the cage.

“Miss Fosch,” the closest man said, his voice a rich, deep rumble.

I didn’t acknowledge him.

“Miss Fosch,” he repeated. “My name is Roland Mackenzie. This is my second, Vincent Vagner.”

Childishly, I had the urge to stick my fingers into my ears. Instead, I just sat there and ignored them. The names rang a bell, but I couldn’t place them. They were probably important scientists I’d had the displeasure of meeting before.

“Miss Fosch, we have a proposition for you. Will you please turn around?”

“My answer is no to both,” I said, not bothering to raise my head.

“Miss Fosch,” he began again.

“I said no,” I snapped without any heat. “I’m not interested in cooperating with anything you have to offer. I am not, and will not, help you exploit me or my differences, no matter how you dress it up. And if you force a situation where I either comply or die, rest assured, I won’t further your cause. Now go away.”

Heavy silence followed my words. I knew I sounded tired, but my voice held enough conviction and determination to be clear.

“You’d throw your life away?” he asked, his voice quiet.

I wouldn’t. Not without a fight. I would take as many as I could with me.

“No,” I said, “but since you can’t coax any reaction from me while I’m unconscious or under an obedience spell, you’ll have to approach me.” I got up and turned to face him. “And when you do, I’ll take you down and as many as I can with me. If you tranquilize me, there will be a next time, and a next, and a next.” I extended my talons for show—knowing he could see the useless bracelet—and examined it from front to back before meeting his eyes again. “One day, you’ll either run out of men, or someone will have enough and just shoot me, but I won’t let you get any satisfying results to write down and discuss with a bunch of young scientists who think they are superior just because they have a high IQ.”

The man I faced studied me curiously. I had the impression that my response had pleased him. Dressed in a dark business suit, he struck the figure of an imposing, successful businessman. Oddly, he wore no lab coat. Maybe he was higher up the chain—a supervisor, or maybe a donor—one of those who wanted to ensure they were getting their money’s worth. He had some gray mixed into his dark, short hair and a trimmed, thin mustache that framed a strong jawline. His dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, assessed me with a piercing gaze. His posture was rigid and alert. He seemed familiar, but I was sure I had never met him before.

My attention shifted to the man by the door, and I recognized him instantly. Except that now his aura was plain blue, as ordinary as that of a human, where once it had a silvery sheen to it. His eyes studied the tear and blood on my right knee, then he looked up and met my gaze.

I braced myself for the yellow flash, but nothing happened. His expression was guarded and neutral, betraying no sign of recognition. His steady regard tugged at a vague memory in my mind. A sudden vision of a cold desert night and the steady drum of a heartbeat filled my head. A bolt of shock zinged through me as I realized I’d seen this man not only with a different aura but also in an alternative form.

Another piece of the mysterious puzzle of my life fell into place. Vincent was the person General Parkinson had mentioned. He was the one who helped me in Vegas … the reason Remo Drammen had left me alone in the penthouse. Did Logan know? Had they teamed up to rescue me? One distracted, the other extracted? And oh, I just remembered why the names seemed familiar. Surprise, surprise—weren’t Roland and Vince two of the names Logan and Rafael had mentioned when I was eavesdropping from the bathroom?

“I know you. I saw you in Vegas.” My gaze shifted back to the older man, and he nodded affirmatively. His aura was blue, but considering his companion’s aura had been different the last time I saw him, that didn’t mean much.

I looked back to the younger man—Vincent Vagner—and wondered if Roland was ordinary? And if so, did he know that his second wasn’t?

“Miss Fosch, may I call you Roxanne?” Roland asked.

I looked at him and waited.

“Very well. Let us start from the beginning. My name is Roland Mackenzie, and this is my second, Vincent Vagner. I am in charge of an elite group called the Hunters. We are a small but efficient team dedicated to ensuring that those with extraordinary abilities adhere to the law and prevent them from abusing their powers against ordinary humans. We have a permanent base in Manhattan but respond to unusual occurrences across the United States.” He laced his hands behind his back. “In simpler terms, Miss Fosch, we are the law enforcement for the preternatural community.”

A thought flashed through my mind. Was he here to supervise my punishment for all the damage, the bodies, the laws I had broken?

“That’s great,” I said flatly. “Now, tell me what you want and get it over with.”

Amusement flashed in his eyes. “I have been following recent events and am interested in recruiting you as a new member of my team.”

Wait, what? Caught off guard, I replayed his words in my mind to make sure I understood them correctly. Events? What events? Recruit me? Since when? I studied him for any signs of humor. Surely this was a joke. If he was the equivalent of the police in the preternatural community, he should know I was a criminal.

“Let me see if I got this straight. You want me to join a group that polices preternaturals?”

“Indeed.”

Still no humor.

I turned to Vincent. “That’s what you do?”

His reply was a mere nod. His black eyes remained fixed on mine.

I looked back at Roland. “And who polices ordinary humans when they abuse preternaturals?” I asked, catching him off guard this time.

“If we receive a complaint about ordinary humans abusing someone in a situation where regular law enforcement is unable to act, then yes, we intervene. However, I’ll be honest with you; in all my years, we have never encountered a situation where a preternatural, whether beta or omega, was unable to defend themselves against an ordinary human.”

I was one, I thought to myself. But I nodded, approving of his honesty. “So, you want me to join a group that polices illegal preternatural activity in the United States?”

“And sometimes abroad.”

“And if I agree, you’ll get me out of here?” With all the strings attached?

“Yes, exactly.”

“So what? I just say yes, and abracadabra, I’m free?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Essentially,” I repeated. I looked from Roland to Vincent and back again. “What’s the catch?”

“There is none.”

“Well then, open the cage and let’s go,” I said, but neither of them moved.

“This is not a decision to be made lightly, Miss Fosch. I will be honest and tell you upfront, it will not be an easy job. It’s grueling work, like living in an Oscar-winning horror film. It’s waking up in the middle of the night to stop a werewolf on a rampage, hunting down a vampire serial killer, stopping a cult of mages from practicing human sacrifices, and breaking up deadly fights between multiple factions.” He regarded me. “Depending on how you look at it, staying here might even be the better option for you. You will be targeted in every single operation, and sometimes your job title alone will be reason enough for some to come after you.”

“But why me? Why not Rafael, or Logan, or even Archer?” I looked at Vincent when I mentioned the latter. “They already know what to do. Me, I can barely keep myself afloat.”

“You’re a tool,” Roland said unapologetically, “one that has never been put to use. When a tool is sharpened enough, honed to a point, it can be used for almost anything. It outperforms any other in the box. I want you because, frankly, you’re a novice. Any preternatural your age is already a matured alpha in the jungle. Your inexperience gives me the advantage of shaping you exactly how I need you to be. You have no loyalty to any faction, no family to come before your job, no attachments whatsoever. This makes you the perfect candidate for my team.”

For a long time while I contemplated they made no comments or pressed me with suggestions. I wondered what the PSS thought about them. If they had any say, I would never be joining their team. Had Roland already dealt with them, leaving them no choice? Or was Roland unaware of the conditions under which I was being held?

I pursed my lips, frowning at him. “What makes you think the Scientists will let me go?” Because I was looking at Vincent when I posed my question, I caught the feral gleam that entered his eyes. I had a feeling he was anticipating their protest.

“I can override any of their orders. The Hunters is a highly regarded government group. Without us, the power balance would have tipped long ago, and not in their favor.” He inclined his head and added, “If you agree, I can get you out of here in no time at all.”

“So, I give up the prisoner routine for the puppet one?” I asked, thinking about Remo Drammen. “What’s in it for me?”

“Besides your freedom?” he asked, his tone suggesting that should be reward enough. “It’s a job contract. Some days you will be on call. Others you’ll work for eight hours straight, sometimes riding a desk, sometimes in the field. We’ll provide accommodations, transportation, cover your bills, a legal ID, and pay you a monthly salary.”

I raised my eyebrows. “All that?”

“All I want is your commitment to join my team, undergo the appropriate training, and serve to your best ability once your training is completed.”

I was silent for a long moment. “Sir, I don’t think you know who or what I am. Why don’t you ask a guard for a report on my activities for the past twenty-four hours?” There was no point in raising my hopes, only to have them smashed again.

Roland regarded me with his steady gaze. “Miss Fosch, I’m willing to consider your past actions as the desperate measures of someone struggling to survive. I do not condone the mistreatment of children, whether ordinary or otherwise, and I want you to understand from the outset that I do not tolerate such behavior.”

My gaze flickered to Vincent. Did he share Roland’s perspective? If he did, he either hadn’t known about me or had been powerless to do anything about it. I doubted the latter. He either hadn’t known, or he didn’t care.

“There is a catch,” I muttered. No good deed had ever happened to me without strings attached.

“No catch,” Roland reassured.

“What are the terms?”

“Mainly that you do your best in the job. The rest are just formalities.”

“And I walk out of here? Free? No one hunting me, no more hiding?”

“The moment you agree, you are one of mine.”

I thought about it. I’d get a job, a place to stay, transportation, and most important of all, my freedom. What else could one ask for? “How long will I have to serve? A lifetime?”

“Nothing so dramatic. This first contract is for twenty years. After that, you can either choose to renew or walk away.”

Almost as long as I’d been alive. “Five. Five years, and after that, the contract is open for negotiation.”

“Twenty years of your life is just a blink in the grand scheme of things.”

“Five or nothing,” I said. “The PSS only has a claim on me for a few more years. I have less than five years to endure before I can walk free and do as I please.” Surprise flickered on his face. He didn’t know I knew about that. I continued, “I’m willing to exchange the PSS’s shackles for yours, but the timeframe will be the same. If I find that I have an affinity for the job, we can renegotiate after the initial five years.”

Roland gave me a look I could only call calculating. “Very well, five years and the contract is open for negotiation.”

“I’m not done. I want Logan, Archer, and Rafael to walk out with me.”

His lips thinned into a straight line, and a crease appeared between his brows.

Had I gone too far? The truth was, I would have signed a contract for twenty years for the benefits he mentioned, and bargaining for Rafael and Archer was not a priority. But Logan would keep coming back for them and would keep getting caught no matter how many times he got bailed out.

Roland turned to Vincent, and a silent conversation took place between them. Then he shook his head and looked at me with an unreadable expression. “I’m afraid that’s not within my power. They have broken the law.”

“So have I,” I said before I could think better of it. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. “Sir, this will only require a couple more signatures on your end.”

He considered me thoughtfully. “Do you have any idea how many strings I’ll have to pull, how many rungs I’ll have to climb?”

“No, but I know you can do it.”

He took a few measured steps closer, his hands clasped behind his back, his dark gaze boring into mine. “What are you willing to exchange for my trouble?”

An image of Lee flashed in my mind. My heart skipped a beat before I reminded myself that this situation was different. “What do you have in mind?”

“Fifteen years. Five for each of them.”

I narrowed my eyes. Had he been counting on this? Maybe I could leave Rafael and Archer behind. After all, I owed them nothing. “Five—for all three.”

“Done,” he readily agreed, flashing me a genuine smile. “Welcome to my team, Miss Fosch.”

And just like that, I was no longer a captive.

“You can read the contract now. Vincent will answer any questions you have while I go file a petition to secure your release.” He spoke as though he was arranging my bail. In a way, he was doing exactly that. At the door, he paused beside Vincent and said, “Vincent will oversee your training. I believe once he’s done, you’ll be among my best.”

He left after that, and no sooner had he gone than the humming of the bars on my cell ceased. I eyed Vincent warily for a moment. The last time I’d seen him, he had six legs and was bigger than a bear. I’d bitten him, and he’d left me in a back alley.

I had a million questions but was smart enough to consider the possibility of listening devices. If I was going to work with him, I would have plenty of time to satisfy my curiosity.

I stepped out of the cell, and Vincent handed me a stack of papers he produced from the inside pocket of his suede jacket. We moved over to an empty desk in the corner, but neither of us pulled out the chairs.

“What’s with the shadow?” he asked, his voice a deep baritone.

“Huh?” I looked down, searching for what he meant, but I was standing almost under the bright neon lights and couldn’t see any shadows. I looked at his; it wouldn’t have surprised me to find it stretching long behind him and discover that my shadow was not a normal one. But he didn’t have one either.

I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

He masked the flicker of surprise quickly, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

I picked up the contract and began reading it. There was a lot of legal jargon, so I read it twice, then once more. I goggled at the salary and was surprised to find that the “accommodation” referred to a fixed address of a furnished apartment near the Hunters’ base in New York, not a small bunk in a room filled with snoring people. Since the original contract had a twenty-year obligatory period, we agreed I would sign the revised contract once we reached the base.

We left immediately on the Hunters’ private jet. I couldn’t put enough distance between me and the PSS. My only regret was not getting to see Logan before we left. Roland had explained during the drive to the airport that there were papers to be signed by higher-ups and that it could take a few hours before Logan, Rafael, and Archer could be released. He couldn’t stay to oversee it all, but Vincent had made arrangements to ensure they weren’t mistreated in any way.