Roderick Cano, Rick to the few who dared familiarity, sidled along the wall to the open door. Built upon stilts in the middle of the humid Louisiana swamp, the grey vine covered cabin had been hard to spot. If Prue hadn't pointed it out, he would have missed it.
He used a small mirror to look around the corner and check the contents of the room. The entry held only a broken table and doors hanging off their hinges. He signaled to Lucius and then swept inside.
Rick sent Lucius left, while he went through the door to the right. A couch leaned precariously against a wall. A cracked TV protruded from the sheet-rock nearby. No enemies. Rick moved on to the next room.
Monitors lay shattered across the floor. Bullet holes riddled the six computer towers. Papers and loose pages of books fluttered in the barely-there breeze. His boots crunched on shards of glass and compact disks as he moved into the center of the room. A bookcase leaned haphazardly against the nearby wall. A dull silver gleam revealed the twisted metal of what had once been a heavy steel door. No enemies. He cautiously approached what he assumed was a safe room. Pulling the small mirror from his pocket once more, he checked the quarters beyond. Seeing no movement, he entered.
A small cot now resembled a pile of toothpicks and cloth upon the floor. Bullet holes punctured the walls and shelves of canned goods. Someone had taken a lot of time and care to prepare the room, but it hadn't done them any good in the end.
"Clear!" he called to the men.
A triple knock sounded from the other side of the cabin; Lucius' code for 'clear.'
"Perimeter's clear," Faolan's voice sounded from the Bluetooth in his ear.
"Give Vladimir the all clear. They can come in now," he said. Roderick registered a faint echo of what must be pain...or perhaps disappointment. No one was in the house; they'd been too late to save the sister. He shouldn't be feeling anything about it, however. The Madness must be closer than I expected, he thought stowing the mirror back into its designated pocket.
"Emmy! Emmy, I'm here!" Prue cried as she burst into the cabin. Zeke, Vladimir, and Faolan followed close behind her.
"My apologies, Lady Ramsey. No one is here. We arrived too late," Rick said, holstering his pistol at the small of this back. He ignored the echo within his body. He couldn't do anything about it, anyway.
She stared at him, her face pinched in confusion. "What are you talking about? She's in the safe room, waiting for me to type in my pass code," she said moving deeper into the house.
"They breached the safe room. She's gone," he replied, remembering the mass of melted metal that had once been a security door.
"You mean this? This is just a decoy, not the actual safe room. She's safe and sound. The crystals say so," Prue retorted, moving to a small tile mosaic set in the safe room wall.
"Guys, I need a word while Prue catches Emmy up to speed," Zeke said, ushering the men outside.
The moment the damaged door wheezed shut, Zeke's demeanor transformed from meek garter snake, to flaming protective dragon.
"Stay away from Emmy. Don’t touch her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even be in the same room if you can help it. If I find out that one of you even brush against her in passing, I'll kick your ass so badly it'll look like you barely survived nuclear fallout. Am I clear?" He snapped; no hint of the subdued professor in his tone.
Roderick thought about Zeke's demand. He would have put it down to brotherly over-protectiveness, but wouldn't logic state that he utter the same speech on Prue's behalf as well? He remained silent. He would not make a promise that he would likely be forced to break during a dangerous situation.
"Okay, Emmy's safe. I've updated her on the situation, and she's ready to go. Now we just have to convince Jo to leave her farm," Prue said, weaving through the debris scattered through the house.
Following Prue was a diminutive...person? He couldn't tell. The only thing visible was a mobile mound of maroon fabric. Must be the sister, Emmy, Rick thought.
"You did not say your sister is a child. The two of you will be responsible for her and her actions," Rick intoned. If he could feel, he would probably be annoyed right now. Sometimes, he thanked whatever God was listening for his Curse of emotionlessness. Only sometimes, though.
"I may be short in stature, Sir Wolf, but I am not a child. I have not been for more than a decade," a low, smoky voice wafted from the maroon burqa. The cloth clicked faintly as she moved to join the group. A gloved hand appeared from the folds of cloth and presented itself for him to shake.
"I am Emmaline Grady, but you and your people may call me Emmy," she said.
Rick ignored her hand. He wasn't one for unnecessary pleasantries for one, and for another, he was determined to keep peace between his people and Zeke's family. They needed the good professor and his sister's aid, so he would keep his distance from the tiny woman. He, instead, offered her the courtesy of a small bow to negate the slight of not taking her hand. He was emotionless, but he could practice social pleasantries...when he felt it expedient.
"I am called Roderick Cano. The rest of our number can introduce themselves as they meet you. Dr. Miller, where is your other sister located? Can we send one of us to collect her?" Rick asked, turning to Zeke. If they were going on an exploratory expedition to Siberia, they would need to split up and gather supplies. Erza would also need to argue her way around the damned Council of Nobles.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
The Council would never allow their queen to go somewhere without their sniveling selves to lord over her every decision. In his opinion, the Council should have been disbanded with the death of King Rupert, but they did serve a purpose. The Warriors observed their rulers, waiting for the Madness to strike. The Council was supposed to do just that--council the monarchs on ruling their race. They would settle minor disputes, handle the economics, etc.
However, the Council of Nobles had become too big for their britches. Now, they scrupulously monitored the ruling family. If the Madness sank its unmerciful talons into the ruler, they would take action. Taking action, of course, meant ordering an assassination.
"She lives on a farm in Kentucky. Sending one person might be the only way to get her to come. I don't recommend sending me, she hates me. Prue and Emmy could probably get her to come with us, but I don't want them anywhere away from the main group. They need to be protected at all times. One of the Warriors will have to do it," Zeke said, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Roderick nodded and thought about the best person to send. He couldn't go himself; he had to help Erza with the councilmen. Vladimir needed to see to the women's needs and prepare for their journey. Lucius obviously couldn't go; he couldn't explain the situation to the sister with his condition. That left...Faolan. If Rick had emotions, he'd probably curse his luck, or lack thereof.
He quit the group, not bothering with social graces anymore. Snagging Faolan by the back of the neck, he dragged the protesting young warrior to a quiet corner of the swampy ground.
"Get the information on the other sister from Miller and Prue. Be honest, but tactful and diplomatic. Be...nice. If all else fails, do what you have to, but get the woman to the manor within three days. That's all the time you have. We'll leave without you if we have to. Do not fail your Regina or your people," Roderick instructed, attempting to force a stern tone into his voice. To his own ears, he didn't sound successful.
However, the Colt seemed to hear it. Faolan straightened as if someone had shoved a ramrod down his spine. He nodded solemnly before walking back toward the group. Rick studied the new members of their highly exclusive clique. He couldn't see the maroon sprite. Where had she gone?
"Sir Wolf, I would thank you for rushing to my aid when I called Prue," Emmaline Grady said from behind him.
Rick spun, the cold metal of his gun meeting his palm before he realized who stood there.
"You shouldn't sneak up on any of my people. We're a jumpy lot. If I'd been Faolan, I probably would have shot you." Or blown her up, he thought. The lad had an unhealthy attachment to his bombs.
"Apologies. I only meant to have a moment away from my brother in which to thank you," she replied, stepping close.
"No thanks needed, Lady Grady. We need your siblings' aid; they demanded that you accompany us. We were already on our way to fetch you," Rick replied, stepping back before checking himself. Why was he moving away? He hadn't consciously done it. He focused inward and felt a slight sizzle in his blood. Damn! The Madness stirs!
"Are you well, Sir Wolf? You have paled," Emmy said, taking hold of his arm in a gloved hand. The sleeve of her robe fell back, allowing the graze of his skin against hers.
Rick's blood surged and boiled. He felt his heart rend with a sharp, audible crack. His mind and body flamed with sensation. Nerves strained and snapped. His bones ground together. Agony forced a cry from his lips as he fell to the soggy ground. From a great distance, he heard a feminine cry of pain and saw voluminous maroon folds drop heavily to the earth nearby. He lurched awkwardly toward the bundle of cloth, his body no longer his to control. His brain fuzzed as a high-pitched whine blocked all other sound from his ears. Grey invaded his eyes before blackness claimed him.
*****
"My Warriors and I are journeying to Russia. We have a lead that could help us find the origin of our race," Erza said.
She sat at a long oak table. The few candles scattered around the room cast the other occupants in shadow. She'd never seen their faces. The Noble Council thought it safer if their monarchs couldn't identify them.
"No," a husky cackle sounded from her right. Erza's eye twitched. Damn Hyena.
"Are you seriously trying to tell me what to do?" Erza asked, her tone low, but rife with warning.
"We cannot allow our Warriors to scurry about the globe at the whimsy of a little girl," a high pitched voice growled from further down the right side of the table. Erza's nose itched, making her eyes water. Listening to the Jackal's whiny tone was worse than mid-summer allergies; there weren't any medications to put him out of her misery.
"Councilman, I've not been a little girl since the day I killed my father and took his throne. Did any of you even listen to what I just said? We have a chance of learning more about our race and finding more of our kind," Erza snarled. She hated these meetings. Normally, she sat in the background and listened to the men chatter about finances and how the human wars were affecting their profit margins.
"The past is ancient history; it has no bearing on our people today. We've done fine without that knowledge. We’ll continue just as well," a rusty voice squawked from the left. Her skin crawled over her spine. The Vulture was always quick to join his four-legged cohorts in an argument.
"Done well? In numbers, our people aren't even a blip on the population map. We lose more people every year to insanity, suicide, and murder. How are we doing well? We could finally find a cure for the Madness or our curses with this trip! Wouldn't that make it worth trying?" She roared, anger boiling her blood as hatred for the men before her festered in her heart.
"We are financially stable and well hidden from the humans. We have learned to live with our respective curses, and we have a handle on the Madness. What more do we need?" the Vulture rasped.
"How about children?" Erza demanded. "Tatanka, you're the population officer, when was the last child of our race born?”
"That would be the Hesketh twins nearly fifty years ago," a voice to her left answered.
Erza's blood ran cold.
"So long? No children have been born in fifty years? Do we know why?"
"No. There are no healers among our race," the Bison replied.
"Maybe we can find answers to this riddle in Russia, too," Erza said.
"You're grasping at straws, girl. This council has spoken. You and the Warriors will not be going to Russia," the Hyena growled.
"I believe you forget whom you address. I am your Regina. I do not answer to you. You are to give me advice and see to financial matters," Erza replied, her tone hard. "I'm going to Russia, with or without your consent."
"Then you do it without our Warriors and as a banished woman. For I fear the Madness has taken you. You are no longer our Regina," the Jackal feigned sadness.
Erza stilled, her mind spinning.
"You ordered my assassination. That's what the snakes were about last night," she said. The serpents' targeting finally making sense.
"Command of the Warriors will pass directly to the Council. Forgive us, Lady Leonidas, but the Lion's rule is over." At the Hyena's words, hissing filled the room. Within the shadows, the floor and walls writhed. Fangs glistened as a black, gaping maw sprang toward her.