Read Inhuman Heritage Online

Authors: Sonnet O'Dell

Tags: #humor, #Romance, #England, #Werewolves, #mystery, #Vampires, #Supernatural, #Urban Fantasy, #Eternal Press, #Sonnet ODell, #king, #Worchester

Inhuman Heritage (11 page)

BOOK: Inhuman Heritage
9.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Daddy, Cassie smells like grandpa at Christmas.”

I put her down on the floor. She was so adorable, with her slightly curled blond hair and pajamas that had little booties attached to the bottom and kittens chasing yarn balls on the soft white material. Simian placed his hand on my shoulder and took a deep sniff. I really wished people would stop doing that. He bent down to his daughter.

“Okay sweetie, I told you that you could stay up till Cassie came over now, say good night and mommy will tuck you in.” Sophie appeared behind her husband minus her book and Zoe reached up taking her hand, she went with her up the stairs waving to me as she did. Simian turned me around holding both my shoulders tightly.

“Breathe on me.”

“Bite me.”

“I’m serious,” he said and I felt his fingers digging into the flesh of my shoulders through my clothes. I breathed on him and his nose wrinkled. “You’re drunk.”

“It seems to be a popular consensus,” I said pulling back from him and slipping out of my coat. I lay it over the banister doing a small spin. “But at least I am appropriately dressed.”

“How long have you been drinking?”

“Hmmm, for about twenty-four hours now.”

“This is not good,” he said shaking his head. I smiled at him and he just shook his head some more. “You cannot go to meet them like this especially not smelling like that.” He walked to the telephone picking it up and I shrugged stepping into the living room. I flopped onto the couch and moved Sophie’s book out from under me, she was reading
New Moon
by Stephanie Meyer. I wondered if she was making werewolf comparisons. I could hear Simian on the phone and Sophie came back into the room smiling at me.

“Can I get you something to drink, Cassandra?”

“Scotch.”

Simian slammed down the phone and came into the living room. He grabbed me by the elbow and made me get to my feet.

“No scotch. Come with me,” he said dragging me towards the stairs. Sophie looked at him, he shook his head a little and she went out of sight. I pulled at his grip.

“Simian, what are you doing? Let me go.”

“What is wrong with you? You smell like a wino, what happened? Explain yourself.”

“I can’t explain myself, because I am not myself you see,” I chuckled quoting C.S.Lewis’s, Alice.

“This is not the time for levity.”

I slammed my mouth tight shut as he dragged me into the upstairs bathroom. It was white tiled and gleaming. He opened the shower stall and let me go so he could roll up his shirt sleeves. I glared at him.

“Take off your dress.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him and took a step back. He pushed me down so that I fell onto the closed top of the toilet, then ripped my boots off my feet before pulling me back onto them. I smacked him hard with my fist and he winced.

“Take off your dress.”

“No. What the hell, Simian?”

He growled, thrust me fully clothed into the shower cubicle and turned ice cold water on over me. I screamed. The ice water slapped all over my skin, forcing me to my knees, it felt like drowning in a frozen over lake. His hand turned the knob to the hot water, at first it was a relief then it was scorching and I screamed again. Then came the cold again and slowly the pleasurable hazy edge of alcohol pulled away from my memory. I grabbed my head. The shock of the cold and hot water to my system sent my stomach roiling and I shoved Simian away managing to stumble to the toilet in time to throw up in the porcelain bowl. My throat was raw as I leaned my face against the cool plastic of the seat rolling my eyes up to Simian.

“You and I are no longer friends,” I groaned. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I will throw you back into that shower if I have to. I’ve dealt with enough newly turned wolves to know when someone has been pity drinking.”

I closed my eyes, the smell rising up from beneath me making my stomach churn in an unpleasant way. I felt tears hot on my face, running down my cheeks and splashing in the water below. I was dripping wet and I could remember all the pain and all the hurt, it felt like being stabbed in the heart.

“Cassandra,” said Simian squatting down next to me, “talk to me. I’ve never seen you this torn up.” Part of me, the part of me that knew my little pity bender has been wrong had been waiting for this, wanting this, for someone to call me on the carpet.

“I’m cold,” I said shivering on the tiles. He stood grabbing a towel from off the back of the door and dropped it over me. I pulled the fluffy peach thing around me. It smelt like washing powder and shampoo, a very comforting scent.

“You need to get out of those wet things. I’ll get Sophie to put them in the drier.” He gave me some privacy in which I slipped out of my wet things wrapping the towel around myself, knotting it at my breast. I flushed away what had been the contents of my stomach and washed my mouth out with some Listerine I found in the bathroom cabinet. I pushed the lid down on the toilet again and sat on it. Simian brought me a cup of tea and sat next to me on the edge of the bathtub. I took it from him sipping the warm liquid tentatively. I felt altogether-for lack of a better or more accurate term-more human after that.

“Thanks,” I said out of courtesy. I wasn’t sure I really meant it. He’d thrown me fully dressed into a cold shower after all. I wrapped my hands tightly around the warm mug drawing the heat into my skin. He put his hand on my shoulder and refused to let me shrug it off.

“Cassandra, please talk to me. I like to think that we’re family or as close as we can be to one. I can see you need to talk and I’ll listen.” I stared at the tea, the warm golden brown color of it as if answers would bob to the surface and I could drink them down. My stomach twisted and the pain of not having eaten more than snack food for the last few hours made my eyes prickle with tears. I took a deep breath. I’d made a lot of mistakes in a short amount of time and I’d have to back pedal to fix them all. Simian rubbed soothing circles on my back and I burst into tears. His sympathy was something I had been looking for but convinced myself I wasn’t going to get. As he let me cry against him I found myself wishing it had been Aram there, he who had recognized how much pain I was really in and stepped in. I wanted the arms around me to belong to the man I loved and some part of me had to admit that I did in fact love Aram or I had started to. It took a little while to get the tears under control enough to speak.

“How do you deal with not being human anymore?”

“Cassandra, I’m still as human as I’ve ever been.” He started to contradict me and then something on his face showed that a thought was clicking into to place. “Oh.”

I nodded my head slowly.

“Start at the beginning.”

I sniffed drawing in my breath and started with what I had overheard at Virginia’s, the call and visit to the doctor. I told him about Magnus, about Nancy and about Aram, then my stunning decent into alcohol and the huge mistake of letting Wraith cast his spell over me. The relief I felt sharing the burden made my shoulders feel lighter, however it did nothing to fix the sick feeling in my stomach. Simian listened to me without saying a single word. We ended up sitting against the bath tub, side by side with his arm around my shoulders as I let every emotion I’d stuffed down for the last couple of days boil over. Then we were silent for a while and the first thing Simian said to me made me laugh.

“Pretty girl like you shouldn’t date a deader. If you need a man I know some very good ones right here. Vampires are dangerous.”

“Whereas comparatively werewolves are just big fluffy puppy dogs who’ll only lick your face and fetch your slippers.” He smirked.

A knock came on the door and Sophie peered around the frame. I smiled at her weakly and she came in carrying my clothes. I held out my arms taking them from her.

“Nice and dry,” she said and leaned over patting me on the head softly. I turned to look at Simian who pulled his wife down to him and gave her a kiss, smacking her on the butt as she left. I rolled my eyes.

“I need to get dressed if we’re still going to do this meeting,” I said finding my feet and steadying myself against the sink. Simian stood and gave a sharp nod.

“Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Yeah, I can deal with my own problems better by focusing on someone else’s and you were right when you said I could use the pay check.” He walked to the door stopping his hand on the handle.

“After this it might be beneficial for you to confront Ms.. Too-good with your questions.”

“I know,” I said smiling at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. “But one of the twelve steps at a time, okay Simian.” He smirked again and closed the door behind him.

I dressed quickly and Sophie let me borrow some of her makeup which was more muted and understated than I would have liked personally but I worked with what there was on hand. I was presentable again just an hour after being thrown into the cold shower. Simian gave his wife another loving peck and he held the door as we both stepped outside.

“So tell me about these people we’re going to meet?”

“They are the three candidates to be our new king.”

“King?”

Simian walked at a brisk pace by my side and I watched his face, it was deeply serious.

“A couple of weeks ago, our current king passed away long before his time forcing us to vote three new candidates to take his place.”

“So you vote them in? Like a presidential election?” I asked and looked towards the large building we were approaching. It was like a town hall only the face of it looked like a medieval battlement. The windows were tall thin slits in the wall that sent pin pricks of light dancing out across the street. The building looked like it had been carved by hand from a single giant rock to create a distinct fortress that would have been perfect for any werewolf king.

“No. Once the candidates have been selected one is chosen by an ancient means.”

“Oh no, that’s not cryptic.”

Simian chuckled and took hold of my hand, his was big and warm dwarfing my own. He used it to lead me up the crooked steps to the doors that would lead us inside. They were made of black wood with white ash to create the glow of a moon behind large carvings of huge beast-like wolves on either side of it. As Simian pulled one door open, the moon was calved in twain and one wolf separated from the other, it was almost sad. I had imagined them a male and female, lovers baying under the same light, howling because they were destined to always be separated-except for the fact that I had never met or heard of a female werewolf. Female shifters were abound though-they turned into smaller creatures, nothing to rival the fierceness and size of a true pure werewolf.

Light from the inside washed over me and I had to shield my eyes for a minute as we stepped in. The castle appearance I’d glimpsed from the outside continued on the inside. We were in a large domed entrance way that had five different corridors stretching off it. From the ceiling on a metal link chain was a wooden chandelier posted with candles burning with bright yellow flames. There was a table in the center inset with a silver colored bowl that was filled with water that rippled from a spout on the other side. On the surface floated vibrant purple petals from wolvesbain.

“You guys are big on your symbolism, huh.” Simian smiled at me. Sliding his hands into the bowl, he collected an intact flower shaking it dry and tucked it into my hair. It had a sharp but not unpleasant smell.

“Do we wait or...” Just as I was asking the question the door down the corridor right in front of us opened and a woman walked out. She was a small, petite blond woman, rounded but not fat, and had an appearance of being a soft woman. She beamed at us.

“Brie,” said Simian throwing his arms out and embracing the woman when she was in his range. She smiled up at him, stepped back and straightened her perfectly tailored navy blue suit.

“Simian,” she said, her smile never faltering, and turned to me including me in her warm expression, “and you must be Cassandra. I’m so pleased to meet you.”

She extended me her hand and I shook it, her grip firm but not crushing.

“A pleasure.”

“Come, they’re waiting for you. Can I get you something to drink? We’ve got some very nice wines in the kitchen.” Simian and I exchanged a look and both declined the offer. We followed her down the corridor and her hips swayed a little. I didn’t think she was trying to be flirty, it was just the way her body adjusted to walking in heels.

“So who is she?” I said under my breath to Simian. I knew she could probably hear me but she didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“Brie Baines, she’s the king’s personal secretary.” When we reached the door at the end of the corridor, the one Brie had emerged from earlier, we took a staircase down. These two looked like they had been carved out of rock and were too deep, like they weren’t designed for creatures of two legs to walk down. I shuddered at the thought of meeting a turned werewolf halfway down the stairs. Although I knew a great deal about werewolves I had only ever seen a partial changed werewolf up close, when they had bear baited that poor man in the Soul Market. He had forced the change back to ruin the display for the audience. I also figured that the silver chains that had bound him would have been too small for his wolf limbs and would have cut into his flesh burning right down to muscle and bone. I’d seen a documentary where they’d followed a werewolf, they changed to be almost exactly like their natural cousins except they were monstrously huge. Simian had never changed in front of me because werewolves with any amount of control tend to strip naked before changing so as not to ruin their clothes. I had no desire to see Simian naked, ever.

BOOK: Inhuman Heritage
9.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Bell Curve: Intelligence and Class Structure in American Life by Richard J. Herrnstein, Charles A. Murray
The Promise of Light by Paul Watkins
Pyro by Earl Emerson
The Last Place to Stand by Redshaw, Aaron K.
Buckeye Dreams by Jennifer A. Davids
(You) Set Me on Fire by Mariko Tamaki
Now You See Me by Lesley Glaister