United (The Guardians Book 2) (3 page)

He tried to remain cheerful and positive, he really did, because he was just a generally positive kind of guy. Always had been. But even
he
was seriously mourning the loss of his old life, though he tried not to let it show in front of the other inmates; there needed to be at least one person down there to keep everyone's spirits up.

He missed his family – his overbearing but well meaning parents, his four very loud, very high pitched sisters, their pet dog, Chow.

He missed his travels. He'd been
born
to travel, it was all he'd ever wanted to do. He'd given up working for his father's business to travel. He needed to roam, to be free. Which was why being stuck underground in a tiny cell was his worst nightmare. Or at least it had been until the scientists had started their experiments on him and then he'd developed a whole brand new set of nightmares, except he was really living them, every single day.
 

He even missed jolly old England, his home country, the place he'd been so desperate to get away from. How naive he'd been. He'd give anything in the world to go back to London, to feel the drizzly rain on his face, to breathe in the smell of fish and chips and sausage rolls, to get pissed down the pub.

But most of all he missed his freedom.

However, he would try to remain positive. What else did he have left but that? Pablo Nunez had taken away everything else.

Fortune had always been an anomaly, which was perhaps why Pablo had sought him out specially instead of one of the many others of his kind. A fire elemental born to a family entirely of humans. A fire elemental with complete control. A fire elemental who was calm and cheerful instead of angry and overly passionate and emotional.

There were only two times when he would have slipped had his powers not been temporarily stripped by leeches – when Pablo had kidnapped him during his travels, and then again when his least favorite prison guard, the sadistic Merche, had gleefully informed him that his death had been faked and that his family believed him drowned at sea. He'd wanted to burn that day. He'd wanted to burn them all, especially her. But looking back, he was grateful for the power sucking leech, just that one time. Murder was never the right way. He needed to be better than that. And he had to believe he'd be reunited with his family again one day, that he could somehow let them know he was still alive.

But if there was one thing that could truly bring Fortune down, it was worry for his cell mate.

Sacha was beginning to lose all hope of ever getting free, and losing hope was a dangerous thing. He was fading away, slowly, piece by piece. That was always how it started. Soon he would lose his mind to the madness of their unjust incarceration, like so many other Outcasts down there with them had.

Fortune couldn't let that happen. He
wouldn't
let that happen. Sacha was the closest thing to family he had these days. He was his brother, his best friend. They'd been cell mates for a year and instead of breaking and driving each other crazy, they'd forged a strong bond, one that not many
outside their hell hole would ever be able to understand. They'd helped each other survive. And if Fortune had to remind him of the girl, Gable, every hour of every day just to keep his eyes from growing dull and lifeless, then so be it.
 

It was strange, in a way. He'd never even met her, but she'd become kind of a symbol to Fortune too. A symbol of hope in dark times.

He sighed and glanced over at Sacha. He was sleeping in his cot, his tall frame too big for the tiny bed.

In the next cell over on Sacha's side, Xahlia reached through the bars, quiet as a whisper, and stroked Sacha's dark brown hair with a bony hand.

Xahlia had been with them for six months. She'd been beautiful at first; blonde and provocative with sexy curves in all the right places. But like all of them, time and neglect had worn away at her. Her once shiny hair was thin and yellow, her eyes sunken into her pale skin, her curves gone, replaced by protruding bones and sharp angles.

“Stop that,” Fortune snapped impatiently at her. He didn't normally lose his cool with people, but she liked to push her limits when it came to Sacha, liked to touch him when he wasn't awake because she knew he wouldn't allow it otherwise, and as far as Fortune was concerned, that was taking advantage. He was sick of telling her off. “You know he doesn't like when you touch him.”

“He might like it if he'd just let me,” she replied. She may have lost some of her looks, but her voice was as sultry as ever. “I could make him feel real good.”

He shook his head. “Don't be disgusting.” Fortune missed sex. Of course he missed sex, and luckily the bathrooms (and he used the word bathroom lightly, considering it was just a hole in the ceiling for the shower and a toilet and metal basin) in each of their cells were private enough that he could. . .sort himself out every now and then. But what was she suggesting? Giving Sacha a hand-job through the bars where all of the prisoners could see her? Pathetic. “You sound sad and desperate.”

Xahlia glowered at Fortune, though she pulled her hand away. He knew if she could use her powers she'd be plotting just how to use them on him.

She was a dream walker, able to enter people's dreams and alter them at her own will, give them good dreams, or scare them with nightmares. That was the extent of her power. Before being locked away she'd used her gift to scare people into giving her information or door code numbers or safe box codes, anything she could profit off. It had made her a rather good thief.

But now she was nothing. Just a hollow, empty, powerless Outcast, thanks to the leeches that guarded their cells alongside the human thugs.

She was in love with Sacha. Or at least she said she was. Fortune thought is was probably more of an obsession. But Sacha barely even noticed she was there, despite them being neighbors In
his
mind, there was only one woman in the whole world that mattered, and she wasn't there with him. It made Xahlia bitter; she would never be Gable.
 

Fortune had pitied her at first, but she was just so. . .unlikable.

“I'm the one that's here,” she muttered, laying down on her cot with her back to them. “One day he'll realize his little bitch isn't coming for him.”

“I hope he doesn't,” Fortune replied honestly, though she'd probably already stopped listening. “I really hope he doesn't, because the day he stops believing in her would be a very sad day. For us all.”

She didn't answer.

He leaned back on his heels and ran a hand through his golden hair. It had always been messy and wild, growing out in random directions like a lion's mane, but now it was too short. A barber came in to cut their hair and shave their beards once a month, though most weren't exactly comfortable being tied down to a chair while someone came at them with a sharp blade. But it wasn't like they had a say in the matter. Maybe the scientists didn't like experimenting on dirty, unkempt creatures, though Fortune thought it was probably something more to do with Pablo. From what he remembered, the man was as neat as one could possibly be.

It had been almost two years since Pablo had first approached Fortune, but he remembered it like it had been only days. He'd been twenty three at the time, sat in a tiny beach bar on a small Greek island, just chilling out and flirting with the locals. And then Pablo had shown up and told Fortune he had a job opportunity for him if he would just come along, but Pablo had given him a bad feeling and Fortune had always tried to listen to his instincts so he'd respectfully declined. Turned out his instincts had been right; Pablo's men had kidnapped him from his bed that very night.

Xahlia's cell mate, Jaana, popped her head up and rolled her eyes playfully at Fortune. He liked Jaana – she was a kindred spirit. She always had a smile ready, even during their darkest hours, which somehow made her so much more beautiful than Xahlia had ever been. And not only that, she had a musical Finnish accent that Fortune was immeasurably attracted to – he'd always been partial to accents.

He winked at her and she blushed almost as red as her hair. Fortune was a handsome kind of fellow, he knew that. He was tall and slim – though leaning more towards pasty and lanky after being cooped up for so long – with his facial features all in the right place. He'd never had any problems attracting women.

Fortune and Sacha's neighbor on their other side, Gelasius, shoved him through the bars. “Stop with your flirting,” he teased in his thick Greek accent. “I might hurl.”

Fortune grinned at the shadow guide. “Jealous?”

They laughed as he moved to push his cot back over the chalk marks on the floor.

Gelasius watched him do it, a contemplative look in his eyes – eyes that were still black and blue after the beating he'd been handed by a couple of the guards a few days earlier for going on a no shower strike. Before that, Fortune had been desperate for the smelly bugger to take a shower – especially as their beds were so close together, only a set of bars between them – but he hated to see his friend in pain. He thought he'd rather have the stink back, honestly. “I don't know why Merche keeps letting you have the chalk.”

Fortune had wondered that too, at first. Most of the guards were nasty bastards, but she was the worst. Behind her beautiful face and her creamy skin and her flowing red hair lay a sadistic monster. Her big, brown doe eyes disguised the evil within. She seemed to hate Fortune the most, probably because she couldn't break him like she had others. “You know she likes to torture me; this is just another game to her. She thinks it's amusing to watch me count the days.”

“Nasty French bitch.” Gelasius lay back on his cot and folded his arms behind his head. “Tell me how long you have been down here in this hell.”

“Too long.”

Gelasius nodded in understanding. He'd only been with them for four months, but that was still far, far too long. “And how many days now since anyone has been taken away for testing?”

“Fourteen.”

“Hmm, curious.” There was silence as Gelasius pondered. He stared up at the plain cement ceiling with as much focus as if he was staring at the stars. “I wonder what is happening to have shaken up the routine.”

One of the guards walked by their joined cells, tapping lightly on the bars with his baton. “Lights out in five,” he told them.

They nodded and Fortune climbed into his cot. He checked to make sure the guard couldn't hear them before continuing in a low voice. “There's less of them, have you noticed? The guards, I mean.”

“Yet always a leech on guard, unfortunately for us. However I am sure that something is definitely going down. Something to do with those in charge.”

Fortune agreed, and it was making him very uneasy. The thing was, the fact that they weren't being tested anymore should have been a good thing, but it didn't feel that way. Because they weren't getting other things, either. Like their daily hour of supervised outside time. Sure they'd been caged inside an electric fence surrounded by leeches and guards with guns pointed at their faces, but even a small slice of sunshine was a wonderful thing when you were stuck in an underground, windowless cell. And now that was gone, along with their once regular – though sparse – meals. Food was now a sporadic thing; one time the week before the guards had forgotten to feed the Outcast prisoners for an entire two days.

“It must be something big,” Fortune mused. “And it's making everyone restless.”

“Can you blame them for being worried? We all know these sons of bitches aren't letting us go, not even when they finish with us. When they finally find whatever the hell it is they're looking for in us, we're done for. They'll execute us. Or worse, they'll just leave us down here to rot. And as much as he wants to believe it, the werewolf's girl isn't coming for us. If she was, she'd have been here by now.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

Gelasius looked over at him, his grim face determined. “I'm saying the only way we're getting out of here is if we get out ourselves.”

Gable grinned as she watched Fabian, Lace and Celeste giggle their asses off while they danced around the bonfire to loud music. She had a sneaking suspicion the teenage Outcasts had slipped themselves a few glasses of Cadby's homemade wine when no one else was looking.

The large, orange flames flickered, licking the dark night sky and warming Gable to her very bones. Of course, that could also be down to Cadby's very potent wine. She lifted the tankard to her nose and inhaled the sweet, spicy aroma before taking another drink.

To her left, an inebriated Kain – she'd finally learned his name – was dancing with the nerdy Guardian girl, though he looked more like he was having a fit. His arms and legs were flailing about in wild directions and he was doing some strange gyrating thing that was probably supposed to be sexy but was just. . .odd. But he was having fun, and that was the main thing since the whole celebration was for his thirtieth birthday.

To the right, Nicky and Zay were grilling Ward, the earth elemental who was going to help them find Sacha. . .hopefully. It turned out Terelle hadn't even needed to call him – he'd already heard about their missing Outcasts and had been on his way to offer his help in finding them, though he probably hadn't guessed he'd be the missing key to their dilemma.

He'd arrived at Yarmac & Bogely's right in the middle of Kain's party and had caused an immediate stir.

“So what are you, a Guardian or something?” Zay was demanding with folded arms and narrowed eyes. “Tracker?”

Ward had been a big hit with the ladies – how could he not be with that face? With the men. . .not so much.

He threw back his head and laughed at Zay's question, and every woman in the nearby vicinity sighed dreamily. Even Gable felt a slight stirring, though it was mostly superficial. She'd known Ward almost as long as she'd known Terelle. “No, man. I don't work for anybody but Mother Nature herself. I just travel around the country, using my powers to help those in need when I can.”