Henchgirl (Dakota Kekoa Book 1) (12 page)

About two years ago, my grandfather flew me over to the island Waibibi for an assignment ‘convincing’ his prize were-rat fighter, Carlos Lamente, not to quit. The situation was simple, Carlos had a contract, he wanted to break it, and I needed to convince him otherwise.

It was an easy ‘in-and-out’ job; I entered with a group of middle-school athletes from schools across the island who were touring the Coliseum. When I shook Carlos’s hand I opened my ring and let massive amounts of fear that my grandfather had stored pump from the ring through me into the rat man.

I had smiled up at him and said, “My grandfather is a big fan, he would love to see your career continue for some time.”

The were-rat, a man who looked like he took a sledge hammer in the face and liked it, stared down at me in terror and grunted out, “I’ll do anything you say.”

As ordered, I had left the fear in him, knowing that he could not digest it; however, over time the fear would dissipate.

The job had been executed beautifully and I had been feeling pretty smug until the school bus I had boarded with the middle school students was hit from the side and ran off the road into a cane field. As the class and I escaped the bus we found ourselves surrounded by nine were-rats. Eight giant rats circled me and the students, flashing their five-inch fangs from all sides. Standing facing the group was the only were-rat in his human form; I immediately recognized him from the pictures Glacier showed me: Jonathan Mitchell the self-proclaimed ‘rat king.’

As was protocol for retaliatory attacks, I had pumped all my emotions into the ring which alerted my grandfather that there was a situation.

The ‘rat king’ had lined us up waving a gun wildly. When he talked his voice was quick, fevered, like he had just drunk his weight in coffee, “Which of you belong to the grandfather dracon? Who knows? I can kill one of you, or all of you. You better tell me.” His gaze darted around until it found me and stuck, his lips formed the words, “You.”

I drew contingency and shot him three times, none of them kill shots, before he could point his gun hand. I had disarmed him by shooting through his hand, and then I took out one knee and a shoulder. He slumped forward and I aimed at his head.

“Everyone who isn’t a rat, get in the bus,” I shouted, I did not need to give the order twice.

Glacier’s rented car raced up the road and jumped the curb, speeding directly toward where the gathered giant rats stood completely still and stared at me. The rats scurried out of the way and the car screeched to a stop feet from the ‘rat king.’

The moment Glacier stepped out of his rented car all the other were-rats fled deserting their king. The king was stuck, already half healed, but unable to run.

Before I left the ‘rat king’ to whatever fate Glacier had planned for him, I asked him what had given me away. He had smiled, and jabbered out, “Your face!”

Apparently, I had been easier to read than a two-story billboard.

It was harder than one might think to remove all expression; you needed to be completely aware of every muscle on your face. I had practiced daily for years after that.

Feeling Vern’s gaze on me, along with the pressure in my body about to explode, I channeled every ounce of stoicism I could muster.

“Bobby,” my mom said, her words a little slurred as she accepted another glass of champagne, “Can’t we move forward, over there, I would like to go stand with my son.”

“No, we have to stay here. Don’t worry,” he said, “they’ll get to us, introduce us to the guests of honor and then we can go talk to whomever.”

And no wait would be too long, I thought. But as we just stood there, watching Bobby and my mom compete for who could drink champagne flutes into the triple digits first, the wait went from a relief to a growing insult, quick.

It was weird. I was so used to being introduced fourth, always just after Reaves, Bobby and Glacier. My grandfather would say, “This is Reaves, my right hand, my youngest sons, Bradson and Robert and my favorite grandchild, Dakota.” We were presented in that order every time.

But my grandfather introduced my least important uncles and showed no hint of heading our way. If he was making a point, he could stop, I understood. I had fallen way out of favor.

After thirty more minutes of waiting, my mom figured it out too, she set her most recent flute down and slurred out, “Deagan wouldn’t stand with us because of what you did, Dakota…” She looked at me. “You embarrassed him. He was introduced with some other people a long time ago. When this is over, Dakota, you are apologizing to your grandfather.” She staggered into Bobby, who might have matched her glass for glass but caught her with little effort.

Bobby started joking with my mother about something that I could not make myself listen to, effectively distracting her from lashing out at me.

I glanced over at the group slowly making its way through the crowd, first was my grandfather and the dragon, then Vern and Braiden and two dracon women. I recognized the beautiful arm-breaker from the beach and there was one other I had never seen before. Besides the clothes, Vern looked the same as he did at big beach, his white blond hair tied back, his gaze scanning the crowd.

As if he felt my stare, he turned, met my gaze and openly glared at me; he scowled at me as if I just scuffed his ‘drake serpent leather dress-shoes’ or something. I noticed today he was wearing a different pair of them.

I turned away quickly, focusing on my own purple shoes.

Seriously. What was his problem?

After an hour of just standing, waiting, I simply wanted the introduction to be over; everyone else was dancing or eating or socializing, and we were just standing there waiting for my grandfather to get to us. The only thing I could be grateful for was my mom seemed too drunk to talk by the time the group finally approached.

The slow approach must have helped settle my stomach, as all I felt was a little acid in my throat when the dragon stopped within arm’s reach of me.

When they paused and turned to examine my little family, my grandfather said, “These are some more of my granddaughters.” He moved from us before he had completely stopped and said, “I have some cigars; let’s head out for a smoke.”

All I wanted was for the interaction to be over, but the introduction was so dismissive, I felt a physical sting right above my stomach. I glanced up at my grandfather, thinking maybe I would find something warm, some tenderness in his eyes, but he wasn’t even looking at me.

I did not think I could be more insulted by him, I was wrong.

My heart dropped as my mother stepped forward and tried to slur something that sounded like, “Lorien should...” But Bobby immediately ushered, or more like dragged, my mother toward a passing waiter and gave me a signaling nod, saying with his gesture, ‘let’s go’.

What, did he think I was going to make a scene? Did he think I was going to demand my grandfather acknowledge me? Did he think I would scream like a child deserted by the people I thought would always cherish me?

This wasn’t the first time I had been betrayed; it wasn’t even the worst.

The group was walking away when Braiden McCormick paused a few feet away and turned to me. He said, “Hey, we know you.” His voice sounded as if he was startled by recognizing me.

I looked up into Braiden’s face, and he smiled broadly, dare I say ‘wolfishly.’ As if he expected me not to remember him, he insisted, “From the beach, remember us? I am so sorry. Is that boy okay?”

The dragon, who had before seemed happy to overlook my siblings and me, spun on his heel landing his attention directly at me. The moment I saw his beautiful aristocratic features I had to blink, this close I was sure that he had nearly the exact same face as Vern, but where Vern was chiseled, the dragon was sharp. Where Vern’s expression was cold, the dragon’s appraisal of me burned down me like ice wanting to peel back my skin. In that moment, I realized there was nothing more cruel or burning than a dragon’s gaze. His soul threatened to overwhelm me again, but I held it back, buried the terror.

All of the men were dressed in the type of suit you could not even have shipped into our island chain. Black, sleek, tailored perfect.

The two dracon women looked almost ridiculous; the one from the beach was wearing a dress with the biggest collar I had ever seen. I mean, I bet it looked good on the runway, but in real life, their dresses looked bizarre. They obviously did not’ agree, gazing around like they were blessing us with their disdain.

My grandfather, who had already begun to walk away, stepped back to us.

There was a long moment when everyone just stared at me and then I realized that I was supposed to answer Braiden’s question.

Bobby gave me a look signaling that I needed to yank my head out of my butt.

“He’s… yeah, I think that boy is okay. I know the paramedics said it was a clean break when they took him away.”

“I am losing my touch,” Braiden said with a barking laugh that could give Bobby’s chuckle a run for its money. “I thought you were human.”

“She said she was,” Vern said.

“What was your name again?” Braiden asked, though I had never told him.

“Dakota,” I said.

The full-blooded dragon’s gaze did not waiver from me, and beside him, Vern looked on with equal intensity, but instead of interest, Vern’s look was clear, unfiltered anger.

The dragon’s voice was smooth, beautiful, the kind of voice that lulled you to sleep; yeah, the endless sleep. He said, “I am surprised your senses are so dull, my son. This one has quite a quantity of power. George, your family has certainly grown more intriguing since the last time I visited. You say this one is your granddaughter, not your daughter?”

My grandfather, who I had never heard called by his first name before, lifted a shoulder dismissively. “Power is only as useful as the aspect it is channeled through.”

“What is her aspect?” The dragon said, not turning his attention from me. It was as if his gaze was wrapping around me, tighter and tighter.

And distantly, I wondered what my grandfather would answer the dragon. I believed that some part of my grandfather was proud of me; he had taken such care to train me himself. He had always taken an interest in my aspects. He could say the obvious that I could not only sense people’s souls, I could uncoil them, drain emotion. I was strengthening the art of manipulating emotions and memories, something much more difficult. He could even mention my second less used aspect, saying that shooting targets became too simple for me when I was twelve, that I had a sniper’s eye and a steady aim.

What he said was, “She is a singer, her aspect is her projection.”

Only my years of training stopped me from stammering ‘um, what?’ It was a mark of the clear and unquestionable leadership that my grandfather held over all of us that none of my sisters even blinked in confusion. If anyone else had said it, I could imagine the unending bout of laughter that would have come out of Lorelei and Bobby, even maybe Stacy.

A singer? It was like my grandfather did not even know who I was.

“I do love entertainment. You must sing for us,” one of the dracon women said, the one I had not seen before, her voice held a touch of sarcasm; as if she had a hard time believing that I was talented.

I would be insulted, if she wasn’t right. I stammered out, “I haven’t practiced in a while.”

“Her sister here,” my grandfather said gesturing to Clara, “Has a much more useful aspect. Her aspect is her beauty.”

The group turned to Clara, and just like a million times before, when men saw my older sister, I was forgotten. But for once, I was grateful.

I walked away from the group with Stacy all but clinging to my waist. Staggering over to where my uncle and Lorelei were trying to maneuver my mother’s bulk into a high-back leather chair at a cocktail table. My mother was either asleep or close to it. Her dress looked tighter, as if the massive liquid consumption made her bloat like a water balloon.

When the chair finally stopped tipping from my mother’s awkward weight, Lorelei turned to me with a gleam in her eye. She whispered, “So Dakota, are you going to do a performance for us? How about singing that one you did the other day, what was it… ‘drowning in buckets of beer, now I have no fear’? That was beautiful…” She shook her head pretending to be misty-eyed.

Bobby, who had been present for this latest embarrassing, somewhat drunken performance chipped in, “Yeah, please do. You almost moved me to tears last time.”

I mock glared at my younger sister and uncle, “I would, but I need to polish my craft.”

Bobby patted my shoulder and as if to comfort me he said seriously, “Sweetheart, you can’t polish a turd.”

“That is so disgusting,” I said, laughing so hard the sound startled me.

Lorelei and Bobby joined me laughing wrapping me up in their warm laughter, and the layer of ice that seemed to have crystallized around me melted just like that. Maybe Clara was right, why shouldn’t I enjoy my night? So my life was falling apart like a dead flower, I still had a couple people that could make me laugh.

“Let’s go dance.” I said, surprising myself again.

My younger sister Stacy grabbed my arm and pulled it back a bit awkwardly.

“Stacy?” I said, looking back at my little sister.

Stacy was staring back at the group we had just left. When I glanced over I was pleasantly surprised to see Clara talking with Braiden McCormick.

“Don’t leave me,” Stacy said, she was looking directly at the dragon. Stacy was only ten, no one expected her powers to develop for at least a year; Lorelei’s still had not inherited her own aspect. However, Stacy looked like she knew exactly what the dragon was and it terrified her.

A flash of memory from the time I was just a year older than Stacy overwhelmed me. Looking into the giant red eyes and scaly snake nostrils of the gleaming reptilian full-dragon, I heard my father gasping in wet labored breaths at my feet. In the air I smelled the distinctive unforgettable mixture of the blood that dripped down my face combined with the sickly sweet smell of the dragon’s hot breath. My child’s hand had reached out as a power, a power I did not know I had, surged through me…