The Seven (Fist of Light Series) (47 page)

Jas passed me some water, and I gripped it with the little strength that remained in my right hand. I imbibed the liquid slowly, not wanting to throw it back up the second I ingested it. Jas continued to relay more information as I struggled with the mundane task of drinking the water single-handed.

“The Council chose that inaction was the best course of action. Which is Clan for they sat too long on their asses to arrive in time to throw down. My dad’s wrapping things up there, and he told me he’d be back soon enough. He said there were a lot of people who owe you a blood debt. But he also told me that you should watch your back, because in gaining the support of a portion of the Clan, you have the rest of it at your throat.”

I coughed explosively, spewing water and spiking the pain I felt in my ribs with each breath. “Great. I see I have a whole range of threats and thanks to look forward to, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jeeves said.

My eyes narrowed. “Did you find Kasper’s body?”

“We didn’t find diddly-squat, and that in itself strengthens the notion that he’s gone to the underworld, where he belongs. You saw how Hailey’s body disintegrated; I would assume that his would do the same. Falling from the height he did, there’s no way that he could have lived.”

I relaxed, somewhat. “Anything else?”

“I’m gone,” Jeeves announced. “No matter how much you beg or scream, you will not wake me from my slumber, this time.” He glared disdainfully at us, driving the point home before flashing out.

Jas and I shared an amused look, then he smiled deviously. “There’s a girl here, asking after you.” If he could have rubbed his hands together, I’m sure he would have.

“Who even knows my name here, let alone knows where to find me?” I asked incredulously.

“Beats me.” Jas shrugged. “Says her name is Kathryne, and that she wouldn’t leave until she’d spoken with you.”

“How long’s she been here?” I asked.

He grinned. “Just got in this morning. She’s been pacing the halls the entire time, looking as if she wanted to knock someone’s block off. Want me to send her in?”

“Yes!” I hissed, and instantly regretted it.

Jas’ grin widened. “Of course, your highness. Would you have me stay, to protect you from the oh-so-dangerous intruder?”

I started to throw the glass of water at him, but thought better of it. Jas slyly slipped it out of my hands in my moment of hesitation and placed it just out of reach. That wasn’t saying much, though, because most everything was out of my reach,
again
. Sighing dramatically, I wondered briefly how long I’d be confined to a bed before walking under my own power. I determined that day wouldn’t be far off, despite my compromised position.

My thoughts turned to an item of the paramount importance. Those who I had thought to be my parents had betrayed me, though they had loved me, cared for me, and played that active role without any incidents that I could recall or dredge up. My mind wandered restlessly to Kasper and his admission that those who I had adopted as parental figures had actually killed my true parents. Could he be believed? Had I been hoping to catch a mere glimpse of those who I should most despise in this world? Did the ones who I had thought were family murder my real parents in cold blood? Was my life a choreographed play, a lie in every avenue and aspect? An all-consuming fire burned within me, one that blazed defiantly in the wind and would find the answers I sought unwaveringly, no matter the complications. A cold, calculating portion of me insisted that mastering my abilities was the first step in achieving all my goals.

All thoughts of my parentage and questions about what the universe had in store for me came to a standstill upon her entrance into the room. She walked in with a surety of movement instantly noticeable to my street-honed eyes. Her grace was liquid, impossible to duplicate, a huntress amid cattle. Her long, fiery red tresses did something to conceal some of the menace she radiated, but not enough to make it disappear entirely. Her face was a mask, and no emotion shone through to the surface. That set some alarm bells to ringing, but I could hardly do anything to protect myself, even if I had wanted to. Her long, slender legs were nonetheless defined and muscular, and her arms spoke of strength and fortitude. Her green eyes stood out the most, however, starting in their depth and intensity.

She was my age, and yet she spoke with wisdom beyond her years, which pointed at a eloquence that was rare in form. “Caleb Holden, I presume. I have been waiting quite some time to lay my eyes upon you.”

“And here we are. I won’t be going anywhere, so it also reasons that you have a captive audience,” I said, testing the waters.

She glided over to the chair Jas had been occupying, sitting gracefully. “Ah, I see you’re
quite
the charmer.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Oh, come out with it. I’m not in the mood for games. Let’s get right to the heart of the matter. Why are you here?”

Her hand snaked out to touch mine, and I felt a searing heat envelop my own. “I was sent here, in case Kasper were to fail. He was smart and realized that there was potential for downfall. The Aevum are always available for hire, for a price, and they sent me, because I was the most likely to succeed.”

I snatched my hand back, wincing. Where there had been only semi-blemished and torn skin, there was now a fat scar. There seemed to be two sevens burned into my hand, one right-side up, and the other upside down, interlocking pieces that held no discernable meaning. A sphere was suspended between these two obscure constructs.

“What the hell was that for? Succeed in what?”

“That is the brand of the Aevum, which lets our hunted know that they are nothing more than a husk of meat, soon to be dead and gone. The Aevum are a secret sect of assassins known only to a select few who can grunge up the money to pay for our expensive tastes. We feed off of the life source of our victims, absorbing their power. It keeps us young and eternally alive, hence the name. We can kill with a touch, or a kiss.” She stood up from her chair, and I scooted over on the bed, bringing my good arm up before me.

“Jeeves,” I called, but there was no answer. “Damn it, Jeeves, wake up!”

Kathryne paused hesitantly. “And yet, you are injured. Though it is my duty, I find myself distasteful of such an unsatisfying kill. This lack of surety is an alien sensation.” Her face took on a peculiar expression.

Time stretched endlessly, and I waited impatiently for her to make a decision. I was tired, hurting, and thought I deserved some time allotted to R&R. I shouldn’t have to deal with crazy assassins that could suck the life out of you with a touch. What kind of luck did I have, that these kinds of things happened to me so regularly? I thought of the coin in my pocket and dug it out frantically, driving through the jolts of pain.

“What do you have, there?” Kathryne gazed interestedly, but made no move to stop me.

“A wager.” I held the coin aloft. “You seem unsure of whether or not to follow through.” I provided her a winning smile. “My life, or death, tethered to the flip of a coin. Your superiors will most likely suspect you dead, whether or not you succeed. I offer you the chance to stay here, under my protection, when I am able to provide it. What do you say?”

“We shall see, although I hardly need the protection of the likes of you.” Kathryne eyed me curiously. “Toss the coin.”

I ran through my actions, wondering what in the world had possibly possessed me to pull out the coin and entrust my life to it. My lucky quarter seemed to have been with me from the beginning of my journey, however, so too could it be its end? I flicked the coin high, watching as it flipped and revolved through the air, displacing the air around it with a whirring sound that echoed as loudly as my throbbing heartbeat.

“Ladies first,” I offered in a cordial fashion.

“Tails,” she said, her voice bursting with coiled menace.

Gravity reasserted its dominance and the coin plummeted into my hand.

Derek Edgington is a seventeen-year-old teen from the small town of Pleasanton, CA. His artistic talents are famed for their stick figures and abstract qualities, for that is the only way you can describe inadequacy in the visual art form. Derek finds it incredibly surreal to write about himself in the third person. Being a prolific reader within the realm of sci-fi and fantasy, one could only expect to pick up a thing or two, if only by osmosis. He tried and failed to write his first two novels at twelve and fourteen, but found that he hadn’t the depth of thought for such an undertaking. At seventeen, he tried again, the writing flowed in a way he had never experienced and 
The Seven
 was born. Thank you to all those who have taken a chance on this novel. I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I obsessed over writing the damn thing. This book is the first in the series, followed by
Leviathan
. For more info (or if you’re so bored you can’t see straight) visit
www.derekedgington.com
.