Katie's Hellion (Rhyn Trilogy, Book One) (4 page)

The paperwork otherwise had nothing to do
with Toby or their accusation that she abandoned her kid on the
Metro.

Aside from the birth certificate, there was
no way the rest were official police papers!

Dropping the papers on her computer desk, she
then stripped off her coat and passed by the guest…Toby’s room. He
was asleep.

She returned to the desk and scoured the
paperwork for some sort of identifying information on the place
she'd been or the company that developed the forms.

Nothing.

Frustrated, she searched the Internet for Dr.
Williams until she found the eminent neurologist, whose picture she
recognized. Somewhat relieved, she read his biography, impressed by
his clientele, who ranged from heads of countries around the world
to the richest families on the planet. He’d graduated from a
Switzerland medical school and practiced extensively in Europe
before coming to the United States thirty years before…

…and dying twenty years ago at the age of
sixty-four.

She reread the entry, brow furrowed. Yes, it
was his picture and yes, his clinic had been located in the same
place it was now.

She’d spent several hours in his office
talking to a dead man?

"Mama."

She jerked. She had forgotten Toby…again. He
stood sleepy and frowning, dark hair tousled.

"I want cocoa."

Did she even have…of course she would. Right
next to her tea. She went to the kitchen and made him a cup in
silence, glancing at him a few times as he propped his head up with
both his hands.

"Do you go to school?" she asked
awkwardly.

"Yes," he said, and rolled his eyes. "I have
a map. I know you forget."

I can’t be this crazy.

She sat across from him, cocoa with
marshmallows before both of them.

"Do I forget often?" she asked.

"No."

"Do you like…school?"

"I guess," he said with a shrug. "The
teachers are mean to me."

"That sucks, I guess."

"Yeah. I like marshmallows."

She stretched for the counter and tugged the
bag off, handing it to him.

"I think the death dealer needs cocoa," he
said cheerfully.

"Why do you call him that?"

"Because that’s what he is, silly!"

"Oh."

"He’s outside my window. Can I take him some
cocoa?"

"He’s
what?"

"C’mere."

Toby took her hand in one of his, with his
other fist wrapped around a large marshmallow. He led her to the
window overlooking the street.

The death dealer stood at the edge of the
shadows as he had across from the doctor’s office, waiting.

"What is he?" she whispered.

"He’s a death dealer," Toby said with
impatience. "He’s not here for us."

The confidence with which he spoke floored
her. She wiped her face again, the world around her spinning. Near
hyperventilating, she sat heavily on the couch and clutched her
head with her hands. Toby chattered, his tone lifting in a question
that didn’t penetrate the in-between world in which she’d
fallen.

There were sounds that should’ve alarmed her,
the feel of hot tears on her face. Something warm touched her back,
and a jolt of hot electricity made her sit upright. Her mind
cleared, and she wiped her eyes at the massive form in black before
her. Panicked, she backpedaled until trapped into the corner of the
couch.

The death dealer stared at her, much larger
in her small living room than he was in the middle of the street.
He was close to seven feet tall, with chiseled features and eyes as
black as eternity. His clothing was thick and heavy this night, as
if he expected to be standing outside her window until dawn. His
sweater, jeans, and trench coat were all of high quality with his
heavy boots dwarfing her feet as hers did Toby’s. She didn’t see
any weapons this night. He was muscular and buff beneath the
trench.

Of all things, his gloved hands scared her
the most.

"Gabriel!"

Toby started into the living room, spilled
the cocoa, and then retreated to the kitchen. The death dealer
moved silently, even over the hollow wooden floors.

She heard Toby’s chipper voice as he invited
the death dealer to share some cocoa with him.

What the hell was a death dealer? The grim
reaper, here in her home?

In the course of a day, her whole life had
gone to shit.

She tiptoed to the kitchen and peeked in. The
death dealer took up much of the small space, his trench still on
despite sitting at the kitchen table. Toby was showing him the
glitter drawing he’d done. The death dealer glanced at it, his face
so emotionless she thought him a statue again. He sipped his cocoa
from a sticky cup filled half with marshmallows.

What kind of mother let her five-year-old son
carry on with
death
like he was a favorite uncle?

"…and this is your portal into the shadow
world," Toby said proudly, indicating a blob of silver on one side
of the drawing. "Do you see where it goes?"

"Elisia."

"Yes!" Toby squealed. "Where the fairies
are!"

She was shaking, cold with fear on the inside
and fevered skin clammy on the outside.

The death dealer touched a gloved finger to a
blank spot on the construction paper, and an orchid sprung up,
ethereal and hovering over the paper. Its colors rippled and
changed before the flower bent and delicate wings spread apart,
revealing a creature that was surely a fairy.

Toby squealed again and bounced to his feet,
beginning a whirling dance. She thought she heard ethereal laughter
as the fairy danced with him. The death dealer touched the paper
again, and another orchid appeared, stretched, and morphed into a
second fairy. Toby laughed and whirled.

Katie’s vision blurred and grew dark. She
heard herself scrape against the wall as she fell and was out
before she hit the floor.

* * *

So far, he hadn't been forced to change
shapes since Gabriel's visit. Rhyn tested the bonds of his cell
again until a mage in a brown robe hurried down the hall to repair
the damage. Sometimes he could see out into the hallway and the
empty cell across from his; sometimes he couldn't.

Today, the cell across from his wasn't empty.
A human-like creature sat in the corner making snorting sounds he
assumed was weeping. He looked closely at the creature. It was from
the healer's guild, one of the oldest guild's in the universe. By
the tattooed bands wrapped around his arms --each one depicting a
millennium --the creature was nearly as old as Andre, the eldest of
Rhyn's brothers.

"Shapeshifter!" someone called from down the
hall.

He watched the mage in brown scuttle away.
"Yeah," Rhyn grunted.

"I'm bored. Entertain me," the male voice
down the corridor said. "Can you shut that healer up by eating
him?"

"Yeah," he replied.

The sobbing, slender creature tensed and
covered his head, as if expecting an attack from above. Amused,
Rhyn stopped pacing and sat, staring the small creature down. The
healer quieted.

"Good enough," the creature down the hall,
Jared, said with a loud sigh. "What shape are you now, beast?"

"The usual."

"Not much for talking, are you?"

The rest of the freaks collected by Sasha,
Rhyn’s half-brother who aligned himself with the Dark One, were
quiet on the cell block. They normally were, and if they weren't,
their screaming was muted by the magic of their cells. Rhyn
stretched out on the ground of his cell to stare at the
ceiling.

"I heard Sasha's getting promoted by You Know
Who," Jared continued. "Wonder if he'll be too important for his
personal zoo."

"He'll make time for you, Jared," Rhyn
assured him.

"I suppose. Not sure why he has a half-breed
like you hanging around when he's got a full-blooded demon like me
here."

Rhyn knew why well enough. In Sasha's zoo, he
was at the bottom of the food chain of the otherworldly collection
of creatures. He intended to keep his relationship to their
zookeeper a secret. Sasha had an affinity for collecting the worst
of the worst --creatures whose intentions toward humans and
immortals alike were as far from the Immortal Code as could be.

Despite Rhyn’s fury and occasional diversion
from the Immortal Codes, he still believed in them, a
weakness
Sasha was trying to beat out of him since their
eldest brother --the peacemaker and enforcer of the Council That
Was Seven --sentenced them both to Hell.

"Fuck you, Sasha," he whispered into the
darkness, not caring if Sasha heard him or not.

Fuck you, Kris, for making me do what I did,
and fuck you, Andre, for pulling the trigger and sending me here
with Sasha.

When he was out of Hell, he'd already planned
on kicking the ass of their eldest brother, Andre, and killing
Kris. The Council That Was Seven would survive without the three of
them: Sasha, who'd sold out long ago; Kris, who needed to die; and
him, whom Andre'd kill as soon as he killed Kris.

As much as they hate me for aligning with
the Dark One, they hate you more for our father's death,
Sasha
had told him smugly more than once.

It was true, and only Andre supported his
petition to be recognized as one of the seven sons charged by their
father with protecting humanity against the Dark One. By the time
he came of age, his other six brothers had not only come of age but
also had each adopted a continent of responsibility. His late birth
in the immortal world landed him Antarctica, where he could do
little harm with his wild powers.

As much as he hated Hell, he hated Antarctica
more.

Restless, he rose and paced again, wondering
why Sasha needed an ancient healer in his zoo, a place where
creatures came to suffer.

He sensed what Gabriel wouldn't say: things
were about to change for him, and he suspected that meant he'd soon
be free. Whoever it was he was to protect, even his promise to
Gabriel wouldn't stand in his way of revenge.

I'm coming for you, Kris.

* * *

She awoke and readied herself for the world,
convinced everything had been a nightmare caused by exhaustion. Her
conviction wilted as she stepped from her room into the living room
to find the black-clad death dealer seated in an armchair, facing
the door as if on guard, with a lethal black sword across his lap.
He’d laid his trench over the couch, though he still wore boots and
gloves.

"I was hoping you’d be gone."

His gaze settled on her, and she’d wished
she’d never spoken. She hid in the kitchen, cold inside once again.
Her hands shook as she made tea. The glitter and construction paper
picture was back on the fridge with no sign that any fairies had
emerged from its depths. She breathed deeply, struggling to remain
in control when all she wanted to do was run for the nearest psych
ward and check herself in.

She turned and jumped.

"God, I can’t take this! You, out!" she
belted at the death dealer, who leaned his hip against the counter
and managed to fill up the entrance to the kitchen.

He obeyed, and she gave a growl of
frustration. She followed, intent on having her tea by the window
as she did every morning.

"Your shit is everywhere!" she snapped. "And
what in the name of everything holy are you doing with a
sword
? Is that even legal?"

He moved the sword off her favorite chair
without answering and placed it on the trench stretched across her
couch. He sat with his hands on his thighs and his eyes straight
ahead, like a statue chiseled in Hell itself. He was perfectly
still, and she tried to concentrate on her tea.

"This is impossible."

She marched to her bathroom and yanked out
the five pill bottles, reading the labels. She’d done research on
the drugs; they were antipsychotics, anti-anxiety pills and a bunch
of other fun drugs. She grabbed a second bottle and went to the
kitchen for water, dumping out two of each into one hand. She took
a deep breath and opened her mouth, freezing when a black-gloved
hand clamped around her wrist. She looked up at the silent shadow,
whose chiseled features were unreadable. He swept up the pills and
crushed them in his hand, then released the powder into the sink.
He dumped the rest in the garbage disposal and turned it on,
returning a few minutes later with the other bottles.

Too afraid to challenge him, she watched him
destroy everything. He gave no explanation and headed toward her
bedroom. She bit back an order to leave her stuff alone but stopped
herself, watching him go through her medicine cabinet for any
additional drugs. Satisfied there was nothing left, he tore her
prescriptions to bits before returning to the chair and stilling
again into a statue.

The living room started to spin and she sat,
forcing herself to breathe deeply.

"We can talk."

The stoic offer made laughter bubble within
her.

"I don’t
want
to talk! I want my life
back!"

"This is your life."

"Absolutely not! I’m not psychotic, I didn’t
have amnesia yesterday, I’ve never had a son! I don’t care what
anyone says, not Dr. Williams, not my sister, not
you!
"

"You weren't supposed to remember anything
before Toby appeared in your life," he said.

"What're you talking about?"

He looked at her, a penetrating stare that
made her again regret drawing his attention. She couldn’t read his
face. He rose and, with methodical patience, swirled the trench
around him, placed the sword on the inside with an array of other
weaponry, and then stalked to the door.

All it took was a hissy fit. The door closed
behind him. She sagged into the depths of her chair.

"Mama, do I have to go to school today?" Toby
called.