FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
“Over here, Sush,” the old man said from the hospital bed, his voice hoarse and weak, the words came out in barely a whisper.
Seventeen-year-old Sushmita Alagumalai came home to find her uncle on the floor next to a broken mug, a pool coffee spilling over the floor. She screamed and the neighbors came over, calling the emergency helpline as she tried to wake her uncle.
An ambulance arrived and she was held back as the medical team checked his vitals - another heart attack, strapped him on a stretcher and hauled him into the ambulance, letting Sush sit with him and hold his hand. In a journey that seemed too long, all she could think of was, “Please, help him. Please make him wake up. I’ll be good. I’ll do anything. Don’t let him go, too. Please.”
She didn’t know who or what she was praying to. She’d just lost her aunt two years ago, and she and her uncle had been grieving her death ever since. They were happy that they still had each other, until the first heart attack a year ago planted a seed of worry in her, a gnawing feeling grew as the the seed sprouted, like it was telling her the last person she had wasn’t going to be there for much longer, and when she walked in on his fallen body, it was like her worst nightmare had come true.
At the hospital, once the ambulance doors flew open, everything that happened next was a blur. She didn’t know how she got off, nor did she remember which corridors they passed through or whether she’d knocked into anyone. All she knew was that the operating room seemed too far away when it was - in fact - just right down the first hallway.
She stayed outside alone, sunk into one of the plastic chairs that were stained yellow from its original white, blind to her surroundings, deaf to the chatters, screaming and medical staff yelling orders. Her back was bent over, elbows on her knees, mouth to her interlaced fingers that had already turned cold. Her mind was blank and it only knew one word - please.
When the doors next to her cracked open, she shot up from her seat, eyes fixed on the two nurses and a doctor who emerged. The nurses went the other way, while the doctor met her gaze, a flash of sympathy marring his face. “He wants to see you,” was all he said, holding the door open for her.
She sprinted in, wasting no time, halting only when the sight before her created a force from the ground that was so strong it threatened to bring her to her knees.
Her uncle pushed a reassuring smile, asking her to come closer. She drew strength from his voice, as she always did, battling against the pull of the ground and letting his eyes guide her. By the time she reached his side, her hands had to clench around the rail of the bed, no longer able to support herself. How could a man she once knew to be strong and invincible - one who fought for her and her aunt, one who taught her to fight for herself - now find himself in this state, unable to speak as loud as he used to and could hardly move?
“Sush,” he drew her prying eyes from the machines and blood back to him. His throat bobbed. “Your aunt has always been with us. And I will always be with you.”
She knew what that meant, and the tears of fear turned into ones of anger. Her mouth opened but before she could say anything, his hand raised ever so slightly as his forehead creased, knowing what she wanted to say but stopping the words right before they spilled out. “It won’t be easy,” he continued “But you will do well. Your aunt and I… have never done anything that surpassed our pride of raising you.”
Sushmita didn’t know how, but her hand found his, her thumb brushing across the back, feeling the wrinkles. His grip was still strong, and she let herself hope, hope that this was a phase, that he would get better, that everything would go back to normal, as much as his exhausted eyes were telling her he’d lost the will to fight.
He swallowed a lump in his throat, and she watched the wave the movement created in case she never got to see it again. “Your aunt… never wanted to tell you this, but I think you have a right to know. Your mother… She didn’t pass away from a road accident.”
Her eyes grew wide, a hunger for the truth now rivaled with the devastation of her uncle’s state. The old man went on for a few minutes, and when he’d told her everything, he said, “We had hoped it would surface one day - the truth, but maybe you’re the one who’s destined to hear it. And when you do, Sush, tread wisely, choose carefully. Choose peace. Choose happiness. Choose what’s best for yourself.”
The corner of his lips lifted as he gave her hand a firm squeeze for a moment before his eyelids fell, his grip lost strength and the beeping that Sush didn’t hear before was now a flat monotone.
As the medical team spilled in and ushered her toward the corner, an endless supply of tears trailed down her cheeks that no amount of tissues were able to absorb.
It was hours before the tears stopped, days before she fully processed the events of that day, and months before she accepted that she’d lost everyone she held close. Everytime she replayed her uncle’s last words, a fire blossomed in the middle of her chest, and one day she decided that what was best for herself was to get to the bottom of things, to hunt down the ones who killed her mother, and she was going to make them suffer, down to the very last creature.
PRESENT DAY The Duke of L’ouest, Greg Claw, remained pensive as his darkened eyes examined the pictures and screenshots for what was probably the twentieth time. The report his top hacker curated for him - behind his back - would normally warrant a praise, a raise, a pat on the back for the initiative taken, but this was one that changed everything he thought he knew, everything he thought he believed in the last three months, everything he thought he could have. Which was why he simply accepted the stack as the glow of his complexion dimmed, leaving Jade - his hacker - without a word. The decision was supposed to be an easy one and Greg felt ashamed to admit that he hesitated and - for a brief moment - considered looking the other way, asking the subject why before doing anything rash. But he knew why. It was written in the evidence. Asking wouldn’t just waste more time and make him vulnerable, it’d make everyone he knew vulnerable. What changed his mind within microseconds? What
Izabella opened her mouth to speak but found herself muted. She tried to scream and realized that she was only forcing air out of her lungs. Before her brain computed what was happening, vines appeared from the concrete against her back and bound her limbs and body to the wall. Flowers of transparent petals grew within seconds on the tendrils, exuding a scent that she didn’t think much of when two women she’d never seen before seemed to magically appear behind Greg, both dressed in black. Izabella screamed Greg’s name, trying to tell him about the two women, who she perceived as imposters, not knowing that they were the empress and consort of the vampire community, whose presence Greg requested. Greg, his eyes now a deep onyx, began, “Izabella Delilah,” the fact that he used her full name and that his eyes were a shade that she’d never seen told her everything she needed to know. Her neck stiffened. Her wrists tried to break free but the tendrils only tightened around them. The du
At the Paw-Claw residence - the king changed his last name to include his mate’s a few years back as a birthday gift to himself - Greg extracted a white envelope from under his seat as the two pups behind raced in unbuckling themselves before getting out as soon as the car doors were opened and raced to the front door. Enora waited patiently for Greg to unbuckle her, carry her out, and set her on her feet. Her hand reached for his as they took their time traipsing to the entrance. Enora was filling him in with her classmate’s profile and quirks, and he listened attentively, enjoying the momentary distraction despite having already memorized every single profile of the pups and their families in that kindergarten. It wasn’t as if he knew everything either, he admitted. He didn’t know which ones threw watercolors and painted their classmates’ faces and clothes during art, demanded a potty break twenty times a day or vandalized the tables and chairs and subsequently got detention. All
In the evening, with Enora in the space on his crossed legs, they tore stale bread and the girl clearly didn’t get the memo when she aimed the first chunk at the mother duck of purple feathers, turquoise beak, and yellow eyes. She only missed because Greg lifted her and turned her away right on time, so the bread was hurled neatly in front of the animal, who quacked in appreciation. And so it became a game, for Enora to estimate how far off she should aim to get the ducks while her uncle deflected her point of focus. Her giggles showed that she was having more fun than their previous duck-feeding exercise. When the last of the bread was gone, some of which injured two ducklings and most of which scattered around the flock, Enora pulled out a strand of leaf next to Greg’s leg and tried to reach the dragonfly minding its own business above an empty lilypad. Before the insect got away, a gray elastic structure came from underwater at the edge of the lilypad, and the dragonfly disappeare
Four months later, Greg found himself in an elevator headed for the sixteenth floor alongside his cousins and the queen, along with the ministers and a few warriors. The metal doors parted and they trooped down the well-lit corridor with glass-walled meeting rooms on each side, indifferent to those peering at them. Only the room at the end had opaque walls and doors, bookended by a guard on each side. At the sight of the neighboring species, the guards instinctively blocked the entrance doors, forbidding entry. It was their presence which told Lucy where to go. She knew who they guarded anyway. “Lowell. Harlow. Is Valor in there?” Lowell, blond with a diamond face, replied with crossed arms, “He’s in a meeting, a matter of great urgency that just arose. You have been notified about the postponement of the treaty execution, I believe, Your Majesty.” Lucy’s head tilted to the side as her lips lifted into a smirk. “We have a meeting with him. Now. It was scheduled last week and it’s
Greg felt something when he looked at Sushmita: immense distrust - an involuntary response that oozed from Izabella’s betrayal. Every huntress was an enemy, he was sure. This one was no exception. She may be an octopus but - for all anyone knew - she was probably also a part-time chameleon, given how attractive she was. And chameleons were the most ruthless of the bunch. He knew she’d been the brains behind correspondences, the queen had told him so, but he imagined her to be more… defensive, like Patterson; or anxious, like Abbott. If Greg’s facial reading wasn’t off, the huntress just looked tired. And enraged. Yes, definitely enraged. And she had no right to be! It was her fellow huntress who started this whole thing. Sushmita exhaled as she scribbled one word on her notepad and pushed it to Valor, who took one look and his eyebrows shot to his hair before he pushed back the notepad. Facing the royals, he began, “Like we said before, Izabella Delilah’s crime…” Lucy interrupted
After illegible signatures were slashed across dotted lines, Lucy demanded, “Where are they?”“Well,” Valor began. “Seeing that I initially sought a postponement, the ones behind the conspiracy aren’t her—”Lucy and Xandar growled, shooting up from their seats once more as their thunderous rumble echoed through the room, at which time every other wolf and lycan stood. The strength of their snarls reverberated through everyone’s eardrums, making Abbott and Valor shudder internally. Their glacial, onyx eyes drained the color out of Valor, and Xandar’s voice turned deeper and more threatening than anyone had ever heard when he ordered, “You fucking get them here. In this room. In thirty minutes. Or we will invoke Clause 4.”Valor didn’t need reminding what Clause 4 was: if the event of breach, the kingdom may hold the commander of hunters hostage until the breach is remedied, subjecting him to any form of treatment the kingdom deemed appropriate. Where the breach remains unremedied with
“You’re going away again?” Enora asked, a film of water glossing over her lilac eyes threatened to spill over. Greg hesitated. So this was why the queen asked him to tell Enora. Having this conversation was harder than he thought. “Yes, sweetheart. We’re going to see each other a little less, but only for the next three months. I’ll still pick you up from school on Fridays and we can go to the pond or the park on Saturdays. After three months, everything will be back to normal. And I’ll pick you three times a week again, as usual.” Enora’s gaze lowered. Then, a sniffle escaped her, sending a crack into her uncle’s heart as he hoisted her into his arms. “I’ll still be here, Enora. This isn’t like the one with your Aunt Pelly where I disappeared completely for two weeks. I’ll meet you two days every week and I’ll call everyday.” “You pwomise?” “I promise.” She sniffled again, her arms around his neck tightened. After some time, she asked, “Are you going to see Ugly Deli?” “No, Eno