Balanced Chaos (The Void Series Book 3) Read online

  The officer led her toward the executive office. Sam felt her breath catch as excitement built in her chest. Was she really going to get to meet the reservation’s new leadership?

  “Major,” the officer called to a younger man.

  The major fell in step with the older man, taking her file in hand.

  “This is Sam Gollet, the Void we’ve been hearing about,” the bald officer said, waving back to Sam.

  “Ma’am,” the major said with a nod, his face showing only the slightest flicker of surprise.

  Sam stared at them wide-eyed as the major stepped forward and opened the door for the first officer and stepped aside. The bald man walked in and went straight for the desk. It was only as the major ushered her inside that she realized this bald man was, in fact, the new leadership. She had just been mouthing off to the man who held her fate in his hands.

  She stepped inside and huddled near the door.

  “Sit, Sam,” the officer said.

  Sam obeyed, glancing at the leaf-shaped symbol on the man’s fresh jacket and wishing she knew what it meant. If the lesser officer was a major, he had to be higher than that.

  What’s higher than a major?

  She didn’t have a clue. This was her first time interacting with anyone from the military. She glanced up at the major who stood just behind her chair. He gave her a little wink and turned a deferential look upon the officer.

  “Sam here is lacking a job and housing, it seems.”

  “I can see to that, sir,” the major said.

  “You had mentioned wanting to hire someone as a contact between us and the mystics. What about Sam?” suggest the officer.

  “I’m open to that.”

  Sam felt her eyes go wide. She tentatively raised her hand as though she was back in school. The officer let out a long-suffering sigh and slouched back into his office chair.

  “You don’t have to raise your hand, Sam. Say what’s on your mind.”

  “I don’t think you want to use me as a bridge between the military and the mystics.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I’m probably the most hated person in the reservation.”

  “Including my guards?” asked the major skeptically.

  Sam glanced up at the major. “My own parents would rather have your guards over for dinner than see me back under their roof.”

  The major frowned down at her, his skepticism only partially cleared from his features.

  “If you’re looking to improve peace between your new guards and the mystics, I’m not going to help that.”

  The bald man twined his fingers behind his head and tipped his swivel chair back, staring at her.

  “That may be true,” he finally said, “but you know every faction of the mystics in surprising detail. Every person I’ve talked to thus far only knows their segregated group. You’re not like them. No, they might not like you, but they know you. I think I can work with that. You’re it. I want you working with us. Major, get Sam a room here in the admin building.”

  “Yes, sir,” the major said.

  Before Sam could reply, they were interrupted by a knock on the officer’s door.

  “Yes.”

  “Lieutenant Colonel?” asked a soldier as he poked his head in.

  “What is it?”

  “I have a delegate from the fae faction wishing to speak to you.”

  “Not now, I’m with someone.”

  “He says it’s about her.”

  The lieutenant colonel glanced at Sam, who shrugged innocently.

  “Very well, send them in.”

  A moment later a complete stranger walked in. Sam had been expecting Mr. Newberry, or worse yet, her father.

  “Andrew McMillian, at your service,” said the man with a slight, obnoxious bow.

  The man crossed the room and held out his hand across the desk as though the lieutenant colonel might want to shake it. The colonel rose to his feet and shook his hand, though Sam noticed the soldier looked as though he was touching a slug. Sam also noticed the newcomer’s nails looked almost manicured.

  The pompous man smiled and took the last seat without invitation, leaving the major standing. Sam began to rise, ready to offer the major her own seat, but he quickly motioned for her to remain where she was.

  Sam felt her gift press against her tattoo. Normally she would take this opportunity to sip his powers and see what sort of gift hid behind his polite brown eyes, but she had made herself a promise, and she wanted to get back to keeping it.

  “And how can we help you, Mr. McMillian?” asked the lieutenant colonel from his position on the other side of the desk.

  “I had a few questions for Miss Gollet, here. I understand you are holding her in regards to the recent altercation that took place tonight.”

  “And where did you get that information?”

  McMillian smiled, his dark skin nearly glowing under the yellow lamplight on the colonel’s desk.

  “We have a powerful rumor mill here in the reservation,” the stranger replied. “May I ask her a few questions, or are you putting her in Solitary?”

  The lieutenant colonel stared at McMillian for a moment before speaking. “Miss Gollet is not being charged. Why do you need to question her?”

  “She was connected to some fae relics that have gone missing, which the clan leaders have charged me to find and return to their proper place within the clans.”

  The lieutenant colonel took his seat and motioned for the major to shut the door. The major obeyed and took a station beside the door, protecting them from further interruption.

  Sam felt her stomach sink into her knees. This was the first she had heard of the relics’ continued disappearance. She had assumed the clan leaders had found the relics sometime during her recuperation. It had never occurred to her that they would still be missing.

  “How was she connected?” asked the colonel.

  McMillian hesitated a moment before replying, much to the colonel’s annoyance. “Why don’t I speak with Miss Gollet privately? After all, the National Guard was not even present during the time of the relics’ disappearances.”

  The lieutenant colonel stared at McMillian for another long moment. Sam shifted in her seat, feeling as though she was caught between arguing parents all over again.

  “No. Miss Gollet has come under my employment. You may question her here, or not at all.”

  McMillian tried to hide his dismay and failed entirely. Sam had no doubt McMillian had never dreamed of a human coming to her aid, especially against another fae. Slowly, he turned in his seat and pulled out a little pad of recycled paper.

  “I need to ask you a few questions about the night of December 29th, 2031?”

  Sam felt her stomach clench and her mouth go dry. “Why do you care about that night?”

  “I think everyone in the Illinois Reservation cares about that night.”

  “And why, again, are you in the Illinois Reservation? I’ve never seen you before tonight,” asked Sam, trying her best to change the subject.

  McMillian smiled as though he understood her tactic. “I just moved here from Florida.”

  That explains the soft hands, she thought. The Florida reservation was known to house the pansiest of the mystics. They enjoyed glorious weather year round, fished for their food, especially when the government failed to supply their needs, and lounged in the sun. Sam suddenly understood his manicured looks.

  “And why in the world would you move from sunny Florida to this hell hole?” she asked, glancing apologetically at the colonel.

  His eyes were glued to McMillian, a slight glare pulling his features askew. Sam made a mental note not to piss off the new head of the reservation.

  “When the Harcos clan asks you personally to move here, you do as you’re told.”

  The Harcos clan, her clan, were the warriors of the fae, and the most feared and respected. Unofficially, they led the fae through the subtle increase in power they wielded.
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br />   Sam began to chew on the inside of her lip, an old, bad habit she thought she had kicked. She didn’t want to, she had told herself she wouldn’t, but she needed to know what he was, what he really was. He claimed to be a fae, but there were hundreds, maybe even thousands of types of fae between the seven clans.

  If the Harcos clan had asked him here personally, then he had to be something powerful. She needed to know the truth, and so did the colonel. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “Which relics are missing?” she asked to buy herself some time to think.

  “That is not for me to say. Now, on December 29th, you fought against Carl Harmon—still living—Tom Bilte…”

  He rattled off a list of names, some she recognized, some she didn’t.

  “I don’t know all their names, but that sounds right.”

  “And you investigated the murders of Brian Stevenson, Chris…”

  Again, Sam didn’t bother to track with each name he listed. She couldn’t allow herself to picture the faces of each dead body she had examined, each fae she had failed to save.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes trained on the small pad of paper he had pulled from his coat pocket.

  “And while investigating their murders, you never found any relics on their premises?”

  “Correct.”

  “And what exactly makes you qualified to investigate someone’s murder?” asked McMillian, his voice becoming accusatory.

  Sam lowered her eyes to glare at her hands. “I’ve found a murderer before. Knowing this, Mr. Newberry came to me for help.”

  “What exactly can a Void do?”

  “Nothing. Not a damn thing. Is this interview over?” she demanded, stumbling to her feet before her fear and guilt overwhelmed her once again.

  “I don’t think you’re being entirely honest with me,” he accused, challenging her as he too climbed to his feet.

  The colonel followed them as the major stepped forward. The officers crossed their arms, looking far more intimidating than Sam. Sam stopped just short of running into the major’s chest. She turned, pivoting on her good ankle.

  “And tell me, Mr. McMillian,” Sam asked, “what exactly is your fae gift?”

  He swallowed visibly.

  “That’s what I thought. No fae ever wants to reveal the cards in their hands.”

  To her disgust, her gift threw itself against her tattoo, a tiny splinter of it sneaking past her barriers to snitch a taste of McMillian’s gift. She clamped down on her gift, reining it back in under her control. All the same, she felt his gift coursing through her and the driving urge to take more. Strangely enough, she couldn’t identify precisely what his gift entailed. He was part of the Értelem Clan, that she knew, but what he could do remained a mystery.

  Not wanting to alert him to her theft, she turned and shouldered past the major. She jerked the door open and limped through the large room sectioned off into cubicles. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had to get away from that man.

  His power still trickled through her system, tricking her eyes into seeing what wasn’t there. Only a few soldiers were still working in the labyrinth of four foot-tall walls, and those few were paying her no attention. The one other person she saw though…

  Sam shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut to moisten them. The other image she saw couldn’t be. She had just left him standing in the colonel’s office. She was certain of it. And this version didn’t quite look right. Sam blinked again and tried to focus in on the image of McMillian, but the more she focused on him the more he faded away.

  Before Sam could figure out the nuances of McMillian’s unique gifting, his power faded from her system. Within seconds, she felt her body begin to shake. The reality of the long night hit her like a battering ram and she slithered down the wall of a cubical, collapsing onto her rump. Using her good arm, she pulled her legs up to her chest and began to rock.

  Sam didn’t know how other fae thought about their gifts as she had never had a mentor to guide her through her maturity. She had been forced to go through puberty alone, figuring out how to control her gift without anyone’s help. She didn’t know if other fae considered their gifts to be like a living entity, with its own thoughts and wants, as she did. Her gift fought back most of the time, pushing against her will with its own desires, but in the end she always won.

  Well, almost always.

  Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. For the first time since the massacre, she had taken someone else’s power without needing it to survive and, as far as she could tell, she had done it without killing anyone.

  Sam felt an overwhelming since of relief, mixed with a substantial helping of guilt. She wasn’t supposed to use her gift anymore. She had promised herself repeatedly that she would never again use it, and yet tonight she had fought vigorously with her powers to take other fae out.

  A second later she felt two large hands clamp down on her arms and give her a little shake.

  “I think she’s in shock, sir,” a voice said from above her head.

  Chapter Four

  Sam strained to hear any sound beyond her own breathing, but either the walls were very thick or any other inhabitants in the building were being very quiet. Sam slowly opened her eyes to find herself in a sterile-looking room and guessed she had slept the night in the administration building. She turned her head and nestled into the pillow, reveling at the softness of the sheets. Sam squirmed, trying to snuggle deeper into the plush mattress and winced, quickly stopping the effort. Her injuries were still bare, never having been re-bandaged after the fight.

  Her mind wandered back to the previous evening and her meeting with the colonel… and McMillian. She couldn’t remember much after storming out of Gallagher’s office, but she vaguely recalled hearing Gallagher raging against McMillian’s audacity. She wasn’t exactly sure what Gallagher had been talking about, but she knew she didn’t like the fae investigator any, just as she had been surprised to find him speaking to a lieutenant colonel of the United States National Guard as though they were equals. The entire conversation baffled her.

  The small room held nothing more than a twin bed—still larger than the cots provided to the mystics—a stainless-steel desk, a footlocker, and a small wardrobe. Compared to the provisions handed out to the residents, they were downright regal, and yet compared to what awaited the guests in the rooms on the second floor of the administration building, they were what one might call “scuzzy.” Nevertheless, Sam luxuriated in the plush mattress and thick blankets.

  Eventually, Sam slithered out of the large, warm bed and pulled her boots on, wincing as the leather grazed her burned ankle. She had slept in her clothing, but it wasn’t the first time. She quickly made up the bed before grabbing her patched leather jacket and slipping it on as she exited the room. The room was on a long hallway with evenly spaced doors. Hers was the second from the last.

  She turned down the hallway, limping away from the dead end. At the end, she found a set of stairs leading up to another hallway. The few inhabitants, two soldiers, ignored her, and so she continued her search, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was searching for.

  Following what felt like the main flow of traffic, she found herself in the large room of cubicles. Sam pressed herself against the wall and watched the hustle and bustle of activity, having no idea what she was supposed to be doing. After a few minutes, she considered just leaving. After all, neither the colonel nor the major had said she would be staying permanently at the admin building.

  Sam began to chew on the inside of her lip again, her nerves tightening her stomach.

  “There you are, Sam,” said the major, coming from the same hallway she had recently exited. “I was just looking for you.”

  “Sorry, sir. I didn’t know where I was supposed to go.”

  “No worries. Did you sleep okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. I don’t feel we had a proper introduction last night. I’
m Major Victor Halstead.”

  “Sam Gollet,” she replied, shaking the proffered hand.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” he replied, his accent drawing the “a” out in ma’am. “Would you mind if I ask a rather impertinent question, Ma’am?”

  “Only if you stop calling me, Ma’am,” Sam said before she could wrangle her sarcastic tongue.

  The officer blushed, his weathered cheeks turning a surprising shade of red. “Sorry, ma…”

  “No, I’m sorry, Major. I realize it’s just your training, but you’ve gotta understand, it’s really weird for me.”

  Sam stopped to glance around at the bustle of soldiers, all garbed in their camo even though they were just working in the same office the Federal Mystics Bureau had recently vacated. Sam felt her heart rate climb as she thought of the guards who had once worked in this place. Men like Captain Reynolds; men who had wanted to trade sex for their good graces.

  “You have to understand, Major, the men you have replaced would never speak to a mystic the way you speak to me, much less treat me with any sort of deference. It’s gonna take some getting used to.” Sam forced a smile to her lips. “Besides, ‘ma’am’ makes me sound at least forty-two years old.”

  Halstead smiled back. “No ‘ma’am.’ Got it.”

  “Now, what did you want to ask me?”

  The major’s teasing expression vanished in an instant, giving Sam the impression she might not want to know what his question was.

  “Are you sure you want to work for the lieutenant colonel?”

  “You don’t trust him?”

  “I trust him with my life. That’s not what concerns me. As I am sure you are aware, the relationship between the National Guard and the mystics is dicey at best, downright hostile most of the time. If you are seen to be working with us, your people may never welcome you back. If you have hopes of a reconciliation, then you cannot work with us.”