Balanced Chaos (The Void Series Book 3) Read online

Page 7


  “Just spit it out, Gollet,” he said, using her last name just as the colonel had at times.

  “The colonel…”

  “Lieutenant colonel.”

  “Ugh, why do you guys make such a big deal over that? What’s the difference?” she demanded, nearly flinging a forkful of mash potatoes at the corporal.

  “There’s a difference, trust me.”

  “Fine… The ‘lieutenant colonel’ has asked me to do some things around the Res… things that will be more difficult with a shadow…”

  “Especially a human shadow.”

  Sam nodded, a smile pulling on her lips. Smart man.

  “I’ll try to be discreet.”

  “More than discreet, I need you to not look like you’re ready to arrest them.”

  Werner frowned.

  “You need to understand, these people have been raised to believe that when an officer of the Federal Mystics Bureau enters their home, bad things happen.”

  “I’m not with the Federal Mystics Bureau.”

  “You represent the same position as the FMB, and the same position as what the FMB will likely be again in the future. After all, the National Guard is only here temporarily. The Bureau will be back. To the residents of the reservation, the guards are to be feared. So when I go into someone’s home to ask for a favor or to set up a meeting, and I bring someone in that they fear…”

  Werner nodded. “And you explained all this to Gallagher?”

  “Yes. And his top priority is my safety.”

  “As it should be.”

  Sam rolled her eyes and took another bite.

  “The point is,” she said upon swallowing, “I need you to try to look a little less scary.”

  Werner frowned, completely oblivious to his natural affect. “I don’t try to look scary on purpose.”

  “I know, but a smile would go a long way.”

  “You want me to smile?”

  Sam let out a long sigh and plopped her fork into her remaining mash potatoes. “It wouldn’t hurt. Just… try, okay?”

  “I’ll try.” They sat in silence for a long moment before Werner spoke again. “You finished eating?”

  Sam looked down at the plate. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “You need to eat more. You’re too skinny.”

  Sam just shrugged. She didn’t feel like going into the fact she had already eaten more in this one sitting than she ever had at her parent’s home.

  “So where to now?” Werner asked.

  “Time to go visit my ex’s parents.”

  “This should be fun,” the corporal replied with a fake smile—if that was the best he could do, they were doomed to failure.

  Thirty minutes later, they stood outside the door of the Newberry family—Sam’s only connection to the clan leaders, outside of her own parents and she wasn’t quite that desperate.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Werner whispered.

  “Oh, I’m positive I don’t,” she whispered back just as the door handle began to turn.

  The door swung open to reveal Chad, looking just as young and untouched by hardship as he had the last time Sam had seen him—outside the slaughterhouse talking to his father about his plans to trap her in marriage to form an alliance with her family.

  “Sam,” he said, his lips pulling up into an out-of-place smile, “what a pleasure to see you!”

  “Knock it off, Chad. I’m here to see your dad.”

  Chad glanced up at Werner. Sam followed his gaze and noticed that the corporal was making no effort to smile.

  “Who’s your friend?” Chad asking, eying her shadow with more reserve than most.

  Chad had been in with the Bureau guards. Sam had no doubt he lived in fear of the new regime.

  “This is Corporal Werner. I’m here on official business. Is your dad home?”

  “Look, Sam, yeah okay, my dad was making me date you… but that doesn’t mean my feelings for you weren’t real.”

  Sam stared at Chad. “Seriously? You’re really going to try this again? After what I said last time?”

  “I just wanted to make it clear that despite whatever my dad might have put me up to, I really did care for you.”

  “Cut the bullshit, Chad. I’m here to see your dad and only your dad. Is he here or not?”

  “Sa-aaam…”

  “Is your dad home?”

  Chad let out a long sigh. “Yeah, he’s home. C’mon in.”

  Sam and Werner stepped into the small apartment, following Chad down the narrow hallway. Mr. Newberry was waiting for them, perched on the small sofa. On the financial scales of the Reservation, the Newberry’s ranked higher than most. Mr. Newberry and Chad both worked jobs any inmate would give their left arm for.

  Chad technically worked for one of the crop-picking teams that were bussed out to the various farms seasonally, meaning he was among the few mystics who had seen the outside world. When he wasn’t working his legal job, he worked unsanctioned for the government’s archeologists translating anything and everything. Chad possessed a singular gift—he could translate any written language set before him.

  Mr. Newberry, on the other hand, possessed the gift of telepathy. His inner workings with the bureau had acquired him the job of overseer of the maintenance crew for the public buildings. Like most residents, Sam knew he did little more than making sure the crews of werewolves, mages, and vampires showed up and did their jobs. He hadn’t lifted a finger in decades.

  “Ah, Miss Gollet, to what do we owe the pleasure?” he asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

  Sam smiled back, forcing herself to not respond in kind. “I come on behalf of Lieutenant Colonel Gallagher, the new leadership of the reservation. He would like to meet with you and the other clan leaders.”

  “And why is he not here himself?” demanded Newberry, the sweet demeanor quickly fading.

  “He thought the invitation would be better received coming from another fae.”

  “You barely fit the description.”

  “Need I reminder you, Mr. Newberry, that a mere month ago you were lobbying for me to be your daughter-in-law. If I’m fae enough for that position then I’m sure I’m fae enough to issue this invitation from the lieutenant colonel. Will you please set up a meeting between the clan leaders and Lieutenant Colonel Gallagher?”

  Mr. Newberry shifted in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “You shouldn’t even be here, Samantha. I could get in trouble for just letting you into my home. After all, you are a known killer of the fae.”

  “I’m also known to have solved the murders of numerous fae,” she replied with heat.

  Sam took a deep breath, knowing that giving in to her anger was not going to get her the meeting she needed. She need to play politician, something she had never been very good at.

  “I’m sorry if I put you in an uncomfortable position. What can I do to make it better?”

  Mr. Newberry pursed his lips and looked her in the eye as though he was considering his words carefully.

  “My wife has been very sick. The healers have been unable to do anything for her. They begin to believe she is being poisoned. Figure out who is poisoning her and I will believe that you mean the fae no harm. Then, and only then, will I take the social risk of advocating for you with the clan leaders.”

  Sam ground her teeth together, furious at the hypocrisy of it all. “Fine,” she growled. “Let me see Mrs. Newberry.”

  “Chad, will you take Sam in to see your mother,” Mr. Newberry said, the slightest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

  Sam stared at him for a moment, disgust building in her gut. She saw it all with perfect clarity. While she had no doubt his wife was sick, and likely being poisoned too, he had known all along how their conversation would play out. Newberry would reject her proposal until she agreed to investigate his wife’s illness. He had played her even though she would have helped the sick woman had he just asked.

  She took another deep breath and set her a
nger aside, willing away her desire to punch Mr. Newberry in the face. Growing up with a power that sought to kill at all times, Sam was accustomed to controlling her emotions, no matter how strong they were.

  In an effort to make Corporal Werner’s movements appear based on her invitation, she motioned for him to follow her. She knew he would have done so no matter what, but she wanted them to believe he was under her authority rather than the other way around. Thankfully, he graciously played along.

  The movement gave her a chance to see his face. He wasn’t smiling—not by a long shot. In fact, he looked ready to spit nails.

  Chad led them back down the narrow hallway and gently cracked open the second door.

  “Mother?” he whispered.

  A soft noise came from the pile of blankets.

  “Sam stopped by. She wanted to say hi. Can she come in?”

  “Sam?”

  After motioning for Werner to remain in the hallway, Sam pushed past Chad and entered the room. Mrs. Newberry lie under a heap of blankets, half supported by two deflated pillows. Sam stood in silence, amazed by the transformation. What was once a beautiful, vibrant woman was now nothing more than a skeletal husk.

  “Don’t look at me like that, little Sam.”

  Sam swallowed the lump in her throat and cleared the look of disgust from her features.

  “Sorry,” she said as she carefully perched on the edge of the bed. “I need to… to probe you a little, see if I can tell the difference between your power and whatever it is that’s doing this to you. Will you allow that?”

  “Of course, Sam. I trust you.”

  Sam smiled at the pure confidence in the sick woman’s voice. At least someone trusts me.

  Sam reached out, placing her hands on Mrs. Newberry’s frail shoulders. She tried not to frown as she felt the other woman’s collarbones protruding beneath her skin. She took a deep breath and focused on her gift. It willingly came to her call, annoyed at the strict hold she kept on it as it snaked into the sick woman. It tried to take her gift, but there was so little left to take.

  Mrs. Newberry felt more human than fae. It wasn’t just her body that hovered on the verge of death. The power of her fae gift hung on the brink. Sam forced her own gift away from the sick woman’s fae power. There wasn’t enough to take without killing her. She had to find the poison. Searching through Mrs. Newberry was Sam’s first time ever using her skills for such a purpose. She didn’t even know if she could find a magical poison with her gift, but she had to try.

  Sam pushed her gift deeper into Mrs. Newberry’s body, twining in and out of her until she found something that felt off, foreign. The danger withdrew at her touch—almost hissing like a cat. Her gift approached it again, tasting it and flinching away. The two powers didn’t like each other, recoiling much like two opposing magnets. Sam could practically feel her gift trying to proverbially spit the poison out. It was foul, evil even.

  It doesn’t belong in this world, much less in this woman.

  She withdrew her gift, which, for once, readily retraced its steps back into her own body and huddled behind her tattoo. Sam felt her gift shaking within her boundaries, happy to be where it felt safe.

  Sam opened her eyes to stare down at the sick woman. The poison was strong, but there was more at work here. She frowned.

  “Mrs. Newberry, when was the last time you fed?”

  “Hush, Sam. You know we don’t talk about that,” Mrs. Newberry said, her pale cheeks taking on the faint hint of a blush.

  Sam fought to keep from rolling her eyes.

  “To fight this poison you need your fae power to be strong and, unlike the rest of us, you have to replenish it.” Sam bent down to whisper into her ear. “When was the last time?”

  “I’m sick, Sam. I can’t exactly…”

  Sam nodded, understanding the problem without her spelling it out. “You don’t have to be the one… Just someone in the room…”

  Mrs. Newberry’s eyes flickered from side to side. “Sam! You of all people should know what it’s like to have a gift that’s not accepted in polite society. Frank and I have handled it quite well ourselves.”

  Sam frowned. She had never thought of the fact the Newberry family might actually not mind her gift as much as others because they had their own black sheep in the family. She nodded.

  “All the same, Mrs. Newberry, you need to find a way to feed yourself. If you don’t, I’d guess you’ll be dead in days… and I can’t find the source of your poison that fast. You have to help me out here.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” whispered the sick woman, tears brimming in her bloodshot eyes.

  Sam glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the two men standing in the doorway. They both stared at Sam, looking as though they had been trying to overhear the hushed conversation taking place between the two women.

  An idea took form in Sam’s head. She immediately hated herself for it. Sam glanced between the two men—an impossible choice.

  Sam turned back to the sick woman. “I’ll feed you,” she said.

  “Not with Chad,” Mrs. Newberry said as firmly as she could in her condition.

  Sam frowned, surprised. Did Mrs. Newberry not share her son’s hope for their reunion?

  “No. Not Chad.”

  Mrs. Newberry slid her skeletal hand across the blanket and gripped Sam’s fingers. “He’s not for you, Sam. I know it. Frank and Chad will figure it out eventually.”

  Sam felt tears press against her eyes. She nodded.

  “All the same, I’ll get you fed.”

  “You don’t have to do this, little Sammy.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  Sam patted the woman’s frail hand, amazed at the emotions building inside her. She never realized how much she had counted on Mrs. Newberry becoming her new mother.

  “Let’s just get you taken care of,” she said before standing up and joining the men in the doorway.

  To her disgust, Chad’s face lit up, as though he had guessed what they had been discussing.

  “Will you please excuse us, Chad?”

  “What?” he demanded, his expression changing to anger in an instant.

  “Your mother does not wish you to be present for the rest of the examination,” Sam lied.

  Chad glanced at his mother over Sam’s shoulder. “Mom, you don’t mind me being here, do you?”

  “Go, Chad,” Mrs. Newberry ordered.

  Chad glared at his mother before shifting his gaze on Sam. He glanced between them a few times before stomping away.

  Sam stepped into the doorway and motioned for Werner to come closer. A hot blush heated her cheeks before she even began making her request.

  “I have a very awkward favor to ask.”

  “Ask me anything,” Werner replied, his eyes flicking over Sam’s shoulder.

  She had no doubt Chad was watching them from the end of the hallway. Sam motioned for him to step into the sick room. They shifted inside and shut the door, protecting them from prying eyes.

  “Mrs. Newberry is a succubus. Do you know what that is?”

  Werner blushed, giving Sam a pretty good idea of his answer.

  “In normal circumstances her relationship with her husband would be sufficient to keep her gift strong, but…” Sam trailed off and waved at the dying woman. “Within the reservation lifestyle—where we practically live on top of each other—the succubus gifting has become increasingly ‘hush hush’ if you know what I mean.”

  Werner nodded, a frown forming on his features. “So what do you need from me?”

  “Mrs. Newberry’s gift can be fed from other people’s… um… sexual energy.”

  “You want to have sex with me?” Werner’s eyebrows rose until they began to meld with his cropped hair.

  Sam half laughed, half coughed in her own embarrassment. “No. But…um… a little… uh…”

  “Intense making out?”

  She nodded, thankful he could say what she could not.<
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  Before she could figure out what she needed to say next, Corporal Werner stepped forward, cupped her cheek in his large calloused hand, and tilted her face up towards his. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Mrs. Newberry turn her head away, embarrassment written on her features.

  Sam closed her own eyes as she felt Werner’s lips touch hers. Her body tensed. She had never kissed a human before and didn’t know what to expect. Before that increasingly awkward moment, she had only ever kissed two men—Chad and Roman, both mystics. With each of them her gift had come alive, fighting her to take from them.

  With Chad it hadn’t been much interested after the first foray. His gift, while strong, was not very aggressive. Her gift, once it had tasted Chad, was not concerned with him. Roman was a different story.

  Werner worked his mouth against hers and Sam complied more out of habit than interest. Gently, the corporal caressed her cheek, tucking her errant hair behind her ear. His other hand found her waist and trailed up her spine, making her shiver into his chest. She found it hard and unyielding. Sam flinched.

  “What? Something wrong?” he asked as he pulled away.

  “What’s this?” she asked, racking her knuckles against his chest.

  “My Kevlar?” Werner ran his hands under a flap before grabbing the zipper and yanking down. Within seconds he had the heavy vest off. “Better?” he asked as he leaned into her and pressed his lips to hers again.

  “Mmhmm,” she mumbled.

  Werner pulled her up against him, and to Sam’s astonishment she felt her body responding. Unlike Chad, or even Roman, Werner had the body of a warrior—all lean, warm muscle that kind of frightened her. The more she ran her hands over his arms and chest, the more her insides tingled with excitement. He didn’t need the powers of the mystics to be deadly.

  Sam pushed herself up onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck as his arm slid up her back, holding her firmly against his chest. She let out a little squeak as he lifted her up, one hand cupping her backside. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him press her up against the wall.

  She felt the pinch of her fractured rib and the pull on her healing shoulder, but her injuries were small flickers of pain, distant compared to the heat of her desire.