Page 1 of Secret Origins
Prologue
Trust: a fickle thing that could mess you up for life if given to the wrong people. It also happened to be the story of my life, or as much of it as I could remember anyway.
The beautiful sound of the rain splattering the glass windows was suffocated by the low hum of conversations and the droning of the annoying country tune playing through the speakers in the crowded pub. Some song about the guy whimpering to his horse about the girl getting away or something. I would’ve preferred the horse over the person, but what did I know? Leaning with both elbows on the polished bar, I watched the glass of rum and coke cradled between my palms with such fascination one might think it was hiding the greatest wisdom of all times. Everything around me was muted to white noise as all thoughts were pushed to some deep recess of my brain where they’d leave me alone, even if it was just for a moment. I’d struggled to quiet the urgency of my mind, which pulled me in every direction most of my life, but then I discovered that sitting in this particular shithole brought the elusive silence I’d been searching for.
Who would’ve thought being around humans was a good thing?
Not me, that was for sure.
So much had happened so far that I could’ve sworn my mind had started short-circuiting because it was unable to process the sheer volume of disasters piling up one after the other. I knew Alexius—my boss and the Daywalker vampire that took a chance on me when I was about to run and hide from the supernatural world—was up to something. I recognized the signs immediately, from the elusive half answers to his carefully picked assignments for me that were not the norm. I was his right hand, his hit man—or hit-woman if you will—doing all his dirty work until I wasn’t anymore. When the secrecy started I should’ve listened to my gut and followed the jerk, but I was trying to work on my insecurities so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Many people died. More will die, too, and all because I let my guard down and trusted someone.
And there was that damn word trust, again.
What a fucking joke.
“Is this seat taken?” The voice coming from my right wasn’t one I’d heard before, so I reluctantly dragged my eyes away from the object sitting between my cupped palms to look at the shmuck. I even managed not to grind my teeth or snarl like a feral beast at the poor thing. Look at me adulting.
“It is.”
The rejection entered one ear and exited the other before I had time to blink. Interest sparked in the darkness of his eyes, which looked me up and down slow enough I had no doubt he could become my new tailor, no measurements needed. You’d think my dismissal of him was an invitation for a quickie in one of the bathrooms that had seen better days. His square jaw with a couple days’ worth of stubble on it and that slightly crooked nose rested on an attractive enough face, for a human at least. His features added up to someone I’d definitely take for a ride on any given day … just not today. Unfortunately, humans had deviated from their primal natures that the poor creature beside me couldn’t rely on his intuition, which should be warning him about the predator before him. Instead of being scared of me, he actually smirked as if I was amusing.
I smirked back.
“Whatever it is that you are thinking at this very moment, it will not end well for you boy.” My comment made the amusement slip off his face, but it didn’t deter him any further than that. “Go find a nice girl who will give you an even nicer blow job so you can fall asleep with a smile on your face.” His lips parted, but I was not in the mood to hear what would come out from between them. “If I put a smile on your face, it’ll be of the permanent kind. The one I’ll carve over your skin, one that will give the coroner nightmares for years. We don’t want that now, do we? It also makes a poor canvas for postmortem makeup. Foundation for dead people is expensive, trust me.”
“You are a crazy bitch!” he spat the words at me with disgust, but not even a little fear showed as he rushed away to whichever hole he’d crawled out of.
“Why thank you kindly,” I called after him, smiling from ear to ear. It made his legs move faster, but he kept glancing over his shoulder as if expecting for me to stalk after him. As tempting as that idea was, I really was not in the mood. All I wanted was to mope in peace.
A girl had a right to brood, too.
Especially if she’d been screwed over too many times to count through no fault of her own by people or the Fates themselves.
She had a right to kill the motherfuckers, too. Too bad some of them were already dead.
“You promised not to scare people in the pub, Myst.” The bartender scowled at me, the light sheen of sweat gathering around his hairline and upper lip standing out against his pale skin while he nervously wiped his trembling hands on his apron. “You done with that one?” It’s not always a good thing when the bartender knows your name.
The middle-aged human tending the bar jerked his chin at my rum and coke from the other side of the long, wooden slab, not daring to come closer. No, this one was not from the smart stock, he just had the misfortune of seeing me kill a demon in the back alley one night while he was dumping the trash. He’d emptied his bladder, and I’d honestly been surprised he didn’t have a heart attack right then and there. He stood frozen for a few seconds before he bolted inside and locking the back door. I followed him and discovered that this pub silenced the thoughts tormenting my mind, so we had a long chat that night. He kept my secret, and I let him live. We were buddies now. I didn’t know his name, though. I never asked, and he never offered. It worked well for me if I ever changed my mind and decided to kill him. I hated knowing the name of the people I killed.
“If I didn’t know better, I might think you were trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me.” I grinned to show him I was joking, but the blood drained from his face making him even paler. “It’s a joke.” I deadpanned frowning, and he relaxed.
Humans were very strange creatures.
He scuttered away the second I shook my head to decline his offer for another drink. I hadn’t touched the one I had since, thanks to the brave guy who tried his luck with me tonight, the silence in my head had disappeared. Being barely above five foot two made men think I was approachable. They’d think twice if they knew I was a creature of the night who washed her hands with blood on a daily basis. Even the supernaturals were scared of me. Everyone feared what they didn’t understand, and no one had a clue what I was.
Not even me.
Apart from the fact that I was Fae, and after spending time at the Daywalker Academy in Sienna appointed as one of the Courtless, I had no memory of my origin. The only thing I could remember was opening my eyes when I found myself on the steps of the Academy stretched out in front of the double doors like day-old roadkill someone dumped there. I had no memories of my past, where I came from, or how I got there. Soren, the ancient Dragon Blood, made sure they took me in, but the moment the Order started to poke around in my forgotten past, some unknown instinct inside me reared its head and made me run. For all the good it did me. I had other reasons I ran from Sienna, too, but I didn’t want to think about that. About him.
Coming across Francesca Drake, a half blood with a very strong Fae bloodline, woke something else in my psyche. The darkness I felt in her called to my own like a beacon of hope. I wanted to hate the female since she was the reason for half of my troubles, but it was difficult to hate Francesca. More powerful than anyone else I’d known, the girl was as naïve as she was dangerous. But she grew on me like a virus I couldn’t detect, and before I knew it, all I wanted to do was protect her or die trying as she ran headfirst into danger. It stirred something powerful and ravenous in me, a hunger to learn why I couldn’t remember anything before finding myself in Sienna. Did I go there on my own because I was running from something? Or did someone knock me out and wipe my brain before discarding me like yesterday’s news?
After the betrayal Alexius served me like cold porridge to a starving peasant, anger simmered and churned in my gut, spurring on my need to find answers. I might not know what type of a creature I was, but I knew one thing: if Death himself came across me, he’d think twice before raising a hand. So, with that being said, if I had been running at the time … who had I been running from, and how could I find them? And if I was discarded by someone in Sienna for whatever reason … who was it that thought fucking with my head would be a good idea, and where could I find them?
Because one thing was certain one way or another: I would find them.
Lifting the now-warm glass full of rum and coke, I took a slow sip, eyeing the human bartender who was pretending not to watch me from the corner of his eye. Tonight was “The”night, the moment when the hunted becomes a hunter and heads would start to roll. I was done allowing people to mess with me. The time for playing nice—even if nice was relative in my case—or pretending to be human was long past. There was no cure for my insanity. The blood boiling in my veins craved violence, and the longer it waited to get what it wanted, the worse things would become. A sleeping monster had awakened inside me and it was getting stronger by the minute. I must discover who and what I was. For my sake, but also for everyone else’s. I had a feeling the path to that discovery would have a pretty solid body count. Never, not even for a second, did I wonder why that thought made me smile.
Little did I know at that time that what I was searching for had started looking for me, too.
