Page 1 of The Clash of the Damned
Prologue | Smile Bitch, The World's Watching
Sloane
Driving towards my new, temporary home, I remind myself that while I’ve never been part oftheirworld, I will need to act like I am. I don’t know if the wealthy do things differently, but I expected more cars on the road at this time of night. The empty road is…creepy. “Don’t stare,” Dad chides me like he isn’t doing the same thing, amazed by all the wealth we’re surrounded by. “It will make it harder for you to blend in if you do.” His eyes remain fixed on the road, and I try my best to remain composed. Rebukes from Dad are second nature at this point, and it’s easier for us both if I let it go.
We drive past estates with their manicured laws and so many foreign sports cars that I lose track. These are all things I studied before we came here, but now it’s an effort to not become overwhelmed by all this excess. My people are trying to survive while in this world, one of these sports cars could feed my family for a whole year, probably more. But that doesn’t matter now as we approach our final destination.
The Hart Estate.
I’ve heard some parents encourage their kids to reach for the stars, working towards becoming class president or valedictorian. Mine schooled me in the art of revenge. It doesn’t help to wonder what could have been. Now revenge is the only path that remains available to me. I would have never chosen it if I had been given the choice.
Dad pulls up to the curb of the Hart Estate, and a clap of thunder rolls through the sky. He doesn’t flinch as he leans over the parking brake to turn on the car light in front of the rearview mirror. “Let’s go over your cover story one more time.” I sigh, thinking it’s silent, but I’m wrong as Dad clips me around the ear, his eyes narrowed.
“Don’t sass me, Sloane! This is the most important moment of your life. I need to know it’s perfect before I let you loose into this world!” He is right. I know he is, and I know what is at stake. Years of scheming and staying hidden has led us to this moment, and everything we have rests on me being successful. Staring at my freshly manicured hands, I bow my head in respect, ever the dutiful daughter. He has made me rehearse this so many times it’s hard to remember who I really am under all these lies.
“I will introduce myself as Sloane. My adoptive parents have died recently, and on their deathbeds, they told me I was a Supernatural. While I have no other information, they told me to go to Dominic Hart for help.”
Briefly, I notice Dad’s lip wobble as he listens to my rehearsed story. But the moment is over before it even begins. In our family, while we love each other, we don’t show emotion.Ever.I wonder if he struggles to show me affection because I look so much like the wife he lost, the mother I still miss today?
“If someone presses you to find holes in your story, how do you respond; especially if you need to make up something on the spot?” Dad’s brown eyes bore into me as he waits for my answer.
“The best lie is always based on truth. Reference an actual memory of mine and embellish it.”
Dad leans back into the car seat, and for the first time, I realize how stress is aging him. Between his weathered face, his graying bushy eyebrows, and his thinning dark hair, he looks like he could be in his mid-sixties instead of recently turning fifty. Revenge will do that. Even Supernaturals can age and die if given a chance. Aging isn’t something many of my kind see, so in his own way, he can count himself lucky.
“Good. If I wasn’t there at your birth, I would believe this story. Your mom would be so proud of you and the woman you’ve become. The other families may have forgotten we exist, but now it’s time we remind them of what they’ve stolen from us. They will pay in blood. Don’t use your gifts; they should be your last resort. We can’t reveal ourselves before we’re ready.”
I remember to fight my eye roll in time, playing it off as if I’m looking at a speck of oil or old fast food on the rented car’s gray, felted ceiling. “Yes, Dad, I remember.” He reaches into the backseat, handing me my duffel, but I shake my head. “Doesn’t go with the outfit,” I remind him.
I’m scared to say anything else in case I choke or my voice gets shaky. When we were planning this out, it was just a concept. Now, leaving him, it’s real, and I’m scared. I don’t know if I’m ready for it. A normal kid would share their fears with their parents, but I can’t do that. It makes Dad mad when I show him fear. He leans over the parking brake again, this time to kiss me on the forehead, careful not to smudge any of my artfullydone makeup. “How do I contact you with an update?” I ask as a parting question, trying to find a way to stall for time while I work up the courage I need.
“You don’t,” he responds. “I will contact you when needed.”
Accepting my dismissal, I open the car door first and then my umbrella. No “goodbyes,” or “don’t die,” or even an, “I love you.” I’m being set loose in enemy territory. As the strongest in our family in years, it was a risk Dad was willing to take, but he never asked me how I felt about it. I didn’t fight it, not wanting to disappoint him, and now, the weight of our legacy rests on my shoulders.
I try not to wince as the gravel chafes against my new Louboutins or how they hurt my feet. It took me a year to save for them, and I’m damaging the red soles in only a few minutes. Collateral damage. While it may seem like a matching silk pencil skirt and blouse was not the best outfit choice for this meeting, considering the rain, it gives off the wealthy aesthetic I need to fit in, so I have to make it work.
When Dominic told me to come here this evening, he warned me of a few things. The first was that he had no staff, and that I could let myself into the estate. But I had to be wary because of the increased Supernatural presence. While we debated another evening, he decided that tonight would be the easiest way to explain away my presence if needed. Rain aside, I’m glad I listened. So far, he was right; it’s been easy for me to blend in with all the other Supernaturals.
Walking past all the Bugattis, Lamborghinis and Ferraris, I wonder what it is like to grow up with this much luxury? We have always been one step from poor. Seeing how the Sorcerers live from the outside makes me feel nauseous, knowing the excess they have. I’m distracted for a moment bythe flickers of blue magic I see occasionally from one of the bay windows. The curtains are drawn, so I can’t see much more than that, but it makes me pause. This wasn’t part of what I discussed with Dominic. Briefly, I wonder if I need to come back, but it’s too late. Dad is already gone, and I have nowhere else to go. My only option is to move forward. A few moments later, I reach the front door and jiggle the lock, hoping to find it open as Dominic said. Except, the person at the front door has other ideas.
“Excuse me, are you lost?” the pretty, strawberry-blonde, teenage girl asks, with her hands on her hips. She reminds me of Dominic, and she seems stressed. Smiling in an attempt to appear non-threatening, I tell her, “Dominic said I could let myself in, I hope that’s okay? He’s expecting me.”
Chapter 1 | 24k Magic
Dominic - Two weeks later
Whoever thought money couldn’t solve their problems has never sat on a luxury catamaran in the South of France. Calm, azure waters extend as far as the eye can see, and our vessel floats peacefully in the Côte d’Azur. Not for the first time, I marvel at the beauty of our temporary paradise. When we first arrived in France, we ate our way through the countryside, and the French taught us to slow down and value our family time together. I almost forgot what it’s like to not have to jump from one crisis to the next. Now, we’re closing off our vacation on the water and look like any other family enjoying themselves. Not Supernaturals planning their next power move.
I case the deck, looking for my sisters, a new force of habit. The expansive lounge area with fluffy cushions and low glass tables is empty. A quick check over my shoulder at the spiral staircase shows no one coming out from below deck. That leaves only one area, the ocean, and that’s where I find the strawberry-blonde heads of my sisters bobbing in the water, their new playground. It seems we all choose to enjoy the good weather today. I relax only fractionally into my sunbed as I breathe in the salty breeze.
“Drink, sir?” One of the human servers offers me a Kir Royale. Not my usual choice, but when in France, I adapt. Accepting it, I sip on the chilled drink as my mind races through everything I need to sort out before we leave. I’ve had no choice but to allow a select group of servers onto the catamaran with us as it wouldn’t be much of a vacation if we needed to run the thing ourselves. When we were teenagers, Sebastian asked me what it felt like to have memories erased by a Sorcerer. Even with his healing ability, we were intrigued, so we tested it on him. He could never confirm it accurately because of his gifts, but he compared it to a hangover; he knew he was missing time, but didn’t know why. With that, I learned to replace the memories I remove with another.
Knowing that I can wipe the memories of our staff to keep our secrets whilst we talk openly is a small consolation. While we’re not exactly hiding from the empire, we need time to figure out our next move, and properly this time.
We fucked up with the sit down.
The heads of the empire were supposed to listen, and instead, with the exception of me, they’re all dead. Alyssa Vance deserved to die; I don’t regret that one bit. But losing Gabriela, Edie, and Eric too? That was something that could have been avoided. But it’s done, and agonizing over what could have been won’t help. Now, I need to look forward to what that abrupt change means for my family and for the future of the Sorcerer empire.
