Page 8 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

Chapter Three

Natia

As a Taurus, when life gets chaotic, music is your stress reliever.

The razor-sharp blade glistens as the cloth runs along it, and my feet bounce to the beat of Guns N’ Roses’s “Patience.” Duncan shakes his head but gives me a few minutes to finish before starting the black SUV. I know, so predictable for a secret organization that kills supernaturals.

Laying my shiny swords on the back seat, I swing my legs into the car and sit awkwardly, trying to avoid getting the leather seats dirty, as no doubt I’ll need to clean them, too.

Duncan glances at me. His lips twitch. “It’s pointless, Locks; you’ll need to clean the seats anyway.”

Grumbling, I realize he’s correct and relax. “In the upcoming bid for funding, we should suggest employing a cleaner for these tasks.”

Duncan chuckles. “I can see them going for that instead of, say, the latest weapons technology or improved surveillance equipment.” I concede the point but sulk the rest of the journey.

***

Twenty minutes later, I’m hauling the last of the bodies across the concrete floor in the underground garage of the Seattle SIP headquarters to the morgue for inspection and destruction. The SIP, or the Supernatural Intelligence Protection (evidently, they didn’t employ a marketing company when naming the department), is a secret government agency that investigates and destroys supernatural beings who are a threat to humans. There are over one hundred SIP departments across the US, and several hundred on the planet. They prioritize cases with the largest body count or the ones associated with the most influential people and companies. Politics.

Heading up the Seattle office is Charlie, also my uncle. Think it’s a coincidence that a family member is heavily involved in a supernatural organization? It’s not. My initial kidnapping was meant to lure Charlie into a trap—they got sidetracked by my weird aura. To top the secretive nature of my family, my grandfather’s multi-billion-dollar company is also responsible for many of the weapons used to combat the creatures we face on a daily basis. So, while the Waterfords are human, we are deeply embroiled in the supernatural world.

Uncle Charlie, Duncan, and three other men stand by and watch as I struggle with the weight. I glare at them. What happened to teamwork? Having your back? Gallantry? Grumbling, I start singing “Patience” out loud for the benefit of all present.

Duncan snorts. “She’s been singing that since we decided she was on clean-up duty.”

“‘Decided,’ my ass,” I grumble under my breath.

Uncle Charlie’s lips quirk as he shakes his head. “Debriefing—command room, now.”

I stare down pointedly at the state of my clothes and point to the various unidentifiable substances in my hair. “Can I have ten minutes to get washed up?”

“You can have five,” he replies crisply over his shoulder as he marches away.

Groaning, I hotfoot it to the showers.

Ten minutes later, I stroll into the command room, having scrubbed my skin pink and detoured to the kitchen for some chocolate Whoppers and water.

Uncle Charlie’s eyebrow tics. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, couldn’t find a towel. I could’ve come naked?”

Uncle Charlie’s round face turns an interesting shade of red. No, wait… it’s more purple, an unpleasant contrast with his silver hair and moustache. The rest of the team snigger but don’t comment; infuriating your commanding officer further isn’t wise.

Plonking my ass in the chair next to him around the lengthy oval table, I braid my long, damp, caramel-blonde hair. Uncle Charlie insists I cut it shorter—he believes it could be dangerous if someone were to get a hold of it in a fight. I countered I could whip it around to blind someone. Let’s just say we agreed to disagree.

As well as myself, Duncan, and Aaden—the best intelligence and surveillance expert in the world (sometimes I wonder if his brain is coding in green zeros and ones likeThe Matrix)—Zee, Joan, and Jack, our newest recruit, are packed into the command room. I notice immediately that something is off about Jack—his red aura has become clouded. But what else is new, really? The guy has been nothing but rude to me ever since he arrived. He catches my stare and scowls. In my usual fashion, I give him a sickly-sweet smile then proceed to ignore him. True, I can be polarizing at times… but it’s a bit annoying to be immediately disliked by someone I barely know. All the same, I take another quick glance at his aura. Auras are generally positive, but they can become faint or clouded depending on someone’s mood or recent experiences. I had covertly checked out Jack’s personality test, but it didn’t reveal anything negative from his past. Huh. Maybe he’s just naturally sour?

Uncle Charlie’s voice cuts through my musings. “How did you do it?”

Shit, I’d zoned out and missed what we’re talking about. Sorting through the most probable questions, I decide on the obvious—“How did we kill the demons?”

I steeple my fingers together. “I took care of the man and woman first. After a fight with my whip, Duncan used his blue balls of power, I rolled and put him on his back, then he oozed this strange, clear liquid. Finally, I took his head.”

Everyone stares at me with wide eyes, like I’m Medusa incarnate. “What?”

A blush creeps across Aaden’s cheeks in contrast to his porcelain skin. Zee doubles over laughing, holding his stomach. He takes every opportunity to make fun at my expense—of course, I reciprocate. We have a love-hate relationship. Granted, it’s at least seventy percent hate on any given day, but it fluctuates depending on how much he’s annoyed me.

“What?” I repeat. Clearly, I didn’t answer the actual question.

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