Katie's Hellion (Rhyn Trilogy, Book One) (2 page)

For the first time in years, he felt whole
again. He tested his ability to control the familiar magic. Hell
buffered his natural inability to rein in the magic and absorbed
much of his energies.

"Who’d you kill for this?"

"I have other means of obtaining stuff,"
Gabriel said with some offense.

Rhyn felt Hell's and Sasha’s power roll over
him like a boulder in a river. They couldn’t control him once he
left Hell; no one could.

Even Kris. Rhyn’s anger made his cell wall
shake before the energies of Hell itself began suctioning his power
from him.

"Easy," Gabriel warned. "I’m breaking
Immortal Code one last time to bring that to you."

"Fuck the code."

"Rhyn."

"Don’t bother, Gabriel."

The death dealer chuckled

Rhyn stretched physically and metaphysically,
testing the bounds of Hell. They were much older, much stronger
than he. He sagged against the wall, exhausted.

"Are there any girls down here?"

Very little surprised him, but the death
dealer’s question did.

"Or…women, I guess," Gabriel clarified.

"You need a woman that bad?"

"No, no. Just thought I’d check."

Rhyn stared hard into Gabriel’s dark corner
and shook his head. He didn’t know why the death dealer was distant
this visit, and he didn’t care. The only thing that concerned him
now was killing Kris. And escaping.

Escape first then kill Kris.

"You wouldn't happen to have a key to my
cell, would you?" he asked.

"I'm not allowed to break any more Immortal
Codes," Gabriel said with some distaste. "Or I'll end up in the
cell beside you."

"Better company than I have now."

"Not my thing."

"So you give me my power back but don’t free
me. This does shit for me here," Rhyn grumbled.

"I'm restricted by --"

"I know, Gabe."

The death dealer shifted but didn't leave,
and Rhyn looked again at the corner.

"I need a favor."

Rhyn never expected to hear these words from
the death dealer, who needed nothing from anyone.

"Whatever it is, I'll do it," he said without
hesitation. "You’ve done more for me than anyone else."

"There's going to be someone you'll meet
soon. I can't break Immortal Code to protect her."

"But I can," Rhyn finished. "Immortal? Demon?
If you tell me it's one of my brothers, I --"

"Human."

"
Human?"

"One of the immortals wrote a book about
caring for humans," Gabriel said with some reticence.

Rhyn heard him place the book on the ground
beside him.

"You could've asked me for anything in the
universe, and you ask me to babysit a human."

He reached for the book, convinced Gabriel
had finally gone crazy after all his years serving Death. The book
was an immortal's, clasped in a flexible leather-like cover with
thin, transparent pages. He was distracted by the feel of both
after so long with nothing but stone walls beneath his
fingertips.

"Where is this human?" he asked. "How do I
find it when I'm stuck here?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," Gabriel
admitted. "I'll let you know."

Rhyn lifted the book. He had no intention of
reading it, but he liked how soft the cover was.

"Why is this human important?"

"Death won't say."

Rhyn snorted and let his head drop back
against the stone wall. Death and her pet worked in their own ways.
He didn't mistake his returned powers for a free favor. No, Death
wanted something from him, and gave him the ability to do her
will.

Yet another traitorous woman. He felt some
peace knowing that --whatever Death wanted from him --she'd have to
free him from Hell to get it.

* * *

Katie Young looked at the speedometer, which
read thirty-seven when the blue lights flared up behind her,
jarring her out of the pre-coffee morning stupor. She guided the
car to the lit parking lot near the metro station, her destination.
It was four-thirty, and she’d never seen a cop along this stretch
leading up to the nearest metro station.

His glaring spotlight of a flashlight blinded
her as he walked to the driver's door, and she held her hand
up.

"Do you know why I stopped you?" the cop
asked as she rolled down her window.

"No," she said.

"You were going thirty-seven."

"Yeah."

"That’s speeding."

The light flashed away, leaving her in
blackness studded with dim bulbs.

"The speed limit’s thirty-five," she
objected.

"So you knew that?"

"Yeah. I drive this way every day."

The light returned to her eyes, and she bit
her tongue to keep from griping. She couldn't be late again for her
job as an assistant general manager of a fast food joint, or she'd
be fired.

"You were speeding intentionally," he said
with a level of disgust she reserved for the revelation of her
sister’s ex-boyfriend cheating.

"It’s just two miles an hour."

He said nothing, but the light disappeared
and she heard him scrawling.

"Your taillight is out," he added in a
clipped tone.

"I have four. There’s only
one
out
--the rest all work."

"So you knew your taillight was out."

More scrawling.

"Look, it’s early, I didn’t get much sleep,
and these seem like minor issues," she said in what she hoped was a
friendly voice.

"Your pupils are dilated. Have you been
drinking?"

"No."

"On medication?"

"I took a sleeping aid last night, yes. I
have a lot of trouble sleeping lately, probably because --"

"How many hours ago?"

"Four."

"Taking a sleeping aid and driving before
eight hours has passed means you’re driving while under the
influence of a medication."

She rested her head against the steering
wheel, frustration making her veins swell. Her headache
worsened.

"I have you for reckless endangerment,
driving while under the influence, driving an impaired motorized
vehicle while dark, and speeding," he summarized, handing her one
ticket for each crime. He waited, as if she’d reveal enough dirt to
make his monthly quota then added, "They’ll probably suspend your
license. You’ll have to report to court tomorrow morning."

"Sounds wonderful," she managed.

"God bless."

She rolled up her window, watched him return
to his car, and cursed.

She beat the rush onto the metro and took up
a comfortable position on the aisle side of the commuter train,
book in one hand and purse in the other. The train lurched forward,
the gentle hum of electricity soon pushing her into a near-doze,
until the train lurched to a halt. As usual, the next stop filled
the train, and she looked with some irritation at a five-year-old
who shoved by her legs to stand next to the window beside her.

He was dressed in worn clothing and shoes and
flattened his palms against the window, as if he’d never been on a
train before. He turned to her twice and pointed out the window as
the scenery whizzed, but she ignored him, reading instead.

Four stops later, she rose and tucked the
book away, wading through the throngs of people to the door as the
train slowed.

"Mama!"

The cry startled those around her, and she
glanced back at the kid, who stared in her direction.

"Lady, that your kid?" someone asked as she
stepped toward the door.

"Oh, hell no," she said with a smile.

The kid began crying and she waited, ticking
off her mental to-do list to see where she’d start. First off,
request the morning off to go to court tomorrow. Second, find out
when the general manager of the fast food joint where she worked
was returning from maternity leave. Third, call her snotty sister
and find a way to back out of brunch Saturday. Fourth --

"Ma’am, your kid," a woman said, taking her
arm and pointing with a look of such judgment that Katie reddened
despite herself.

"Not mine," she said.

The kid was crying and began tugging on her
coat. He spoke in tear-filled gibberish she didn’t understand, and
she moved away to the door. She was one of the first off the train
while the kid wailed and several people around her muttered.

"Lady, you can’t just leave him!" the first
objector said, grabbing her arm. "You’re like that sick lady who
put her kid on a plane to Russia ’cause she don’t want him no
more!"

"How could you leave him on the train? What's
wrong with you?"

There were three then five voices with a
sixth calling the police and the seventh hugging the sobbing
kid.

"He’s not mine!" she insisted, unable to
break away from the mob. She protested until the cops came and took
them both to a police station.

Too surprised to understand what exactly was
happening, she obeyed the police officer's instructions to sit down
and shut up and sat in the quiet police station reception area. The
kid sitting beside her made smacking sounds as he chewed on a huge
wad of gum. She rubbed her face, certain the mistake would be
clarified soon and she’d be released with an apology the size of a
bottle of painkiller she desperately needed.

"Fill this out," a dour black lady said,
handing her a clipboard. "C’mere, honey."

Katie ignored the glare leveled on her while
the woman cooed to the little boy. The woman and boy left while she
filled out the paperwork and then set it on a counter of what
looked like an abandoned reception area. There was no computer, no
office supplies on the other side. A single bell sat on the
counter. She rang it. When nothing happened, she rang it again.

She looked around her, flustered. The waiting
room consisted of two chairs, an empty magazine rack, and a potted
plant in the corner. It resembled a doctor's waiting room rather
than any police station she'd seen.

She rang the bell again.

"Please have a seat, Ms. Young," an irritated
voice announced over the intercom.

She obeyed. Another hour of silence passed,
and she started to pace. Her cell phone had no signal, her head
throbbed, and the coffee pot was empty. When she felt ready to
snap, the black lady returned with the little boy in tow. His dark
eyes were glowing, and syrup was on his face.

"Officer David will see you now."

Katie grabbed her purse and walked quickly
down a pristine hall to a placard that read Officer David. The
little boy followed her. She knocked and entered with a smile that
faded.

Officer David gave her the same glare.

"Have a seat, Ms. Young," he said. "You too,
Toby."

"Officer, this has been just a horrible
morning," she started.

"For your son, maybe."

"He’s not my son."

The officer stared at her then held up an ID
card with the boy’s picture.

Toby Young.

"It must be some other Young," she insisted.
"I don’t have a son."

"I oughta call child services on a wack job
like you," he muttered.

"Go ahead --call them!" she snapped.

"Parenthood is a responsibility that no one
should take likely! I don’t care how…"

She listened to his rant, peppered with
language no kid Toby’s age should hear. Officer David waved a piece
of paper in her face depicting Toby’s ID. Toby was quiet, and she
snatched the paper, intent on showing him their addresses were
different.

Only they weren’t different. Toby’s address
was listed as hers. She set the paper on her lap and stared at it.
She’d lived there for four years --almost as long as the kid had
been alive.

"I don’t understand…" she muttered.

"Your record is full of bullshit," Officer
David said acidly. "Reckless endangerment? And now child
endangerment? You’re going to court. You damn well better have a
good lawyer, because…"

She sucked in a breath and turned to the
kid.

"Toby, kid, whatever. Tell this nice man the
truth," she said, meeting the twinkling brown eyes.

The kid was adorable, with dark eyes and
hair, sun-kissed skin, and a round face. He was well fed, though
clothed like he’d been going to make mud pies and not to school
like he should have been. He smiled.

"Toby, is this your mommy?" Officer David
said in tones as sweet as they were bitter toward her.

Toby nodded. Katie’s mouth dropped open, and
she began to realize something was very, very wrong. This was a
dream; she’d fallen asleep on the train and not yet woken up. With
any luck, the worst part of her day would be missing her stop.

Toby took her hand. His soft hand was cold.
The sensations assured her the surreal situation was really
happening.

"Officer David --" she began in earnest.

"Enough!" he roared loudly enough to make
them both jump. "I’ve had enough with deadbeat…"

He ranted, signed her papers with a vicious
flourish, then shoved them at her and manhandled her out his door.
She stood in the hallway, staring at the door slammed in her face,
holding a fistful of papers she didn’t know what to do with.

"The car will pick you up."

The black lady’s tone left no imagination to
what she thought of the latest deadbeat mom in her office.

Frustrated, Katie looked both directions down
the pristine, eerily quiet hallway before following the kid toward
the far end, where a bright red exit sign hung over the door. Her
unease grew as she went. The placards on each of the other doors
were blank, the doors closed with no sign of light around the
edges. The hallway smelled medicinal and clean, like the
antiseptic-laced air of a hospital mixed with pine cleaner.

She’d never been in a police station, but she
didn’t think they’d be this different from the police shows on
television! She paused near the end and turned back to see both
Officer David and the woman watching her with disapproving looks
and crossed arms. She’d not thought twice about their lack of
police uniforms but was now struck by it.