Machinations and Sacrifices E-Book

L. S. O'Dea

• Herausgeber: LSODea
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Lake of Sins
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 527

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The war is over, but predators hunt the city streets.

The Allied Classes may have won the war, but there are new problems to solve.

With Producers officially off the menu and refusing to go back to the encampments, food is scarce.

Homelessness and violence are taking over the city, and they still need to discover who is trafficking young Servants and Guards.

But monsters lurk in the shadows of the city and to catch them sacrifices must be made.

If you enjoy science fiction fantasy stories in a future, dystopian world with human-animal hybrids, werewolf type creatures, mutants, hybrids, monsters and snarky sidekicks, you'll love this book.

Leseprobe

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

MACHINATIONS AND SACRIFICES

First edition. July 7, 2022.

Copyright © 2022 L. S. O'Dea.

ISBN: 978-1942706861

Written by L. S. O'Dea.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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Rage Of Rattus Norvegicus

Leaving Level Five

Lake Of Sins

Lake of Sins: Secrets in Blood

Lake of Sins: Hangman's Army

Lake Of Sins: Betrayed

Whispers From the Past

Machinations and Sacrifices

Lake of Sins: Escape

Standalone

Lake of Sins Series Box Set Books 1-3

Chimera Chronicles

A Demon's Gift

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Also By L. S. O'Dea

Machinations and Sacrifices (Lake Of Sins, #6)

CHAPTER 1: Tuck

CHAPTER 2: Conguise

CHAPTER 3: Jethro

CHAPTER 4: Jethro

CHAPTER 5: Trinity

CHAPTER 6: Trinity

CHAPTER 7: Trinity

CHAPTER 8: Trinity

CHAPTER 9: Hugh

CHAPTER 10: Hugh

CHAPTER 11: Hugh

CHAPTER 12: Trinity

CHAPTER 13: Trinity

CHAPTER 14: Conguise

CHAPTER 15: Jethro

CHAPTER 16: Hugh

CHAPTER 17: Hugh

CHAPTER 18: Trinity

CHAPTER 19: Trinity

CHAPTER 20: Hugh

CHAPTER 21: Hugh

CHAPTER 22: Jethro

CHAPTER 23: Jethro

CHAPTER 24: Jethro

CHAPTER 25: Jethro

CHAPTER 26: Jethro

CHAPTER 27: Jackson

CHAPTER 28: Conguise

CHAPTER 29: Hugh

CHAPTER 30: Jethro

CHAPTER 31: Jethro

CHAPTER 32: Conguise

CHAPTER 33: Jethro

CHAPTER 34: Jethro

CHAPTER 35: Jethro

CHAPTER 36: Jethro

CHAPTER 37: Jethro

CHAPTER 38: Jethro

CHAPTER 39: Trinity

CHAPTER 40: Trinity

CHAPTER 41: Hugh

CHAPTER 42: Hugh

CHAPTER 43: Hugh

CHAPTER 44: Jethro

CHAPTER 45: Jethro

CHAPTER 46: Jethro

CHAPTER 47: Hugh

CHAPTER 48: Trinity

CHAPTER 49: Trinity

CHAPTER 50: Hugh

CHAPTER 51: Hugh

CHAPTER 52: Trinity

CHAPTER 53: Stella

CHAPTER 54: Hugh

CHAPTER 55: Hugh

CHAPTER 56: Stella

CHAPTER 57: Jethro

CHAPTER 58: Jethro

CHAPTER 59: Trinity

CHAPTER 60: Jethro

CHAPTER 61:  Hugh

CHAPTER 62: Hugh

CHAPTER 63: Hugh

CHAPTER 64: Trinity

CHAPTER 65: Hugh

CHAPTER 66: Hugh

CHAPTER 67: Hugh

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Also By L. S. O'Dea

The war is over, but predators hunt the city streets.

The Allied Classes may have won the war, but there are new problems to solve.

With Producers officially off the menu and refusing to go back to the encampments, food is scarce.

Homelessness and violence are taking over the city, and they still need to discover who is trafficking young Servants and Guards.

But monsters lurk in the shadows of the city and to catch them sacrifices must be made.

If you enjoy science fiction fantasy stories in a future, dystopian world with human-animal hybrids, werewolf type creatures, mutants, hybrids, monsters and snarky sidekicks, you'll love this book.

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CHAPTER 1: Tuck

––––––––

Tuck waited in the darkness as JD’s breathing slowed and steadied with sleep before rolling away from his friend. It was late. He needed to go so he could get back before JD woke.

He put the papers he’d used to cover himself over JD. It was the best he could do to help keep him warm. The kid was so small. They needed food and protection but joining the gangs wouldn’t be a good idea for either of them. In the gangs, only the strongest survived. The rest of them were used for the dangerous jobs, the ones that got them killed or arrested.

JD wanted them to join Con’s gang. The kid had been talking to a few of the members, and they’d made the idea of joining sound sweet, but Tuck knew it was all lies. His mom had been in a gang when he was born, and it hadn’t ended well for her or him.

“Tuck?” JD’s eyes fluttered open.

Dang it. He should’ve left.

“Where are you going?”

“To piss.” He bent, brushing the hair from JD’s forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” The kid’s voice slurred as his eyes drooped.

Tuck waited another few minutes and then squeezed against the brick wall and slipped from behind the pile of junk where he and JD lived. It was a pretty safe setup. No one looked long enough at a pile of junk around here to see that it was stacked in a way that they had a little home. It wasn’t much, but it was a few feet of solitude where they could rest without worrying about being attacked. It also had an escape route through an air vent into the building.

He checked to make sure no one was around. He wouldn’t risk leaving JD alone if bigger Servants were hanging out nearby, but the alley was clear. He scurried out onto the street and then darted through a maze of alleyways, going farther and farther away from the Servant section of town.

It was risky to go so close to the Guard’s part of the city, but they needed food. He’d heard rumors that Manny left the window open above his store. He stayed in the shadows, the quiet of the night putting him on edge. He should be glad he didn’t see anyone, but there was something about tonight that made his skin prickle. Maybe he should go back, but then they’d be hungry again tomorrow. He had to check and see if that window was open. He crept through another alleyway. Footsteps sounded on the pavement. He hopped into a nearby dumpster to hide his scent as two skinny Guards walked by, chatting about some fight they’d seen.

He waited until he could no longer hear them and then hopped from the dumpster. He hurried to the end of the alley. Manny’s sign hung over a door. His eyes skimmed up the building to the window. It was open. A cold sweat broke out across his skin. It was two stories high, but the building was brick. He could climb it. He was small but strong. Most Servants could climb to the window, but they were too big to fit through the crack. He was sure he could do both.

He glanced around, sniffing. It stank of Guard around here, but he and JD needed food too badly for him to worry much about that. He patted his pocket where he’d stuffed a bag. He’d slip in through the window, grab some food and then be back in the alley before anyone even saw him.

He glanced both ways just to make sure no one was around before racing across the street to the building. He turned, pressing his back to the wall, and checking the area one more time. Once he started climbing, there was no turning back. The street was empty. A few voices drifted on the wind, but they were muffled and in the distance. It was time.

He began scaling the wall. The brick was old and worn, but there were still plenty of toe and finger holds. He moved quickly, but that window was a lot farther away than it’d seemed from the ground. His fingers spasmed and his legs ached, but he kept going. His bag was big. He could get enough food to last them a few days, maybe a week.

He paused, his ears perking up at a soft flutter. He knew that sound from somewhere. He stared into the darkness but there was no movement on the street. He shook his head. It was just his imagination. He had to focus. He stared at his goal as he crawled up the wall. Another minute and he’d be inside the building with all that food. He moved faster, his mouth watering as the window loomed above him, getting closer and closer with each....A whoosh of air hit him, knocking him sideways. He lost his grip on the wall, his fingers scrambling for purchase and his flesh tearing from his hands as he clawed at the building.

It was no use. He was falling. He screamed, twisting his body so he didn’t land on his head and then something hit him...hard, like a Grunt on a rampage. He flew forward in the air, his body bucking and spasming as something stabbed his side and back. He screamed again, louder than before, louder than he’d ever screamed as pain lanced through him. He tried to pull at the knife in his back, but his arms just dangled before his eyes. The pain, so potent before, was gone. All feeling was gone. He stared down at the street. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth before dripping from his lips as the whoosh of giant wings carried him through the city.

They were moving fast, faster than he had, even with using the shortcuts. They were back in the Servant section of the city. His sight once clear, grew fuzzy, dimming with every labored breath. He scanned the area, finding his alley. His pile of garbage that’d been the only refuge he’d ever known. His home. “JD...” he whispered as his heart stopped beating.

CHAPTER 2: Conguise

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Conguise’s footsteps echoed in the hallways of Level Five. He’d been released months ago but this was his first visit back to the scene of his life’s work and his greatest failure. The cameras stared down at him, still and accusing. Everything was gone. No scientists walked the halls and no whisper of movement from behind the closed doors of the now empty lab.

“Professor, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Gruder stepped out of his office. The younger Almighty looked haggard—his brown hair longer than normal and mussed as if he hadn’t combed it that day, his clothes rumpled and hanging on his slender frame.

Conguise would’ve never allowed Gruder to come to work looking so disheveled, but times had changed. “I may no longer be able to perform experiments, but I wanted to speak with you.”

“Yes, I heard about the terms of your release.”

All he was allowed to do now was teach. He should’ve had Hugh killed the moment he’d realized the other Almighty had seen what he’d been doing on Level Five, but he’d trusted Jason and the system. He’d been a fool. “I wouldn’t have been released if not for you.”

For months he’d sat in that prison cell, waiting to die by the hands of Hugh and his Allied Classes. Oh, how he despised that name. The lower classes were as much allies to the Almightys as he was with an ant when he dropped a crumb of bread. Yet those ignorant and shortsighted imbeciles would decide his fate and destroy everything he’d accomplished.

“It wasn’t just me.” Gruder held open the door. “Please, come inside. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

“I do.” He walked into Gruder’s office.

“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.” The other Almighty moved a pile of papers off the chair near his desk. “Would you like something to drink?” He walked to a small refrigerator.

“No. Thank you.” Sitting in front of the desk of his subordinate was another new experience, but none of it mattered. He was still in charge both here and in the larger world and everyone would realize that soon enough.

“Okay.” Gruder sat behind his desk. “Most of the specimens are safe and secure in facility R.”

“Yes. I’ve seen the reports.” His jaw clenched a bit. “Thank you again.” He was not one for espousing gratitude, but this was deserved.

“As I said, it was a team effort.”

“But you are the one who gathered the team and led them.”

Gruder shrugged. “I wasn’t going to let them destroy what we created.”

“And they would’ve. They’re ignorant of the future we face when our enemies come from beyond the sea.”

“Of course.” Gruder nodded.

The other Almighty placated him, but he didn’t care because he was right. He’d read the journals from the Great Death. It was inevitable that one day the others would come to kill them as they’d tried to do centuries ago.

“Have you been to the secondary site yet?” asked Gruder.

“I was there this morning.” He’d gone the first chance he’d had. Traveling through the sewers had been distasteful and dangerous, but it’d been the only way to be sure he wouldn’t be followed.

“It’s a bit cramped, but everyone is doing their best to keep things progressing.”

“I saw that some of the specimens didn’t make it.” Their decomposing bodies had littered the dark corners in the sewers, filling the tunnels with ghastly odors and terrifying shadows.

“We had to make hard choices in a difficult time, but we kept the best specimens and euthanized the rest. Destroying the remains of course.”

“Destroying?” Lie number one.

“We burned as many as we could, but time was not on our side.” Gruder shrugged again.

“Hmm. That was true, but there’s time now.” There had been for months. “Send someone into the sewer to burn the rest.”

“Of course.” Gruder nodded, but his lips thinned a bit. He’d been in charge for a while now and it seemed he wasn’t thrilled about relinquishing control.

“But...” He thrummed his fingers on his thigh. “I wasn’t talking about the creatures we had in abundance who didn’t make it. Those can be recreated.”

“Then which creatures?” Gruder’s eyes narrowed in thought for a moment. “Oh, the Accipitor.” He frowned. “Yes, that was a sad misfortune. We tried our best, but as you know, she had a weak heart. The sedation was too much for her.”

“I see.” Lie number two. “Odd that no one remembers the destruction of her remains and she’s not one of the carcasses in the tunnels.” His eyes locked with Gruder’s. “I looked. Checked every pile.” It’d been disgusting but necessary. Now more than ever he must distinguish between those truly committed to the protection of their world and those who only pretended.

“She wasn’t left in the tunnels, but”—Gruder smiled slightly—“you can rest easy knowing that no one will find a trace of her. I took care of her remains myself.”

“Really?” Conguise was impressed with the other Almighty’s skill at lying—no aversion of the eyes, not even a small flinch.

“Yes. She was my responsibility.”

“That’s right. You did inherit her, didn’t you?” His fingers stilled on his leg. That was another mystery. “Still no word from Bing?”

“Bing?”

“Yes. I thought that since the war was over, she may have appeared. The two of you were close, were you not?”

“We were but sadly, I have not heard from her.”

“Hmm.” Good, he had the other Almighty on edge. He had every intention of keeping him there. “Ableson tendered his resignation.”

“He did what?” Gruder’s eyes widened. It was the first unpracticed expression the other Almighty had made.

“He met me at my house the day I was released and quit.” Conguise shrugged. “First time anyone has quit Level Five.” And lived was the unspoken message he wanted Gruder to hear. “Apparently, some of the scientists thought they couldn’t quit. According to Hugh, Parson faked his own death to leave.” He studied the other Almighty closely. He’d been sure Gruder had arranged for Parson’s and Bing’s death, but Parson was alive. Bing may also be.

“Unbelievable.” Gruder shook his head. His face once more a mask of polite indifference.

“Exactly. The extremes some will take to leave a position when all they have to do is tender their resignation.” He frowned. “It’s not like Parson stole from me.” He looked directly at Gruder. “Were you alone when you destroyed the Accipitor’s remains?”

“What? Oh, Accipitor1. No. Silo assisted me.”

“Hmm.” His fingers drummed his thigh again. “Strange. No one has seen him since the lab was moved to the new facility.”

“That can’t be right. I’m sure I saw him the other day”—Gruder’s brow wrinkled—“or that could’ve been a week or so ago. We’ve been very busy.” His eyes met the professor’s. “Hiding everything for you.”

He’d already thanked the other Almighty for that. He would not be obsequious. “If you did see Silo, then once again you are the only one.” He raised his brow. “That seems to happen a lot with you.”

“I’m sorry?” Gruder’s face was placid, but ice filled his tone.

“You seem to be the last one to see many. Crackderr. Parson. Bing. Accipitor1. Silo.”

“I spend a lot of time in the lab, and I’m very observant.” Gruder’s tone changed. “My memory isn’t great though, so I keep a lot of notes.”

“One should be careful about that.” Conguise almost smiled at the thinly veiled threat. “Paper ignites quickly. Poor McBrid learned that the hard way when his house caught on fire.”

“I don’t keep my notes at home. They’re somewhere much safer.”

“There is nowhere that’s one hundred percent secure.” And nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his work.

“Including Facility R. Ableson assisted with the transfer from Level Five to Facility R.”

“I trust Ableson.” He didn’t trust Gruder, and right now, he couldn’t risk having anyone around whom he didn’t trust completely. There were too many options in this new world. One word to Hugh and Conguise would be back in jail or dead.

“Really?”

“I know his secrets.” Conguise leaned forward. “Just like I know yours.” He was impressed. Gruder’s breathing barely changed. “Where is she?”

“Bing? I told you. I have no idea where—”

“Not Bing. Accipitor1.”

“I told you that too. She’s gone.”

“She belongs to me. She belongs in the lab.”

“She’s gone.” Gruder almost snarled.

“I will find her.”

“She has been destroyed. There is no trace of her anywhere.”

“What do you think the public will do to her when they see her? Someone will eventually. Do you think they’ll understand? Do you think they’ll see her beauty? Her uniqueness?” He shook his head. “They won’t. All they’ll see is a monster. A predator. She’ll terrify them, and the ignorant always kill what they fear. She’s safer in the laboratory.”

“You were safer in prison.” Gruder stood. “I forgot to mention that I’ve spoken with Hugh.”

Conguise’s heart skipped a beat. Had this been a trap? He forced himself not to look around for the ambush, not to run.

“I’ll be joining the team on the alternative meat initiative. So, like Ableson, I’m also resigning. Effective today.”

His heart stopped slamming against his ribs, but he’d been around too long not to know that the second threat was coming.

“I have no intention of uttering a word to anyone about what went on here,” said Gruder. “If I wanted the world to know, I would’ve left everything as it was.” He leaned on the desk. “Just like Ableson, you know my secrets, and I know yours. Let’s hope neither of us are ever forced to tattle because I have proof to back my stories, and you have nothing.” He strode toward the door.

“You’re right. I have nothing.” Conguise didn’t bother to turn when Gruder’s steps faltered. “That’s why my life means little. Whereas, if I’m not mistaken, you have much to live for. Don’t you?”

Gruder remained silent.

“If you tattle, as you say, I’ll die, but if I tattle, you’ll lose what you love the most.” This time he did turn. “Trust me. That’s worse than dying.” He choked down the ball of hatred over what Hugh had done to Viola. “I’ll keep your secret, but she’d be safer at facility R.” He stood and strode past Gruder. He’d find her eventually. She was his creation and she belonged to him.

CHAPTER 3: Jethro

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Jethro followed the line of prisoners toward the yard. Today wasn’t going to be fun. He was alone for the first time since being transferred from the holding cells to the prison months ago.

Yesterday, he’d said goodbye to the last Guard in his gang. They all should’ve been released right away, but Hugh had made it his mission to make anyone who’d been in the Protective Services suffer. The bigger and stronger the Guards the longer they’d stayed locked up, especially if they’d served with Jethro.

He sauntered across the yard and all eyes fell on him. Everyone knew he was on his own and alone in prison wasn’t the way to live long. He had to join another group, but that’s where things got complicated.

He walked toward the fence, his gaze drifting over a group of Servants. They wouldn’t accept him. He’d chosen the Guards over them months ago. The predatory gleam in their vibrant eyes confirmed they’d let him die before they allowed him into their group.

Joining with the other Guard gangs probably wasn’t going to happen either. Those that were left were soldiers who were still loyal to the leaders of the past. Switching sides at the end of the war had sealed his fate with them.

That left the Almightys. They were also the old regime, but Wickerwood had tried to befriend him his first week of incarceration. They were all old and out of shape. He was young, strong and an excellent fighter. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested in having anything to do with them. He still wasn’t, but his choices were limited.

He leaned against the chain-link fence and stared out at nothing. Someone would approach him with an offer but hidden in that would be a beating. His blood hummed in anticipation. He needed to release his restlessness by fighting or mating, but the latter was not an option in prison.

Scratch, a Servant, walked over to him, glancing around nervously.

He was glad it was the Servants. The Guards strutted around like they ran the place, but most backed down when faced with the ferocity of the Servants, especially since they had built-in weapons. Their claws were supposed to be filed down, but for the right price, the prison Guards had a tendency to forget about that.

“I hear yous the one to talk to about getting somethings special,” said Scratch.

“Like what?” They wanted contraband. He owed Indy again. His friend had been working with Tonkers, a prison Guard, to sneak booze, candy and other items into the facility. Indy refused to work with anyone but Jethro, and that made him necessary to those who were really in charge—the prison Guards.

“We wants a visit with some friends.”

“Friends?” They snuck small stuff into the prison not Servants or Guards. “What kind of friends?”

“Da female kind.” Scratch rolled his eyes as he glanced at his gang.

That wasn’t possible. Was it? No. Tonkers wouldn’t risk it. He studied the others in the yard. Scratch was a nobody. His boss, who like to be called Life, was the one who was really asking. After several minutes he looked at Scratch. “I don’t see that happening.”

“I don’t think yous understands. We”—Scratch glanced at Life and the other Servants in his gang—“wants what we wants and yous got connections. Yous better make it happen.” His claws peeked out from his fingertips in a not-so-subtle threat.

“You don’t understand.” This was the opening he needed. “That request—”

“It ain’t nos request.” Scratch bristled, his nose twitching as he searched for the scent of fear.

Scratch could sniff all day, but he wouldn’t catch a whiff of that in the air. Jethro was a lot of things right now but scared wasn’t one of them. He straightened, shifting closer and getting right into the Servant’s face. “I don’t give a Grunt’s ass what yous call it. It isn’t going to happen.”

Scratch’s eyes twitched slightly. “That’s not gonna make Life happy and”—he glanced around again—“yous all alone.” His arm flew forward straight toward Jethro’s face, claws bared.

The Servant was fast, probably the fastest in the prison, but to him it was laughably slow. He grabbed the lower part of Scratch’s hand, avoiding the claws. With one quick twist he bent it back against the Servant’s arm. The snap of bone echoed in the yard, quickly covered by Scratch’s scream.

The scent of terror overloaded Jethro’s senses and the Servant’s whimpers made his blood roar. It was the sound of the weak. The helpless. The prey. He reached for Scratch’s throat. It’d be so easy to tear it out and let the blood cover his fingers like a glove. He could end his enemy’s life so easily. His instincts screamed. The only good enemy is a dead one. He took a deep, shaky breath as he forced himself to drop his arm and free his prey.

Scratch stumbled backward, holding his hand to keep it from flopping around like a dying bird. Silence filled the yard. Even Scratch’s screams became nothing more than soft whimpers as he scurried to the safety of his gang before he became a target for someone else.

The Guards moved closer, smelling the weak and injured. Jethro grabbed the fence to keep from charging forward and fighting them all. A major brawl in the yard wouldn’t help convince Hugh to release him. Indy kept telling him that many were fighting for his freedom and that Hugh was going to have to give in to the pressure. He prayed that it happened soon because once he took his serum, he’d be weak, vulnerable and since he was alone, probably dead.

He didn’t want to die in here. He wanted to live free in the forest. He was ready to move on with his life. He was done with war, with fighting, and with Trinity. Hugh could have her. He tensed as the gang of Servants headed his way. His eyes met Life’s vibrant green ones as the Servant walked past him. Life wasn’t happy with his answer and that meant retaliation was coming.

CHAPTER 4: Jethro

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Jethro followed the other prisoners back inside. No one else had approached him in the yard and that meant the next time would be an ambush. He walked into his cell and dropped on the cot. He should try and rest, but his blood pounded, and his muscles trembled for a fight. If he’d known no one else was going to attack, he’d have pounded on Scratch a little more to ease the tension that flowed through him.

He stood and paced. He hated being locked up. He’d go mad if he had to stay here much longer. He wanted to grab the bars and pull them from the wall, but that wasn’t possible. He’d tried during the first month he’d been in here. He’d delayed taking his shot and the urge to fight and to run had roared through his body like the wind before a storm. He’d been strong and desperate, but even then, he hadn’t been able to bend the metal. He walked to the bars, resting his face against them. He just had to wait this out. The urge to run and fight, to kill would wane once he took his shot.

He’d be weak, but he’d also be able to relax. After his serum he still hated being in prison, but it was manageable until the medicine wore thin in his blood. It was a blessing and a curse. Things were simple before his shot. Someone was either a friend or an enemy. There were no shadowy thoughts of why someone did what they did. Nothing mattered except who they were to him. If they were his friend, he’d protect them with his life, but if they were his enemy...It was best if they avoided him because if they didn’t, they’d die. Dead enemies couldn’t hurt him.

The cell door opened. It was time for dinner.

He stepped into the hallway and followed the others to the cafeteria. Everything looked normal, but as he walked through the door, he caught the whisper of violence in the air—the scent of rage and battle. He spun  as a fist flew in his direction. It was attached to a very large Guard. He knew this prison Guard, but he couldn’t recall the male’s name. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had. This was simple. This was an enemy.

He caught the Guard’s fist and shoved. His enemy stumbled backward from the force, surprise in his eyes and the fresh scent of fear sweetened the air. His opponent hadn’t expected his strength or his speed. Besides the scuffle this morning, he hadn’t fought since he’d assembled his gang. He’d had no reason to. They’d been the strongest and the best trained in here. After a few weeks, everyone had stayed away from them.

He'd been free to take his serum as ordered by Conguise and delivered by his mother. She’d sneak it into the prison in the lining of her purse and pass it to him in the clasping of hands or a hug. Now, with his gang gone he couldn’t risk taking his medicine. It’d make him vulnerable. Weak like an Almighty.

He grinned as another prison Guard charged him. This would be a real fight, not one small Servant, but a group of large Guards. He welcomed the battle. His blood could rage hot and brutal, and he’d finally be able to sleep tonight.

He sent a sharp left jab, connecting his fist to the first Guard’s face and knocking him down with one punch. He glared at the Guard. That was disappointing. He’d expected a fight, not a...

Someone grabbed him around his chest, squeezing and locking his arms at his side, but he didn’t need his hands to fight. He squatted and threw himself backward, racing full force for the wall. The Guard on his back would be his buffer, his pillow of blood and bone. He slammed himself against the brick wall over and over. His enemy’s grunts of pain in his ear fed his desire to kill. The Guard’s grasp loosened, his body sliding downward, but Jethro wasn’t letting this prey slip away that easily. He grabbed his enemy’s arms, holding him in place as he continued his assault. He smashed into the wall again and again, fast and hard. The Guard hung limp behind him, but his pulse still throbbed in his wrists and his whimpers tickled Jethro’s ear each time they connected with the brick.

“Die,” he growled as he threw them against the wall again.

Two other Guards charged from the side, grabbing his arms and breaking his hold on his enemy. The Guard on his back slid to the floor in a bloodied heap. Fists landed fast and hard on Jethro’s stomach and face. Another set pummeled his side, but he barely felt it. Rage and instinct controlled him now. He had one task. One desire. Kill those who tried to hurt him.

His fists flew twice as fast as the Guards’, hitting one and then the other over and over. The first fell. The second scrambled backward, holding up his hands, but surrender wasn’t an option. Only death. He launched himself at the Guard, taking them both to the floor. He punched over and over. Blood splattered his skin and clothes. He opened his mouth, catching the droplets and savoring the metallic, salty taste, but it wasn’t enough. He lowered his face to his enemy’s neck. He needed to feel the flesh between his teeth—to tear and rip. Something sharp hit his back.

Another enemy!

He jumped off the Guard, roaring as he spun to face his assailant. A dart stuck from his shoulder. He pulled it out and glared at the shocked prison Guard in front of him. That dart should’ve taken him down, weakened him, but it hadn’t done anything but piss him off.

“Help,” yelled the prison Guard as he backed away, fumbling to load another dart into the blow gun.

“No one’s going to get to you fast enough to save you.” Jethro stalked toward him.

The Guard fired. The dart flew through the air and Jethro flung out his hand, knocking it away before it could connect with his chest. The Guard’s eyes widened, and the sweet scent of fear obliterated every other odor in the room.

“I’m going to tear your arms off and stuff them up your...” Another sharp pain lanced his side. He stopped, yanking the dart from his body.

The Guard he’d knocked down with one punch and another prison Guard were reloading their dart guns. They stood across from each other with him in the middle. He’d never get to them both before they fired. He sniffed before facing the second Guard. Little fear flowed from his pores and that made him more of a threat. Jethro charged as the Guard raised the blow gun to his lips. The dart flew in the air, straight toward Jethro’s face. He raised his hand and knocked it away, except it didn’t fall. He stopped staring at the dart sticking out of his hand. He felt nothing but...dizzy. He swayed, shaking his hand to remove the dart as the room spun. He dropped to his knees as blackness engulfed him.

CHAPTER 5: Trinity

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Trinity hurried through the quiet corridors of the Council Building. It was early, but her ears perked up for any sound of her mother. She didn’t need another lecture about this visit to Dr. Kalper’s.

She slipped out the door and waved at a young male Grunt who lingered in the streets. She’d seen him around. He was always the first one to show up in the morning and the last to leave. He deserved to get the job.

He hurried over, motioning at one of the carriages that sat outside the building. He slapped his chest and flexed his muscles.

“Yes, you’re very strong.” She smiled at him. “I understand a bit of Grunt-speak.” She moved her hands, using the signals that she’d picked up from Cack.

His hands started flying and he grunted so fast she couldn’t tell where one sound ended, and another began.

“Slow down.” She touched his arm, stopping him. “I understand a little, but you have to speak slowly.”

He smiled, his large white teeth looking huge in his gaunt face. He grunted softly, “Sorry”.

“No need to apologize. I’m Trinity.”

He nodded vigorously as he grunted, “Producer. Almighty. House Servant. Hero.”

“No.”

He frowned.

“I am part Producer, part Almighty and part Servant, but I’m not a hero.” She felt more like a failure than a hero. The world was different now because of her and her friends, but she wasn’t sure it was better. Her life certainly wasn’t.

“My hero.” He smiled shyly at her.

She didn’t have time to argue with the Grunt. She’d like to be back when Hugh sat in court, hearing the cases of some of those still in jail, but she had to be back before the Council meeting. Jethro’s freedom would come up again. It always did, and every time fewer and fewer voted on Hugh’s side. She wasn’t even sure she was on his side about this anymore, but she’d decide that when it was time to vote. Until then, she had things she had to get done. “I need someone to pull the carriage. Do you want the job?”

He nodded again, slapping his chest hard enough to make her wince.

“Great.” She walked to the smallest carriage. It’d just be her so there was no need to make the poor Grunt pull a larger one. He may be strong and eager, but he was too thin, his clothes hanging on his large frame.

He moved into place and began fastening the harness.

“You know how to do that?” She’d never seen a Grunt work with the traces and hadn’t thought their feet-like hands were dexterous enough to connect all the tiny loops.

He nodded, the strap slipping from the three digits on his front feet. He frowned, grabbing it again.

Her hands flexed at her sides. It’d be faster if she did it, but he seemed determined. Still, she didn’t want to be standing here all day. If her mother or, Araldo forbid, her father saw her... “Let me help.” She began fastening the traces, not waiting for his okay.

He shot her an unhappy look, his cheeks turning slightly red.

“I’m sure you can do it.” She moved on to the next one, her fingers flying over the knots.

His shoulders sagged.

“I mean, I know you can do it but if my mom”—she glanced at the building—“sees me she’s going to ask a lot of questions that I don’t want to answer.”

He grinned, tapping his chest and then signaling, “My mom is like that too.”

She laughed. “I think all moms are like that.” She finished hooking him to the cart. “What’s your name?” She checked all the knots, making sure they were secure.

“Ott,” he grunted.

“Ott?” Most of their names were one syllable and sounded similar. She wanted to make sure she had it right. It’d be rude to call him by the wrong name all morning.

He nodded, smiling his goofy smile.

“Great. Do you know where Dr. Kalper lives?” Most of those in the other classes were familiar with the doctor.

He nodded.

“Then let’s go.”

“Trinity, wait!” shouted someone.

“Travis!” She hurried over to him as he strode toward her. He looked good, thinner but good.

“I’m so glad I caught you.” He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet.

“Me too.” She hugged him. She saw Mirabelle at the Council meetings, but she hadn’t seen Travis in months. He was always working or trying to find work. This new world hadn’t been easy on them or anyone actually.

Everyone was free now, but for most of those in the other classes life was worse than before the war. Hugh’s new laws required Almightys to pay their Servants, Guards, Stockers and Grunts, but most Almightys couldn’t afford that or refused to pay for services that used to be free. That meant a lot more strays. No, that term was no longer allowed. Now, they were called the Released. A new word but their reality was the same—no safe place to sleep and no food. The only benefit was that no matter where they wandered, they no longer had to worry about being rounded up and killed. She didn’t want to go back to executing someone simply because they existed, but that meant a lot more Released roaming the streets and starving.

He put her down, letting his arms drop to his sides. “You look great.” He smiled at her, his large round face as friendly and good natured as ever.

“You too.” She tapped his arm. “I don’t see many Producers anymore. I’ve forgotten how big and strong you guys are.” Her mom was full-blooded Producer but smaller than most of the others and even Mirabelle was small compared to the males.

“Yeah. I can still work dawn to dusk.” His eyes dimmed a little. “If I can find a job.”

“Hugh’s working on that but...Have you reconsidered farming? You’re good at that and we need—”

“We can’t go back to the camps.” Mirabelle walked over to them from the side of the building. “I have a job here. Remember? Hugh needs me on the Council to support my class. I’m the only true Producer on the committee.”

“I’m Producer too. I may be mixed but I always vote for what I believe is best for Producers. I think going back to farming is best for them and everyone.”

“No. Never.” His eyes hardened. “I won’t go back to those fields. I won’t be a prisoner again.”

“But you won’t be. You’ll rent the land. You’ll earn money.” This was part of the food problem. They couldn’t get Producers to go back to the fields. Some Grunts, Guards and Servants had gone and attempted to farm, but they didn’t have the experience and weren’t cut out for the work.

“For now but how long before that rule changes and we’re food again?” asked Travis.

“Hugh won’t let that happen.”

“Hugh won’t be able to stop it if the insurgents win.”

“They won’t. There are hardly any left. Hugh has troops rounding them up.”

“There were hardly any of us either and we won. They could too.”

“That won’t happen.” It couldn’t. If it did, then all of this, all their sacrifices would be for nothing.

“And even if it doesn’t, how long before the others convince Hugh that he’d save more lives by sacrificing the few. Us. Producers.” He glanced around. “This area is nice but the others...We’re starving. All of us. Guards. Servants. Grunts. Someone is going to make him believe that—”

“They won’t. He’d never do that, but you’re right. There are too many who are hungry...starving. That’s why we need Producers to go back to the fields.” She didn’t know why she kept talking. She’d had this argument with so many Producers, but it never worked.

“It’s not going to be us.” He wrapped his arm around Mirabelle.

“Why?” She turned to the other female. “Your father is there. Your siblings are helping in some of the other camps. You know it’s safe.”

“Like I said, I have a job.” It was clear from the tightness around her lips and the way Mirabelle glanced at Travis that this was a familiar argument between them.

“Okay.” She may not like the other female, but Travis was one of her best friends. She wasn’t going to cause any conflict between them. “Hugh’s looking to expand the school system. He wants the young from all the classes to get an education and that’ll mean adding additions to the current schools and building a few more.”

“Really? When?” Travis took Mirabelle’s hand and kissed it. “See. I told you this would work out.”

“I...I don’t know exactly when. He needs investors. He’s going to try to raise it at the party.”

“Great. When?”

“Ah...in a few months.” She shouldn’t have said anything. It seemed way too close to her. She still didn’t have a dress and she had no idea how to act around all the rich, powerful Almighty who’d be there, but to Travis who was hungry, months may as well be years.

“Oh.” Travis’ face fell.

“You can stick around for the meeting today. They always serve something for lunch.”

“I don’t need charity.” His eyes clouded with anger. His family hadn’t been rich in the camps, but they’d worked for everything they’d had. This was no different.

“I know that. I didn’t mean—”

“Mirabelle,” Tammie yelled and waved as she walked over to them, holding a large basket. Curtis, at her side, carried two other baskets overflowing with produce.

“Tammie. Curtis. What are you doing here?” she asked. This morning was turning into a reunion.

“I’m here to train with your mom”—Tammie put the basket down—“and to give Mirabelle a gift from her father.”

“Thank you.” Mirabelle hugged Tammie. “Tell him thank you.”

“You should go visit him,” chided Tammie. “He’d love to see you.”

“I will.” Mirabelle glanced at Travis.

“He’s no longer a prisoner. He could come and see us.” Travis took the baskets from Curtis and placed them on the ground.

“He’s old and set in his ways,” said Tammie. “It won’t kill you to visit him.”

“It might if the rules change when we’re there,” mumbled Travis.

“Like you don’t think they’ll find you and force you to go there if things change.” Tammie glared at him. “If the rules change, we’re all back at the camps and dead. The best way to keep that from happening is to do our part.”

“I don’t have to make it easy for them by living in the cages they built for us,” argued Travis.

“Give it up, Travis,” Curtis slapped him on the back. “You aren’t going to win this argument.” He stood on tiptoe and kissed Tammie. “I’ll see you at home. I’m off to see if Bo has some work for me today.”

“Ask him if he needs a Producer too,” said Travis.

“Will do.”

“Good luck.” Tammie hugged him. “And be careful.”

“You too,” said Curtis.

“Me?” Tammie laughed. “I’ll be safe in the Council Building learning the best way to heal rashes and raging bowels from Millie.”

“Herbs can be poisonous.” Curtis laughed as he turned and left.

“Only the good ones,” yelled Tammie.

“Ah...What time are you meeting my mom?” Trinity glanced at the door.

“Well, we’re off.” Travis picked up the baskets.

“Wait.” Tammie grabbed his arm, her eyes on Curtis’ retreating form.

“Why?” Travis looked at the others.

Trinity shrugged, her gaze darting back to the door. She needed to get out of there before her mother saw her.

“I’ve heard of a job. For Producers,” whispered Tammie.

“You have? Why didn’t—”

“Curtis doesn’t like it.”

“Why?” asked Travis.

“He thinks it has to do with the gangs.”

“That’s not good.” Trinity turned to her friends, forgetting her mom for a minute. The gangs of Guards and Servants had grown bigger and more dangerous with the vast number of new strays. “You shouldn’t do it then. It’s not safe.”

“Curtis doesn’t know for sure that it has to do with gangs, and money is money. They aren’t asking us to do anything illegal. They need things moved. I’ve heard some other Producers talking about it. They said the work is hard, but the money is good.”

“What did they say they had to do?” asked Travis.

“They hauled large crates out of some of the buildings at the Warehouse District onto carts and then moved the carts to the wharf.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” said Travis.

“What was in the crates?” Trinity didn’t trust this.

“No one knows for sure. Some say they’re removing the cages from the buildings and melting down the metal.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t at all opposed to that. Those cages had been used to imprison her kind until they were slaughtered. “The entire area should be burnt to the ground.”

“I agree.” Tammie’s eyes darted behind Travis again. “I’m going to the next one.”

“You are?” asked Trinity. “Without telling Curtis?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” snapped Tammie. “You’re sneaking out in the early morning. Does Hugh know about this trip you’re making.”

“Actually, he does.” She straightened. “It was his idea.”

“Where are you going?” asked Travis.

“It doesn’t matter.” She couldn’t tell them. They wouldn’t understand. She didn’t understand why Hugh didn’t want babies with her. “We’re talking about this job. There must be some reason Curtis doesn’t trust it. He’s not one to overreact.”

“No, but it’s not the job so much as me.” Tammie touched her stomach. “He’s been very protective lately, but we really need the money.”

“You’re...” Trinity almost choked on the word.

“Yeah.” Tammie smiled but her big brown eyes filled with tears. “It’ll be a mix. It won’t be easy. We both know that, but we love each other and—”

“That’s so wonderful!” Mirabelle almost squealed with delight. “Travis and I can’t wait to have young.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Travis put the baskets back down and hugged Tammie. “I’ll go with you, so Curtis won’t have to worry.”

“Thank you.” Tammie’s smile almost glowed.

“Yeah. Congratulations.” Trinity hugged her friend, hating herself for the jealousy that twisted inside her.

“Thanks. Your mom is helping me with some morning sickness issues I’ve been having.”

“That’s great. I mean, not the morning sickness but...What time are you meeting my mom?” This was the perfect reason to leave before she started crying right there in front of everyone.

“She said to come early.” Tammie looked worried. “Am I too early?”

“Probably not and that means, I have to go.”

“You really need to give your mom a break.” Tammie touched her stomach again. “We’re all going to be mothers soon. We’re going to make mistakes, but we’ll love our babies just like your mom loves you.”

“I know she loves me. I really do.” She backed toward the carriage. “But I don’t see any reason to start off my day with a fight and that’s exactly what’ll happen if I see her.”

“Why?” asked Tammie.

“I’ve gotta run.” She couldn’t talk about her visit with Dr. Kalper with any of them. They were all happy couples and ready to welcome babies into their lives, unlike Hugh who wanted to avoid it.

CHAPTER 6: Trinity

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Trinity stared out the window as Ott made his way through the city. She hated feeling so angry and jealous. She was happy for Tammie and Curtis. Really, she was. It wasn’t their fault that Hugh didn’t want a baby.

A young Servant darted in front of the carriage. Thankfully, Ott knew better than to stop. He veered around the kid and moved faster. Rocks pelted the side of the carriage, followed by yells. If they’d stopped, they would’ve been robbed.

The dangerous areas seemed to grow every day, encroaching and overtaking the neighborhoods that had once been decent. Shops closed and more went hungry. She’d been so naïve to think that winning the war would solve all their problems.

It’d fixed some but had created so many others. Hugh was stuck trying to come up with workable solutions for everyone’s problems which meant she was stuck too—in the city. She hated it here. She missed the woods—the trees, the fresh air, the freedom, the simplicity.

She needed the forest. She needed a break from the constant problems. She didn’t actually have a set time for her appointment with Dr. Kalper. She’d just told him she’d stop by this morning. There were still hours before morning ended. She leaned out the window, slapping the side of the carriage. “Hey, Ott. Change of plans.”

CHAPTER 7: Trinity

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As soon as Trinity saw the small hut hidden in the trees and foliage of the forest, the tension eased from her body like dirt washing away in the rain. She leaned out the window as Ott wandered around the woods as if lost. As a city Grunt, he wouldn’t see anything besides bushes and trees, even if Gaar hadn’t hidden his home so well.

“Ott, stop.” She hopped out of the carriage as it slowed. “We’ll be here a while so let’s get you out of these.” She walked to his side and began unhooking his traces.

He tried to help but kept losing his grip on the knots as he glanced at the grasses and bushes surrounding them. A loud rumble sounded from his belly.

“Go.” She laughed as she released him from the final line. “Eat until you’re full, but don’t wander too far away from the house.”

“House?” He looked at her in confusion.

“The one right here, you oaf.” Gaar’s bellow shattered the quiet, like lightning striking a tree. “Little One.” The Handler moved toward her, his gait fast and graceful for someone his size.

Ott stumbled backward, grunting nervously, but she didn’t have time to worry about a scared Grunt.

“Gaar!” She raced toward him.

The Handler scooped her into his arms, swallowing her with his mass. She clung to him, fighting to keep her tears of fear and frustration buried where they belonged. He was her best friend, almost like a father. She loved her dad, but Gaar had been there for her when her father had failed.

“Trinity. Welcome.” Tatania, Gaar’s mate, stood near the entrance to the cabin.

“Hi, Tatania.” She smiled over Gaar’s shoulder before he let her drop to the ground.

“Come. Let’s eat.” He moved toward the house. “I made some bread.”

She tried not to wince. Gaar’s bread was harder than a rock. “Thanks, but I ate before I left.”

“Speaking of that what brings you out here?” By his tone he suspected something.

The problem with him being like a father was he knew her too well. “Ah...one minute.”

She turned to the Grunt who stood several feet away, his body shaking and looking as if another loud bellow from Gaar would send him racing through the forest.

“Calm down.” She walked over to Ott and patted his shoulder. “Everything’s fine. These two are friends. I’ll be back soon. Until then eat what you want but don’t wander too far.”

“And by too far, she means don’t go by the brush. Stay in the clearing right around the house,” said Gaar.

Ott frowned, gesturing at a patch of long, lush grass near the small river that flowed through the pasture area. He sidled toward the river and the green grass.

Trinity glanced around. The clearing didn’t have a lot of grass. “There’s better grazing over—”

“I know that.” Gaar didn’t like his orders questioned. “Another thing I know is that there’s been a Tracker hanging around.”

Ott ran to her, almost slamming into her side.

“The one that left Mirra and her group?” Her hand went to her knife. The move was instinctual, but it wouldn’t do much good against a Tracker.

“No.” He motioned for her to go inside as he glanced at the terrified Grunt. “You want to come with us?” The house had been built for Handlers. It was large enough to accommodate a Grunt.

Ott’s stomach rumbled as his eyes darted between them and the grass.

“Is he safe out here?” She would’ve come on foot if she’d known she was putting the Grunt in danger. Of course, that would’ve taken her a lot longer.

“He’ll be safe by the house, just don’t wander,” said Gaar.

“It’ll be fine.” She patted Ott’s shoulder again. “You can stand right here.” She walked several feet to the nearby brush. “And eat all this.” She ran her hand over the poufy bushes of sage fronds. “It’s safe here, right Gaar?”

“Yeah. The Tracker won’t come too close. Tatania and I made sure of that.”

She was glad she’d missed that fight. Both Handlers and Trackers were formidable. She smiled at Ott. “See. You can eat and be safe.”

The Grunt nodded and moved to her side, nudging her out of the way so he could stand exactly where she’d been.

“I hadn’t meant that literally.” She grinned at Gaar as she followed him into the house.

“He’s thin. Where’d you find him?” asked Gaar.

“Waiting outside the Council Building, looking for work.” Like so many others would today and every day.

“Things still bad?”

“Yeah. More and more Released fill the streets, homeless and hungry.”

“Some have been moving into the forest.” Tatania poured them all tea and sat at the table.

Gaar slid the large knife from the sheath on his side and began carving the rock that he called his bread.

“May I leave the door open?” She glanced behind her. “I don’t like not being able to see Ott.”

“Yes. The air is cool today and the house is hot,” said Tatania.

She pushed the door open all the way and Ott looked up at her, grass hanging from both sides of his mouth. She waved before sitting at the table. She kept her face impassive as Gaar dropped a hunk of bread in front of her. It sounded like a brick hitting the table. “Are the Guards and Servants who are moving out here giving you any trouble?”

None of the other classes had been too friendly with the Handlers or Trackers once the fighting had ended. Part of her hated how they’d turned on the Trackers and Handlers but another part—the part of her that was prey—understood.

Numerous members of the other classes had started disappearing. Both Gaar and Mirra had sworn it wasn’t anyone from their groups but everyone, including herself, wondered. Trackers loved to hunt. Plus, they had to eat, and produce was not in their diet.

“No. They help actually.” Gaar took a bite of his bread, his jaw strength obviously much stronger than hers because he made it look almost soft.

“That’s great. How?” She wiggled and worked on a corner of her bread. If she could dunk it into her tea, it might make it soft enough for her to chew.

“They keep the predators full.” Gaar took another bite.

“Oh.” She should’ve known better than to hope that they could all get along.

“What color was that Tracker you saw when we were finding our territories?” Gaar mumbled around his mouthful of bread.

“That Tracker was brown with gold markings.” She’d traveled with the Handlers and Trackers when they’d left the city. Hugh hadn’t wanted her to go. It’d only been about six weeks after she’d been shot but she hadn’t been able to stay in the city another minute. Her mom and Hugh had been fussing over her daily and although she loved them both, she’d been on her own too long for coddling. It’d been one of her many fights with Hugh. Her mother said it was natural for newly bonded pairs to argue, and then in the next breath, Mom would tell her that she needed to defer to Hugh. He was her mate. She needed to listen to him.

She did when he said things that weren’t stupid. Her not going to say goodbye to Mirra and Gaar because it wasn’t safe was stupid. Hugh had finally agreed, but he’d sent Indy, Bo and a small team of his most trusted soldiers with them. He’d said it’d been to keep the citizens from harassing them, but she was pretty sure it’d been to keep her safe. Like she hadn’t been safe for years without him and his soldiers around. She could take care of herself. She was tired of proving that to him but getting shot hadn’t helped.

“Hmm. Definitely not the same one that’s been hanging around here.” Gaar cut more bread, handing another piece to Tatania and frowning at Trinity’s plate. “Eat.”

She nodded and worked harder to break off that corner.

“This one is gray with eyes so green they almost glow,” said Tatania.

“Where did it come from?” Besides Parra who’d died later, five had survived the Night of the Trackers. Mirra, Nirankan, Sikka, Teeko and the one who’d set off on his own. None of them had produced any offspring that’d lived, as far as she knew.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Gaar. “Are you sure there wasn’t another one when Mirra freed them?”

“It could’ve escaped into the forest,” suggested Tatania.

“No. There were only the eight Mirra freed.”

“That place was set up similar to the Handler camp. There could’ve been others in the other buildings,” said Gaar.

“Nirankan would’ve said something if there were others. He wouldn’t have left any behind to be tortured by the Almightys and their Guards.”

“You left with Mirra right away but Crazy and some others stayed behind, didn’t they?” asked Gaar.

“Yeah.” She braced herself so she didn’t shiver as the memory of the screams of the Guards filled her head.

“According to Nirankan, the Almightys were making them in that shed. Maybe they’d made some but hadn’t brought them into the yard yet. Crazy could’ve found them when looking for Guards to kill,” said Gaar.

“But wouldn’t he have brought them with him?” She finally managed to snap off a corner of the bread and dipped it into her tea.

“Not if they ran off,” said Gaar.