The Rising

Chapter 2

I was everything, and they were nothing. Because I killed them.
Mid day sun shone down on the large field I was in and a hot breeze tickled my cheek.
Still, it was better than the still air that had cloaked my farm for the last two weeks.
It has been a little over three years since I last saw my mate. My Derek.
And almost a year since the facility I was in quite literally exploded.
Since then I had moved down to central Texas after claiming the inheritance my father left me.

I quickly bought up a large plot of forested land with a nice sized lake and an even bigger clearing, complete with a hill a top which sits my rather excessively large home.
Next to it the stables and the barn are situated.
Beneath me Charger shifted impatiently. It was almost time for his two o'clock feeding and mucking.

Charger was a massive Arabian horse that I had bought at an auction. His coat, mane, and eyes were all the same color. A solid black.
Charger was the only horse I could find that wasn't even a little spooked by what I am. By what they made me. And I looked at a lot of horses.

My watch beeped, bringing me out of my daze.
I pulled on his reigns and he turned tail, thundering as fast as he could go back up the hill.
His giant hooves clipped on the cobbles with a sharp sound until we rode through the large open doors of the stables and the hay muffled the noise.
Sliding off of the saddle, I patted his cheek affectionately and slid off my riding helmet.

No doubt my strawberry blond hair was matted beyond hope. It didn't take me long to make sure Charger had his daily routine, and then I was walking up the hill to the house...er, mansion. More like a castle, really.

I walked through the large front doors and closed it behind me. I took in the thin layer of dirt and dust and orange fur coating most surfaces and sighed.
I should probably hire some help.

It's been awhile since anyone besides me and Lorif was in the house. Shortly after I bought it, I set out making it known that I was providing a temporary living situation for Supernaturals on the run. Subtly of course. Since then, the house has almost always had a family or two to keep it full and lively.

I trailed my hand across the wall, stopping when I reached the entrance to the southern wing. Sometimes when I'm upset or thinking too hard, my feet bring me here of their own accord.

When the house was being built, I had an extra wing put in place with three bedrooms. Well, more like large luxury apartments.
One for each of the friends that had left me behind. One for Derek, both rustic and modern at the same time, one for Tori, girly and chic but also badass, and one for Simon, sleek and modern. They could stay in their room and never leave if it pleased them. Each one had its own bathroom and living area.

I sighed. I suppose this is my way of convincing myself that they weren't gone forever. That they would come back to me.
But as far as I know, that will never happen. So the doors will always remain closed.
But a girl can hope right?

My eyes drooped. I hadn't been sleeping well at night thanks to recurring nightmares, so I've had to take short power naps during the day.
But sometimes even during those my memories surface, but it's easier to call them nightmares.

I trudges onward, up the stairs and into my quarters. I shrugged off my over shirt, slipped off my riding boots, and stepped out of my jeans before falling face first into my pillow.
After that, I was out like a light.

I strained my neck, trying to get a good look around me. I could hear the doctors talking to the scientists in the next lab over. What I heard made tears trickle down my cheeks. They weren't going to stop until they succeed in making me a complete monster. And then they'll kill me because then I'll be TOO dangerous.
They had finally figured out how to gene splice a mature living subject.
I suppose me being a Necromancer freak wasn't enough for them. My horrendously overflowing witch magic wasn't enough either, nor the Shaman healing or the Demon genes fighting for dominance inside of me.

The lab doors hissed open, and I could just barely see the figures out of the corners of my eyes. I felt the leather straps and metal restraints tighten around my limbs, and I was pressed even harder against the cold metal operating table. And then I could see it clearly and it was all I could do to cry and scream and beg them not too.
The syringe descended towards my exposed chest. I felt the cold needle slip inside my skin and force it's way past my ribs and puncture my heart.
My body quivered with sobs like a leaf in the wind. And then the fire of a thousand hells erupted in my veins and I was paralyzed. Whether with pain or artificially I didn't know. I also didn't care. So what? I was going to die anyways.

I heard the mechanics of the table release through my pain muddled haze.
Suddenly I was being moved. The ground swung beneath me and it took me a moment to realize that someone had thrown me over their shoulder. The sterile corridors passed by in a blur and then my small frozen body was flying through the air.

My back collided with a padded wall and I slumped towards the equally padded floor.
White boots stomped out of my view and then the door slammed shut and sealed with a hiss and a click.
I was alone in the darkness, and at the very least I was able to appreciate that at least this time it wasn't hard, cold concrete sealing my fate, but soft and warm padding. Still unable to move, I did all I could. I cried into the dark and tried my best to ignore the fire coursing through my veins, and the sickening snapping of my bones as they broke and lengthened, shortened and rearranged.

A blaring in my ears spurred me from my slumber, and I sat bolt upright in my bed.
My phone was ringing. Go fucking figures.
It might not have been a peaceful sleep, but it was sleep none the less and I desperately needed it. My hand shot out and grabbed my phone, and pressing accept call, I put it to my ear.
Almost immediately my sensitive hearing had me jerking the phone in the opposite direction. Someone was clearly fighting over who would take the call.

Eventually I managed to get over my initial surprise and work out a somewhat sophisticated "Hello? Can I help you?"
And as the bickering in the background continued, an older, obviously more experienced voice took over the call.
"Yes if you don't mind. We were calling to see if you have room at your safe house."
My eyes widened. It had been a couple of months at least since anyone but my familiar lived here with me.
"Actually I do. In fact, as it happens, besides me and my companion, the house is empty at the moment. May I ask how many and what species?"

The other end was silent for a minute.
"Hello?" I asked. The reply was both instant and embarrassed.
"I apologize. It's just that you sound familiar. But to answer your question it's four. A werewolf, a witch, and two sorcerers."
My breath hitched.
"And may I ask who's making the arrangement?"
Another tense pause.
"That'll be Kit Bae."

And I froze. The phone slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor.
It was a couple of minutes before I was myself again. I bent over and checked if the call was still in progress. It was.
"I'm very sorry about that. Can I ask when I can expect you, assuming you already have the address?"
There was a light chuckle.
"In two days. And yes, we already have it. Thank you so very much."
I sighed.
"No problem. See you soon."
A click, and the line went dead.

That could not have just happened. That did not just happen. It did, didn't it?
They're coming to me.
I rushed out of my room and flew down the long hallways, practically flying down the grand staircase. I made a sharp right turn passed the plush lounge and the theater room, past the library and the professional grade kitchens, past the French doors leading into the back gardens and the Olympic sized swimming pool and water fall, and slid to a halt in front of my study. I threw open the large oak doors and strode inside.

Wasting no time, I leapt over my fathers old desk that I had brought down from New York and landed in a crouch on the other side. I yanked open a drawer and dug around for a ring of keys. I needed copies made ASAP.

I glanced up and my eyes landed on an old photograph, lovingly framed and carefully placed atop the fire place.
It was a picture of the gang and I, all smiling as we sat outside an ice cream shop.
I looked down at the keys in my hand.
"They're coming home."
I couldn't help the ecstatic smile that broke out across my face.