Wingless (The Lia Hunter Chronicles #1)

Every inch of my body throbbed in pain. Disorientated, I cracked open my eyes trying to get my bearings. Looking around I took in the carnage of the room. The wall in front of me looked like someone had taken a mallet to it, only a few chunks of plaster clinging to it here and there. Wreckage was strewn all along around me, bits of broken glass littered the floor. Smoke heavily clouded the air, burning my nostrils.

Using one arm I pushed my body up biting back a shriek of pain as every fiber of my being protested. Resting my back against the wall behind me I looked dazedly at the coffee table that hung halfway out of a broken window. Something tickled at my addled brain and squinting I studied the coffee table harder.

Shit. Is that...fuck, it is my coffee table.

My brain finally caught up and I realized I was looking at the remnants of my apartment. Shock held me immobile as I stared through what used to be my bedroom wall into the blackened husk of my bedroom. Disbelief had me shaking my head even as the motion sent shafts of pain shooting down my spine. I knew I should be feeling something, sorrow at the loss of my apartment, anger at its wanton destruction but my mind couldn’t seem to beyond the fact that it was all just...gone. My whole life destroyed in a matter of seconds.

Struggling, I braced myself against the wall as I slowly stood up. The world rolled wildly and I had to clutch against the marble bench top, which apart from the massive crack splitting it down the center, managed to escape the explosion fairly unscathed. As my vision began to right itself I took stock of my injuries. The warmth spreading on my right side let me know my wound had reopened, the stitches have torn during the explosion. Muscle deep pain covered about two-thirds of my body, my back holding the worst of the pain and I knew dark bruises were already beginning to form. Cuts and scrapes covered my front injuries most likely sustained from the debris flying around, however, what had me really worried was the warmth trickling down the back of my neck.

Raising a wary hand I felt around the back of my skull, relief pouring through me when I didn’t come into contact with squishy brains. Blood matted my hair, creating a thick crust around a small wound at the back of my head. While brain damage was still a possibility I was immeasurably thankful I wasn’t walking around with a split open skull. The mental image causing my nose to wrinkle in disgust.

Taking a step forward, I heard my foot crunch down on something. Moving my boot to the side it took me a moment to recognize the battered remains of my phone. Moving further into the carnage I blankly searched for something that remained intact. Further, into my kitchen, I found my keys, snatching them from the ground, I clutched them like a lifeline. A flash of color on the ground caught my eye and I zeroed in on it. Shuffling over I picked up a broken photo frame, inside it was a picture of my mother. It was the only photo of her that I kept. In it she was laughing at something I had said, her head tipped back, the afternoon sunshine making her shine. Slipping it out of the frame, I tucked it into my jacket. A few minutes more of searching unearthed the only other photograph I had in my apartment. This one was a picture of Hutch, his wife Malory, and I turned eighteen. I was standing between them, proudly holding up my acceptance letter into the PeaceKeeper training academy. I quickly placed it in my jacket next to the photo of my mother.

Standing up the massive dent in the back wall caught my eye, around it a spider web of cracks covered the wall. I grimaced as I realized it was the imprint of where my body must have hit during the explosion. A flash of white paper was in one of the many cracks in the plaster. Curious, I picked my way through the rubble once more, freeing the paper from its prison. Smoothing the crumpled sheet, I glanced down at the words.

The Seraphim will fall.

You have interfered where you are not welcome.

For that, you must be punished.

In a rush, it came back to me. The music box, the note, my desperate attempt to swipe away the music box. My gaze was glued to that final word, punished. As if I had done something wrong. White hot fury exploded inside me, consuming all rational thought.

The killer wants to punish me? They blew up my fucking home to punish me?!

All around me objects began to shake, the debris that littered the floor bounced around crazily. The very walls, or at least what was left of them, shook under the force of my rage. The shaking grew stronger as my powers began to spiral out of control, the air around me whipping into a frenzy, tossing my hair wildly. My eyes burned with the amount of power I channeled and I knew if I checked they would be a flashing neon green. A voice inside me screamed for blood, demanding that I track down the killer and painfully extract my pound of flesh. My mouth practically watered at the thought.

The sound of approaching sirens was the only thing that stopped me causing a second explosion inside my apartment. Knowing that I would soon be swarmed by a crew of emergency crew I stomped to my bedroom. Picking my way through the tinder wood remains of my bedside drawers I finally located what I was looking for. The three silver daggers gleamed under the sunlight spilling through the gaping hole where my outer bedroom wall used to be. Sliding them into my jacket, I took one last look around my apartment, taking in the destruction. The need for vengeance flooded me once more, but I maintained a tight-fisted control over my magic. Snapping back my shoulders, I let the cool mask of relentless determination settle over me. Without allowing myself another glance at the battered remains of my apartment I left, closing the door firmly behind me.

It was all too easy to slip past the rushing emergency crew and enter the apartment’s garage. Hopping in my car, I pulled out of the building. A crowd of curious onlookers filled the street beneath my building. All staring at the open carcass of my apartment, with either looks of horror or excitement. Ignoring them I joined traffic, which hadn’t even paused.

Typical New York.

Soon enough I was pulling into the stations underground parking lot. The loss of adrenaline and my injuries causing my body to shake. It was a miracle I’d even made it here, to begin with. Opening my door I wobbled my way to the elevator, punching in my code. As it began its steady ascent I finally allowed myself to relax. The tension that had been keeping me alert for another attack seeping out of me as I entered the familiar safety of the station.

The elevator came to a halt, the doors sliding open. Stumbling into the station’s lobby I heard a loud gasp. Looking up I saw a pale faced Linda gaping at me from behind her desk.

“Oh my lord, Lia, what happened?” she gasped, her southern drawl coming to the surface. Quickly rushing around the desk she sidled up to me. It wasn’t until she placed my arm over her shoulders that I noticed I’d been tilting sideways.

Maybe that head injury was worse than I thought.

“What was that dear?” Linda asked and I realized I’d been talking aloud.

“Oh, nothing.” Together we made our way through the building, the difference in our heights making it a slow process. We stumbled through security and for once Earl didn’t give me any shit. If anything the old goat looked worried.

“Earl, go and fetch the doctor please,” Linda asked him.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a nod. Shooting me another concerned glance he took off towards the elevator.

“I must look worse than I thought if even Earl’s being nice to me,” I said with a wry smile. Linda failed to see the amusement.

“Hutch is going to have an absolute fit when he sees you.” Realizing she was right, I stopped our slow shuffle forward. Perhaps coming to the station hadn’t been the brightest idea. Glancing behind me I eyed my escape options.

“Oh no missy,” Linda said propelling us both forward. For such a small woman she was weirdly strong, “You’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it.”

I don’t have a bed to lie in actually. It blew up with the rest of my apartment.

For some reason, I found the thought hilarious. Laughter exploded from me, shaking us both with its intensity.

“Dear lord, she’s lost it.”

By the time we reached the bull pen, my laughter had petered off, my focus instead upon putting one foot in front of the other. At our stumbling entrance heads shot up, shock freezing all movement. Silence thickened the air, as my fellow agents stared at me in horror.

“What the fuck?” Gabe said, breaking the silence.

The others jerked to life, Tom rushed forward, carefully extracting me from Linda’s hold. He placed me down in a nearby chair and began to slowly check me over as questions were flung from all directions at Linda. Not one to be pushed around Linda quickly silenced everybody before explaining how she found me.

“Lia,” Tom said, catching my attention. “I need you to tell me where you’re injured.”

I struggled to keep my eyes on his worried brown ones, my attention wanting to wander away. My mind rolled over his words, struggling to make sense of them. The effort caused pain to prick my head so I let the thoughts simply drift away.

“Lia.” He said sharply, clicking his fingers in my face. The gesture snapped my attention back to him and I felt my mind clear enough that I managed to stutter out a few words.

“M-my head”

Tom leaped into action, slipping behind my chair. Gentle hands felt around my head and I winced as they brushed over my wound.

“Shit.” I heard Tom whisper before a gentle warmth began to flow through my skull. Humming in appreciation, I let my eyes fall closed. Although Tom wasn’t a master at healing magic, he possessed enough skill to keep us alive long enough for the station’s official healer to patch us up. Already I could feel the fog beginning to leave my brain. Feeling a pressure on my hand I glanced down to see Stan standing near my chair, looking up at me with worried eyes.

“Muuhfff?” He asked, giving my battered body a once over.

“I’m okay buddy, don’t worry,” I told him, giving his head a small pat, letting my eyes fall closed again.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Hutch shouted. There was a moment of silence broken only by the shuffling of feet, before Hutch spoke again, his voice infinitely softer.

“Lia?”

Pulling apart my eyelids, I peered at Hutch. He stood amongst the crowd of PeaceKeepers, face pale, his brown eyes wide and haunted. I knew he was thinking of the last time he’d found me injured, bleeding to death in a filthy alleyway. Wanting to comfort him I forced a wobbly smile.

“Hey, don’t start crying now Hutch, you and Earl are such softies. The man was a sobbing mess when we left him.” I teased

A choked laugh stuttered out of Tess.

Wiping away the tears that tracked down her face she shot me a watery smile, “Only you would confuse tears of joy with ones of sorrow.”

Grinning, I rolled my eyes, “One day I’ll have him worshipping at my feet.”

“Not likely girly,” Earl called out as he and Harper, the station’s healer, came rushing into the room.

“Please, old man I know you secretly care,” I replied generating chuckles from the group. Hutch still had that haunted look on his face, but the teasing seemed to have taken away the worst of his panic.

“I rushed here expecting to find you on death’s door but here you are running your mouth like always,” Harper said, shaking his head in mock annoyance.

“What can I say doc, it takes a lot more than this,” I swept a hand over my battered body, “to keep me down.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of my most stubborn patient.” He said, walking around to the back of the chair. For a moment that comforting warmth disappeared, and the pain rushed to surface before it returned once more, stronger than before.

Tom reappeared in front of me, walking over to stand by Tess’s side. Their hands found each other, clasping tightly together. I barely restrained myself from wiggling my eyebrows at Tess.

I’m so winning that bet.

“What happened?” Hutch finally asked and I practically saw everybody’s ears perk up in interest. Wincing, I raised my right hand, showing him the crumpled piece of paper I’d refused to let go of. Plucking it from my hands, Hutch read the note, his face darkening frighteningly.

“That,” I started, pointing to the note in his hands, “was delivered to my apartment along with a music box.” Hutch’s eyes narrowed and I knew he was remembering our conversation from earlier. “I didn’t realize something was wrong until the last moment. I managed to hit the music box into my bedroom before it exploded.”

“Shit.” Gabe cursed.

"Sukin syn" Petra bit out what I assumed was a Russian curse word.

“Whose ass are we kicking?” Tess demanded.

The others grunted in agreement and my heart warmed at their anger and worry on my behalf. Glancing at each of their faces I felt gratitude that they were in my life soften my heart.

“Your apartment?” Hutch asked softly, knowing how much it meant to me.

“Destroyed,” I said sadly, swallowing around the tears that wanted to form.

“I’m sorry, Lia.”

I gave him a strained smile in thanks.

“Well,” Harper chimed in, releasing my head, “I’ve healed the damage to your head. The bruising and various cuts on your body should all heal on their own, within the next day. The only other wound I could sense was the one on your side.”

With Harper’s help, I slid off my jacket and he pulled up shirt revealing my bloody side. Kneeling down he examined the wound.

“There are signs of stitching, this wound didn’t occur during the explosion.” He stated easily and I restrained myself from glaring down at him.

“Lia,” Hutch said, his tone ominous. A scowl creased his features, the expectant look he wore demanding I cough up my secrets.

“Okay, so last night I might have been lightly stabbed with a silver blade.”

“Lightly stabbed?” Gabe asked around a laugh.

Shooting him a glare I continued, “But the doctor at the Aviary stitched me up, it would’ve healed by tomorrow, it’s not a big deal.”

“A stabbing and the Aviary?” Tess scowled, shaking her head, “I can’t believe I missed out on this case.”

“Wait let me go and blow up your apartment and then let me know if you still feel like you’re missing out,” I said sourly.

“Enough.” Hutch declared, “Everybody get back to work.”

Reluctantly everyone slowly went back to their desks, sneaking glances in my direction whenever they could.

Wanting out of this chair I focused on Harper.

“What’s the prognosis doc?”

“Typically I would just sew up this wound and wait for it to heal naturally, but given the extent of the damage to the rest of your body, I think it would be best to just heal it straight away.” He said before placing his hands on my side.

Closing my eyes I waited for him to finish, ignoring the angry looks Hutch was shooting in my direction. Ten minutes later Harper proclaimed me healthy enough and left the bull pen looking significantly more tired than when he entered.

Hutch silently helped me into his office, closing the door behind us. Flopping into the chair opposite his desk I waited for him to speak first.

“I think you should drop this case, Lia.” He said quietly and I knew what those words cost him. We never dropped cases, it was a point of pride for Hutch, for all the people in our station. I stared at him in shock.

“It was dangerous enough when it was just a serial killer targeting Seraphim.” He continued, “But now there’s a possible war and you were almost killed in an explosion intended to take you out.”

“I’m not dropping the case,” I said firmly.

“You could have died, Lia,” Hutch said viciously, voice breaking. His eyes, when they met mine, were tormented. “You almost did.”

Softening I leaned forward, placing my hand over his. “I know, but I didn’t. Besides, I owe it to the victims and their loved ones to find this killer and stop them.”

Removing my hand I straightened in my chair, staring him down.

"Fiat justitia ruat cælum.” I recited the PeaceKeeper oath with ease.

“Let justice be done though the heavens fall.” Hutch translated wearily. A wry smile tipped his lips and he leaned back in his chair. “Sometimes I regret encouraging you to go down this path.”

“Only because you know I’m damn good at my job,” I said grinning.

Sobering, Hutch met my gaze a silent plea in his eyes. “Please be careful, Lia. This killer is dangerous.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, my face hardening, “but he just made the biggest mistake he could make. Because now, it’s personal.”