This short story takes place before Bloodhunters v1: Bad Blood. If you enjoy it, please consider purchasing my other books here.
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“What’s wrong with her eyes?” Mr. Venderson asked, examining the photo.
Every time, Lerveen thought. “Don’t worry, it’s just a genetic thing. She sees just fine.”
“How old is she?” Mrs. Venderson asked.
“We don’t have a birth certificate, but we think she’s about eleven.”
The couple looked at each other. Lerveen knew what they were thinking. They were actually hoping for a younger child, perhaps just old enough to already be potty trained. But Lerveen always showed clients Sekka first, because she knew Sekka would be the hardest to get rid of. Get rid of? she thought, admonishing herself for the thought. But it wasn’t a lie. Raising Sekka required a lot more effort than the other girls, and while Lerveen truly cared about Sekka, it would be a great relief to see her get adopted.
“Just come meet her,” Lerveen said. “I’m sure you’ll love her.”
Sekka sat in the fenced-in play yard. The other girls played in groups of three or four, but Sekka sat alone, on the grass, watching a bird build its nest. It was fascinating to watch the process. The way the bird wove twigs and grass into a stable structure was so impressive. Sekka knew the bird couldn’t think like a person, and yet it seemed to know more about construction than most people did.
She felt a tap on her shoulder. “Sekka!”
“What?” Sekka asked.
“I’ve been calling you for five minutes,” Lerveen said. “Come inside, there’s a couple I want you to meet.”
The Vendersons looked skeptical as Lerveen approached, Sekka in tow. The girl was pretty, but her clothes were covered in dirt, and she kept looking in every direction except at the Vendersons.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Venderson said. “Does she play outside a lot?”
“Just ask her some questions,” Lerveen said. “I know you’ll love her.”
Mrs. Venderson got down on her knees, looking into Sekka’s white-irised eyes. “So, Sekka,” she asked. “Do you like dolls?”
“No,” Sekka said.
“Do you like flowers?”
“No.”
“Do you like... boys?”
“No.”
“Why is she so standoffish?” Mr. Venderson whispered into Lerveen’s ear.
Instead of answering his question, Lerveen said, “Ask her about animals.”
On hearing this, Sekka didn’t even wait for them to ask a question. “I love animals,” she said. Suddenly she was very animated, like a wooden puppet that had just been turned into a real girl. “There’s a bird outside right now, building a nest. I’ve been watching it all morning. It’s so smart! And there’s this squirrel that visits me every day. I’ve been teaching him to dance. And there’s rats in the walls here. They’re so cute! And...”
Lerveen watched the prospective parents carefully during Sekka’s passionate rant. They seemed confused, and with good reason. Lerveen herself had been perpetually confused ever since Sekka was dropped off as an infant. She still had the note. “Please take care of this baby. She was my sister’s. I don’t know who the father was. I can’t give her the care she needs. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” Lerveen had reread the note many times over the years, and now had it memorized.
Sekka would require a special set of parents. Patient ones, people who didn’t have any preconceived notions about what it was like to raise a child. Lerveen knew that Sekka was borderline... something, but the orphanage didn’t have the budget for a psychological evaluation. Unfortunately, not a lot of people on Cytrine Delta were looking to adopt, and even fewer would be willing to take on a special needs child.
She knew she’d lost this one. She could always tell when a connection was being made, and the Vendersons just weren’t into Sekka. They didn’t want a kid they’d have to chase around the woods all day. They wanted a girl they could dress up like a doll, who would look cute in family portraits. That was fine, Lerveen knew just who she would show them next.
“You can go back outside now, Sekka,” Lerveen said. Sekka smiled, and left without saying another word.
It was now after lunch, and Sekka once again sat in the dirt in the play yard. The rest of the girls were inside doing chores, but Sekka couldn’t stand the sound the laundry machines made, so Lerveen allowed her to play outside whenever they were running. It wasn’t exactly fair, but they made up for it by giving Sekka extra chores at night, while the rest of the girls played board games together. Sekka didn’t mind. She preferred to do her chores alone.
Her favorite visitor had come by, a pink-furred squirrel she called Nutters. He was only about six weeks old, and Sekka had pretty much known him since birth. His family lived in the tree back by the fence. Sekka had been teaching him tricks lately, and he seemed to learn really fast.
But today he seemed agitated. He kept running up to Sekka, then running back towards the tree, as if trying to get her to follow. While the creature wasn’t sapient, he was smart for a squirrel, and Sekka was the only human he trusted.
Sekka reached the tree, and Nutters climbed up the fence, looking out over the nearby street. The wooden fence was too tall for Sekka to see over, and there were no gaps between the slats, so she had to climb the tree to see what was wrong.
Across the street, another squirrel was in trouble. Two boys had overturned a metal trash can, trapping the poor animal. The receptacle was made of a wire mesh, with diamond-shaped holes too small for the squirrel to squeeze through. A red-haired boy sat on top of the trash can, while a boy with brown hair lit firecrackers and fed them through the holes. The squirrel ran in circles around the inside of the trash can, scared to death of the small explosions and desperate to escape.
Sekka was livid. It didn’t even occur to her that it was against the rules to leave the play yard. The only thing going through her mind was, Save the squirrel. She used the tree to climb over the fence, hopped down to the ground, and ran across the street. It was a good thing the street didn’t get much traffic, because she didn’t even look both ways. She barged up to the boys, pushed the one off of the trash can, and lifted the can so the squirrel could escape. It scampered down the street and climbed up the side of a building.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” the brunet said.
“Leave the squirrels alone,” Sekka said. She turned back toward the street.
“Just having a little fun,” the redhead said, grabbing Sekka by the shoulder.
She turned around and hit him, her fist catching him in the stomach. It didn’t hurt, but it knocked the wind out of him.
The red-haired boy grabbed her from behind. “Now you’ve done it,” he said. He trapped her in a bear hug, tightly holding her arms to her sides. Sekka fought back, but he was much stronger.
The other boy lifted the trash can. “Put her under here,” he said.
Working together, they got her under the trash can, and set it down on top of her. Once again, the redhead sat on top of it. Sekka screamed, but no one was around. She was very cramped, and she pushed and kicked as much as she could, but the can wouldn’t budge. The brunet started to light another firecracker.
“Boys!” came a man’s voice, as someone came running around the corner. Sekka could only see his legs from her position. “Get out of here!” he shouted, and the boys ran. The man bent down, saw Sekka’s predicament, and helped her get out of the trash can. “Kids these days,” the man said.
“Thank you,” Sekka said, and turned back toward the street.
“Wait,” the man said. “Do you need a ride?”
“No,” Sekka said, and kept walking.
“Just wait,” the man said again, putting his arm on her shoulder. Sekka jumped. She didn’t really like being touched, especially by people she didn’t know. She turned and looked at him. He was in his mid-thirties, with black hair and a mustache. Sekka was pretty sure she’d seen him before. She wasn’t good with faces, but his mustache looked familiar. “I really don’t mind,” he said. “My hovercar’s just around the corner.”
“So’s my door,” she said. Her phrasing perplexed him a bit, going by his expression. Sekka was used to seeing that expression on people. What she meant was, there was no back entrance to the orphanage, so she would have to walk around the block to the front of the building. It might be a little farther than this man’s hovercar, but it still seemed pretty silly to hitch a ride there.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sekka,” she said.
“I thought so,” the man said. “You’re from the orphanage, right? I’ve seen you on my walks.”
That’s where she’d seen him. Sometimes Lerveen took Sekka with her when she ran errands, and she’d seen this man walking down the street sometimes. He seemed to hang around the orphanage an awful lot.
“I could never forget eyes like yours,” he continued. “Listen, the lady that works there, oh, what’s her name again?”
“Lerveen?” Sekka asked.
“Yes! She told me you’d gotten out, and asked if I’d give you a ride back.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sekka said. “It’s right there.”
The man frowned, thinking. Sekka was about to walk away again, when he said, “You’re right, you should head on back. But first, can you help me with something real quick?”
Sekka cocked her head, genuinely confused. What could this man possibly need, that she’d be able to help with? “What?” she finally asked.
“I found a lost kitten,” he said. “I need help finding its mother.”
“Kitten?” Sekka asked. It was like flicking a switch. She was no longer distracted with trying to leave; the man now had her full attention.
Checkmate, the man thought.
Sekka woke up in a strange room. She couldn’t remember how she got here. She knew she’d followed the man back to his hovercar, and he’d had her lean into the side door, but she didn’t see the kitten. Then she’d felt a sudden jab, like a needle. She couldn’t remember anything after that.
The room wasn’t well-lit, but it was bright enough to make out the details. She was lying on a mattress on the floor. The room reminded her of the basement at the orphanage - gray brick walls, no windows. There was a washing machine against one wall, next to a sink and a toilet. Some stuffed animals and other toys lay against the opposite wall. One of the toys was a creepily realistic child-sized doll, its mouth open in a permanent O-shape. There were some posters on the wall, mostly of cartoon girls in schoolgirl uniforms. The room’s light came from a single luminescent disk mounted to the ceiling, directly over the mattress.
In one corner, a wooden stairway led up to a door. Sekka stood up and climbed the stairs, then tried the door. Locked. She knocked at the door, and when nothing happened, she pounded on it.
After a few minutes, the door unlocked, and the man stepped through it. Sekka tried to rush past him, but he held her firmly by the shoulder and locked the door behind him. He grabbed her by one hand and pulled her back down the stairs.
“Where am I?” Sekka asked.
“This is your new room,” the man said, smiling. He got down on one knee so he could look her in the eye. “Surprise! I adopted you.”
“I don’t want to be here,” Sekka said.
“You’ll love it here,” he said. “Listen, you can call me Mick. I’m your new father, but I’m also your new best friend. Anything you need, let me know, I’ll get it for you. Seriously, anything.”
“I want to go,” Sekka said.
“Anything but that,” Mick said. “But believe me, you’re not going to want to leave. I have some things to do right now, but I’ll be back down in a couple of hours with dinner. And then we’ll play together. I have a lot of new games I want to teach you.”
“I want to see Lerveen,” Sekka said.
“You will!” he said. “We’ll go see her tomorrow, I promise.”
“I want to see Lerveen!” Sekka wailed this time, and slapped him on the arm. It couldn’t have hurt him, but a flash of anger crossed his face.
“Now that’s just rude, little lady,” Mick said. “I have feelings too. You need some quiet time. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He stood up, climbed the stairs, and locked the door behind him.
Sekka ran after him, but reached the door too late. As she heard the lock click, she pounded on the door, screaming. After five minutes of shrieking, she sat down on the stairs, put her head between her hands, and closed her eyes.
After a few minutes, she realized she could hear something moving. She walked down the stairs, only to see something scurry away. Hmmm. She walked over to the mattress and sat down. She sat as still as a statue, not moving a muscle. After ten minutes, she saw it. She remained perfectly still, not wanting to scare it off. A rat carefully crept along the far wall. Every once in a while it stopped to sniff the air. Finally it looked in Sekka’s direction.
Bingo, Sekka thought as their eyes locked. Her eyes glowed for a second, and the rat was mesmerized. It scurried toward her, stopping about a meter from her, and sat at attention.
“Go get your friends,” Sekka said. “All your friends.”
Mick got back from the fast food restaurant, kicked off his shoes, and unlocked the door to the basement. “Dinner time!” he shouted down into the darkness. Wait, he thought. Why was it dark? Kids don’t like the dark. Was she taking a nap? He flipped the switch, but the light didn’t come on. “Sekka?” he carefully stepped down the stairs, feeling oddly uncomfortable. Something didn’t sound right, and he thought he saw odd shapes moving in the darkness. “Where are you?” he asked.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped on the floor. Only it wasn’t the floor. Something furry moved out of his way as he took that last step, and he could feel more somethings moving around his ankles. In the meager light that made it down from the kitchen above, the floor appeared to undulate, a great mass of moving fur. “What in the world,” he said.
“Now,” he heard Sekka say, though he still couldn’t see her.
Rats swarmed over Mick, dozens, hundreds, probably more. He shrieked like a five-year-old, tried to run up the stairs, tripped, and hit his face on a step. Then he tried crawling up the stairs, but the rats were in his face now, squeaking and crawling on him. He tried to stand, but fell backward down the stairs. He got to his feet again, freaked out, fled in a random direction, and ran straight into a wall. He hit the ground, out cold.
Sekka called emergency services from Mick’s kitchen. The police took her back to the orphanage, and Mick was taken to a hospital, where he would stay until he was well enough to stand trial.
A few weeks later, Lerveen was on her way to the grocery store when she saw a golden-haired woman walk out of a bank. Lerveen did a double-take. “Excuse me, ma’am?” she asked, tapping the stranger on the shoulder.
“Yes?” the woman said, turning around. She had gold-tinted skin that matched her beautiful blond hair. She had purple freckles across her face. She obviously wasn’t human, yet she looked strangely like Sekka. Especially her eyes.
“Lerveen McTonnel,” Lerveen said, shaking the woman’s hand.
“Lemondrop Vermon,” the gold woman said, confused. “Can I help you?”
“This is a long shot, but do you know a little girl name Sekka?”
Lemondrop shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m here on business. You must have me confused with someone else.” She started to turn back around.
“She has your eyes!” Lerveen blurted out. “And your nose. Please, I’ve been looking for her family for such a long time.”
“That… sounds like someone I should probably meet,” Lemondrop said, and the two walked back to the orphanage together.
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