Birthright (Birthright Series) Read online

  BIRTHRIGHT

  A. P. JENSEN

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter One

  In the middle of the Nevada desert stood an unmarked building with no windows and no sign that it was inhabited. The select few aware of its existence called it Haven and smiled mockingly at the irony of its name.

  Locked in a tiny room, a motionless fifteen year old sat Indian style on a narrow cot with her back against the wall. The door swung open to let in a shaft of bright light. A woman with long blonde hair and violet eyes hesitated in the doorway and took in the destruction of the room in silence.

  A broken lamp, bits of scorched fabric and a set of drawers lay in splinters over the concrete floor but what was most alarming were the broken bits of metal links littered over the ground like jacks. Broken handcuffs.

  The woman stepped cautiously into the room and shadows moved over the ground as four guards crowded into the doorway. The woman’s high heels clicked on the floor as she stopped a safe distance from the bed and examined the teenager warily. The girl’s waist length black hair was matted with sweat, bruises stood out starkly on pale skin and her hands were bloody as if she’d tried to claw her way through the cement walls. The teen fingered a mangled pair of handcuffs in her lap.

  “Jordan?” Catherine’s voice cut through the teen’s reverie.

  Jordan slowly lifted her head and stared at Catherine with eyes such a dark blue they appeared black in the dim light. “Catherine?”

  Catherine eased a step closer. “It’s me.”

  “What’s happening to me?” Jordan’s voice was weak and frail.

  Catherine glanced at the guards shifting uneasily in the doorway. “You don’t remember?”

  Jordan stared at her bloody hands. “It’s all a blur. I feel strange.”

  “We took you off your pills, honey, but everything’s going to be alright,” Catherine soothed.

  Jordan’s eyes were dilated and unnaturally fevered. “Why would you take me off the pill? What’s happening to me?”

  Catherine smoothed sweaty palms over her slacks and took a step back. “What you’re going through is completely normal.” She didn’t sound convinced. “There’s a man here that can help you.”

  “He can help me? My body aches.” She rubbed a shaking fist over her chest.

  “He’s a very important man. We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

  “He’ll give me back my pills?”

  “No. He’s going to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

  “But I’ve always been on the pill.” Jordan’s voice trailed off as she noticed gouge marks in the cement that hadn’t been there yesterday. Her fingertips suddenly throbbed.

  “He’ll know what you need. Let’s go.”

  Jordan didn’t move. One of the guards eased away from the others.

  “We don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  Jordan’s eyes flicked over the guard with the baton clipped to his belt. She had a vague recollection of this guard pinning her to the bed and handcuffing her yesterday. Her eyes narrowed on his bruised face.

  “But you will,” Jordan said coolly and deliberately dropped the damaged handcuffs on the floor.

  The guard’s eyes flicked to the cuffs and his hand hovered over the baton. “Yes.”

  “If you cooperate, they won’t need to restrain you again,” Catherine put in.

  Jordan fixed her gaze on Catherine as she slowly, painfully eased to the edge of the bed and rose. “You promised.”

  The guards all looked at Catherine who paled and fluttered her hands nervously. “I know I did. Just trust me.”

  Catherine walked out of the room, bits of burnt fabric stuck to her heels. The four guards waited for Jordan to exit before following. Jordan’s eyes watered under the unmerciful fluorescent lighting. She blinked and followed Catherine down a long hallway lined with narrow black doors identical to Jordan’s with the bare minimum of furniture and comfort for the teen within.

  Male and female guards dressed in black escorted teenagers through Haven and pulled their charges to the side as Catherine approached. The guards bowed their heads respectfully to Catherine who was dressed in a stylish blood red business suit.

  Jordan looked boldly at the guards that yielded to their entourage but none of them met her eyes. She tried to catch the attention of a kid she passed around twelve years old. He walked zombielike, eyes glazed and face expressionless. He didn’t even see her. The second teen she passed was around thirteen and she had a giddy smile on her face. She leaned on her guard for support.

  Catherine turned a corner into another long hallway and Jordan glimpsed other hallways extending into every direction, all lined with narrow black doors. Haven was a maze of hallways that seemed to lead to nowhere.

  Jordan took in every detail. Her senses were strangely raw and sensitive. Every sound, every detail jumped out at her, unfamiliar and unsettling. How long had it been since she’d seen sunlight? How many years had she been here? Did all of the kids in Haven take the same pill she did?

  Pain slammed into Jordan’s chest, making her stagger sideways. Cold sweat covered her body and her breath came in ragged gasps. It felt as if her insides were being seared by flames.

  “I need the pill,” Jordan wheezed.

  “No. The pain will pass,” Catherine said.

  Jordan clawed her chest, desperate to escape the agony. “What’s wrong with me?”

  Catherine didn’t answer. She continued down the hall while the guards dragged Jordan along, holding her up by her arms. Jordan’s group passed a huddle of guards surrounding a large male on his hands and knees. His clothes were ripped and blood coated a silver chain around his neck. He looked up as Jordan passed. He was built like a linebacker with hazel eyes and shaggy brown hair covering half of his face. He panted, one hand pressed to his chest. There were equal bits of understanding and confusion in their eyes as they looked at one another.

  A short time later Catherine stopped in front of a closed door and turned to Jordan. Her lips curled in distaste at her mussed and bloodied appearance.

  “No time,” she muttered.

  Without further ado, Catherine pushed open a door and propelled Jordan inside. “Do whatever he says,” Catherine said before slamming the door.

  Jordan slumped to her knees and as the pain eased, raised her head. Unlike the rest of Haven, the walls in this room were a warm peach. Even the pale color after years of seeing shades of gray was a shock to her senses. Instead of standard utilitarian furniture this room had chocolate brown couches and a fountain in the corner that let out the soothing sound of running water.

  On one of the couches sat a man in a black suit and tie. He had short sandy blonde hair and startling black eyes. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. He didn’t seem perturbed by her bloody appearance. He waved an elegant hand to indicate she take the couch across from h
im.

  Jordan slowly got to her feet and tensed her muscles to run. Through necessity, her will to survive had been honed to recognize and avoid predators. No man in her life frightened her as much as the man watching her so calmly, gesturing for her to join him on the couch. She looked at him closely, trying to pinpoint what was triggering her alarms but there was nothing on the surface to suggest he would attack.

  “Come. I’ve heard a lot about you,” the man said.

  He didn’t move but Jordan got the impression that she wouldn’t be leaving the room without his consent. Panic and fear clawed her insides, amplifying her chest pain. His black eyes watched, calculated and waited.

  Jordan forced her hands to relax and started forward. She widened her eyes, softened her lips and fell back on a look of wide eyed innocence and eagerness she perfected in her youth. She prayed it would be enough to fool this man and get through whatever was going to happen in this peach colored room. She had a feeling that she would never be the same.

  The man held out a hand, a smile on his face. “My name is William.”

  Chapter Two

  Two Months Later

  Jordan staggered through the automatic doors of Wal-Mart, out of the brutal June heat in Las Vegas. She maneuvered her way through the hordes of people entering and exiting in the afternoon rush. Her chest throbbed with every intake of breath and she hugged an oversized camouflage jacket around herself despite the triple digit temperature. Jordan paused to take it all in. People talked on cellphones while carelessly throwing items in their carts. A toddler dodged behind Jordan while pelting his mom with grapes.

  “Move it!” someone snapped and Jordan moved off to the side.

  She tried to block out the voice on the PA and what seemed to be thousands of people pressing in around her. She patted her pocket to reassure herself that the wad of cash was still there. Jordan pulled the bill of her ratty hat lower over her face and splayed a hand over her middle, praying for death, away from the unrelenting pain.

  Jordan scanned the crowd for a moment before she lurched into motion. She needed pain killers. She navigated her way through and around long checkout lines. At this time of day, the store was packed to capacity with nagging wagons and harried people just off of work. Callous people bumped into her, sending agonizing pangs through her. Barely suppressing a scream, she took refuge in women’s clothing. An unsympathetic lady huffed impatiently when Jordan blocked her way and muttered to herself in Spanish as she passed. Jordan hobbled to the lingerie section which was less populated and leaned heavily against a rack of pajamas on sale. A worker wearing the Wal-Mart blue vest over jeans and a white tee frowned but made no comment as she hung bras.

  Jordan rested her forehead on her arm and tried to stop the panic that rose to choke her. Sweat trickled down her face and she tried to block out the overload on her senses. The lights in the store flickered on and off. The crowd paused in surprise and alarm.

  Jordan raised her head to stare at the sizzling lights and forced herself to focus. She was running out of time. She moved to the main aisle and took in road blocks in the form of women, children and wagons. She took note of where the crowd was heaviest and where two workers muttered over a spill. She eased forward and looked right and left. As she raised one foot to step into the masses, a chill ran down her spine. Instinct whipped her head to the right, eyes moving frantically over the crowd. Her mind screamed at her to run but she needed to be sure. And then she saw him. Standing near the checkout lines, predator still with his black eyes on her was her worst nightmare. William.

  Terror flooded her body along with a healthy dose of adrenaline. Without pausing another second, she leapt into the most condensed areas amidst loud curses and shouts of “hey, watch it!” She blocked out everything and concentrated on losing herself in the crowd. It was the worst feeling in the world to be surrounded by people and feel utterly alone. No one could save her from him. She clenched her hands into fists as she ran. He wouldn’t get his hands on her again. She crouched in the crowd, peeking through elbows and between couples into aisles when a hand closed firmly around her arm. Jordan opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Her heart felt as if it would pound out of her chest. She whirled, fist flying.

  A man in a basketball jersey dodged her swing and stepped back with his hands up. “Jesus. I thought you were my girlfriend.”

  When she didn’t relax her fighting stance he shook his head and muttered, “Crazy,” beneath his breath before walking away. Weak with relief, she staggered into a relatively empty aisle lined with picture frames and mirrors. People ignored Jordan who bent over, gasping for breath. Someone paused and Jordan looked up as a woman threatened to glue her kid’s butt to the wagon if he didn’t sit.

  The mirrors Jordan stood in front of showed eyes dilated with fright and a ghost white complexion. Jordan looked right and left, monitoring both entrances into her aisle. To her left was a shelf running perpendicular filled with stools and chairs. To the right was the main aisle.

  “Think, Jordan. Think,” she chanted to herself.

  The people in this store had no idea that a monster walked among them, a man who would kill to get to her. Her skin rippled with goose bumps. How had he found her so fast? She wouldn’t go back. Jordan blew out a breath and didn’t notice the surface of the mirror frost with ice.

  “Have to get out,” Jordan whispered.

  There was more than one exit out of the store, Jordan thought. Back entrance. Garden. When she tried to move she found herself paralyzed with fear. Jordan flexed tingling palms, looked at her reflection and froze. Her image blurred as the mirror began to vibrate. She took a step back as the shelf shuddered. Metal squeaked in protest and hooks holding mirrors of all shapes and sizes began to bend. Two huge mirrors fell forward and shattered. Jordan covered her face with one arm as mirror shards flew like shrapnel. The shelf screeched as the ground began to tremble. She tumbled to her knees on a broken mirror and pain exploded in her knee.

  Shelves holding picture frames behind her crashed to the ground and glass exploded around her. Jordan yanked a jagged chunk of mirror from her knee and forced herself up. Screams broke out across the store. Jordan ran out of the aisle, arms shielding her face as glass cascaded overhead and slid down the back of her shirt. Jordan was thrown to the ground as the tile beneath her pitched. She cried out as her injured knee hit the ground. She lifted her head and tried to take in what was happening.

  Displays toppled, canned food rained down, knocking people unconscious. People lay on the ground, protecting themselves from products. With heavy groans several shelves tipped forward, causing a domino effect and crushing people beneath their weight. People scrambled as the ground tossed them about helplessly. And then everything stopped.

  Everyone slowly raised their heads. Sobs and crying broke out as strangers looked into one another’s shocked faces. They remained on the ground, waiting to see if there would be an aftershock. Jordan looked down the main aisle where she sprawled and jerked.

  While everyone lay prone and dazed on the floor one man in jeans and a navy shirt walked calmly amidst the chaos. William was unconcerned and unaffected by the recent earthquake. He didn’t look down as he stepped over products with people buried beneath. Even across the distance that separated them, his eyes were fixed on her.

  Jordan scrambled backwards as people began to rise, obstacles that stood in his way. She forced herself up and groaned when she put weight on her right knee. She looked back and poised herself to run when bone chilling shrieks pierced the air. Those around her fell to the ground, clutching their chests. Everyone writhed as if they were being hit by gunfire but there were no shots fired. Blood spurted over cracked white tile as people keeled over, bodies destroyed by weapons she couldn’t see. William appeared in her line of vision, oblivious to the pandemonium taking place.

  Jordan couldn’t make sense of what was happening and she didn’t have time to analyze. She turned and ran, sprinting over bodies
of the fallen. Her knee protested and her jeans rubbed against the raw wound but she didn’t slow.

  “Jordan!” William roared above the screams of the crowd.

  Jordan dodged blindly into an aisle and scrambled over containers of laundry detergent. Halfway down the aisle she fell hard as her feet slipped in liquid washing soap. With frenzied hands she pushed her way through the heavy bottles and slime like an amateur swimmer, determined and desperate. The smell of fabric softeners and cleaning products burned her nostrils. She slithered out of that aisle and dodged into another, forcing her shoes to find purchase on the floor. Breath came in short, panicked gasps. Everywhere her eyes settled people lay still and unmoving with pools of blood around their bodies.

  Jordan sprinted once more towards the women’s clothes for cover. The store was dead silent. Jordan crouched down on all fours and tried to breathe. She splayed her hands flat and leaned forward so her forehead touched the carpet. The silence crushed in on her senses, forcing her ears to strain for any hint of sound. She turned her head to the side and covered her mouth to stifle a scream. At floor level she could see bodies sprawled on the carpet beside racks of clothes and between bra aisles. The worker Jordan saw earlier lay several feet away, white shirt soaked with blood. This can’t be happening, Jordan thought and tried to think but everything within her screamed in hysterical fear.

  A hand clamped around the back of Jordan’s neck and jerked her upwards. Jordan let out an ear piercing scream that echoed in the complete silence. She stared up at William whose black eyes were unnaturally wide and crazed. His body was covered in sweat and he trembled as his other hand spanned her throat. Jordan clutched his wrist and yanked with no results. He leaned his rough cheek against hers and inhaled deeply.

  “You won’t escape me again,” he whispered.

  Chapter Three

  48 Hours Later

  Jordan sat across from Margaret Sweeney, a secretary whose fingers flew over the keyboard of her computer. The secretary had mocha colored skin and tinted glasses that covered the fact that she wasn’t looking at the computer screen but the teen who sat so utterly still it was creepy. Sensing the secretary’s attention, Jordan looked up. Jordan’s blue eyes were so piercing that Margaret Sweeney’s fingers froze. After several moments, Margaret cleared her throat and transferred her gaze back to the computer screen.