War Machine: Book One in the Destiny In the Shadows Series Read online

  HERON PUBLISHING

  War Machine

  Destiny in the Shadows Series

  Book One

  Maggie Lynn Heron-Heidel

  WAR MACHINE: DESTINY IN THE SHADOWS SERIES

  Copyright © 2017 Maggie Lynn Heron-Heidel

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Heron Publishing

  USA

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

  For the world and those who have given everything to save it

  Prolog

  “Please,” the dying man in front of me begged, raising his hand to shield himself pathetically. “I have money. Please don't do this!“

  “Spare me,” I replied coldly. “I have no interest in money earned by the blood of slaves.”

  “Then gold. I have gold!“

  He cut off with a whimper as I brought my blade back to his throat. “Gold is worthless to me.”

  “Then what can I offer you? There has to be something I can-“

  He cut off with a gurgle as I tore his throat open with a short yank of my hand. Violent red welled up and out of his neck as he choked to death on his own bodily fluid.

  “Blood spilt, blood repaid,” I whispered softly. “That’s what you can offer me. But it’s still not enough. You can explain to God and the spirits who have died for your profit and sins. You can see if they take pity on you. Or you can rot in hell where you belong.”

  The withered old man scrabbled his hands uselessly on the floor as I turned back to the window and strode toward it. The job was completed. Nothing on God’s earth could save him now. No one would come along in time to save him as he literally drowned from his own sins.

  I paused for a second, looking at a large portrait hanging on the wall. More names for my list. His war-mongering friends were equally guilty. I sighed unhappily. More blood to be spilt by my hand. But it was the only way to spare the helpless from being sucked up into the vortex of the human trafficking profit machine. Pure greed was the enemy. The suffering that came along with it was only the byproduct and I knew that only too well.

  I ignored the common gagging behind me before all went quiet. It was over. Scratch Senator Jennings from the list; now on to the four others in the photo.

  I left no calling card for the kill, nor did I need any. My signature was the blade mark wrought into the cold, still flesh behind me. He would be discovered soon enough; that much I knew. His mistress would soon be back. But for now the corpse sat alone, as it should.

  But as I disappeared silently into the dawn, I never knew that we hadn’t been alone. Someone had been watching.

  Chapter One -

  I abhor parties of any kind. The sea of people was usually a turnoff for me to begin with, but when there’s a load of political vampires coming out of their respective coffins to scavenge for fresh meat, I’m doubly disgusted. And even worse since I was of the female gender, I was considered the meat. But I absolutely refused to wind up as somebody’s meal.

  Then again I knew every inch of myself well enough to know my body served as an excellent lure. I had dressed for the occasion with that purpose in mind: to make sure no one forgot the Middle Eastern woman in the sweeping floor-length dress. Make enough of an impression that no one would question my lack of an invitation and, in turn, my purpose for being there.

  The party had been easy enough to get into. This lavish apartment complex was an old, repurposed industrial building turned into lofts. Security was surprisingly lax for such a prestigious black tie event. All of the elites were here tonight to celebrate the senator’s birthday.

  Enough men had spoken to me this evening. Most of them were salt ‘n’ pepper or white-haired bastards and knew of me from other events. I hadn’t had an invitation for those either. My steel grey designer dress clinging to every curve was enough to tell most that I belonged here and if that hadn’t been sufficient, the idea they might be able to bed me was enough to keep them from throwing me out. Years into doing these kind of gigs and I hadn't yet been tossed out.

  Right now I was pretending to sip from my champagne glass. I never took any. I hate alcohol. It turns any decent being into a piggish creature with bad intentions. Besides, any drinks that were offered by a giving hand were often spiked. The one I had just been offered by a passing gentleman was cloudy.

  I take that back. He was no gentleman. Ecstasy flowed as freely around here as wine and it seemed he had decided I should partake. When no one was looking I dumped the bubbly into a houseplant as I was passing it.

  “Lovely evening,” an alluring male voice said from behind me. Judging by the whispery qualities it possessed I was going to be dealing with an old one. And indeed it was. My exact target in fact.

  I batted my eyelashes and pursed my lips into an alluring smile of my own. “Indeed. Have we met before?”

  “I think I’d remember a lady such as yourself. And in the same spirit I’d like to remember your name if we should meet again.”

  “Shiraz,” I said. The lie was so practiced it was second nature to me. It sounded indisputably true.

  “Shiraz,” he repeated, brown eyes gleaming with a predatory streak. He thought he was the hunter. Too bad he was the prey. “And what does Miss Shiraz do here in the city?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  I knew the answer before it flashed in his eyes. “Only if it means you’re an assassin here to kill me.”

  I laughed lightly. Oh, the irony. “Sorry, can’t help you there. But I do think I see your wife poking around looking for you. You might want to go to her.”

  “If she’s poking around, it isn’t for me,” he said, eyes flashing. No jealousy there. Wife number four mustn’t mean too much. “Now would you care for another refreshment? I do believe I saw you dump your last one into my prized amaryllis. Don't worry. I’m not mad. The drink came from one of my aides and I know what he likes to put in attractive women’s drinks.”

  “I’m sure the flowers could do with some Ecstasy. They do reproduce asexually after all.”

  He threw his head back and laughed heartily. I smiled. The joke wasn’t that funny nor had I had to look far for an innuendo charged quip.

  “You are a gem,” he said still chortling. “Now I really must know you. Wit and beauty in a woman are a lethal combination.”

  “You have no idea.” I peeked around his shoulder, enjoying the morbid humor. “I think they are ready for your speech now. And might I add my own birthday wishes, Representative Gaynor?”

  “Only if they come true,” he said with a wink. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I regarded that as a threat and not a promise. “I’m sure.”

  He sauntered off and I relaxed. Even as I was good at my job, I still hated it. I needed to escape for a few moments to gather my thoughts and stifle my revuls
ion at the goings on around me. Fortunately the luxury apartment was big enough that I could take a moment's respite without being noticed. I ducked into the adjacent sun room with a load of exotic plants. I could take a breather in here from all the old codgers. The only people in here were a few naughty parties having a go behind the cover of the shrubbery. After I heard a few too many telltale sounds, I headed for the balcony I spotted out at the end.

  The stars blinked coldly down at me from their respective places in the sky. At least they had no devious intentions, unlike all of the leeches inside. The ragged cityscape blinked in the dark like Christmas lights burning out from overuse. They flickered and waved in my eyes, causing me to feel my usual disgust. If humans hadn’t been so stupid, this city might not stand the way it did now, covered by a giant force field to shield us from the relentless energy of the sun.

  Ah, to have been alive a hundred years ago during the new millennium. Perhaps I could have convinced more people to protest the chemicals the hierarchy of that time had been spraying into the atmosphere to control the climate. Their plan had backfired royally, chemicals instead eating up the ozone layer until the already existing holes at the ends of planet widened to the point the sun’s rays beat down onto the earth completely unimpeded.

  With the lesser amount of gases protecting the planet, the sun’s radiation had cooked the earth’s crust. Except for the cities now under the protective umbrella-like force fields, the rest had been roasted into its current form: one endless desert occasionally interrupted by a mountain or a city.

  As it was, this particular city held absolutely no beauty for me. I preferred the familiar silhouette of the mountains and the cool breezes of my home as opposed to the stale city air. Where I had previously lived, we lived by the old traditions. Here in Nacin, lawlessness and greed were the norm for the elite.

  Underneath this protective dome, new laws had been placed into effect to ‘preserve’ the order amongst society when the old governments had fallen. The elite (that being the rich families) still ruled the roost. They had paid for the ‘bubble’ over the city all those years ago, and they now held power over the people.

  I hated them for what they had done to society. Underneath them, we had the two classes. There was the working poor class, separated into what was little more than a ghetto on one side of the city, and then there were the slaves of every age, forced into labor for the elite. Neither class had any say in city policy. They lived under the tyrannical grip of the wealthy with absolutely no way out.

  That was where I came in. I protected those who couldn’t help themselves, eliminating those who posed a threat to what little justice remained. But even as I helped, I still loathed what I had become because of it.

  I leaned forward onto the railing and placed my head on my arms. I still had another twenty minutes to go before I could disappear into one of the bathrooms and up into a heating duct. My target would adjourn to his quarters later to share a private birthday drink with his wife. Through intel, I had learned she had gotten breast implants and planned to surprise him on his special day. I guess she wanted his attention again. But when he had that drink, he would discover a little too late that I had left him a surprise of my own.

  Perhaps his plastic queen would think he had keeled over from a heart attack due to her overly inflated chest. But, in fact, it would be due to a fatal overdose of succinylcholine, a muscle relaxant. His lungs would relax so much that he would effectively suffocate to death. The autopsy would show either a stroke or heart attack. They didn’t test for that kind of drug for cause of death in an autopsy. I would get away unchecked.

  I didn’t feel bad. Considering I knew what nefarious behaviors Mr. Gaynor participated in, he deserved exactly what he was getting. Dealing in slaves and drugs behind closed doors was a death sentence when it came to me. Either kill him or let him kill by the thousands. I’d rather trade my blood-soaked soul for the good of the many than let mine stay pure as the driven snow and let him live.

  Eighteen minutes. Time to go back inside and face the hyenas. Smiling grimly over my nasty little plan, I turned back to the door only to discover I wasn’t alone. The young man sitting on the ground had been so quiet I hadn’t detected his presence. That in itself was amazing considering my hearing. I regarded him curiously, looking for signs of weaponry, but it was in vain. He was no threat. Barely more than a boy, his brown eyes held more weight than most adults do in a lifetime.

  He watched me, equally curious and then glared back down at his sketch pad. “Don’t mind me. I’m not a lustful, old geezer chasing your skirt.”

  Certainly not, judging by his age. I would have placed him at around seventeen. “I can see. Are you getting air, too?”

  “You call the smog air? Wow. You must have been mobbed if you’re that desperate,” he muttered. Then he refocused on me, eyes flashing. “Do yourself a favor. If you see a black-haired, fat little bastard running around with a goatee and an ego the size of the former Soviet Union, stay away from him.”

  “Your boss?”

  His eyes were as dark as pitch as they met mine. “My father.”

  “Might I have a name in case I get confused? There are rather a lot of little old men running around and many fit that description.”

  “Vinkent Xorratti,” came the terse reply.

  Another name on my scratch list. “You would be his son Michael?”

  He didn’t look up from his sketching as he answered. “Not if it means you’re going to tell anyone where I am. I go by many handles. Usually it goes to the tune of ‘idiotic nuisance’ or ‘fool.’ Choose which one you’d prefer and see which one I answer the fastest to.”

  “How about ‘artist’?” I suggested, amused by his little rant. He was refreshingly candid as opposed to the mongrels inside. They hadn’t polluted him very much yet.

  For the first time I got a smile. “I like that one. And what do you go by?”

  “I have many handles, too.” I looked down at my communicator. Ten minutes to go. I had to get going even though I was loath to do so. Strangely enough, I liked this fellow. “Unfortunately I must go.”

  “Your date calling from inside?” he asked sourly.

  “No, I’m alone.”

  He thought about that for a few seconds, then cocked his head. “You seem too smart for that. That’s like catnip. Then again, most in there couldn’t care either way so long as it involves pleasure and discretion. The term ‘wife’ is more of a tax benefit than a title.”

  I laughed for real. “Yes indeed. Avoid the refreshments inside. They’re spiked.”

  He mock saluted me. “Command received, general. Will make sure the water stock isn’t poisoned.”

  “You do that,” I said with a little wave as I exited.

  “You, too, violet eyes.”

  That name sent a shiver through my spine but I ignored it. He had no idea how he had just unintentionally picked up on a part of my tattered past. I slipped back inside, trying to ignore the low tingle in my wrists and the even bigger one constricting my heart.

  * * *

  Five minutes to go until the security reset itself at midnight. It was the perfect time to hack it and replay the last hour’s events over again in the representative’s private suite. No one would even know I had been in there. Within hours he would be dead and I would be at home by that time, trying to force myself to sleep.

  I nodded along to some new admirer’s prattling. It was all so unimaginative. I heard the phrase ‘lovely evening’ opening almost every conversation that came my way. They certainly did do exactly as I predicted though. I was almost never left unoccupied. As this latest one tottered off I watched him go with a stony expression. Four minutes to go.

  “So… shall I bore you with another introduction of ‘lovely evening’ or shall I make it ‘isn’t it a lovely night’ to give you some variety?”

  I turned slowly to see who matched the attractive voice. Behind me as it turned out was someone I really did n
ot want on my tail. We had never officially met before, but he had an impressive reputation, a reputation for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. I had him profiled. He was on my ‘to be determined list.’ I hadn’t decided what to do with him yet.

  Glacial blue eyes were studying me with an amused air. The color was similar to another set I had come across, but I couldn’t remember who they had belonged to. I blinked up at him trying to look interested. He was taller than me, but barely. I had to squint to make out his sharp profile in the dim light. “Spare me. But you are a mind reader. I was just thinking if I heard those dreaded words one more time, I might snap.”

  “General Cain McRattin,” he said extending his hand. I knew who he was. He was the son of the late General Bill McRattin who had been murdered.

  I placed my hand into his as if it were a great honor and shook it. I was impressed he didn't attempt to kiss it like the other men had. Smart move on his part. It was now a center for germs that I didn't care to think about. His lips twitched at my actions. “And you would be?”

  “Shiraz.”

  The eyebrow went up with my purred reply. Odd. Men usually melted into putty when I used that tone. Instead he narrowed his eyes at me. “Hmm. I don't remember you being on the guest list.”

  There went his uncanny ability to sniff out a lie. Three minutes and counting. Time to go, but I couldn't let him see that. “You mustn’t have been to too many of these events, General McRatty. Some people don’t require an invitation.”

  He didn’t comment on my mispronunciation of his name. Comprehension seemed to set in, though, as well as some humor. “Ah, so that means you must be a hooker. My mistake.”

  My exit was set now. I gasped theatrically and dumped my drink down his front. I stuck my nose in the air with a disdainful sniff as he stood there in shock, turned heel and strode away. As I glanced over my shoulder I saw he was still standing where I had left him, goggling openmouthed after me. Another man now stood next to him, howling laughing at his misfortune. I waved arrogantly as I stepped into the bathroom and promptly locked the door.