Thicker Than Water, page 1
THICKER THAN WATER
BECCA SEYMOUR
ALSO BY BECCA SEYMOUR
Coming Home Collection
Realigned
Amalgamated
True-Blue Series
Let Me Show You (#1)
I’ve Got You (#2)
Becoming Us (#3)
Thinking It Over (#4)
Urban Fantasy Romance
Thicker Than Water
Thicker Than Water © 2020 by Becca Seymour
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Thicker Than Water is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information, contact the author: authorbeccaseymour@gmail.com
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Designer: BookSmith Design
Publisher: Rainbow Tree Publishing
E-book ISBN: 978-1-922359-00-1
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-922359-01-8
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Thanks
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Becca Seymour
“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”
—Matthew 26:27,28
CHAPTER ONE
HEAT RIPPLED OVER MY SKIN. The singed scent of hair clogged my ability to track the way out, leaving me momentarily cursing my stubbornness for going this alone. My boss would never let me live it down if I got myself charred to a crisp or killed. At least the latter would mean I wouldn’t have to listen to his pompous spiel about following protocol. The dick had it out for me. He had since I’d joined this team three years ago, and despite my success rate on missions, he hadn’t taken kindly to the son of the Blackheath alpha joining the Supernatural Investigation & Crime Bureau.
Creaking beams followed by the crash of timber had me blinking hard against the blackening smoke. There had to be a way out. While Brent, my division leader, thought I was foolhardy—or perhaps simply a fool—I had studied the schematics of the lab prior to entering. What I hadn’t planned for was Jonas Cartwright to set the damn thing on fire with me in it.
Focussed on pushing my senses beyond the sound of the licking fire and groaning foundations, I closed my eyes, hoping for a ripple, something, anything that would get me out of this situation. Two beats, three, four… but nothing. I could either stay planted, hoping a miracle would happen, or I could act. Neither seemed like a smart move but staying put and being roasted was not an option. The raw heat travelling up my arms, removing my hairs along the way, cried out for my retreat.
Action it was.
In barely a split second, my eyes shifted. While the heightened sight wouldn’t help with the smoke, the lights had been tripped by the fire, and I needed all the help I could get.
I cursed up a storm in my head as I raced the way I’d come. With a leap over a toppled cabinet, a swerve away from the licks of fire trailing along workstation dividers, I swore the whole time I would find Cartwright and put him to ground once and for all. The way ahead was blocked, and no barrelling through would solve that. I screeched to a stop. “Shit.” I looked left and right, thinking hard about the drawings I’d glanced at ten seconds before entering the lab. Screw Brent and his demands for being well-prepared. I had no doubt my name, Callen, was already a regular curse from him. This would simply give him more ammunition. It was better than him seething my surname, Blackheath, I supposed, but still, ten seconds of my eyes roaming over the layout was as good as studying in my world.
Before I could figure out my next move, a small scrape of metal to my left had me turning in that direction. I seriously hoped I wasn’t racing towards more flames, but the sound was distinctive, controlled.
On reaching a hallway I didn’t recognise, I stumbled. “What the hell?” At the end of the darkened hallway was a glass door. While smoke spiralled through the space, it wasn’t as black, the fire not yet having reached the area. I crouched low to avoid the white smoke, my eyes focussed on the hand scratching against the glass door. Blood smeared with every gentle swipe, the movement slowing down.
No one was supposed to be here. Ignoring the fact that Cartwright had blown my half-arsed recon out of the window and taken me by surprise, there seriously shouldn’t have been anyone else on site. An unfamiliar edge of panic flared to life in my chest. This was not good.
I charged towards the glass, stopping short of barrelling into it to try the handle. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d broken down a door unnecessarily. I didn’t want to crash through a glass door unless I had to. While I healed quickly, shards of glass cutting through my skin still hurt something fierce.
Testing the handle with one hand, I hit the glass lower down, trying to get the attention of the person attempting to get out. Their bloody hand peeking out a white lab coat twitched at the loud thud. “Shit,” I grumbled. The door was locked. “Hey.” I beat against the glass panel harder. It was partially misted for privacy, and visibility was unclear. Unable to tell who was on the other side or whether the smoke had breached the room from another direction, for once, I considered my options.
“Hey.” I tried again, my hand smacking the glass harder, not yet intending to break through. “Can you hear me?” Steadying my breath took concentration, but I needed to listen carefully.
“Code.” The voice was gravelly. “P-Panel.”
I searched quickly and found a panel off to my right. “I need the code.” Each word came out calm and clear. Panicking now could possibly get us both killed.
“Five.” A cough wracked through him, loud and sounding painful. I squinted, wondering what the hell this guy had been through. “Two. Seven. Seven. Four. Nine.”
I hit the numbers as he said them.
“Hash,” he finished, and the door clicked, swinging open when the guy fell against it. He landed on the floor.
Unconscious at my feet, the man was sprawled on his front. I tugged him to the side. With no idea where we were, I couldn’t simply throw the guy over my shoulder and start charging around, hitting dead ends and burning doors wherever we went. Decision made, I cast a quick glance at the man. Wet blood covered his rich black skin, but his moving chest indicated he was breathing. Barely. Christ, I hoped he didn’t die on me. After a final glance, I rushed into the unlocked room. Just because it had been sealed from the inside didn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to get through another exit.
A door on the opposite side of the room was my target. I headed straight there, spotting vials and another room off to my right. Before I reached the exit, the scent hit me. Blood, and it wasn’t from the unconscious lab tech in the hallway. I took a tentative step in the direction the scent came from, bile already churning in my gut.
No. It couldn’t be.
Another step forward, and I held my breath, not wanting to believe it could be true.
Wide-eyed, I gasped for breath, then regretted the action immediately. Metallic, familiar, and dead. The combination of the three threatened to buckle my knees. Unable to look away, I stared hard, hating every second. But I had to do this. Flesh, torn muscle, mutilated claws; the image seared itself into my mind. Once there, a shockwave of pain ripped through me.
No.
This time I let my knees go and landed on the floor, my knee finding the blood the same shade of my own. It was her. Hazel. My baby sister.
Her lids were open, her eyes human, despite being in the state of midchange. It made no sense. My brain couldn’t join the dots beyond that she shouldn’t be here. The last time I’d seen her in person twelve years ago, she’d been over a thousand kilometres away up north in Queensland. She’d still been in the pack, had a child. My niece.
My stomach rolled, threatening to spill its contents.
Nothing made sense.
What the hell was she doing here?
Movement from outside the room caught my attention. It was followed by a cough. Red bled into my vision. Someone knew what the hell had happened, and the guy who’d just regained consciousness was going to give me answers, on his deathbed or not.
Jaw tight, fists clenched, I refocussed on getting free so my brain could function again. Pain beat at my heart, a solemn drum that could easily take me away and lead me to my own destruction. I couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t.
Lucinda.
Agony arrowed through me, soul deep. My niece… where the hell was she? I stormed towards the door and pressed my hand on it. Cold. I nodded in relief. Perhaps the fire hadn’t spread this far yet. An overturned metal chair in the corner seemed like my best way
Two hard hits did the job, but it wasn’t time for relief. A war raged inside me, threatening to pull me in too many directions. Distracted, I took a second to focus. Exit. Retrieve. Retreat. Those three things I could do.
Focussing first on retrieving the man, I hauled him up and slung him over my shoulder. I didn’t dare cast another glance at my sister’s body. I would be back for her though. The same access code to another door led me to an Exit sign. It opened easily. I glanced through the doorway. Five steps, then the external door to freedom.
And answers.
I set the man’s still form on the ground, debating for the barest of seconds whether or not I should secure him. When he stirred, my decision was made. One punch, consequences be damned, and I knocked him out and hardened myself for the next task. Retrieving Hazel’s remains was a necessary horror.
After racing inside, I snatched a blanket off an unmade gurney and gently wrapped my sister’s mutilated body in the fabric. Red against white. Drips contrasting with crisp folds. Fragmented remains forever embedded in my memory. Pain lanced through me as I lifted Hazel into my arms, then followed the same route to safety. Away from the smoke and fire, and away from immediate danger, I rested the stained sheet doubling as a shroud next to the wounded man. My heart stuttered, sorrow threatening to overwhelm and bring me to my knees.
Sirens wailed in the distance. My saving grace, and the only thing stopping me from buckling. I had to call this in before the fire crew got here, else the mountain of shit I would be in would multiply. I took a moment to place my hand on Hazel and closed my eyes, making her a promise to find out what had happened and to take care of her daughter. My hand came away, leaving a bloody handprint on the blanket I’d used to wrap her body.
I looked over at the lab tech’s limp form before standing. He’d been in the room with her. Whether she’d been dead or alive, whether he was responsible or not, he must have answers. I turned and sprinted towards my car, needing to grab my comms.
Once the bud was in my ear, I flicked it on. “Agent Callen, two three five nine, reporting in.”
“Location?”
“Northwest of Landing Street. Crandore Laboratories.”
“Stand by, Agent Callen.”
Static filled my ear as I returned to my sister. The sirens were no longer distant. I estimated thirty seconds before they reached me. I clenched my jaw, wanting to hurry this along. While I needed the engines to arrive as quickly as possible since evidence was burning away while I stood twiddling my damn thumbs, I also needed to make this whole catastrophe official.
“Callen. Man, you’re in so much shit. Brent punched a hole in the wall next to your door.”
I held back my groan, my emotions and mental state too frayed to deal with Lucas. “Reporting a fire at Crandore Laboratories.”
“Oh sh—”
“One unconscious but alive employee.” I assumed as much from the lab coat the guy wore. “And one dead shifter.”
“Wh—”
“Just get it in the system. I’ve got five—”
“All done.” Lucas hesitated. “You sound off. What’s goin—”
“Meet me at the SICB medical lab?”
“Sure. I’ll be there when you get there. I need to tell Brent.”
I grimaced. Lucas was a good guy, the best. He’d always had my back, and I’d admittedly put him in the middle of some crazy situations over the time we’d known each other, starting at the academy. Nothing too deep, but I was sure he wished he’d chosen another partner in our first close-combat class. But still, the guy was over a hundred years old and had led a different life before deciding to join the SICB. I figured he was old enough to deal with every decision he made. “Can you buy me some time? Thirty minutes?”
He snorted. “Callen, I’m good, but that’s pushing it.”
I glanced away and watched the fire trucks pull in, their shouts already filling the burnt air.
“—warpath, for real this time.”
The man at my feet stirred, and I glanced down. “He knows I went offline?”
“Did you not hear a word I just said?”
I should have felt guilty, but Lucas knew exactly what I was like, knew what to expect. I took action. Got the job done. And I occasionally played by the rules, just often enough to keep from getting myself fired.
His sigh filled my ear. “I’ll do what I can. See you in ten.”
“Thanks.” I exhaled, relieved I would Lucas would be meeting me.
Ignoring the fire crew beginning to unravel hoses, I knelt beside the stirring body. It wouldn’t be long before the human police would arrive, and no doubt before that the SICB as per standard protocol when an incident involved a category 3 facility. My narrowed eyes roamed the man’s body. He was bloody, but I couldn’t scent my sister’s blood on him. With a flick of his lab coat, I exposed his shirt. The same blood stained the blue cotton. A look under the material revealed no wounds. It was strange. There was more blood closer to his chest, to his neck. I tugged his collar out the way and froze. A bite mark, raw, raised, and clear of any blood.
I shot a quick gaze at my sister and then back to the man. Could she have bitten him?
I scrubbed at my face. If that were the case, this had just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
It only took a show of my badge and a few curt conversations to put both my sister’s body and the man’s prone form—I may have knocked him out again—in the same ambulance with the instruction to head to the SICB medical lab.
Being in the SICB had its perks, and anything involving supes meant we trumped jurisdiction. I’d shown the arriving human police the bite on the guy, so they’d had no choice but to let me take him.
I followed close behind, having no idea how today’s events could have ended in such a mess.
My sister was dead.
I breathed through the pain piercing my chest. While we hadn’t seen each other since I’d left my father’s pack to start my new life and join the SICB, it didn’t mean I didn’t love her or hadn’t missed her.
We’d kept in contact via email and had even managed a few video calls in secret. It was why I felt like I knew my niece. The whole cloak-and-dagger nonsense surrounding our correspondence was frustrating, but it was what it was. When I’d left the pack, I’d become dead to them, by order of my father. I sneered at the term. Father. He didn’t deserve such a title of respect. He was a sadistic SOB at the best of times. At the worst, he was a thieving, crooked scumbag who delighted in torturing anyone who dared to oppose his absolute rule.
I engaged my right indicator as we headed closer to the lab. We were still another few minutes away. While dragging up thoughts of pack life perhaps wasn’t the healthiest, it gave me something else to focus on. Once back with my sister and the lab tech, it would take enough of my willpower not to crumble into despair and sorrow. Sometimes the evil of my past was safest.
So yeah, it was a no-brainer that once I was able, I left the pack. There were some people I left behind that made the decision difficult, but I had to escape before my dad and I killed each other. I had no desire to be alpha of the pack, ever, and there’d been no way I could have stuck around for longer than I had. Try as he might to make me into the son he thought I needed to be, he’d failed.
SICB training had been the logical step. Justice and all that was so ingrained in me, despite my dad’s attempt to beat it out of me, that I knew the SICB was where I was destined to be. It was the only way I could try to make a change in the world.
My phone buzzed. I pressed the button on my steering wheel, activating the call. “Callen,” I greeted.
“I’m here.” Mathew Lucas.
“Two minutes out. Any joy with Brent?”
Lucas snorted. “You’ve maybe got fifteen minutes, twenty if you’re lucky, before he locates you, so whatever you’re planning, make it fast.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“Yep.”
