He looked away for just a second. When his eyes found mine again, his chin came up. “Free,” he said.
“Yes. You are. But what would you like your name to be?”
“Free,” he repeated like I was dim.
I laughed. “I see. A good choice. Suits you.”
Without waiting for a response I began the work of emptying the cells. Free assured each and every one that I was on the level and insisted that he be the last to leave. I transported all the males first deciding, in the interest of prudence and brevity, to leave their collars on until they reached what would come to be known as Newland. I left the explaining to Free.
That’s the story of how I spirited the Exiled away during the night. Their disappearance would be tops on the list of mysteries in Telstar culture for many generations.
It took eight hours to move the hybrids to their new home and several more hours to transport tents and food. Water was not a problem. There was a waterfall that fell into a series of pools near the spot where I’d delivered Free. It had pure, clear, clean-tasting water and would sustain a tribe much larger than the number moved to Newland by me. In other words, lots of room to grow.
It seems this narrative is also a confessional because I have to admit to a slight dalliance with the culture. There was no good reason to introduce motorcycles to Blanthekin, except that the Exiled needed transportation to do the agreed-upon work. At least I did my bit to keep the environment clean. I modified them to run on water and operate so quietly you could hear a rat pee on cotton.
As Fate would have it, my choice of Free as most likely leader was right on. He organized the unruly lot to enjoy times of peace and respond appropriately in times of conflict, which wasn’t easy, considering the animosity the hybrids held for humans.
They called themselves the Exiled. Not because they weren’t glad to be free of Telstar, but because Exile was all good from their point of view. They didn’t know how to read and write. So I provided some elementals who could maintain a disguise for several hours at a time. When they wanted to establish schools for their young, I provided books.
That was twenty-five years ago. Free mated with a lion-dominant hybrid who named herself Serene. Their first son, Carnal, had been born in captivity, but their second son, Crave, was the first child to be born in the new world.
Over the years, I developed a relationship with Free that could almost be called friendship. It’s hard to say since I don’t really have ‘friends’, but I know it made me sad when I first saw a streak of gray appear in his hair and knew that someday I would go on, and he wouldn’t.
When Rosie summoned me, the idea of putting her in temporary Exiled foster care was appealing for many reasons. Just as human parents like to give their children college, when they’re able, so their kids have a relatively safe place to finish growing up, Exiled might serve that purpose for Elora Rose. I hoped so. There was a lot riding on it.
At the time she was fourteen months old, but resembled a human of about twenty-three. She was expressing enough demon genes to be able to instantly understand and speak any language on contact with its culture.
I thought Newland would be a good fit. Rosie would get her ‘break’ and have some time away from familiar pressures. I hoped she would use that time to mature, gain some emotional control, some appreciation for her parents, and some empathy for the needs and desires of others.
Like the Exiled, Rosie was a pet project of mine. I’d been watching carefully ever since she’d been born to a mother who was half demon, half ninth-generation witch, and a father who was a quarter human and three-quarters demon. The event of her birth sent a wave of disturbance throughout the Earth plane and all its dimensions. The Council didn’t notice, fortunately, but it attracted my attention. If they ever discovered there was a creature, native to Earth, who rivaled their power, they would almost certainly kill her.
My hope for protecting Rosie was twofold. First, try to keep the Council busy indulging silly and relatively harmless preoccupations. Second, try to convince Rosie not to use the power available to her.
Both plans were precarious. To say the least.
CHAPTER TWO
Rosie stood off to the side, where Kellareal had told her to wait, while he talked to the good-looking fiftyish man wearing a black Henley-style shirt and leather pants. When Kellareal pointed at Rosie, the man leaned out to get a look at her. It made her feel a little self-conscious, all of a sudden wondering if she had anything caught in her teeth. He was unapologetic about staring which, in her book, meant she had permission to look as well. He had longish black hair with a few streaks of gray. Rosie thought the gray probably made him even more handsome than he’d been without. The man nodded toward her and Kellareal smiled. She supposed that meant the two had come to an understanding.
The angel motioned her over.
“Rosie, this is Free. He’s the leader of the Exiled here at Newland.” Kellareal turned to Free. “This is my adopted niece, Rosie.”
Rosie jerked her attention to the angel. She’d never heard him suggest a title for their relationship before, adopted or otherwise.
“With your permission, I need a couple of minutes with Rosie to say goodbye. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks to check on things.”
“Always good to see you,” Free said to Kellareal, in a gravelly voice that was strangely compelling.
The angel took her by the elbow and walked her toward the edge of the settlement, near the wall.
“So here are the rules.”
“Rules?” She sounded a little alarmed. ‘Rules’ wasn’t her favorite word.
“Yes. Rules,” he clipped, sounding serious enough to get her full attention. “Extraordinary measures have made these people stronger and smarter than humans. Given the right circumstances, they’re also more dangerous. As far as they know, you’re a human girl, who needs a place to hide out for a bit. I don’t want them to suspect differently. Do you get me?”
She pulled back, looking affronted. “Yes! I get you! You don’t want me to do anything a…” she made quotation marks with her fingers, “…’human girl’ wouldn’t do.”