Page 5 of House of Kallan
Then the aspect I hadn’t truly given much thought to since Ididn’t have time to think most days… But how would these single species children survive in the world knowing how they came into existence and that they were the only one of their species? What kind of pressure that might put on them? What kind of trauma that might cause them?
There were just too many things to really think about that were a byproduct of Silence’s savage practices. It would trickle down for generations.
Part of me thought that when these kids grew up and we were still fighting Silence, they would be pissed and turn their anger on Silence for what they’d done to their parents in creating them. I almost wanted to see that war.
But that’s at least two decades down the road. I shuddered to think about what Silence could accomplish in that time.
“Tatum?”
I looked up, tuning back into the conversation. Oh. My turn. Glancing down at my notepad, I shook my head to clear all the half-formed concerns and solutions. None of those were concerns for today. Or this year, probably.
“Where are we with the foster/mentor program? My nurseries are getting full,” I said. “The babies are gaining strength and need support. I’m not even going to tell you how rapidly the orphan rooms are reaching capacity.”
My race in particular could be very empathetic and while I was good at blocking the feelings of others so they didn’t overtake me, when an entire room felt a single emotion, it broke through my barrier. A sudden surge of sadness moved through me like a wave and I had to mentally push it down with force to quiet the emotions that weren’t mine.
The woman in charge of this newly formed program not quite off the ground yet was Taylour. She was new to the team but had already started blowing through our expectations of where we were projected to be with this new program a year in.
Taylour gave me a curt nod. “My team is reaching out tofamilies now. There are hundreds of feelers out. We’re starting with an empty database, so unfortunately, it might take us a while to get up and running completely. I’m working on it. Did your staff get the new link to the child placement request forms?”
I nodded. “Yes. I know for certain we have upwards of twenty ready to go just in the orphan wings. I have at least that in the mother/child wing too, if I’m being conservative on the estimate.”
Taylour nodded. “Understood. We’re working as fast as we can.”
“I appreciate that. I’m just afraid that the next retrieval is going to put us over our capacity to give everyone the attention they require, which is also a reflection on our staffing, but that’s something we have under control, I believe. It’s space I’m most concerned with.” Looking down at my list to check on my next topic, I said, “Suzanne is getting close to birthing whatever it is she’s carrying, I think. We don’t want to wait too much longer and have a repeat of Sarabeth.”
Sarabeth was one of the most disturbing cases we’d seen. The least detailed—yet very graphic—explanation was that some genetic abnormality meant the baby couldn’t be exposed to oxygen. So, as soon as it was, both mother and child… well, they violently ceased to exist, leaving the room and the monsters attending soaked in blood, fluid, and body parts. It was horrific. I had nightmares for months. That scene still occasionally haunts my thoughts when I close my eyes.
“Do you have a team assembled?” Sarah, one of the bigwigs who basically controlled all of The Harem Project, asked. She was one of three present, along with Bailey and Denver.
“I do. Everyone I can think of needing except an available Nephilim,” I said. “I need someone who can heal. Unless you give me a living body that I can transfer the ailments to, I can’t facilitate that.”
No one was surprised I couldn’t find an available Nephilim. They have been a hunted species for generations. Their ability to heal goes almost to the grave if they make contact within a certain window of death. That was a power that Silence wanted to dampen right away.
Then again, I wasn’t sure even a Nephilim could have brought Sarabeth back. Not from that end.
“I know some Nephilim,” Kohara said. He was the Director of Silence Monitoring, which was now a multifaceted department with several more departments under him. Some of those directors were with us today, though they remained quiet to listen. “If we can’t find any to volunteer, I’ll give mine a call. Shoot me an email with the date you’re aiming for.”
“Thanks, Koh,” I said, nodding and making a note. “We only have 130 beds at my primary location and I’m sad to say that they’re all almost filled. I’m going to need an expansion or a second facility,” I said, looking at Sarah. “Unless you know we’re nearing the end of finding these horrors.”
Kohara shook his head and answered instead of Sarah. “Actually, I have a team closing in on another as we speak.” He held up his phone. “Thus, I’ve been staring at my phone for most of the meeting.” He gave me a bemused smile.
“I’m afraid to say that I think we’re only just beginning,” Sarah said. “An expansion for Haven has been on my list since opening the first location. I just wasn’t prepared to have to set it into motion so quickly.” She looked at Denver. “Let’s begin as soon as we dismiss today.”
Denver nodded and turned his attention back to me without comment.
“While I appreciate that we’re actively working through this newest shit with Silence and retrieving the victims, I’m also so fucking horrified by this entire thing,” Jordika said, then cringed. “Excuse my language. That wasn’t appropriate for this kind of meeting.”
Sarah chuckled and waved her hand dismissively. “I think we all empathize with your expression of disgust.”
“Anything new on the Shadowkind?” Zuri asked.
I shook my head, shrugging. “They’re still silent, although”—I tilted my head as I considered Shadow—“the eldest, Shadow, I think he, at least, comprehends what I’m saying to him. He actually started to smile at me the other day. I know, big deal, right? Except that it happened twice, and it definitely felt like it was in response to what I said to him.”
“You still think they’re banshee-esque?” Kohara asked.
Shrugging, I sighed. “Honestly, I haven’t the slightest idea. But I’m confident that theyrefuseto make a sound. Not that they’re incapable. There’s zero effort from any of them to make any noise at all. Think about what we know of ourselves innately. We inherently know that we avoid our weapons at a very young age. Before we understand what it means to use them. Right? If their voice is their weapon, they know instinctively not to use it. At least, not when they feel secure and safe, which I’m very glad they do.”
“You’re likely right,” Malacai said. He looked at Kohara. “What does Ady think?”
