Hidden Rage: Kindred Tales

Prologue

The small boy sat in the center of a room beside the dead bodies. He did not cry. He did not howl or beg or paw at the fallen forms of his parents. He simply sat there, staring quietly ahead, as though seeing something no one else could. He said not a word.

The lack of mewling and tears impressed Rep. Vizlar. Most mammalians were so emotional—prone to uncomfortable displays of grief or sorrow or whatever other “feelings” they were having at the moment. It was their warm blood that did it. It made them overly emotive and extremely tiresome to deal with.

Take the boy’s people for instance—Kindred, they were called. They had settled on Saurous without so much as by-your-leave, opening a shop right on the edge of the Crimson Blades’ district, not even begging permission first. Then, when Rep. Vizlar had sent an enforcer to gather the fees for the necessary permits and protections, they had refused to pay!

Such disrespect could not be allowed, of course. As the new head or “Komendant” of the Crimson Blades, Rep. Vizlar had to attend to it himself. If he hadn’t, word would surely have gotten out that he had allowed a group of mammalians to disrespect him. The minute it did, every Clan on the planet would have been on his doorstep, knives out and blasters drawn, ready to carve up the Crimson Blades’ territory and take it over.

Rep. Vizlar ran a hand over the sleek, dark green scales that covered his head. He felt no guilt, only a cold kind of satisfaction. The slaughter had been justified—necessary. And now it had to be finished. He raised his blaster and pointed it at the boy. It was a shame to kill children, but he couldn’t allow the youngling to grow up and come seeking revenge against him. Plus, it was better to finish the job.

“Wait, Komendant Vizlar.” A hand with sleek, green scales edged with scarlet tapped lightly on his arm. It had six short fingers and a long, triple-jointed thumb, all tipped with sharp black claws.

“What is it, Yariz?” Rep. Vizlar turned to his Advisor, his lipless mouth curving into a slight frown—a sign of grave displeasure. But Rep. Yariz didn’t give up.

“Do not shoot the boy,” Rep. Yariz said urgently. “I believe if you do, you will be leaving a great opportunity on the table.”

“Oh?” Rep. Vizlar frowned. He didn’t lower the gun, but he did give the other male his full attention.

Yariz was from the Blood Scale Clan, as his red-edged scales attested. They were known for their cunning and their ability to plan years into the future. It was one reason his Sire, the old Komendant of the Crimson Blade Clan, had adopted Yariz into their family, back when the two of them were little more than boys themselves.

“Explain,” Rep. Vizlar said. Leaving loose ends wasn’t his style. But if his Advisor had a good reason for his request, he would consider it.

“The boy may be of great use to you in the future,” Rep. Yariz said. “His people, the Kindred, form extremely strong family bonds—their loyalty is unquestioned and unquestioning. If you took him in, that loyalty would be transferred to you.”

Rep. Vizlar frowned.

“They boy will have no loyalty to me. He just watched me shoot his entire family down—such memories do not fade.”

“They can be wiped though—or a memory block put into place,” Rep. Yariz said. “Listen, I researched his family before we came here. The boy comes from two branches of the Kindred tree. His mother was a Vision Kindred—they are able to see weaknesses that others cannot in the fraction of a blink. Such an ability would come in handy in the future, don’t you think?”

“Well…yes.” Grudgingly, Rep. Vizlar nodded. “What breed of Kindred was his father then?”

“That, I do not know,” Rep. Yariz admitted. “But I do know that when two different branches of the Kindred mix as his parents did, their offspring is usually unable to form a bond with a female. They call that kind a ‘hybrid.’”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Rep. Vizlar demanded. His blaster was still pointed at the silent boy’s shaggy head. The mammalians had hair all over their bodies, but especially on the tops of their heads—nothing like the smooth, sleek scales of his own kind. All that hair…it was most off-putting.

“It means that since he cannot bond with a female, all his loyalty will be to his family—your family—if you take him in,” Rep. Yariz said patiently. “And you never have to worry about him leaving or trying to start his own Clan.”

“Hmm…that would be an asset,” Rep. Vizlar admitted reluctantly. It was a problem sometimes—a second or third son leaving the family of his birth and attempting to strike out on his own. “But what would I take him as?” he asked his Advisor. “Where would he fit into my family? Our Clan?”