The Burning Bush
| The Burning Bush | |
| Habitat Series [2] | |
| Kenya Wright | |
| Dragonfairy Press (2012) | |
| Rating: | ★★★★☆ |
| Tags: | Habitat Series |
Set in a caged habitat, where supernatural beings have been trapped by humans, the dark fantasy Habitat series follows Lanore as she solves mysteries while struggling for equality in the face of prejudice among supernaturals.
After Dante Bottelli’s slaughter of Vamp-owned Mixbreeds, Lanore and Zulu execute a well-planned attack that hits Dante where it hurts the most—his pockets. But their attack triggers a chain of unfortunate events, and allows Detective Rivera to blackmail Lanore, forcing her to investigate his case: the Burning Bush Murders. Someone has been tying girls to bushes and setting them on fire. Lanore must find the killer or Rivera goes public with his information—while Dante won’t take his defeat without a fight. He counterattacks and the Santeria habitat, as well as Lanore’s and Zulu’s lives, will be changed forever.
THE BURNING BUSH
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this book are products of the imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2012 by Kenya Wright
All rights reserved
Cover art by Kit Epic
Cover design by T.L. Shreffler
Published by Dragonfairy Press, Atlanta
Dragonfairy Press and the Dragonfairy Press logo are trademarks of Dragonfairy Press LLC.
Publication, September 2012
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9850230-4-1
Kindle Edition, September 2012
I dedicate this book to my kids:
Lily, Richard, and Banyan.
CONTENTS
Human beings in a mob.
What’s a mob to a king?
What’s a king to a god?
What’s a god to a nonbeliever,
who don’t believe in anything?
Will we make it out alive?
Alright. Alright.
No church in the wild.
from
No Church in the Wild
,
performed by Kanye West & Jay Z,
featuring Frank Ocean
I hid inside Linderman’s Blood Factory, draped in Fairy glamour. My brown hands pressed into my breast, quieting my heart. Sweat trickled down the middle of my back.
Calm down, Lanore.
The blood factory’s production room was massive and packed with hundreds of Mixbreeds doing their individual tasks. In the Supernatural caged city of Santeria, any person with parents from different magical species was called a Mixbreed and considered powerless trash. Silver X brands were embedded in all Mixbreeds’ foreheads, including my own. Human doctors inserted the brands into all Supe foreheads at birth to identify their species and log data throughout their lives in a minicomputer molded in the silver.
Mixbreed workers a few feet away poured Vampire blood into a five-foot iron pot. They wore white uniforms, plastic goggles with silver flecks, and white paper masks. Two of them stood on a ladder, peered over the rim, and cast several spells. The combination of blood and magic thickened the air with a metallic, ammonia scent.
I wanted to gag, but I couldn’t give my position away. Even though Fairy glamour concealed my image, anyone could still hear or smell me. The Fairy who had recited the enchantment and wrapped me in the glamour told me my whole body would be hidden for thirty minutes. I checked my watch and couldn’t see it.
Damn it. How much time do I have?
Mirrors covered every wall. White paint coated the cement ground. In the right corner of the workspace, a haunting noise soared out of white speakers, sounding like a woman groaning in pain over an electric organ melody.
Is this music supposed to help them work faster or scare the shit out of them?
Red signs with black letters hung on the wall, announcing,
“Your pay will be cut by five percent for each blood drop on your workstation’s floor.”
Mixbreeds, or Mixies for short, sat side by side, not talking to each other as conveyor belts squeaked out crimson-colored jars. Some workers grabbed the containers and placed silver labels on them. Others wore protective silk gloves and filled the labeled jars with the charmed concoction.
The end product was a skin rejuvenation cream called Pristine, the factory’s top-selling item and Santeria’s number one export to Human cities. Pristine’s advertisements boasted gorgeous Vampire women dancing in sequined gowns with “Stay Beautiful Forever”
written at the bottom of the screen. The product claimed to make Human skin flawless.
A guard in a black uniform strolled by me. He swung a spiked baton in his hairy hand. A mountain brand embedded in his forehead identified him as a Troll. Not that you needed a brand to know what species he was. Like all Trolls, the guard had bumpy dirt-brown skin, beady black eyes, and a nose that stuck out five or six inches from his face.
I pressed my body into the mirrored wall’s cool surface and hoped he hadn’t caught my scent. Beads of sweat dripped down my face. He whistled an upbeat tune as his feet stomped against the white floor, oblivious to me being two feet away from him. My heart pounded in my ears. I waited until the guard left the production room and then tiptoed toward the massive conveyor belts.
A horn blared. I dropped to the ground, searching for the noise’s source. On my right, another Troll stepped through a white door, carrying a cup in his hand. This one wore a yellow shirt and khaki pants. His glasses slid down his long nose and balanced on the bumpy tip. My boyfriend Zulu’s sources had said a Troll was the supervisor for the night shift.
This must be him.
“Five minute break!” The Troll held one shaggy hand in the air. Mixies rose from their workstations. Some dashed toward the bathrooms.
“Hold on!” he hollered. Everyone froze, waiting for his next order. “Piss, shit, smoke, snack, and whatever else, but if you’re late, then you’re out.”
He marched by two Mixie women who immediately focused on the ground. “We had problems with this last week. Now those violators are at home, wondering how they’ll pay their bills.”
What a pompous ass.
“Carry on!” He sipped from his cup and ambled back to his office. The employees fled from the production room. Some exited the factory with their bags or cigarette packs. Others hurried to the water fountain and restrooms.
Okay. I have some time to set the fire alarm and meet up with Zulu.
I confirmed the area was empty and then made fire. Most fire is created when an inflammable liquid is combined with oxygen and exposed to extreme heat. The Demon part of me gave me pores that naturally released heat and combustible sweat. The warm liquid oozed out of my hands. Blazing orange flames enveloped my fingers. Red sparks of the factory’s blood magic appeared around me, reacting to my fire.
The Vamps must have used their blood to put a security spell on the factory.
My nerves flared. My whole body was on edge. Blood magic was something I didn’t know much about. My Demon father had tried to teach me a few spells and chants, but all I knew for sure was that flames canceled out any spells made only from blood.
Crossing my fingers, I spotted the fire alarm in the corner, hanging from the ceiling encased in tiny iron bars. I flung fireballs in that direction. Flames erupted, melting the plastic. The alarm casing cracked and then glowed, as the alarm filled the production room with loud rings and drowned out that awful music.
So far, so good.
But the alarm alone would not be enough to make everyone leave. There needed to be an actual fire for the employees to take this seriously. I threw fireballs at the wooden work tables and chairs, simultaneously intensifying the orange flames around the room. The blaze licked up the wood and scorched any nearby metal. The rubber on the conveyor belt bubbled.
Being something of a kleptomaniac, I seized this dream opportunity and snatched up two jars of Pristine, shoving them down my deep pocket. I had purposely worn my favorite black pants for tonight. The pants had one large pocket in the front with a spacing charm that gave the impression of an empty pocket even when it was packed to the brim.
Sweat dripped down my back, making my purple Captain Habitat T-shirt stick to my skin. I spotted fire spreading near the exit and smothered it with a mental command to give the workers a path to escape. The Fairy part of me gave me power over fire—to call and command it as I chose. The alarm’s warning rings increased in volume. I turned to see the supervisor storm from his office.