A Queen Among Darkness

Chapter Two: Valeria POV

“Señorita Cabrera, we’re home,” announces my driver, pulling me from my daydream. As I open my eyes I feel the exhaustion from my long journey dissipate as the gates of Casa Montero come into view. I smile and glance out the tinted windows of my town car at the beachfront villa I have called home my whole life.

It’s been two weeks since I’ve been home, and I’ve missed it terribly. I watch as the gates open, and the car pulls into the entrance, stopping in front of the doors of the villa. I’m quick to exit the car and breathe in the salty sea breeze that lets me know I’m home. As my driver gets out and grabs my bags from the trunk, I let myself into the villa, and instantly see my mother hurrying down the stairs with her arms spread open to greet me.

“¿Cómo estás, mija?!” she cries as she reaches the bottom of the stairs and races over pulling me into her arms. I wrap my arms tight around her and inhale her familiar perfume, relishing how good it feels to be home.

“Hola, mamá, I’m good. How are you?” I ask, giving her an extra squeeze. She pulls back and cups my face in her hands and examines me carefully with a look of worry only a mother can have.

“You look tired, mija. When did you last sleep?”

“I slept on the plane, I promise,” I assure her, kissing her cheeks.

You would never guess my mother was fifty just by looking at her. She’s still someone with the ability to turn heads when she walks into the room. Her dark, honey-brown long wavey hair, her warm walnut-coloured eyes, her petite yet defined nose that is accented by her prominent cheekbones and jawline. Her skin has a gorgeous bronze glow, and her body is still as toned as a woman in her twenties, though that is due to our vigorous training. People often mistake us for sisters, though she is 5’5” and I’m 5’7. Also, my hair is straighter, and my skin is more bronzed, and unlike my parents, I have honey-brown eyes. Mamá says I take after my abuelita on her side, which I always took as a big compliment because I adore my abuelita, and even at the age of seventy-nine she is still a knockout. I guess good genes just run in my family.

“How did everything go?” She asks me as Carlos – my driver – brings my bags in.

“Wish I could have enjoyed the sites of Amsterdam a little more, but it was good. My mark almost gave me the slip, but I still managed to find them and take care of them.”

“Forget something?” Asks a familiar deep and commanding voice. I turn towards the entrance to the terrace where my father stands in his usual intimidating and authoritative pose.

“Hola, papá,” I greet, already feeling the welcoming atmosphere vanish.

“I read Tácito’s report of what happened in Amsterdam. Anything you wish to tell me?” He casually asks as he walks in with his arms behind his back, his posture so straight you’d think a rod was jammed up his ass. Hey, I love my father to death, doesn’t mean he’s not a prick sometimes.

“You sent me to kill a couple of wolves, so I killed a couple of wolves,” I shrug, folding my arms over my chest. “You read Tácito’s report but not mine?”

“Oh, I read both. But they didn’t match. For example, Valeria, yours leaves out the part where you let the little wolf go,” he says as he looks right at me as if daring me to deny it.

“That’s because I did. So what?” I already don’t like where this is going.

“You had one job to do, Valeria. I am extremely disappointed that my own daughter would let a filthy mutt go,” he says with unveiled disappointment.

My jaw ticks in anger. “He was just a child. You honestly expected me to kill a child?” I question in disgust.

“Yes! Child or not, it was a monster, and your duty is to erase all monsters from this earth. Purge it of their mutant ways. Instead, you’re letting them go free so they can grow up to kill innocent people,” he says, shaking his head.

“I have never wavered in my duties, nor will I, but if you expect me to go around killing innocent children then you’re out of your f*****g mind,” I snap.

“Mija! Watch how you speak to your father,” my mother admonishes me.

“You have to learn to stop seeing them as children, they are monsters and you letting them go free only causes problems for us in the future. Which is why Tácito took care of it since you were unable to do so,” my father informs me.

I feel the blood drain from my face. Images of that sweet little boy and the tears that streamed down his face when he saw what I had done to his parents. His curly blonde hair stained with their blood as I encouraged him to run back to his pack. I never wanted to hurt him, I already feel horrible for leaving him an orphan, but I wasn’t about to murder a child. But it seems my sparing him only resulted in his death anyway. I guess even when I try to do the right thing I still f**k up.

“Thiago, was that really necessary?” My mother sadly asks my father. “To kill a child…”

“He was a monster, Jazmín,” he softly says, walking over and gently grasping her shoulders, “A monster who would grow in size and strength and one day come seeking revenge. We could not let that happen. I will not risk harm coming to my family,” he vows, placing his hand against her cheek.

My mother leans into his touch and slowly nods, “You’re right. It was for the best,” she says giving him a warm smile.

I feel my stomach begin to do somersaults. How can they look at each other so lovingly while discussing the murder of a little boy? I feel like I’m the crazy one around here because I’m the only one who thinks that’s f****d up.

“Aww, is Valeria crying over freaks again?” Says the snide voice of my brother Mateo as he walks into the villa.

“Is Mateo sexually assaulting prisoners again?” I ask, my voice dripping with disdain. I am dedicated to our family’s legacy of erasing supernaturals from the earth before they destroy more lives, but I don’t condone half the s**t the organisation gets away with, and I sure as f**k don’t agree with the s**t my brother does to the prisoners. Last time I caught him, I beat the s**t out of him, and he knows I’ll do it again. As his older sister, it’s meant to be my job to protect him, but I find it’s more my job to keep the pendejo in line.

“The f**k did you just say to me?” He spits angrily, storming over to me.

He reaches out to grab me, but I quickly grab his hand twisting it behind his back as I slam his head into the foyer table and pin him in place. “Try to lay a hand on me again, I f*****g dare you,” I say menacingly as I tighten my grip.

“Get your f*****g hands off me!” He shouts, trying to manoeuvre out of my grasp unsuccessfully.

“Why must the two of you always fight?!” My mother shouts in frustration.

“They’re just energetic, don’t go worrying yourself over their antics,” my father calms my mother before looking over at me, “Valeria, let go of your brother.”

I give Mateo’s arm another twist and let him go stepping back.

“Perra loca,” my brother mutters, standing straight and rotating his shoulder while staring daggers at me.

“Pull that s**t again and I’ll show you how much of a crazy b***h I really am,” I threaten with a broad smile. Mateo promptly storms out with his tail between his legs, as per f*****g usual, and I walk over and grab my bags. “I’m going to go unpack.” I walk over and kiss my mother on the cheek and make my way upstairs and away from this dysfunctional s**t show of a family.

Look, I love my family. I don’t agree with everything they do, but I still love them. I want to stab my brother in the balls most of the time because some wires definitely got crossed in that guy’s head to make him the sick f**k he is, but I’d still avenge him if something happened to him because, at the end of the day, he is still my blood. I’ll just also kill himself if I see him doing anything sick like last time. How our father still lets him be alone with prisoners is f*****g beyond me.

As I step into my bedroom, I smile seeing the room open to my bedroom terrace with the stunning view of the ocean. I place my bags down and walk out onto the terrace, taking off my boots and laying back in the large sun lounge. I let all my worries melt away as I listen to the gentle sound of the waves washing up on the shore and let the soft breeze and the sound of the palm trees rustling together soothe me. Who needs a sound machine when you have the real thing?

***

I must have fallen asleep at some point because I find myself being woken up by a knock at my bedroom door. I give my body a quick stretch and get up to open the door.

“Sí?” I ask as I see one of my family’s guards, Rahui, at my door with a nervous look on his face. Always amusing when I see a man over six feet tall looking nervous around me, though in this case, I can’t tell if he’s nervous about me or something he wishes to tell me.

“My apologies for the disturbance, Señorita Cabrera, but since you are home, you did instruct me to come to you if your brother was ever to get out of control with one of the prisoners,” he says carefully.

I close my eyes and take a slow deep breath in an attempt to keep calm before I open my eyes to look at the guard before me. “What has he done?”

“He is currently torturing one of the fish people in the White Room,” he informs me. That f*****g room. I hate it. It was intended to be a room for interrogation, so we could learn more about supernaturals in order to stop them, but people like my brother just use it to get a sick thrill from torturing them for fun.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, you may go,” I instruct as I close the door.

I grab my suitcase and place it on the bed, opening it and removing my gun case from inside. I open it, pull out one of my Baretta 92Fs, load it and tuck it into the back of my jeans. I zip my boots back on and make my way downstairs, through the terrace and across the compound to the guesthouse. Which is just a nicer way to say prison. I nod in greeting to the guards who let me in without question and make my way down to the dungeons. The further down I get the more I have to resist the urge to vomit as the rancid smell of what goes on down here reaches my nose. It’s f*****g disgusting.

I soon hear the sounds of crying, screaming and someone begging for their life, and I quickly speed walk in the direction of the White Room. I slam the door open and do my best to keep an impassive face at the grotesque sight before me. Laying in the surgical chair is a young man who can’t be more than twenty-five. He’s been horribly disfigured, his body is covered with burn marks, and he is screaming while my sick f**k of a brother is cutting off the poor bastard’s arm.

“What the f**k do you think you’re doing?!” I shout.

“This doesn’t concern you,” he says, ignoring me as he continues to cut through the man’s flesh as crimson blood coats the once-white floors.

I storm over, grab my brother by the throat and slam him into the wall, “The hell it doesn’t! We either kill them or we get information out of them, that is all. We don’t do this! They are not toys for you to play with or get your rocks off by seeing how loud they can scream as you cut them to pieces!” I shout indignantly, my breathing becoming laboured as my body shakes with rage.

“I just wanted to see if his arm would grow back,” he grins sadistically.

I let him go, stepping back in stunned horror at the monster before me. Supernaturals may be monsters, but my brother is an entirely different monster. I look over at the man weeping in pain as blood continues to flow from his arm faster than he can make it.

“Please,” the man begs.

I grab the Baretta from the waistband of my jeans, point it at the man in the chair and fire the bullet directly between his eyes, putting him out of his misery.

“What the f**k did you do that for?!” My brother screeches.

“Our mission is to exterminate supernaturals, not torture them. Doing so just makes us the monsters,” I say, stepping out of the room and leaving Mateo to clean up his own mess.

“You’re a f*****g b***h, you know that?!” He screams.

I turn back to look at him without a single emotion on my face, “If I had a d**k this is where I’d tell you to suck it,” I tell him and proceed to walk away, not sparing a glance back.

I’m about to make my way back up the stairs when I feel a strange pulling sensation in my gut. It takes me by surprise and has me stopping in my tracks. It’s not painful or uncomfortable, just… strange. I’ve never felt anything like it. I feel like I’m being pulled towards the cells, but I’m quick to shake off the feeling and make my way back up the stairs and to the villa to report to my father what a psycho his son is.