Chains by Kristine Allen

“You”—Breaking  Benjamin

“You sure you’re doing okay, Chains?” Venom asked as we all sat at the table for church that afternoon.

“Hell, yeah. Thanks to Angel,” I said.

“We need to discuss what we stumbled into when we went down to Texas to help Voodoo’s brother-in-law.” Venom’s fingers thrummed on the dark wood. Kristoffer Halvorson was an NHL hockey player who played for the Austin Amurs with Kira’s brother Dmitry and her cousin Jericho. Kristoffer had run into some trouble when the father of his ol’ lady’s twins was killed and the assholes went after her—yeah, it was a crazy situation.

“I’m not so sure we need to get mixed up in that any more than we already did,” Raptor muttered.

“So we just let those motherfuckers kill a brother in arms because he found out about what they were up to?” I asked. Though I never knew him, I was special forces the last few years of my time in the army. If you couldn’t trust the guys in your team, who the fuck could you trust? Shit.

“I’m not opposed to ensuring that the men responsible for taking out one of our nation’s elite like that are dealt with. Especially considering two of the guys are supposed to be people who had his back,” Voodoo murmured.

A chorus of “amen” rounded the room. With many of us being veterans, it struck a chord with us that Adam had been a victim of such betrayal.

“Adam had all the details on that thumb drive. He should’ve gone to his superiors and turned the info in to them instead of shipping the drive back to his baby mama,” Kicker said.

“Maybe, but he wasn’t sure who all he could trust. I believe he was waiting until he got back so he could go through his trusted chain of command. That’s only a guess, but it’s clear in the notes on the drive that he wasn’t sure who he could trust on that mission. He specifically said he was worried he might not make it back alive because he thought at least one of the guys knew he was onto them. That had to have been a shitty feeling,” I argued.

“So do we pass the drive on to the appropriate channels, or do we deal with this on our own?” Voodoo asked the question we were all thinking.

“I say we pass it on. We aren’t the world’s police,” muttered Squirrel.

“No, but we have taken it upon ourselves to ensure that the victims of the world get justice in situations where we don’t think the system will do it,” Angel added.

“True, but we’re usually getting paid to do it,” grumbled Squirrel.

“Then you don’t need to be a part of it,” I interjected as I shot to my feet.

“Easy, bro. This isn’t personal, but you’re making it that way,” he volleyed back as he also stood.

“It is fucking personal. Adam didn’t deserve to be killed because some piece of shit motherfuckers were greedy. There isn’t anyone to step up for him. As far as the US and his family is concerned, he was killed in the line of duty. We know that’s utter bullshit. So how will the guilty parties be held accountable? Huh? If I have to do it on my own, I’ll take leave and hunt them down myself,” I ground out.

“Sit down!” Venom said as he banged his fist on the tabletop. Squirrel and I still glowered at one another, but we did as we were told.

“We’ll put it to the vote. But first, I need a show of hands that would be willing to take the job on even if it meant it was pro bono.” Venom looked each of us in the eye with a cocked brow. It was nearly imperceptible, but I could see his jaw ticking under his salt and pepper beard.

Voodoo, Angel, Raptor, Phoenix, Sabre, and I raised our hands. Following right behind us were Ghost and Blade.

“You know I’m in for all the tech help,” Facet piped in.

“So do we even need to put it to a vote if the majority are in?” Ghost asked before he chuckled.

Venom sighed. “Probably not, but we need to set some parameters and deadlines. We’ll need to narrow down the team. I want the plan ironed out in detail before anyone goes off half-cocked.”

“That sounds fair,” agreed Raptor. The rest of us nodded. Squirrel sighed as he shook his head. Fuck, he was pissing me off.

“Chains, I know you are one of the supporters of this, but you’ve been gone a lot, and we really need you at the ink shop.” Venom’s words irritated me a bit, because he was the one who sent me away for four goddamn months. Then he sent me on the mission to Texas for Voodoo’s brother-in-law and his friends. Not that I begrudged them the help, but now he was worried about the time I’d missed at the shop?

“Whatever you need, boss.”

We made tentative plans that would change depending on the intel Facet rounded up. Though I may not be hands-on with the mission, the tightness in my heart eased that we’d be serving up justice for Adam.

We were sitting at the large table in the kitchen having dinner when Madame Laveaux entered. All conversation ceased as everyone looked to her with curiosity in their gazes.

“It is done,” she said as she looked at me and Jasmine.

Voodoo, Kira, Angel, Korrie, Ghost, Venom, and Raptor were the only ones who knew what we were doing. At first, Angel was not on board, until Madame Laveaux told him it wasn’t his choice. I still wouldn’t say he was convinced—more like resigned.

Voodoo’s pale blue eyes shifted from us to his grandmother before he stood. Kira gave him a questioning look, and he gently squeezed the nape of her neck in reassurance.

“We will need Ghost, Sabre, and Phoenix as well,” Voodoo’s grandmother instructed. Her gaze hit Venom in silent request, and he nodded. The men she requested stood without question. Though Phoenix and Sabre had no clue what they were needed for, their actions were a testament to their loyalty.

Appetite gone, I scraped my food in the trash and left the plate in the sink. Jasmine did the same, and we were again trudging through the cold to Voodoo’s temple, this time with a small entourage.

Madame Laveaux motioned us to take out seats as we had before. “Please remove your gloves,” she said to me. Immediately, I complied.

A fire crackled in wood-burning stove in the corner. With the exception of a small lamp, candles lit the room.

With steady hands she set a bottle before each of us. Then she set two small silver cups next to the bottles. It might have been a trick of the flickering candlelight, but the contents of the bottles seemed to swirl and move. It was dark but with a lighter, almost marbleized appearance.

My heart hammered against my ribcage, and a buzzing rang in my ears.

She whispered things we couldn’t decipher as she lifted the bottle in front of me and poured it into the cup. Next, she repeated the motion with Jasmine’s.

“You must drink at the same time,” she instructed, and I didn’t question it. Everything about the ritual seemed surreal and odd, but that was the story of my life.

As one, we reached for the cup in front of us. The metal was oddly warm against my fingertips. We lifted them to our lips, then with a reassuring nod from Madame Laveaux, we tipped them back and swallowed.

The liquid was thick, hot, and vile. I gagged but managed to swallow.

At first, I didn’t think it worked, and I opened my mouth to say so. But before I could utter a word, everything I looked at seemed to warp and distort. The faces of my brothers and Madame Laveaux seemed to twist and contort like they were liquid that had been stirred. Heat unlike anything I’d ever experienced burned in the pit of my stomach before it slowly consumed me like a slow burning fire.

A gasp next to me had my head slowly swiveling to look at Jasmine. Her face was white as a sheet, and her eyes were unfocused. Sweat beaded on her face, and I watched as it ran down her neck. The same warm trickle slid down my temple to drip off my chin.

I thought I heard Angel shout.

The murmur of voices rippled around us, but I couldn’t focus, and the actual spoken words eluded me. It was the most bizarre trip I’d ever been on. Pressure squeezed my head, and my eyes burned as if hot pokers were being driven through them.

Words escaped me, though I tried to make my lips move. My arms were weighted, and I was unable to move them when I saw her waver. Before she hit the floor, Ghost caught her. Through it all, I was paralyzed—unable to lift a finger to help her.

My body began to feel like it was being ripped apart, molecule by molecule.

What happened after that, I couldn’t say, because the room began to spin faster and faster until all the colors blended together and the blackness swallowed me.

Images and a kaleidoscope of colors morphed and circled before they began to come in focus. Blinking away what seemed like sand in my eyes, I slowly shifted my gaze to search the room. I found I was lying on a thick fur pallet on the floor of Voodoo’s temple. Candles flickered, casting eerie shadows on the surfaces of the room.

The small building had no windows, so it was unclear how much time had passed. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

With difficulty, I rolled my head to the side to see Jasmine laid out next to me. Her eyes were closed, and panic rolled through me, as I was sure she was dead.

Willing my body to move, I tried to lift my arm. That’s when I realized I was holding her hand.

No gloves.

Bare skin.

Fingers twined.

And in my head was blessed silence. No images bombarding my mind. No sounds drowning me.

My heart began to race.

“Jazz,” I croaked in a raspy, coarse voice. Still she didn’t move, and I damn near hyperventilated. What if the reason I was getting nothing from her was because she was dead? Pain like nothing I’d experienced through Madame Laveaux’s ritual, or at any time in my life, ripped through my chest at the thought.

“Jasmine,” I pleaded. “Baby, wake up.”

A painful tingling spread through my body when I tried to move, much like when a limb falls asleep and the circulation is returning. As if waking from a thousand-year nap, my body gradually came to life. Yet, I was weak as a newborn colt.

“Jesus,” I muttered.

Unwilling to release the hand I was holding for the first time, I weakly rolled toward her. I held a trembling finger to her neck and damn near shattered when I couldn’t feel a pulse. I continued my way up, and a sob broke free when a barely there puff of breath escaped her nose.

“Jasmine,” I said in relief as I cradled her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin and my ability to freely touch her. Still clasping her fingers with one hand and cradling her cheek and neck with the other, I rested my head on her shoulder.

Time slipped away as I breathed her in, and tears fell from under my lids to drip on her shirt. Silently, I cried, unsure if they were happy tears or terrified ones.

When soft fingers sifted through my hair, I raised my head to stare into the golden gaze of the woman I loved. Tears freely rolled as I laughed and she smiled.

“It worked,” she whispered.

I nodded. “Yeah baby, it sure did.”

The words had no sooner left my lips than her face contorted in agony. Weakly, I pushed up to frantically search for a source to her pain.

“Nico!” she cried as her body tried to curl up from the mat. A feral scream was ripped from her lips, and anxiety seared through me, robbing me of breath.

My hands trailed over her body, searching for something, anything to tell me what to do. For the first time since my initial vision at sixteen, I wished I could see what was wrong through my touch.

“Fuck,” I cried. “Help! Voodoo! Ghost! Someone!”

It seemed like a lifetime before the door slammed open, followed by the icy wind that shrieked outside. Snow blew in, and the door slammed shut. Afraid to look away from Jasmine, I heard the footsteps near.

“Ahhh, it’s time,” Madame Laveaux said in a matter-of-fact voice, and I peeled my eyes from Jasmine’s contorted face to the serene one of Voodoo’s grandmother. She barked orders, and Voodoo gathered items and set them next to Jasmine. I heard him on his phone before he ended the call and slipped it in his pocket.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a panic.

“What’s does it look like, young Nico? I’m going to deliver a bebé.” She gave me a bright smile, and I nearly hyperventilated.

“No, we need to get her to the hospital,” I argued, cursing my continued weakness.

“Chains,” Voodoo barked. “We won’t make it. The blizzard has created near white-out conditions. The path from the clubhouse to here is barely passable on foot, let alone the roads.”

Jasmine began to relax, but her brow was beaded in sweat. Wild eyes found mine and she whimpered, “I’m scared.”

“Shh,” Madame Laveaux soothed as she gripped Jasmine’s free hand in hers. “You listen to me. Madame Laveaux has delivered more babies in the swamps than there are gators.”

Voodoo chuckled. “That might be a bit of an exaggeration,” he mumbled, and she flashed him a glare that only had him laughing harder.

“Ogun,” she snapped. “The people of the swamps have come to me for more of their needs than you could fathom. I’ve delivered many a bebé without issue. So you keep that laughing trap shut and do as I say.”

The cajun in her tone grew heavier the more she berated her grandson, but at her declaration, some of my fear subsided. Some, certainly not all. With great effort, I rose to kneel next to Jasmine.

Cold burst into the room when the door flew open again. “Shut the damn door!” Madame Laveaux snapped.

My fear nearly dissipated when I heard Angel’s voice from behind me. “Damn, it’s insane out there right now!”

He shed his outerwear and took over for Voodoo on Jasmine’s other side. Besides his abilities to heal, he’d been a medic in the army. Whether or not he’d helped birth any babies, I had no clue, but I was glad he was there.

“I got here as fast as I could, sis,” he said and gave Jasmine a grin.

When she returned it, my heart soared. Then she looked to me, and a tear escaped from the corner of her eye. “Our baby is coming,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” The ridiculous grin wouldn’t leave my face as I held her hand in wonder. Both from the ability to actually hold her hand skin-to-skin and the pending arrival of our child.

The two of us had opted to wait to see the sex of the baby. She wanted to be surprised. She had also laughed at me when I insisted it was a boy. I was sure it was, though I hadn’t touched her to find out.

“Not long now, Jazzy,” Angel reassured her.

But he was wrong.

The process took hours.

We were thankful for all the candles, because the power went out.

Though I was slowly regaining my strength, Jasmine seemed to be weakening and tiring. Angel couldn’t do a damn thing to help her yet for fear of causing harm to the baby. He wasn’t sure if it would treat the placenta, and in turn the baby, as something that needed to be removed and healed.

Knowing if things went to shit, he could help her didn’t ease my worry as I watched Jasmine on the verge of giving up. At the next contraction, she weakly cried, “I can’t do it anymore.”

“Yes, you can,” I told her. “You are the strongest woman I know, remember?”

“Jasmine,” Madame Laveaux said, “you will push and your baby will come.”

My wide eyes shifted to her, and I prayed Jasmine didn’t lose her shit on poor Madame Laveaux. Not that the older woman seemed fazed by any of Jasmine’s shouting over the last several hours. She had simply given Jasmine a serene smile.

To my surprise, Jasmine nodded, and I gently brushed her wet hair off her face.

At Madame Laveaux’s encouragement, Jasmine did indeed push, and our baby entered the world in a voodoo temple during the middle of a blizzard.

“It’s a girl,” Madame Laveaux announced as she gave her a cursory wipe down and laid her on Jasmine’s chest. During the extensive labor, she had removed Jasmine’s shirt and dropped a soft flannel blanket over her for modesty. Now I knew it was so she would be able to lay the baby skin to skin.

“It’s a girl,” Jasmine repeated in awe as she reverently checked her fingers and toes. Once she was content with our daughter’s digits and that everything was as it should be, she beamed at me.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, and I froze.

“I don’t….” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence. The fear that the ritual didn’t work for the baby had my hands trembling as I curled them into fists. The temptation to reach for her was so strong, but still, I was nervous.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” she murmured as her hand cradled our baby’s back and head.

Swallowing with difficulty, I stared at the tiny dark-haired human in Jasmine’s arms. Finally, I nodded. Madame Laveaux finished up with the placenta and clamping the cord with a freaking cable tie she’d dipped in alcohol.

Jasmine wrapped the flannel around our crying baby and had Angel hand her over because her arms shook. With the flannel separating us, I grew more confident as I spoke softly to her. After a moment, her cries diminished to little shuddered breaths and she stared at me with dark, knowing eyes.

My fingers shook as I slowly reached out to stroke one tip along her balled-up fist. Nothing hit me except love unlike anything I’d experienced before. Yes, I loved Jasmine unconditionally, but the love I had for the tiny helpless human in my arms was otherworldly. In that moment, I knew I would do anything in my power to protect her and keep her safe.

“Fuck,” I muttered when I realized not only had I been wrong about her being a boy, but that I’d be beating the boys off for years to come. Because I had a daughter.

Heaven help me.