Leaving Level Five Read online

  Leaving Level Five

  Chimera Chronicles, Volume 5

  L. S. O'Dea

  Published by L. S. O'Dea, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  LEAVING LEVEL FIVE

  First edition. May 19, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 L. S. O'Dea.

  ISBN: 978-1942706380

  Written by L. S. O'Dea.

  Also by L. S. O'Dea

  Chimera Chronicles

  Rise of the River Man

  Feeding Fersia

  Breaking the Brush Men

  Rage Of Rattus Norvegicus

  Leaving Level Five

  Lake Of Sins

  Lake of Sins: Secrets in Blood

  Lake of Sins: Hangman's Army

  Lake Of Sins: Betrayed

  Whispers From the Past

  Lake of Sins: Escape

  Standalone

  Lake of Sins Series Box Set Books 1-3

  Chimera Chronicles

  A Demon's Gift

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By L. S. O'Dea

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  CHAPTER 1: McBrid

  CHAPTER 2: McBrid

  CHAPTER 3: McBrid

  CHAPTER 4: Glick

  CHAPTER 5: Glick

  CHAPTER 6: Glick

  CHAPTER 7: McBrid

  CHAPTER 8: McBrid

  CHAPTER 9: McBrid

  CHAPTER 10: Glick

  CHAPTER 11: McBrid

  CHAPTER 12: McBrid

  CHAPTER 13: McBrid

  CHAPTER 14: Glick

  CHAPTER 15: McBrid

  CHAPTER 16: Glick

  CHAPTER 17: McBrid

  CHAPTER 18: McBrid

  CHAPTER 19: Glick

  CHAPTER 20: Glick

  CHAPTER 21: Glick

  CHAPTER 22: McBrid

  CHAPTER 23: McBrid

  CHAPTER 24: McBrid

  CHAPTER 25: McBrid

  CHAPTER 26: McBrid

  CHAPTER 27: Glick

  CHAPTER 28: Glick

  CHAPTER 29: McBrid

  CHAPTER 30: McBrid

  CHAPTER 31: McBrid

  CHAPTER 31: McBrid

  CHAPTER 33: McBrid

  CHAPTER 34: McBrid

  CHAPTER 35: McBrid

  CHAPTER 36: McBrid

  CHAPTER 37: McBrid

  CHAPTER 38: McBrid

  CHAPTER 39: Glick

  CHAPTER 40: McBrid

  CHAPTER 41: Glick

  CHAPTER 42: McBrid

  CHAPTER 43: McBrid

  CHAPTER 44: Glick

  CHAPTER 45: Glick

  CHAPTER 46: Glick

  CHAPTER 47: Gruder

  Thanks for reading Leaving Level Five. I hope you enjoyed the story.

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  A Demon’s Gift | CHAPTER 1

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  Author Bio

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  CHAPTER 1: McBrid

  McBrid refilled his glass of whiskey. Since death was the only escape from his nightmare of a life, he may as well choose his exit.

  “How about some more roast?” asked his father.

  “I’m fine.” He took a sip of his drink and pushed his almost full plate away.

  “Your mother wouldn’t like seeing you this way.” Dad moved the plate back toward him.

  “She would’ve hated what I’ve become.”

  “Don’t say that,” said Uncle Rob. “My sister loved you and your father more than anything. Your job wouldn’t change that, no matter how vile it is.” His uncle took his hand. “We’ll find a way out of this.”

  “I already have.” He raised his glass. “To death by liver disease.” It was better than being torn apart by teeth and claws.

  “Stop it, Matt.” His father stood, taking the bottle from the table. “There’s always a way.” He glanced fondly at Uncle Rob. “We’re proof of that.”

  His uncle and the man he called father were lovers, had been since before he was born. His biological father had been a Guard. When Grandfather had realized exactly who had been slipping into his daughter’s bed, McBrid’s father had vanished.

  The disappearance had never been discussed. It was a deadly topic. Even now, if anyone suspected he was part Guard he’d be executed. The authorities couldn’t let it became common knowledge that the classes were similar enough to produce offspring.

  However, they all knew Grandfather had killed his father. If it weren’t for his mother and Uncle Rob he probably would’ve disappeared too.

  Grandfather had known of his son’s sexual orientation and realized that the only chance he had for someone with his blood to inherit his fortune came from his daughter.

  “You both got lucky Mom was as stubborn as she was devious.” He smiled into his drink.

  His mother had been a sweet, kind, gentle woman unless crossed. She’d married her brother’s lover and had never given her father another grandchild, making McBrid the sole heir to his grandfather’s fortune, once his uncle passed.

  “Beth was an exceptional woman,” said his uncle. “I miss her every day.”

  “Me too.” He stared at his glass. She’d be so disappointed in him. He hurt and mutated others for no good reason.

  “You’re sure you can’t quit?” asked Dad.

  “I can but then I’ll disappear.”

  “You could hide,” suggested Uncle Rob

  “Where? We live on an island. Not too many places to go where you won’t eventually be found.”

  “What if you became a Guard?” Uncle Rob glanced at McBrid’s father.

  His arm stilled, glass half-way to his lips. “That’d mean I’d never be able to see either of you.”

  “We could hire a new Guard.” Dad took Uncle Rob’s hand.

  “I’d be recognized”—he took a large gulp of his drink—“and it wouldn’t work anyway.” These two were all he had left in the world and he wasn’t putting them at risk. “If Conguise can’t find me, he’ll go after you.” Professor Conguise had already threatened as much.

  “We can take care of ourselves,” said Dad.

  “I know, but this is my problem. My mistake.”

  “What mistake? You took a great job. You had no idea what they were doing.” Dad’s face was flushed with temper. “I still say we report it.”

  “Do you really believe the Supreme Almighty and the Council don’t know what’s going on?” For smart guys these two weren’t thinking clearly.

  “I can’t believe they all do,” said Dad.

  “Maybe not, but as soon as we report it, Conguise will find out and trust me, the man has contingency plans in place.” He tossed back the rest of his drink.

 
; When he’d discovered what they were doing on Level Five, he’d spent his evenings, after everyone had gone home, poring over the documents in the professor’s office. After spending his life hiding his true parentage, he’d learned that knowledge was the only safety net he had.

  “Thank you for dinner.” He stood. He wasn’t getting anything else to drink, so he may as well go home.

  “Like you ate anything,” muttered Uncle Rob.

  “I’ll wrap it up for you.” His father took his plate and went into the kitchen. “You can have it for breakfast or lunch tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” He didn’t care about food. All he wanted was to be able to leave Level Five alive. If he couldn’t have that, he’d take his bed.

  “Why don’t you stay for some coffee?” asked Uncle Rob. “It’s a long walk home.”

  The refusal hovered on his tongue but the lines around his uncle’s eyes and the thinning hair made him reconsider. He understood better than most the fragility of life. “I’d rather another whiskey.”

  “You don’t need another whiskey.”

  He hadn’t needed the earlier ones either. “Why don’t we meet halfway. How about a beer?” His uncle loved beer.

  “I suppose.” Uncle Rob rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen.

  “Your food’s in the refrigerator,” his dad hollered from the other room. “And don’t let him give you any grief. Rob picked up a new ale earlier this week and has been dying to try it.”

  “Stop telling all my secrets.” Uncle Rob walked back into the living room with two beers.

  “You didn’t have to wait for me.” He didn’t need the guilt right now. He had more than his share with Fersia and all the other lives he’d destroyed.

  “Terrence doesn’t like beer,” said Uncle Rob.

  “You could drink your beer and Dad could drink his bourbon.” He tried hard not to sound snotty but failed.

  “I miss you. We both do.” Uncle Rob offered him a bottle.

  “I know.” He accepted the beer and moved to the couch. “I’ve been busy.” Trying to figure out ways to not kill the innocent.

  His father walked into the living room and poured a bourbon before sitting next to him on the couch. “You should look for another job.” Dad held up his hand, stopping him from explaining, again, that leaving Level Five wasn’t possible. “I know. I know. You can’t quit, but what if we all took a little break from around here?”

  Uncle Rob sat across from them on a love seat.

  “What are you talking about?” The glint in his father’s eyes made him wary. Dad had been kind of wild in his younger days.

  “We could leave the island.” Dad took Uncle Rob’s hand.

  “That’s suicide. Nothing exists out there.”

  “That’s what we’re supposed to believe,” said Dad.

  Uncle Rob leaned forward. “I know someone who takes mini-excursions. He says the nearby islands are safe. Uninhabited, but safe. We could go to one of them.”

  “And do what? Eat what?” They couldn’t actually be considering this.

  “We could fish and live off the land,” said Uncle Rob.

  “A permanent camping trip.” He laughed and took a sip of his beer. “This is good.”

  “I know.” His uncle took a drink from his own bottle.

  “It’d get you away from Conguise and his lab,” said Dad.

  “That’s true but we’d be on the run for life.”

  “Nah.” Dad laughed. “Conguise will forget about you. We can come back in a year or so.”

  “He won’t forget.” No matter how much he explained, they couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening in that laboratory.

  “Promise you’ll consider it.” Dad smiled at his partner. “We may do it anyway.”

  “You’d leave for a year or longer?” He shouldn’t have said it. He didn’t want to hold them back, but if they left, he’d have no one.

  “No.” Uncle Rob squeezed his father’s hand. “We’d take short trips.”

  “Just to the closest islands.” Dad tried to hide his disappointment.

  “I’m sorry. You should both go. Be careful but go and have fun. Enjoy your adventure. I’ll be fine.” He stood. “And I should go home. It’s late.” He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. He’d have to continue to mutilate Servants and Guards, but he’d keep finding the sick and old, anyone who had no chance for life any other way.

  “We’ll figure out something.” Uncle Rob stood and hugged him. “Be careful until we do.”

  “You too.” He squeezed his uncle tight and then gave his father a hug.

  “Take care, Matt and don’t worry about us,” said his father. “We’ve been hiding even longer than you have.”

  CHAPTER 2: McBrid

  McBrid was still tipsy when he tapped on the back door of the shelter. He’d gone home after visiting with his father and uncle, but just when he’d been about to flop into bed, he’d remembered his appointment. If he didn’t get a new host soon, Conguise would choose one for him and McBrid couldn’t let that happen.

  “You parked in the usual spot?” Satcha, the House Servant who ran the place, opened the door a crack, waving him inside.

  The Shelter was closed so any carriage outside the building would look suspicious. Which meant he’d had to park in the alleyway several streets over.

  “Of course.” He didn’t even try to hide his disgust. They’d been doing this for years.

  “Gotta ask. You wouldn’t believe how many of you Almightys get lazy. You forget that you can die almost as easily as us.”

  “I never forget that.” He followed the Servant down the back hallway. “He’s in isolation, right?” The conversation he needed to have required privacy.

  “Yeah. He isn’t really contagious, is he?” Satcha looked at him as if expecting an answer.

  He stared at the Servant, not saying a word. He was an Almighty. At least Satcha believed him to be and that meant he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone from the lower classes.

  “It’s going to cost extra.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Come on. Putting Servants or Guards in the sick-wing causes questions.”

  “You should’ve mentioned it earlier.” This wasn’t the first host he’d had Satcha place in isolation.

  “I’m mentioning it now.” Satcha stopped. “I want double.”

  “No.” Araldo, he should’ve stayed home and gone to bed. He was in no mood to deal with this tonight.

  “You should think about that.” Satcha’s tone was sly. “No one else is going to be willing to risk doing this for you.”

  Great, now he was being blackmailed. “You may want to think about this. I know you switch the blood.”

  “You asked me to.”

  “And you were quite familiar with the process.” He moved closer, backing the Servant against the wall. “I wonder how many of my co-workers would like to hear that juicy detail. How many sick or dying have you passed off on them?”

  “None. I swear.” The sweet scent of fear poured from Satcha’s pores.

  “You’re lying, but even if you weren’t it doesn’t matter. Truth isn’t important in a situation like this, only suspicion.”

  “I’ve never given anyone but you a sick Guard or Servant. Never. I wouldn’t.”

  “Enough.” He wasn’t in the mood for Satcha’s fear filled rambling. Plus, he couldn’t afford to frighten this guy too much. He refused to go back to killing healthy Servants and Guards. “Tell you what? Next time, I’ll increase your fee by twenty percent.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Deal.”

  The Servant’s smug expression told him that he could’ve gotten it for less but he didn’t care. Money wasn’t the issue. His conscience was.

  “Right through here.” Satcha opened the door and followed McBrid inside.

  He turned. “You wait”—he pointed to the door—“out there.”

  Satcha frowned but obeyed. The Servan
t would be listening at the door. McBrid walked to the cage until his face was almost pressed against the bars.

  The Servant inside was skinny which wasn’t unusual for strays but this guy was all bones. Leukemia could do that to a creature. The young, male Servant stood, watching him warily. The guy had no idea the danger McBrid offered like a gift.

  “Come here.” He motioned the Servant forward. “What I say can’t be heard by anyone but us.” He tipped his head toward the door.

  “Don’t worry about Satcha. That piece of Gruntshit, is too scared to say or do anything.” The Servant said it loudly and smirked as he walked to the front of the cage.

  “What’s your name?” McBrid wanted to grin too but as an Almighty he shouldn’t have heard the snort of derision from the other side of the door.

  “My friends call me Cal.”

  “I’m not your friend.” He’d been Fersia’s friend and would hate himself forever for what he’d done to her.

  “Yeah. Of course. Sorry.” The Servant looked down at his feet.

  “I’m sorry. Forget I said that.” He shouldn’t have but the whiskey had brought his regret to the surface. “I have some questions to ask you.” His voice was low, almost inaudible, but the Servant would hear him.

  “Okay.”

  “I analyzed the blood that Satcha drew and—”

  “I’m not sick. I don’t care what you say.”

  “Lower your voice.”

  “Sorry,” Cal whispered. “But I’m not sick. If they’d give me more food, I’d be fine.”

  “You are sick. Very sick.” He hated feeding on the needs of the dying, but he had no better option. “You won’t live long.”

  “I’m not going to live long in here anyway.”

  He was right. The shelters executed all unwanted Servants and Guards and no one would adopt this kid. He was too thin and sickly looking. If it weren’t for McBrid’s needs, Cal would’ve been killed the day he’d arrived.

  “I might be able to help you with that.”

  “Really? You’ll buy me?” Cal’s blue eyes, dull with defeat and illness, suddenly sparked to life.