Lost and Bound (Tethered #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

OLD PAINS AND NEW BEGINNINGS

The suggestion of a twilight decree came from the supernaturals themselves.

It was done with good intentions, to allow humanity the chance to get used to the concept of a different world.

The vampires, magikal beings, shifters, and celestials said the nighttime curfew was a temporary measure while everyone got used to the idea that they’d been living with and among us for centuries already, so there was nothing to be worried about.

Of course, there were mixed emotions. I mean, overnight, our world had been irrevocably changed forever.

There were those who were excited, ready for the next chapter in evolution.

Some were too shocked to comprehend that some in our society were not what they seemed to be.

Another part of our community was indifferent to what the creatures were, more worried about whether the others would pay taxes and contribute, as was due.

But then there were some whose only reaction was fear and anger.

They immediately went on the defensive, claiming the “abominations” were going to take our freedom and ruin our future; they needed to be stopped.

Hour by hour, those influential few lobbied long and hard about the injustice of the others being allowed to live among mankind.

They soured what could have been an auspicious era, turning it into something rancid.

Before the sun rose the next morning, the words, “Man does not bow to others,” were declared. From that moment, there was little attempt from the human side for peaceful coexistence. The “others” became the enemy, and the fearmongering shifted into systemized violence.

Maybe our government needed to keep us safe from the others, but they could do it humanely and with compassion.

They chose differently. Complex laws were rushed through, barring these others from existing in our world but also changing what normal people could and couldn’t do.

The government introduced enforcers who were tasked with eradicating the cities of supernaturals.

The power of those in authority was unchallenged.

They could do whatever they deemed necessary, entering houses looking for others, tearing families apart.

Nothing was off-limits in their attempt to keep us safe.

It didn’t take long before the government’s truth shone through because this was about control. The humans wanted to rule supreme.

But if you want to incite your new enemy by gloating about your senseless cruelty, there will come a point when they retaliate.

Which is what happened within weeks of our new way of life.

The Bloody Massacre, named after a deadly attack on a very proud and outspoken anti-other campaigner, fractured the already strained relationship between the others and the humans.

But the incident that broke our community should never have occurred in the first place, as the senator involved was guilty as sin.

He’d captured a female vampire, tortured her, then paraded her around his birthday celebration.

Her kind came to her rescue, and then they returned the favor and did to those in attendance everything that had been done to her. They were savage in their retribution.

News reports ran around the clock, and while our community was divided by the actions of both sides, as soon as a brave few spoke out publicly, laying full blame at the feet of the senator, they were treated like pariahs by their own kind.

The argument that rose created a rift so deep there was no middle ground; you were either a human who supported the government’s vision for a pure society, or you were a sympathizer.

The government armed its enforcers with even more power while touting savage reprisals against any others, or sympathizers for their cause hiding in our community.

It was during this time that they started building the walls around our cities.

The moment I was born, my parents also started building their own protections.

My father showed me how ugly prejudice is, teaching me how to be impartial while staying good-hearted and strong-willed.

And my mom assured me that being a normal person with pure intentions was more important than being a ‘pure’ person with normal intentions.

Together, they coached me to strive for the stars and never be held back by ignorance, only conscious discretion.

The message might have been delivered in a hundred different ways, but the underlying theme of making a difference never faltered.

They weren’t prophets or professors; they were just my parents, raising me as best they could and teaching me to be the best version of myself.

I never took them for granted. Every day was a gift. I wouldn’t have lived any day differently, but I would have insisted on driving them to the airport on that fateful day.

“Maya, are you up here?” Mr. Kenney calls out.

He’s a good guy. One of the best, really.

My back protests as I stand, since I hunched picking vegetables for so long. The reward for a little discomfort is having endless produce for the kitchen. “I’m getting the last few tomatoes. It’s supposed to frost tonight.”

There’s a rustle of plastic before his face appears. “Which is exactly why they’re in the greenhouse and protected from the elements. You need to get going!”

I balance the overflowing box of fruit and vegetables on my hip, holding up my wrist so he can see the timer on my watch.

“We’ve got hours. Three and a half, to be precise.

Which is enough time to get this downstairs, wash it all and put it away, get a pot of soup on, then come back up and tie everything down.

By my calculations, I’d even have time to do a few deliveries on the way home. ”

“The moon will be full tonight, and I couldn’t live with myself if…”

“I’m not going anywhere near the walls or the enforcers’ barracks,” I assure him. “I’ve got all my papers.”

“We both know it’s going to be a tinderbox out there tonight regardless. The enforcers are baying for blood. I have already asked everyone else to finish up.”

He’s right to be worried. Like he said, because of the full moon, everything is going to be so much worse.

“I’m going home too then,” I say, kicking the door shut as he passes.

There’s no way I’ll stay if my being here causes him concern or draws attention to the centre.

All Mr. Kenney and the team are trying to do is help those who’ve been tarred by misjudgment.

Sadly, there’s been a lot of that being thrown around with the recent change in government leadership.

Fear is a funny thing; it either forges and strengthens, or it tears friends and families apart.

The thirty years since the others first came out has brought out the ugliest side of humanity, that’s for sure.

The recent drop in community faith comes from the new totalitarian style of governance being introduced. In short, it means we, the people, are navigating around two very dangerous beasts—the others, and the very people who should protect us, our government. Which makes what we do so important.

The small community center that Mr. Kenney set up offers assistance to anyone, and he is proof that there are still good people in the world.

Like the sign on the door says, “Everyone is welcome.” Never once have I seen him turn someone away, irrespective of their age, gender, religion, hair color, or speculation on their purity.

Without him, I would have lost hope years ago.

“Where would you like me to put these boxes?” I ask, swinging around to hold the door open for him to pass through.

His arms are fuller than mine, and I’m lucky I have youth on my side. His gray hair blows in the wind as he rushes past, the double stack of boxes tilting dangerously.

“We can put everything on this bench. After I’ve locked up and called to let everyone know our deliveries will be delayed, I’ll take the produce down. You can sort it in the morning.”

I put my box on the stainless steel sink, right next to where he already has my bag and a container of food waiting. “I’ll be okay, I promise. And everyone else will be fine too.”

He shakes his head. “I wish I had your faith, Maya.”

His words are interrupted by the sound of sirens, and we turn to the screen showing us the feed from the front door, catching an enforcer van speeding past.

Mr. Kenney reaches over and gives me a quick hug before walking off toward the back door, talking as he goes. “I packed up some of the leftovers from lunch. I’ll freeze the rest tonight.”

“At least let me pay,” I suggest quickly.

The put-on scowl I get over the top of his bifocals lets me know how offended he is at my offer.

I roll my eyes at his antics. “You know I appreciate everything you do, so don’t be offended when I offer you a few measly dollars.”

“You work your butt off for those few measly dollars. If I have food left over and choose to give it to you, I’ll do just that. Or are you going to deny an old man, because that’s awfully harsh, Maya,” he grumbles, though a smile lights up his eyes playfully.

“Me, harsh? Now who’s being rude?” I tease back, accepting the bag of food. We walk toward the front door, both grinning like clowns, enjoying the smallest reprieve from reality. “But see, all’s fair when caring for people, so expect a batch of your favorite cookies in the morning.”

“You don’t need to do that. You’ve got enough on your plate.” He’s instantly more somber than he was a second ago, but I ignore the concern in his voice, or I’ll break down.

“I’m making them,” I say determinedly. “And I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Which, according to Maya, generally means sunup.” He smiles again, letting me deal how I do. He waits while I pack my bag and food into the basket on the front of my bike and put my helmet on.

I hop onto my bike, but before I ride off, I reassure him. “You know I’ll be okay, right?”

“Me not worrying is like you not helping. Stay inside tonight.”