Hitting the Target Read online

  Hitting the Target

  A Kindred Tales Novel

  Evangeline Anderson

  www.evangelineanderson.com

  Hitting the Target, 1st Edition,

  A Kindred Tales Novel

  Copyright © 2019 by Evangeline Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Art Design © 2019 by Reese Dante

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to a retailer of your choice or evangelineanderson.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only.

  Any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  Contents

  Hitting the Target

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  The End?

  Twisted

  Chapter 1

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  Also by Evangeline Anderson

  About the Author

  Hitting the Target

  A Kindred Tales Novel

  A girl sent to kill the one she is dreaming of

  Her target? A Kindred warrior with a beast inside

  Can Mia complete her mission?

  Or is Trey Hitting the Target when he aims for her heart?

  Ormyu Five is the world divided in two.

  To the north, a police state ruled by the heavy hand of The EYE, which spies on its people constantly and keeps iron control over their lives.

  To the South lies Bountiful, a country of free thinkers bustling with trade and blessed with balmy weather. But those from the Northern Block never get to experience its temperate climate for the two halves of Ormyu Five are divided by an impenetrable wall of blue energy called the Great Barrier.

  Mia lives in the North and can’t remember a time when she wasn’t looking over her shoulder. Everyone spies on everyone else and reports to The EYE. It is a land of paranoia—a place of constant fear. Even Mia herself has been forced into the ranks of informants—she works as a nurse but also as a covert agent, reporting weekly to her Commandant in The EYE’s headquarters for new assignments. Imagine her surprise and dismay when she recognizes her new target—a huge male with a mane of golden brown hair and pale piercing eyes—as the one she has been dreaming of for months.

  Treygar is a rare Lei’on Kindred which means he keeps a hungry beast locked within himself. He came to Ormyu Five with his people, looking for a new genetic trade on the strangely divided planet. What he doesn’t expect is to start dream sharing with one of the inhabitants of the backwards world but that is exactly what happens. He wants to go and find the mysterious, curvy little female but before he can, he runs into her at the transport station.

  Mia is scared to death of the huge Kindred warrior. She’s been dreaming of him for months but she assumed It was just that—a dream. Even worse, he is the target she had been sent to the South to track…and possibly to kill. Can she keep herself from falling for Trey and complete her mission? Or is the big Kindred aiming for her heart, Hitting the Target?

  Chapter One

  The recording device in the toe of Mia’s right shoe was malfunctioning again. When she checked its output on the tiny handheld device she had been issued by the Commandant, she saw only wavy, blurred lines and heard only static. Damn.

  A worried frown creased her forehead as she toed off the clunky, uncomfortable shoes and slipped into a pair of soft-toed clogs instead. Of course it was nice to have an excuse to wear her more comfortable shoes to the Care Center. As a healer’s aide, she worked long shifts and was on her feet for ten to twelve hours at a time.

  But the comfort she gained was more than offset by the distress and anxiety she felt when she thought how she would be unable to offer the Commandant the full range of surveillance she was responsible for.

  Well, she still had the tiny camera shaped like a Mercy Star that she wore on the lapel of her pale blue uniform, Mia comforted herself. And the images it took were really much more valuable because the angle was so much better for faces than the recording device in the toe of her shoe. The Commandant would understand. She would just explain during their next scheduled meeting that she needed a new device—or more likely a new pair of shoes with a device implanted in them. He would issue them and that would be that.

  “Mia, child—are you in there? Could you make me a cup of nettle steep?” a whispery voice called.

  “Of course, Neemah.” Quickly, Mia slipped the handheld output checker into an antique sweetener bowl and, standing on tiptoes, pushed it to the back of the top shelf where her grandmother would never find it. If Neemah ever found out she was working for The EYE, especially after what had happened to Mia’s parents…

  But the thought didn’t bear thinking about. Instead, Mia turned to the ancient stove. Switching it from electric to fuel, she threw a chunk of fire rock, which stained her fingertips dirty orange, into the grate and pressed the ignite button. The stove had been modified to burn fuel because the electric current wasn’t exactly stable. At least twice a day—sometimes more often—there were energy flickers and rolling outages which lasted sometimes just a few seconds, but often up to several hours.

  Mia had heard it whispered that the Republic caused the power outages on purpose to keep people in line or to catch dissenters trying to sneak across the Great Barrier. But the SSCC—the State Sponsored Communications Channel—blamed Bountiful, the country to the south of the People’s Republic. According to the SSCC, the Republic was full of spies and saboteurs from the decadent South—one could never be too careful because they were everywhere.

  Mia had never been to Bountiful herself—and had never wanted to go. Not that she could have gotten to the sprawling country which took up the southern half of the single continent on her little world, even if she wanted to. Making any attempt to leave the People’s Republic and cross the Great Barrier to get south was a crime punishable by death and Mia had no intention of dying anytime soon.

  The stove top was red-hot now so she half-filled a chipped ceramic steep-pot from the faucet, which was little more than a pipe sticking out of the wall over the sink, and sat it on the glowing coil. Her grandmother’s spice rack was hanging on one wall, hiding a spot where the grayish-yellow paint was peeling. It was arranged, as always, exactly to Neemah’s specific
ations with the sweet spices on the top shelf and the savory ones at the bottom. Their kitchen might not be much to look at, with its peeling walls, exposed fixtures and half-broken appliances but Mia’s grandmother insisted on keeping it neat as a pin.

  Mia took the jar of ground sweet nettles from the top of the spice rack and carefully measured out exactly one spoonful of the fine pale purple powder into a pretty old cup. It had tall, fluted sides and a picture of a lady with a pink head scarf drinking steep under a blue and white uanna tree on one side.

  The cup had been part of her Neemah’s inheritance, and it had been made before the Great Revolution—Mia was fairly certain of that. When the People’s Republic came into power in the North and granted equality to all and erected the Great Barrier to keep the undesirables out, they had stopped the production of such frivolous items. Nowadays everything had to have a practical purpose—and everything was utilitarian and plain.

  Mia had always liked the cup because Neemah said her eyes were the exact same color as the pale blue flowers on the uanna tree. People said they were striking, her eyes—they set off the creamy brown of her skin dramatically. They made her face almost pretty enough to balance out the fact that she was too plump to be what the Republic considered an “ideal female.”

  Sighing, she looked up at the cloudy pane of plasti-glass that covered the window over the sink. She didn’t look particularly striking now—just tired. She’d been working double shifts for the past three days ever since Jania, the other healer’s aide who worked on her floor, had gone missing.

  Mia wondered if Jania was being held somewhere, perhaps in the basement of The EYE’s headquarters. That was where the police arm of the Republic took dissenters, mostly. She wondered if Jania would ever come back and if she did, would the other girl retain enough of her mind to continue working at the Care Center? But most of all, she wondered if any of the surveillance she herself supplied had been instrumental in Jania’s detainment.

  Oh please, no. I hope not. I really hope not!

  After all, it wasn’t like she wanted to be an informant and a VAR or “Volunteer Agent of the Republic.” Despite the title, there was nothing voluntary about it. Mia had been dragged into the Commandant’s office and given no choice. He had said—

  A strident whistling from the steep pot interrupted her thoughts. The water was boiling. Putting on a worn hot-mitt with stuffing coming out of its quilted seams, Mia picked it up and poured the heated water into the tall cup with the lady under the uanna tree. Fragrant steam rose from the cup and she swirled the pale purple liquid around, breathing in the sweet aroma of the ground nettles and trying not to think. But though she tried to banish them, her dark thoughts continued anyway.

  It didn’t matter about her surveillance—Jania was always going to be taken by The EYE—really, it was only a matter of time. It wasn’t that she spread sedition or openly talked about wanting to cross the Great Barrier. She didn’t distribute pamphlets calling for freedom or the end to the People’s Republic or anything like that. But she was too…Mia frowned, trying to find a word to describe her late friend and coworker. Jania was too free. Too happy. Too light and easy and cheerful all the time.

  Though there was no law against it, The EYE didn’t like to see people behaving in such a manner. Decorum was necessary—even vital to everyday existence. Accordingly, an air of dignified gloom prevailed, especially in public. Laughing aloud or even smiling broadly was sure to draw disapproving looks and the wrong kind of attention.

  People might be a little more laid back at home with family, but not much. Even in the heart of your home, you could never be quite sure that someone wasn’t watching you and reporting back to The EYE. Mia had heard terrible stories of brothers reporting sisters and wives reporting husbands or of a child spying on his or her entire family which resulted in all of them winding up in the basement of The EYE’s headquarters.

  It was dreadful, really—it made her glad there was only herself and Neemah in the broken-down little flat on the sixteenth floor of the monotone gray high-rise, so exactly like every other building in the city. Her parents had been taken when she was only a little girl and she had never had any siblings so her grandmother was the only family she had left.

  “Mia, child—is that nettle steep ready yet?” Neemah called.

  “Ready right now. Coming Neemah.”

  Carefully, she carried the lovely old cup with its pale purple steep into the tiny living area. Her grandmother was sitting in a worn overstuffed armchair covered in a faded flower pattern. The stuffing had started to come out in places but Mia had laid a bedsheet over the seat and arms to conceal that.

  Neemah was a thin little stick of a woman with darker brown skin than Mia and faded brown eyes to match. Presently those eyes were glued to the lighted communications box where a lively game show was playing.

  Mia frowned as she sat the cup of nettle steep carefully down on the rickety little wooden table to one side of the overstuffed armchair. She could tell by the waves of static that passed over the screen from time to time than Neemah was not watching a Republic approved channel. The EYE tried to block the transmissions from Bountiful but some of them always got through and if you were caught watching them…

  Abruptly Mia slapped a hand over the Mercy Star pin she wore on her lapel. She was grateful it only displayed images and didn’t pick up any sound.

  “Neemah,” she exclaimed, “You know you can’t watch those Southern programs! You need to change the box over to the SSCC now!”

  “But the programs they show on that channel are so boring!” Neemah protested, oblivious to the fact that what she was saying was little better than treason. “They had better programs back in my day—before the Revolution came along and ruined everything.”

  “Neemah!” Mia hissed, horrified. “You can’t talk like that! You know you can’t.”

  “Why not? I’m an old lady—I’ve earned the right to speak my mind. Besides, it’s just you and me here child and it’s not like you’re one of those awful VAR people,” her grandmother said complacently.

  Mia felt a stab of shame and guilt and had to work hard to keep a blank look on her face for a minute. Her throat felt tight. If Neemah only knew some of the things she had done for the Commandant…Abruptly, she shoved the memories and the guilt they caused away.

  “Still,” she said firmly, “It’s not safe, Neemah.”

  “Oh, pooh!” Neemah made a shooing gesture with the hand not holding the steaming cup of steep. “If those silly EYE people get upset with me, I’ll just move up to Beria with my old friend, Fransell. Everybody knows they don’t bother to go up there—it’s too cold.”

  Beria was at the very northern end of the continent, thousands of miles from the Great Barrier. Mia had heard that it got so cold there you could throw a pot of boiling water into the air and it would come down as snowflakes or ice crystals. Such extreme weather wouldn’t be good for her grandmother’s aching bones at all, not to mention the food shortages they often had.

  “Nobody bothers to go up there because it’s where people are banished when they wrong the Republic,” Mia pointed out. “And you can’t guarantee that you won’t end up in the basement of The EYE’s headquarters instead.” She looked at her grandmother pleadingly. “You’re all I have, Neemah—please don’t put yourself at risk this way.”

  Neemah drew in a heavy breath and let it out in a long-suffering sigh.

  “Well…all right then, child. If it’ll make you happy.”

  Picking up the clunky, brick-shaped remote device she pressed a few buttons and the game show was replaced by a man in a dark suit and a suitably somber face.

  “Unfortunately, two citizens of the People’s Republic were lost today in an unlawful attempt to get through the Great Barrier,” he was saying in a deep, sad voice. “During a momentary lull in the electric current, they attempted to cross over into the hated land of Southern Depravity. Those guarding the Barrier had no choice but to exec
ute them on the spot.”

  He shook his head sadly but Mia thought she saw some other emotion in his eyes—a kind of glee. I told you so, that expression said. I told you so but you wouldn’t listen and now you’re dead. You’re dead and you got just what you deserved…got exactly what was coming to you…

  “Let this be a lesson to other citizens of the People’s Republic tempted to try to get past the Great Barrier,” the commentator continued. “Remember my friends, the Barrier is there for your benefit—for all our benefits. To keep us safe from Southern lust and greed and the utter corruption which being exposed to their evil ways inevitably leads to.”

  The commentator had a lot more to say but Mia didn’t have time to listen to it.

  “I have to go, Neemah—I’ll be late for my shift at the Care Center.” She leaned down and dropped a kiss on the wrinkled cheek.

  Neemah looked up, her withered face puckered in agitation.

  “What? Going back again so soon? But you got in so late last night! They’re working you to death, child,” she complained loudly.

  “No, they’re not,” Mia said quickly, glad all over again that her Mercy Star only recorded images and not sound. “I’ve just had to pick up a few extra shifts here and there to help cover for some people who are out.”

  She thought of Jania again and her throat felt tight.