Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1)

The Heights
|
Volume 1

Copyright © 2014 by Lauren Stewart

Off the Hook Publishing

ISBN:
978-0-9881701-9-3

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by Amanda Simpson

Pixel Mischief Design

Other Titles by Lauren Stewart

Hyde
, an Urban Fantasy

Jekyll
, Hyde Book II

Strange
Case
, Hyde Book III

The Complete Hyde Series Box Set

No Experience
Required
, a Summer Rains Novel

Second Bite

[email protected]

www.ReadLaurenS.com

For my awesome, crazy, and brilliant
supporters: I’m not sure what I did to deserve you, but you can bet
your sweet asses I’m not giving you back! And yes, I think all of
your asses are sweet.

To those who told me I couldn’t tell this
story the way I wanted to tell it: My advice to you? Don’t listen
to your own advice.

And for my mom. Always.

Unseen

About the Author

Other Titles

Acknowledgments

Key Characters

“
No one really knows why
they are alive until they know what they'd die for.”

Martin Luther King Jr.

The Heights is a big world, so feel free to
refer to the key character “legend” at the back of this book for a
list of the names and positions of all the main characters, as well
as info on the Heights, seers, and the Treaty. You can access the
legend from the table of contents in your drop-down menu. However,
please make sure you bookmark where you are in the novel before you
go to the list, so your e-reader doesn’t lose your place. Thank
you!

Addison was being a bitch and she knew it.
But disposing of dead supers is like waxing your legs—do it quick
before you have a chance to wimp out. Especially when they look
human.

“He’s not going to sit up and tell you it’ll
all be okay, Logan.”

“I can’t do it,” Logan said, holding the vial
over the carcass at his feet.

“Yes, you can. The first one’s always the
hardest. Just turn your hand over and let the powder do the
rest.”

“He looks…human.”

“Yeah, that’s because he’s dead.” She spoke
slowly and calmly, despite the fact that this had to happen
quickly, before any humans wandered by. “If he
wasn’t
, he’d
be using his glamour to make it at least
look
like he was
wearing pants. Not that you and I would be lucky enough to see
them, of course.” Addison sighed, wondering if he heard a word she
said. “He’s dead, I swear.” If Logan wanted to transfer to the
disposal department, he had to get over his squeamishness, because
it was only going to get worse. “If you can’t do it on your own, HQ
will get rid of you so fast you’ll
wish
you’d stayed in the
box.” She’d let him talk her out of making him dispose of the other
three bodies they’d found tonight, but she couldn’t sign off on his
training if he didn’t do one by himself.

“I gotta get out of the box, Add.”

“I know.”
No one
should have to do
that. Seers who were lucky became day-keepers, grocers, maybe even
healers for the supers, but those who weren’t so lucky…well, they
weren’t so lucky. Fortunately, Addison hadn’t had to work her way
up to trash collecting. Unfortunately, Logan did.

“Just do it. He can’t bite you…anymore.”

“I’m not afraid, Add. But he looks like us
now. It’s—”

She grabbed his hand and forced it to turn
over. The glittery powder sprinkled onto the werewolf, devouring
the supernatural flesh like acid. Logan groaned as the
human-looking body dissolved into the pavement, leaving only ash
behind, like a chalk outline on
CSI
—but filled in. And
black. And real.

“That wasn’t so bad, I guess,” he said,
handing her back the vial of dusting powder.

It wasn’t so bad because she’d done it for
him. How long would he last out here without her? And what would he
do the first time he had to call in an unsanctioned human fatality?
It was too bad seers couldn’t
see
the future.

Just another night in paradise.

“Okay,” she said, nudging Logan to get him to
focus, “because he is—
was
—a shifter and they have tight
family units, we can't treat the ashes like you would a vamp’s.”
She handed him a small glass jar. “Scoop some of him into
this.”

Logan looked like he was going to throw up.
She yanked the jar out of his hand and bent down to do it herself.
He was her closest friend and she really wanted to help him get out
of the box, but if seers didn’t follow the rules, they died. And
even being a plaything for supers was better than being executed by
them.

“I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” And he did, without
throwing up once. “How do they know the ashes are really their
family members and not something we took out of a fireplace?”

“Wood ash doesn’t have magic. HQ matches the
sample to a super so they can let the family, estate lawyers,
population control, and historians know the being is dead.”

“For everybody, or just the high races?”

“I’m not sure, but they do it for all races
that live in the city, except the seers.” Thankfully, human and
seer bodies weren’t her problem. All she had to do was call in any
she found. “No one talks about it.”

“So, everybody with magic?”

She carefully put the jar into her backpack.
“Seers have a little magic, don’t you think? Otherwise how would
supers sense us?”

“They don’t sense magic in us—they sense
incredibly bad luck.” Sadly, that was a valid theory. “I don’t feel
magical. Do you? All I feel is tired, cranky, and hungry.” He
smiled.

“Then go home, take a nap, and eat
something.”

“No time. Gotta go to my other job.”

Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? When do they
expect you to sleep?”

“They don’t care. I have more breaks during
the day shift, though, and it’s just for another week.” It still
totally sucked, and the only person who could possibly hate it more
than Addison did was Logan.

“Eat now, then you can sleep through your
lunch,” she said, knowing he didn’t like to talk about the box.
“Want the rest of my sandwich?”

“Was it that bad? How’d I screw up a
sandwich?”

She laughed. “You didn’t. It was really sweet
and completely unexpected. But unlike you, I don’t eat like a
two-hundred-pound man.”

“Come on, Add, I haven’t weighed two hundred
pounds since high school.” It was odd to hear a seer talk about
their life prior to being drafted into the Heights. Almost all of
them pretended those days didn’t exist. It was easier that way.
“So, what now?”

“Kick the ash around so it looks like dirt
instead of what it actually is.” Not that a human would really
notice it, of course. It wasn’t required, but Addison thought it
seemed more…clean that way.

He tentatively stretched out his leg. The guy
was big enough to walk through the worst parts of San Francisco
without getting harassed—except by prostitutes who’d do him for
free—but was undone by ashes. When the ash didn’t attack his foot
like he probably imagined it would, he smiled and did a little jig
as he kicked it.

She laughed. “Worst dancer ever.”

“Babe, you couldn’t handle my real
dancing.”

“You’re probably right.” When she’d first met
Logan, the
only
thing that kept her from sleeping with him
was his complete and utter lack of interest in her. It wasn’t
something she gave much thought to anymore, mostly because it was
depressing to think about. In terms of leagues, they were in the
same ballpark. He just didn’t think having sex with her was worth
risking their friendship, which indirectly—when she looked at it
with a fair amount of paranoia—meant he didn’t think she’d be good
in bed. And that was even
more
depressing.

At least their shift was almost done. Unless
she got another call from the office, telling her a fight broke out
and somebody else got slaughtered. Maybe if she knocked on wood,
threw some salt over her shoulder, and didn’t walk under any
ladders, they could call it a night.

“All that’s left to do is write up what we
did.” She hefted her bag onto one shoulder, rifled through it for
her notepad, and then glanced at Logan. He had his hands in his
pockets.

“Jesus, Logan! Where’s your ID? You
never
put it in your pocket! Never.”

“Okay, okay,” he muttered as he pulled it out
and started picking at one of its corners.

“Don’t do that!” She slapped his hand away.
“That thing is your golden ticket to staying alive, your
get-out-of-death-by-super free card. How else are they going to
know you’re off-limits?”

He looked at her sadly, pulling his shirt
away from his neck to expose the scars. “These probably help.” Some
were blended into the tattoo that covered one shoulder, tendrils
like flames licking up the more damaged side of his neck.

She winced, regretting her comments. Of
course he was marked, or ‘claimed’ as the vamps called it, and they
hadn’t been nice about it, either. Claimed by who knew how many of
them, who knew how many times. Logan probably did. He probably
remembered every single one.

“Sorry, Loge. I forgot.”

“No worries.
C’est
la vie
.” A smile crept onto his face.
“And almost free.” He laughed. It was a bitter kind of laugh, but
one she understood. Seers were slaves, plain and simple. They all
did what they had to do to stay alive, but some had it worse than
others.

“Besides,” he said as she pulled out the
small notebook, “I forgot you don’t have them. I should’ve had your
back.”

No, she should’ve remembered how good she had
it—an ID card instead of scars and nightmares keeping her alive.
“So…how many supers did we dispose of tonight?”

“Three or four?”

“You were supposed to be keeping track as we
found them.”

“We should have scanners like human grocery
stores do.”

“Yeah, well, we should also be able to send
this stuff in by email, but that’s never going to happen. Emails
can’t be warded against human sight like paper can.” Not
surprisingly, supers had trust issues.

“Type of supernatural creature—shifter, fae,
witch, mage, or vampire—along with where we found the body and at
what time,” she said, handing him the notebook and pen. It didn’t
take long to work through their night—the were, the witch, and two
mages. All legal, reported kills.

“Now we’re done?” he asked.

“Yeah. Want me to walk you home?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need a
babysitter, Addison. Thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she mumbled. It
was habit. A habit she’d developed for every human she’d known
since being able to
see
.

Unfortunately, seers didn’t see the
future—they saw the truth. Reality. Through the glamour that
supernatural beings projected to hide what they really were from
the human world. If seers didn’t do the jobs they did, humans would
have to. And eventually some of them would notice their employer’s
weird behavior or physiology or eating habits. Rumors would spread,
people would get nervous, and things would start getting scary.
Hell, the food prep alone would cause mass chaos.

Fear causes panic. Panic makes people stupid.
Stupid enough to think they stand a chance against a vamp, demon,
or were. So yeah, by doing what they’re told, seers weren’t just
keeping themselves alive.

“You need another night of training,” she
said. “But I’m not going to help you at all. You have to do it
alone.” She hesitated. “And we should talk about when to call in
the cleanup crew.” Luckily, it didn’t happen often because lawful
kills were tracked, but occasionally and unfortunately, a feeding
went bad or a werewolf lost control. Thank the powers it was
somebody else’s job to alter the wounds, but it was still
horrifying to find a body drained of blood, with fang marks in
their neck, or ripped apart by claws.

“I need to check when my next night off is,
but I promise to do everything next time and bring you a smaller
lunch.” He nodded. “Hey…listen…thanks for this. Even with a
recommendation, the transfer wouldn’t have happened without your
help.”

“No problem,” she said into his chest as he
drew her into a bear hug. He was over six feet of solid muscle and
drop-dead gorgeousness—perfect for a vampire or other super
plaything. Great looks and a great body were the
worst
things for a seer to have. Because once they were designated as
toys, it was a tough occupation to break free from.