A Broken Redeemer: The Kalista Chronicles, #3

By Jenn A. Morales

Always Read the Fine Print

Imprisonment is nothing like Kalista imagined. It's worse. With the Master's zealots dishing out her punishment, she struggles to stay sane. Drugged and powerless, she has one thing to keep her going: It won't last forever.

Rigorous testing pushes her body to the limits while they isolate her. Only her stubbornness can save her from their mental games. Will she survive this only to go insane after the ritual like the other children? Will she adapt and survive their torture or will Vretil make her:

The Broken Redeemer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jenn A. Morales
• Release date: Oct 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223656883

Jenn A. Morales

Jenn A. Morales is an Artist, lifetime fantasy reader, and Author of three books with more to come in her ever-expanding Urban Fantasy Saga: The Born Angel Universe For more information about the Author and the book series, including detailed character bios that may contain spoilers, head to the official website:

Book preview

Prologue

~ Thirty or so years in the future ~

I knew this day would come eventually, but I still wasn’t prepared to talk to my fiery, red-headed daughter about her father. I cursed Packana¹ again for accidentally letting it slip while they were out of the country on her first overseas mission. I was trying to protect her from this until she was older, while telling off anyone who misjudged her by what he’d done to me. It wasn’t her fault that her father was my arch-nemesis.

That Nâktao² had done so many things, and I wasn’t his only victim… Victim, I hated that word, but I had been a victim of his heartless cruelty and sadistic pleasures on more than one occasion before his death. Now, I had to tell her the truth, and explain why I’d hidden it from her.

I couldn’t talk about most of the things he’d done, and wished I didn’t remember them, but that first time, the longest time… It was thoroughly documented. I’d even given a statement before I lost all memory of it.

Sure, I hadn’t been awake for all seventeen years, but what I didn’t know was documented by Doctor Diovan Lorkyn, Doctor Alaric Reece, and the Council of Fire. The Council of Spirit should have documented it too, but they were too busy trying to sweep it under the rug. Thankfully, the then newly formed, Guardians of Justice had pulled that rug out from under them, showing everyone their flaws.

A knock on one of the French doors behind me banished all thoughts of that time. I turned back to my home office as the ghost of my past loomed over me, whispering to me. I walked around my desk and perched on the front of it. I pulled my hoodie tighter around me as a chill settled over the room, and I crossed my arms over the small baby bump.

Come in, Ashalynn, I called and the door slowly creaked open. Beryx kept joking that he would oil the hinges, but I preferred them squeaky. That way no one could sneak up on me. Ashalynn stepped out from behind the other door and my heart ached.

The moonlight streamed in through the sliding glass doors highlighting the tears on her pale cheeks and the deep brown of her freckles. I wanted to rush to her, to tell her that Packana was lying, and Beryx was her biological father. It would have been easier to believe than that she, a triplet, was the only one of her wombmates who wasn’t his child, but I couldn’t lie to her. I didn’t have it in me.

It’s true then? she asked, the sorrow in her orange eyes asking me to lie. Those eyes were a daily reminder of her father’s Angelic eyes, the eyes that haunted my nightmares. I took a deep breath and nodded.

It is, and you’ve asked about him before. You wanted to know what I could tell you… I paused as my chest tightened, and I shoved my fear down. The first time. I’ve told you up until the imprisonment, but I must warn you. This was the darkest period of my life. I didn’t have a friend to lean on or anyone to trust. I had a countdown timer, but it was me against them…

Chapter One

~ Kalista: Imprisonment ~

When my eyelids fluttered open, I was greeted by bright white walls with a single door in the far corner and a mirror on the wall in front of me. I was in the hospital. How had I ended up here? I tried to recall my last few moments of consciousness, but there was nothing.

I racked my brain as I slowly sat up and my head throbbed. Thick liquid slid down my nose, and I set my left hand under it. I touched the liquid and pulled my shaking hand back. There was blood on the tip of my finger. A surprised gasp escaped my lips, and the door squeaked open.

A tall man walked in, but he was blurry. I had to squint to see any real details about him. He wore a dark business suit and a pressed white button-down shirt, but no tie. I focused on his face and squinted more. I could make out familiar blue eyes and a full head of dark brown hair that framed a pale face with sharp features, but it seemed to change the longer I looked.

I knew him, but I couldn’t remember his name. He walked to me and held out a cloth. My brain said that I should accept nothing from him, but I didn’t know why. I tilted my head and took the cloth as a chair materialized out of thin air. He walked to it and sat as I curled up at the head of the bed and pressed the cloth under my nose.

My eyes weren’t the problem. It was his aura. It was so dark that it obscured his face and no matter how much I looked, I wouldn’t see any more details.

What is your name? he asked, manifesting a clipboard. I wrapped one arm around my legs and paused as skin touched skin. I looked down at the unfamiliar, thin white tank top and shorts and suddenly felt naked. Where was my corset, red shirt, and jeans? I pulled the white blanket up, tucking it around my knees then paused. How had I remembered what I was wearing? He cleared his throat, and I realized that I hadn’t answered.

Kalista Iliana Angelic, I said, voice hoarse and nasally at the same time. It sounded as if I hadn’t had a drink in ages. He made a scratch on the clipboard as I pulled the cloth back and waited a moment. When I was sure my nose wasn’t going to bleed more, I balled the cloth in my hand and wrapped my arms around my legs again, eyes never leaving him.

"That’s correct, Miss Angelic," he confirmed, snarling as if my last name offended him. A metal table with a glass of water materialized beside the bed, and I looked from it to him. He nodded to it, and I looked at it again.

Was it poisoned? Was that why I felt like this? I scrunched my eyebrows at the thought, and his aura cleared enough that I could see the lower half of his face. He had a strong jaw, thin lips, and about two days’ growth of beard. He offered a reassuring smile as he picked up his left leg and placed his ankle on his opposite knee.

You can drink it. It isn’t poisoned, he said, countering my thoughts. I gingerly picked the glass up, eyes on him as I lifted it to my lips. I took one sip and waited for something to happen. I counted to thirty and when nothing did, I placed the cup to my lips again.

Why don’t you trust me? he asked, setting the clipboard in his lap. I took a longer drink as I realized just how thirsty I was. When I almost drained the glass, I removed it from my lips, and my stomach growled. It had been utterly empty until the water and now it wanted food too.

Your aura… Is like a shadow. A moment ago, it was so dark that I couldn’t see your face. Only those who have done things against the Maker’s laws have that much darkness inside them, I answered, mind clearing. He wrote that down before he looked back up, and his aura disappeared. His eyes were pitch black from corner to corner.

I dropped the glass, and it froze seconds before it would’ve hit the bed and drenched me. It scooped the water back into itself before levitating to the table. The image of a tall, blue skinned man with ram’s horns transposed over him. Then a memory grabbed me, and I stood before the blue skinned man in a hall of whitewashed brick as he grinned down at me then shyfted into the man sitting in the room with me, except he had no facial hair.

I blinked, and I was back in the bare white room with my hands on my temples. My chest heaved, and I snapped my head up. A scowl twisted his lips down and his aura returned. If it were possible, it was even darker.

What is my name? he asked not letting me recover from the memory. I stared at his once again blue eyes and slowly dropped my hands to the blanket. My mind gave me a name, but it sounded wrong. I couldn’t get another to surface so I opened my mouth.

Dark— I started but stopped as a presence pressed on the back of my mind.

His name isn’t Darkness. Don’t let him distract you, a deep masculine voice whispered in my ear, and my ragged breathing evened out. This voice was so soothing. It sounded like home, and my intuition said that I could trust him.

Then what is his name? I thought, hoping the voice could hear me. I pulled my braid over my shoulder, twisting the ends in my fingers as the man in the chair watched me, waiting for me to say it again, or perhaps louder. I dropped my legs, curling them under me, and the voice returned.

His name is Vretil.

That name sparked a thousand memories and all of them bad. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands and fought to stay in the present. I didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want to relive them.

Vretil! Your name is Vretil Angelic, I shouted, hoping it would stop the flashes of memory. His hands gripped the clipboard until his knuckles went white. In my mind, I saw him break it, just before the plastic splintered into a million tiny shards. The shards vanished into tendrils of darkness before they hit the floor, and he straightened the lapels of his jacket.

You are correct.

Why does that anger you? Did you want me to be wrong? I asked, curious about the forest green and crimson that swirled with the ebony of his aura. His eyes darkened to black again, and he ignored the question.

Do you know where you are? he asked, voice deadly sleek like the edge of a knife. My chest tightened, and I subconsciously reached up to my neck, where a necklace usually sat against my skin. My hand brushed bare skin and traced a raised scar an inch above my collar bone. That brought more memories, but they didn’t overwhelm me this time. They were simply there.

I… No, I haven’t ever been here before, I replied, pulling my knees to my chest again. I wrapped my arms around them, rocking slightly back and forth as my stomach cramped. He sighed and uncrossed his legs.

Moping won’t help you, Miss Angelic. Do you remember where you live? he asked, evoking more memories.

Stone streets, lined with similar looking houses made of wood and plaster, or brick and mortar. I saw a sign for a school and paused.

Fire and Spirit Academy: a place of higher learning, it read, and I blinked back the memory. I pulled my legs in closer and set my head on my knees as an answer surfaced, but I wasn’t sure it was right.

"Lashdanôke, The Hidden City," I whispered. He nodded, reached up to his collar, and unbuttoned the top button. His aura burned with crimson anger, and he tilted his head from one side to the other, cracking his neck. Why were right answers making him angry? Why ask if he didn’t want to know?

Chapter Two

Do you remember what happened before you fell asleep? he asked, and I blinked at him. I shook my head, not wanting to say another word to this man. His eyebrows rose, and his aura calmed to pure ink black again as he straightened.

"Let me jog your memory: You were working for a being known only as the Master. He is a brilliant, conniving Demokæ³ who took you under his wing. He hired the best teachers to train you and hone your abilities so the Council would not find out how fast you were gaining them, he began, describing the Master like I owed him something, but that didn’t match the memories that were resurfacing. In return, he asked you to spy on the Council and your father and send messages to the former from time to time. You slipped up.

You told a member of the Council of Fire about your training, and the Master’s servants tried to kill you, he furthered as the taste of copper filled my mouth. I uncurled my legs and grabbed the glass of water downing the last mouthful. A sly smile curved his lips as I set the glass down again, but the taste remained.

You were put on trial for murdering Claude Shyfter, he added as I saw the tall, built man in my memories. He had dark, ebony hair and metallic green eyes that looked more reptilian than humanoid. Then an image of him and a woman surfaced. The woman was tall and willowy with long brown hair that turned turquoise halfway down. The shade matched her eyes, but I hadn’t seen this moment for myself. I had seen it in her eyes at the trial.

Kalista! Vretil’s sharp voice barked. I snapped back to the present and turned to him breathing heavy again. My head spun, and I grabbed it as his smile widened.

So, you do remember him, and his secret fiancée, Miseria Mortem, he confirmed as if he could see inside my head. That shouldn’t happen. Didn’t I have shields to prevent that? I dug deep inside myself and found my metaphysical shield in ruins.

Don’t try to hide from me. That won’t work anymore, he warned as I met his greedy gaze. My chest tightened, and I glimpsed a piece of his mind. I was laying on this very bed, and he caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. He thought about doing more to me, and I backpedaled out of his mind. I yanked the blanket up to cover me again, and a devious smile turned his lips.

"I can smell your fear, Keætæ⁴," he taunted me. He leaned forward and closed his eyes, sniffing the air like a dog on the hunt. His smile widened and sent a shiver down my spine. I forced my fear down and my eyes flicked to the door then back to him.

Where am I? I asked, voice shaking. The smell of sterilizer wafted to my nose, adrenaline dumped into my system, and my senses sharpened. His eyes flew open, and they drifted over me, assessing my sudden shift in body language.

The asylum. I figured you’d be more comfortable here than in a cold prison cell in the Outskirts. I know how much you hate it there, he offered. My heart leapt into my throat, and I knew one thing for certain. I had to run.

When he locked eyes with me, my intuition said it was now or never. I threw back the covers and lunged for the door. Just when I thought I would make it, he reached out with one arm and caught me around my waist.

You can’t leave, Kalista. You agreed to this, he reminded me, pulling me down to his lap. I struggled against him, kicking out with both legs, trying to knock him off balance as he pulled me tight to his chest. He set his head to the back of mine, and I shuddered as his breath caressed my ear.

"You’re not getting away from me, Charka Aknobas⁵," he whispered before standing. He tossed me onto the bed, and I whirled around. I stared at him as fear dumped more adrenaline into my system. My stomach lurched, and I looked for a garbage bin. I didn’t see one. A bin appeared on the bed, and I didn’t question it. I picked it up and threw up water and bile.

When I looked up again, he wasn’t alone. There was a woman in a white dress that hugged her curves and a white coat over it. I looked toward her familiar tan face into golden eyes and panic tightened my stomach. I heaved again, and this time blood came up. My hands shook as they shouted for assistance.

My intuition said assistance meant drugs, and drugs meant going back to sleep. I didn’t want to go back to sleep. Didn’t want to be vulnerable. I set the bin down and climbed off the other side of the bed. I crouched in the corner and a man with dark hair, and forest green eyes walked in. His features were familiar, but his eyes were the wrong color. For a moment, I saw him with blue eyes, longer hair, and a short beard before his eyes were once again green, his hair short, and his face clean shaven.

Come here, Kalista, he called to me. I shook my head and grabbed two fistfuls of the sheets. The woman teleported in front of me, and I backed away from her, but I had nowhere to go. She grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. Sharp pain pinched the crook of my arm, and I looked down to the syringe in her hand.

I flashed back to her holding a beautiful brunette woman as someone stabbed a syringe of a similar fluorescent liquid into her arm. I returned lying on the bed, sweating as my limbs grew heavy. Panic surged again as I remembered the feeling, the courthouse steps, and running from this golden eyed woman.

Don’t fight it, Kalista, she purred as my eyes threatened to close. I threw them open and black spots ate my vision. I grabbed onto my power in both hands, but the blackness consumed my vision as I screamed incoherently calling for help to anyone that was nearby.

This will all be over soon. You’ll see, Vretil’s silken voice caressed my mind. That was the last thing I heard before my eyes shut again.

Chapter Three

When my eyes opened, I remembered everything. That little drugged session, the Salventra, Vretil’s betrayal, and the Master’s burning eyes set in his coal black face. I tried to sit up, but my arms were strapped down. I tried to pull my legs up but found them strapped down as well.

Don’t struggle. You’ll only bruise yourself, the woman with the golden eyes said, caressing my far too open mind like cashmere. That sensation opened a floodgate of memories. I turned my head to watch as she slipped a full IV bag onto the metal stand beside the bed before she slipped it into a tube that was connected to a needle in my arm.

Iv-Ivanya, why is he doing this? I asked. She set her hands on her hips and tossed her dark brown hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head. It looked longer than it had been last time I was awake…

That’s confidential, Miss Angelic. You agreed to this, she repeated his lie, and I tugged at the restraints. I glared at her, and she smiled, waiting for my argument.

I didn’t agree to being your lab rat. I agreed to imprisonment, I growled, pulling my right hand from its restraint without her noticing. I kept it at my side, and she crossed her arms over her stomach.

Don’t blame me. This was the Council’s request. They want to be sure that you have the stamina to survive the ritual where the others didn’t. Darkness only suggested the location, she gestured to the room eyes never leaving my face. Though he didn’t tell them exactly what I would do, and the naïve fools didn’t think to ask.

She turned to go, and I glared at the ceiling. She was almost to the door and out of earshot when I forced myself to reply.

"Dash’vit⁶," I cursed under my breath as she pulled the door open. She turned back and pointed to a camera that was panning the room.

Don’t do anything reckless. Big brother’s watching, she implied before walking out. I watched the camera pan a few times, timing its rotation.

When it turned away, I unfastened the belt holding my chest. I laid the belt back down so that they wouldn’t notice when it panned back. I kept glaring at the ceiling as it panned over me. It returned to the other side of the room, and I unbuckled my left arm.

I continued this unbuckling and pausing until I was free, noting that I was still in the tank top and shorts. I rolled my eyes then lay still again as it panned back, and I let my powers reach into the camera. I closed my eyes and utilized my technopathy to tap into the network of cameras in the building and through them to the computers they fed into. When the camera wasn’t looking, I stood up testing my legs before I turned off the machine regulating the IV and pulled it from my arm.

I ran to the wall out of camera view, and my legs shook. I stepped to the door and grabbed the door handle then cloaked myself, appearing invisible to the camera as it panned over the door before stopping on the empty bed.

The camera lens whirred as it zoomed in, and I turned the door handle, but it stopped halfway. It was locked. I internally groaned and set my head to the door. A speaker crackled, my ears popped, and I cringed.

All staff members: Patient seven-seven-three has escaped her room. Be advised, she is dangerous, the voice calmly informed them, and I reached my telekinesis into the locking mechanism. I pushed the four pins into the right place and turned the knob again. It clicked, and I opened the door just enough for me to slip through before silently closing it.

I needed to know what day it was, or what year. There was no telling how long they’d kept me comatose. My legs ached as I stepped to the side of the door. Footsteps thundered down the hall, and a ginger man wearing a lab coat rushed toward me with three agents in swat gear behind him.

My first instinct was to run but I knew my legs wouldn’t hold. Besides, they wouldn’t see me, not while I was cloaked. As the Doctor drew closer, I recognized him. It was my uncle. Then I heard his voice from the vision I had.

We voted not to do this. Why is he making us do it? he asked. That’s what nagged at his conscious. He didn’t want to help them torture me. Uncle Larock turned the handle and froze.

It’s unlocked. One of you check the logs. Find out who was in here last, he ordered as I tiptoed away. Each step shot pain up my ankles into my knees. My muscles ached from the small strain of holding me up, making it hard to move at all. Judging by the atrophy, I was comatose longer than a year.

It was Doctor Highest, sir, one of them said to him, and I froze. Doctor Highest? I had to be hearing things. Since when did dabbling in alchemy make you a doctor? My legs shook more, and I bit my lip to keep from cursing.

‘Come on healing powers. Work!’ I turned a corner and spotted a wooden bench beside a water fountain. I pushed myself to walk to it, then dropped onto it staring at my legs in anger. Why wouldn’t my powers work?

She couldn’t have gotten far. She’s been restrained and comatose for thirteen months. Her muscles have atrophied by now, Uncle Larock told them. Has anyone contacted the Dark One?

I stiffened, before my mind shifted gears, and I closed my eyes. I visualized my powers as an ocean and metaphysically fell into them, immersing myself in their healing properties. I opened my eyes and straightened, testing my sore neck muscles. They no longer ached. One point for Kalista!

Thank you, I silently prayed to the Maker before slowly standing, testing my legs again. My ankles still hurt, and my wrists throbbed, but I could stand. I lifted my arms and my eyes widened at the bruises that were only now yellowing.

He wasn’t kidding about that year and a month in restraints. How was I still alive? I pushed that aside and focused on my escape. I tapped into the cameras to find out how many teams were searching as one of the team with my uncle finally answered his question.

No, the Three have not been contacted. They left for the night with instructions not to contact them unless it was a life-or-death situation, the agent said. They must have been waiting for confirmation from someone on their radios. Only three teams of four had been dispatched and all on this floor. I grinned at my luck. This was going to be easy.

If we haven’t found her by morning, I’ll call them, Uncle Larock said as I walked to the elevators. The numbers above the elevators counted down, and I watched from the side, knowing it would stop here. When it opened, a team of burly security guards stepped off with Jethro Cryptic, Makumae’s honorary dad, and my Packshana ⁷leading them.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that the Head of Security and the Head Doctor were both related to me the night they decided to wake me. Packshana lifted one hand to his ear and hit a button on a communicator tucked into it as he scanned right over me. He was an Angel of Truth. He should have seen me… or was his power fading due to Vretil’s influence?

Larock, where would she go? You need to think like her. How did she get out of the restraints without us seeing her on the security footage? he asked as I slipped into the elevator just before the doors closed. When they shut, I turned around in a circle looking at the smooth, shiny silver panels, and internally groaned. There were no buttons.

There was only one explanation. It was operated by someone watching from the security booth. That was insignificant to a technopath like me. I closed my eyes and slipped into the security system the same way I did the cameras.

I was about to go to the roof, so I could fly off, when a small voice urged me to go to the basement. I listened, and the elevator descended without setting off any alarms.

There was no music in the elevator, so I stood there, arms crossed, thrumming my fingers on my biceps as I watched the digital number above the door count down. There were fifteen floors in all, and my room was on the seventh. The elevator chimed as it reached the basement, and dread settled into my bones like a winter chill.

Chapter Four

The doors slid open, and the smell of death assaulted me. I stood just inside the elevator door, staring at the disrepair of the hall in the flickering overhead light. The cleaning crew hadn’t been down here in ages, if ever.

The walls were streaked with dark possibly bloody handprints, the floor was riddled with pieces of torn cloth, and the stench of rot was atrocious. I didn’t blame the cleaning crew for staying away, or maybe they weren’t allowed down here.

Why had I been led here? What was down here? I took my first step into the hall and the sound echoed in the noiseless space. There wasn’t any white noise like there was upstairs. No central air regulating the temperature, no methodic beeps of medical equipment, and no static from the PA system.

I searched the ceiling for cameras but there were none to be found. Whatever it was they were doing, they didn’t want anyone to know about it, and they didn’t want to be interrupted.

A calming presence swept over me, the smell of summer orchids overpowered the stench of death, and I waited for the sweet alto voice of Michael’s mother, Serenity to guide me.

This is where they brought those poor children, she whispered to my right, and I turned to find her ethereal form, standing beside me. Her long wavy brown hair was loose around her shoulder and her grass green eyes were dim with sadness. She was just the way she’d been in my dreams, except her skin looked opaque, and it glowed faintly, brightening the dark hallway.

Is this where they do the rituals? I asked, trying to understand the dread that chilled my soul. She shook