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Blood Feud

By Gina Mae Callen

Thriller / Horror

Chapter 1

Romania, 1974.

Clara sat on the beach, she watched with a tear rolling down her face as her daughter Amy, played at the edge of the sea.

Amy while playing, was blissfully unaware of the drama that was unfolding a few hundred yards from her position.

Clara had been sent to Romania six years ago to watch a group of human traffickers called the Comescu's. She had not realized when she had left America that she was pregnant.

She had stayed in Romania, building a life for herself, as she was unable to contact Amy's father despite leaving messages for him with her handler. She had no idea why Owen was not returning her calls and it had broken her heart to realize that whatever was happening, Owen Granger did not want to be a part of her or his daughter's life.

While Amy was young, Clara had gone to ground, staying close enough to watch the Comescu's and get small parts of Intel, but far enough that she hadn't been noticed.

A few months ago that had all changed.

Amy had been shopping with her mother when she had literally run into Yoska Comescu in the market.

Yoska had noticed Clara's beauty. When she had pointed her out to his sister Alexa he had been surprised that she knew who she was.

"You do not want to have this one my brother, she is a Callen. We are going to kill her and the child." Alexa said coldly watching as Amy played her blonde hair shining in the sun.

Yoska said nothing as the child ran towards the balloon man in the town square and ran straight into him.

"I'm sorry sir." Amy apologized as she looked up at him, her deep blue eyes smiling at him.

He couldn't help it he smiled back as Clara ran over to add her apologies to her daughters.

"I am sorry Sir; my daughter is a bit overexcited." Clara said and smiled.

At that point, Yoska was smitten, he needed to have her…to possess her, and he knew he would.

Clara's instincts kicked in she smiled and pulled Amy away from her and headed to a pay phone, it was time to come out of the cold.

She called Hetty and arranged for her to take her and Amy from the beach and get her back to America, maybe her Owen would be there and they could start afresh.

She lay back watching as Amy ran in the surf, as a shadow crossed her face.

"You are to come with us." A man said pointing his gun at her.

"I'm not going anywhere." Clara said.

The man crouched down and motioned with his hand so Clara would watch where he was pointing, another man walked towards Amy holding a gun.

"You have a choice," the man said, "Come with us quietly or we shoot the girl."

Clara let out a sob, "Amy…!"

She left her bag and got up casting one last look at her daughter playing happily as she went with the men, tears streaming down her face.

An hour later Amy returned to her mother's spot, she looked around but couldn't see her anywhere.

"Amy Callen?" A man's voice said as he stood nearby.

Amy turned, "Who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Owen Granger…Your mother asked Hetty Lange to come and take you both home, do you know where your mother is?" he asked.

Amy shook her head her large blue eyes filling with tears, "I can't find her." She cried.

Owen knelt down and gathered the girl in his arms. "It's ok, I have others with me we will look for her, but we have to get you out of here and back to your aunt Hetty."

Amy nodded and unbeknownst to the pair of them she laid her head on her father's shoulder and sobbed herself to sleep as he walked carrying her to the car.


"Hetty!" a voice carried throughout the house. "HETTY!"

"What on earth is wrong Amy?" Hetty Lange asked as she got to the bottom of the stairs.

"It's here!" Amy said running down the stairs brandishing a letter.

Hetty smiled at her adopted daughter's enthusiasm.

Hetty climbed the stairs from her basement and locked the door behind her and caught up with Amy in the kitchen where she was preparing Hetty's favorite tea, the letter propped up on the kitchen table unopened.

"You haven't opened it yet." Hetty said, a statement rather than a question.

Amy looked outside at the snow that had started to fall, "I'm scared mom, it's so late in the year, what if they said no?"

Hetty sighed, "You couldn't start any earlier, you had to get back to full fitness after your fall in the Alps."

Amy nodded as she sipped her coffee, it had been a long haul after she and Hetty had gone to the Alps for a vacation and Amy had fallen down a ravine and broken her leg and her pelvis. Rehabilitation had taken over a year and Hetty had suggested a late application to FLETC to start training to be a federal agent.

Now the letter that would either make or break her career was sitting between them on the table.

"Open it." Hetty prodded as she accepted the china cup from her daughter.

Amy's hands shook as she opened the envelope…her eyes shone with happiness as she read the words.

"Mom…I'm staring FLETC in January, they say that I can do catch up and it should be fine." She gave a smirk as she looked at the smaller woman, "Did you pull some strings?" she asked smiling.

Hetty looked innocent, "I did nothing of the kind, I did talk to a few people, let them know about the superb agent that your mother was and how I had noticed that you had inherited her intuition." She admitted.

Amy threw her arms around Hetty. "Thank you."

Hetty smiled, "Amy Callen you will do your mother proud," she said thinking of Clara, wishing she were alive to see this.

Clara lay in the corner of her cell, talking quietly to the child, which for now, was still alive inside her.

After so many forced and accidental miscarriages and the murder of a few of her children Clara knew this life inside her was her last chance to have a child. Clara knew her master had allowed this one as for once it was a boy, and not his child. He had insisted that a Callen would NEVER birth a live Comescu child; she was not good enough for that. She was good enough to be used and abused by both her Master Yoska Comescu and anyone he deemed suitable. This on occasion included her trainer who would force her into sex as a punishment. 

Nikita Resnikov her trainer was a cold but fair man, he couldn't change his lot in life as he was bound to the Comescu's as much as she was, but he had a soft spot for the woman whom he knew was outliving her usefulness as she aged.

Clara had been pregnant five times, since she had been taken, three of her babies had died to miscarriages, one had died in the womb after she was beaten by Yoska and the last one a girl had been born only to be murdered in front of her by her father Yoska who had told her no Callen Comescu child would ever live. She had sobbed for days when F died, she had been allowed to give her children letters to remember them, and seeing as she would never forget her A…Amy, she called each of her children by a letter in ascending order; B. Bobby, C…Caleb, D…Donna, E…Emma, F…Francesca…now G. She had no idea if G was going to be a boy of a girl, but G it was and that's what she called her child throughout the whole pregnancy. Her trainer was the child's father, but both of them knew this child was not theirs, the child belonged to Yoska and its life was his to do with as he wished.

She was due in a few months, March by her calculations, and she would talk to G all the time, she would tell it about its brothers and sisters and how she hoped he or she would one day be free of the life that she was condemned to live. 

She took a pen and paper that Nikita had left for her and wrote a letter one day to the one person she hoped would help him.

Hetty Lange.

Dear Hetty,

I fear my time on the earth is now short, my child, G is due in a few months and we are prisoners…property of Yoska Comescu.

He has allowed me to bear this child as he has plans for it; I fear what those plans are.

If God willing, I am allowed to be with this child I will tell him/her all about you and about America and will teach him or her to find you if by the grace of God they are allowed free.

I pray every night for the soul of my firstborn, Amy…I pray you found her and that you or her father raised her, although seeing as I didn't tell her or you that her father was Owen Granger, my old partner, I am not sure how that would be possible.

I love this child with all my heart as I did my last five babies whom I will join with one day in heaven if God finds me worthy.

I waited for you on the beach, but Yoska's men took me and left Amy there, my only consolation is that I hope you found her and raised her safely in America away from the Comescu influence.

Please, if this letter and my child find you; keep them safe, that is all I ask.

Your friend always… Clara Callen.

She folded the small letter up and placed it in an envelope as Nikita walked in.

"Are you finished with your letter Clara?" he asked gently.

Clara nodded, "Yes Sir, thank you for allowing me to do this Sir." She said as she sank to her knees.

"Clara…he's not here, the monitors are off." Nikita said softly.

Clara stood and ran to his arms as he held her. "Nikita…" she cried as she kissed him.

"Clara, I will hide your letter and if I can save our child I will do everything in my power to do so." He said as he laid a hand on her rounded stomach and felt a foot move under his palm.

Two months later Clara was dead and Nikita was holding his son in his arms as Yoska Comescu walked in the door.

"Master…She died…" Nikita said managing to keep his voice steady his grip tightening slightly on his son.

"What is it?" Yoska asked.

"A boy…G…" Nikita said before he could stop himself.

"G….G…Callen….another Callen…well it seems my revenge will go on, Nikita you will raise this boy until I say he is old enough, you will train him to be my personal slave, as soon as he is old enough to walk and talk without messing himself, you may send him to me for training in my presence, his mother may be dead, but I have the patience to wait until he is old enough to serve in his mothers stead."

Nikita paled at the implication but keep his voice and hands steady, "Yes Master." He said silently thanking any God out there that he was going to be given some time with his child.

If Yoska had any inkling that G was his son he never said.

Nikita raised the boy perfectly, and he was without a doubt, in Yoska's eyes the most beautiful boy he had ever owned.

At eight years old, G was sent in to see Yoska.

He knelt in his masters' presence as he had always done with anyone higher than himself, which in G's world was everybody.

Nikita had cried as he oiled his boy down to go into the masters' presence, but said nothing.

G looked up at him with innocent eyes, "Sir…Why are you crying?"

"Because next time I see you, you will not be you." Nikita said

G looked at his trainer inquisitively, he was always asking questions, trying to learn to be better to make his master proud of him, but something in the man's eyes told him not to ask.

Nikita walked him to The Master's room and knocked.

G looked at his trainer, "What do I do sir?" he asked.

He looked down as the child, "You belong to the Master, remember that. Do what the Master tells you do not fail him."

Nikita opened the door and G shuffled in, his hands and legs bound by silk ribbons as The Master had ordered.

He closed the door and moved across the hallway sinking to the floor his head bent and his hands covering his ears.

Waiting as the sounds of his son's screams filled his ears his hands not blocking the noise, he ran back to his chambers the sounds of Yoska's ecstasy and G's terrified screams would haunt him until the day he died.

The next morning, G walked back to his cell and lay on his stomach on his cot.

Nikita walked in with medical supplies; as was his job and he tended to the boys wounds.

The usual talkative child was gone. A dull lifeless child was left; the spark of happiness he had seen in the child for years was gone.

"Sir…I did well for the master?" he asked his sore throat croaking.

"Yes G, the Master was pleased."

"So he'll keep me?" G asked.

Nikita nodded as words failed him.

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