I Am the Wild (The Night Firm Book 1)

by Karpov Kinrade

  “Perhaps,” says Sebastian. “Here we call it the Dragon’s Breath.”

  I study the shapes in the sky, like green fire amongst the stars. “Are we near the northern hemisphere, or the southern? It doesn’t seem too cold.”

  Sebastian shrugs. “No one knows, save the dragons. They created the Otherworld as a safe haven for all paranormals of the earth. Elijah suspects we are near the Antarctic.”

  “And you?"

  He shakes his head. “Personally, I believe we are in a different world altogether. The sky here never changes. It is always like this, both darkness and light. A place where both creatures of the night and creatures of the sun can live in balance.”

  He guides me forward. Where once stood a driveway, now the land is covered in cobbled streets, and instead of a black limo, a dark carriage awaits us. And not just any carriage, but one fit for a man of Sebastian's wealth, with sleek lines and a polished mahogany frame that's pulled by a team of four horses. Something about the majestic beasts doesn't look right, however, and when I step closer I understand what it is.

  The horses have six legs each and manes of glistening silver and gold hair!

  Past the moat, golden lights drift in the sky like fireflies. They are lanterns, I realize, illuminating buildings torn from a different century. Manors that belong in medieval France. Villas reminiscent of Spain. Gothic cathedrals with sharp angles and stained glass.

  The sky turns moist and rain begins to fall, soaking us, but I don't care. I'm too entranced by what I'm seeing.

  Lily opens the carriage door, and Sebastian helps me in.

  "Ready to experience the Otherworld?" he asks with a wink.

  I nod, my mind exploding with the possibilities of what my life has become.

  The Morgue

  Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

  Mighty and dreadful, for thou art so;

  ~ John Donne

  Lily gives a sharp cry from the driver's seat outside and the carriage shifts into motion with barely a jolt.

  Sebastian is quiet as we travel through cobbled roads, and I don't disturb his silence with the million questions buzzing through my mind. Instead, I stare out the carriage window, marveling as we leave the Night brothers' estate behind and enter the town proper. The northern lights, or Dragon's Breath as they call it, casts rays of color against the rain-slicked streets. The buildings around us resemble something straight out of a Bavarian village, with peaked roofs and colorful shutters. They're pushed up close to the edge of the cobblestone streets, leaving narrow walkways on either side for pedestrians.

  And, despite the late hour, there are people making use of them, too. We pass several couples headed in the opposite direction we are, as if coming back from an evening event. They're dressed in a style that reminds me of the fashions of Victorian England; formal vests, coats and hats for the men, narrow-waisted skirts and bonnets for the women. Many of them look as human as I do, but when I examine them more closely I can see evidence of their supernatural heritage, from the twitch of a tail that peeks out from beneath one man's topcoat to the gleam of vertical pupils in the yellow eyes of a woman who looks up at me as we speed past.

  It is almost too much to take in.

  I sit back and run a hand through my damp hair, shivering a bit as I attempt to wrap my mind around the new world I'm now inexplicably a part of.

  "Everyone lives together peacefully?" I ask, finally breaking my silence.

  "As peacefully as humans do," Sebastian replies.

  "Right. So that's a no, then."

  "We have our justice system, as you know," he says, finally turning to look at me. "And there are communities of paranormals here, with their own rules and laws. Overall it works. But we do have our conflicts and occasional wars, sometimes between different races, sometimes amongst our own ranks. If it's an internal conflict, the dragons usually leave the community to handle their own as long as it doesn't spill into the rest of the Otherworld. If it's between factions, the dragons will get involved and arbitrate before things get too out of hand."

  "Dragons. Those are judges, right? And they're like, real dragons? Big flying dragons?"

  "Yes. Big flying dragons. There are six. One born of each of the elements that shape this world."

  I shift in the carriage as we go over a bump and my hip hits a sharp edge of wood. That's going to leave a bruise. "I thought there were only four elements? Earth, air, fire and water?"

  "In our world there are two more. Light and darkness. Vampires are born of darkness."

  "Makes sense," I say. "So, the dragons rule all?"

  "They created this world. They came together to create a place that would protect paranormals and humans alike."

  "Like from the witch trials? That kind of thing?"

  He smirks. "You caught no real witches during your massacre," he said. "All of those killed were human. Witches are too powerful to get caught up in such a human mess."

  "Right. Well, I'm anti-witch hunt, just for the record."

  He nods. "The witches will be glad to know it."

  The carriage slows and then comes to a stop in front of a cemetery. The rain has slowed to a slight misting of the air, and fog hugs the earth around the ancient-looking tombstones, setting a sinister tone.

  Lily opens my carriage door and offers her hand to steady me as I climb out. I'm about to tell her I can manage without aid, but then I slip and nearly land on my ass in the mud. She rescues me with a strong arm around my waist, surprising me anew with her dexterity and strength.

  "Thanks," I say, with a smile.

  "It takes some getting used to," she says, and I don't know if she means carriage riding or magical otherworlds, or both. I'm going with both.

  "Why are we at a graveyard?" I ask. "I thought we were going to the coroner's office?"

  "We are," Sebastian says, without further comment as he begins walking.

  I follow, but Lily stays behind with the carriage, giving a little wave and wink as we walk away. "Don't be scared," she says. "They're harmless."

  "Well that's not ominous at all," I say under my breath. I catch up to Sebastian and grab his arm. "What am I not supposed to be scared about?" I ask. "Who's harmless?"

  "You'll see soon enough."

  Ugh. If I get that answer from one more Night brother, I'm gonna punch one of them.

  "Can none of you actually answer questions in a straightforward manner? Is it part of your curse, to be so annoyingly vague?"

  He grunts at that. "We shouldn't have to explain this world to you. You should already be part of it. I don't know how you saw the ad or got this job, but it's a giant mistake."

  That stings, but I try not to let it show. "Well, as it happens, I did see the ad and I did get the job. So now I need you guys to actually answer my questions and tell me shit or it's going to be hella hard to do my damn job."

  We are walking across the muddy cemetery towards a mausoleum. It's a massive structure, far larger than I would have expected. The towering gothic building casts a long shadow over the dead with its clustered columns, sharply pointed spires and flying buttresses. The stained-glass windows give added color to the Dragon's Breath in a magical display as we approach the entrance.

  Sebastian pauses between the two intricately carved stone gargoyles guarding the door.

  I wait, unsure of what we're doing. "Are we going in or...?"

  "We will. In a moment. Once we have permission." Sebastian clears his throat and says something in a language I don't recognize.

  It kinda sounds like, "oobolacky jambonick kay." But really, I'm totally guessing about that.

  At his strange words, a sound like grinding stone startles a pair of birds perched on one of the leafless trees near us. And then the gargoyles blink!

  I blink as well, thinking maybe I imagined it. But no, the stone gargoyles are definitely moving. One yawns, its mouth opening and stretching, revealing dozens of large stone teeth.

  My flash is
blinking in my mind, but it doesn't feel like a danger warning as much as something auspicious I'm being alerted to.

  "What does the Son of Night seek in the place of the dead?" one of the gargoyles asks, its voice like gravel.

  "Greetings, Akuro. We seek the wisdom of the Infrits in our investigation of a wrongful death," Sebastian replies.

  The second gargoyle then leaps down from its pedestal, wings spread, tail wrapping around itself as it lands before me. It's at least twelve feet tall with a fierce face full of sharp teeth. It's nearly identical to the other gargoyle, with only subtle differences that most would miss on a casual glance. It bends its head down to sniff me.

  I inhale sharply, and the scents of stone and earth and air mixed with cedar hit me.

  "I know she is human, but she is under my protection," Sebastian says. "She works for The Night Firm."

  At his words, both gargoyles begin to shake and make a sound that resembles rocks being thrown at a boulder. It takes me a moment to realize that they're laughing!

  Sebastian frowns, clearly perplexed by their reaction.

  "The Sons of Night have much to learn," the gargoyle in front of me says. This one's voice is lighter, more feminine.

  Each of the gargoyles' eyes are the size of my head, and I have a hard time knowing which one to look into as it lowers itself further to make eye contact with me.

  "Tell me what you know," she commands.

  Somehow, I know it's a she.

  I'm about to say I don't know what she's talking about, that I don't know anything, when her mouth gently rests on my forehead and a vision overtakes me. I am no longer in the cemetery, but on the highest imaginable mountain. At the peak, the two gargoyles are together, and the one that spoke to me shoots into the air, flying higher, higher, higher. She screams as something within her pushes out, and a baby gargoyle slips into the wind, falling into the other gargoyle's arms.

  I see the baby gargoyle, feel into it, and then the vision disappears as quickly as it came. I fall, my legs too weak to sustain myself, and feel strong arms catch me before the earth does.

  "What did you do to her?" Sebastian demands, drawing closer and reaching for me.

  I place a tempering hand on his arm. "I'm fine."

  With his help I stand, leaning against him for balance, as I look into the eyes—or at least into one of the eyes—of the female gargoyle before me. Sebastian gasps as I place a hand on the gargoyle's face gently. "Your child will be born atop a mountain, and she will be healthy and safe and beautiful."

  The gargoyle nods, huffing into my face. "Thank you, Wise One, for that blessing."

  With that, the gargoyles return to their posts and resume their stone-like slumber as the door before us swings open.

  "What was that all about?" I ask, my heart jack-rabbiting in my chest.

  "I do not know," he says, casting a suspicious glance at the gargoyles before leading us into the darkened hall of the mausoleum. "Akuro and Okura have been guardians of the dead for as long as I can remember. But they've never behaved that way before." He looks at me with wonder and confusion. "How did you know she was pregnant? Gargoyles rarely breed. It hasn't happened in thousands of years, that I know of."

  I shrug. "When she asked me, I saw a vision and I knew. I've always had hunches about things, and sometimes I have ideas that I write about, but never anything so clear, or about someone other than myself. I always assumed I was just making them up." My mind flashes to the vision of the brothers defending me against the evil forest. I assumed that was just a fantasy, but what if it wasn't?

  "Who are you, Eve Oliver?" he asks, his arm still around my waist in case I collapse again.

  I shrug again, feeling stupid. "I don't know how to answer that. I'm just me."

  "Indeed," he says, skeptically.

  "Indeed," I repeat, with an edge to my voice. "Do you think I'm lying to you?"

  "No. But I do think there's more to you than is immediately evident."

  "Isn't that true of everyone?" I ask. "None of us are what we first appear. We all have layers, depth, secret pains and hidden desires that subtly shape who we are. Why would you ever presume to know someone with so little effort?"

  I step away from him and suck in a breath of air. "I can walk now. Shall we?" I say, before he has a chance to respond. I'm still shaken with what just happened and I don't really want to talk about it with skeptical Sebastian, at least not until I have a chance to think on things.

  He's still eyeing me strangely as we walk into the darkened halls. It smells of death and dust and old flowers and cold marble, and every step we take echoes in the large, sparse space.

  Even our breathing sounds too loud as I walk beside him. He seems to know where he's going, so I stick close as I look around, trying to take it all in. The walls, ceiling and floor are all made of white marble. There are no pictures, no furniture, nothing but arched doorways with heavy doors appearing every so often. "Where do the doors lead?" I ask.

  "Various places. Examining rooms. Storage. Broom closet."

  I do a double take to see if Sebastian is actually making a joke, but I can't tell. His face is stoic. And they probably do need broom closets here. So he might have just been being very literal. But do I perhaps notice a corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly?

  The man is maddening.

  We stop before a large arched double door and Sebastian reaches for it very cautiously. "Stay behind me," he says softly, as he opens the door.

  I do as I'm told because I am not stupid and my survival instincts are alive and well.

  The door swings open, and I feel the flames before I see them. Warm and dancing on the edges of the marble, casting golden light everywhere.

  Sebastian clears his throat and the fire dies down, though the room is still uncommonly warm as we enter, and sweat beads on my skin, sliding down my spine uncomfortably.

  My eyes widen. In some ways it looks like a standard morgue, with bodies lying on tables, but that's where the resemblance ends. The rest of the place looks like something out of a mad scientist's laboratory, with seemingly miles of glass tubing connecting beakers of bubbling liquid and a strange apparatus who's purpose I can't immediately discern. Specimen jars line the shelves of multiple cabinets and here and there I think I can see something moving inside them.

  But they're not the most remarkable nor eye-catching part of the room, not by a long shot.

  No, that honor is reserved for the two men on fire standing in front of us.

  They are both leaning over a table, the body of something that looks like a cross between a stag and man before them, its chest cut open as the two flaming men probe and poke and pull things out of the cavity they've created.

  I squint and realize they aren't on fire; they are literally made from fire. It's a part of them. It is them. One of the men glances over at us, his eyes like small fireballs burning brightly in his face of flames. "Oh, how rude of us!" he says with a chuckle and a wave of his hand.

  Immediately, the flames encasing both of them die out, and, as I blink, they turn into normal-ish looking men.

  Normal-ish because their exposed skin is still a burnt orange-red in color and their eyes still glow like fire. They both have red hair, but one man is bigger, more muscular than the other, who is shorter and leaner. They're dressed in identical white lab coats.

  The shorter one walks over to us and holds out a hand to shake mine. When I hesitate, he glances at his hand and only then realizes that it's covered in blood and guts. "Sorry about that, truly. It's been a week."

  He saunters over to the sink and washes his hands. "Elal, tell them about the week it has been!" His words are over-enunciated and exaggerated and he shakes his hips for emphasis.

  The big one, Elal, covers the body on his table with a sheet and removes his coat, revealing the white shirt and pants he's wearing beneath. Miraculously, and unlike his lab coat, his clothing is free of bloodstains. "It has been a week, as Ifi said. The werewolve
s have a problem on their hands. One of their own has been leaving unauthorized half-eaten corpses both in the mundane world and Otherworld. The dragons are in a fit for us to wrap this up. The vampires, are, of course, loving this. No offense," he says, glancing at Sebastian.

  Sebastian nods. "None taken. Everyone knows there's no love lost between our kinds."

  "Indeed," Elal says, with a nod.

  Ifi joins the three of us, sans lab coat, and there's not a speck of blood on him either. He wraps one arm around Elal's waist, while holding out a hand to shake mine. "Let's try this again, shall we? I am Ifi, Ifrit of the High Kingdom of Furor, Lord of the Flaming Backlands, son of the Great Flame herself."

  I raise an eyebrow and accept his hand, which is hot to the touch. "I'm Eve Oliver, Managing Director at The Night Firm."

  Elal and I then shake hands. "I'm Elal," he says, simply.

  "No other titles?" I tease.

  Elal laughs. "Ifi made those up. He likes how it sounds to strangers."

  Ifi pouts and bumps Elal with his hips. "It's not as fun when you tell them. And besides, I am the son of the Great Flame herself."

  Elal rolls his eyes. "As is every Ifirit born of the Flame. That's hardly noteworthy." But then Elal glances down at who I assume is his romantic partner, and his face softens. "But you are the flame of my heart, and always will be. You are the only one who can claim that title in all the worlds."

  Ifi's frown turns into a beatific smile and the two share a moment, and a kiss, until Sebastian, the party pooper, clears his throat.

  "Sorry to break up the foreplay, boys, but you've done the autopsy on Mary Dracule, Vlad Dracule's wife, yes?"

  The two Ifrits glance at each other, frowning. Ifi answers first. "Yes. We did. Her and her child."

  I flinch at the memory of the crime scene projection. So gruesome and senseless.

  "We need to know everything you found," Sebastian says.

  They nod, and Elal points at the door of a refrigeration unit on the other side of the room, which pops open at his command and disgorges an exam table, complete with a cloth-covered form, that rolls swiftly to his side without a sound. Together the two morticians reach down and pull back the sheet, revealing the body of Mary and her newborn baby. I'm stunned to see that the pair have been put back together in the wake of the autopsy with precise care. It's impossible to even see where they were cut into.