by Mason Sabre
She didn’t wait for his answer as she unhooked the chain, opened the door and then headed back across her studio to the main part where she lived. The door to her private quarters was at the back of the room that was her school. It was just a plain room. No decoration, no furniture, no smouldering cauldrons as the Humans would suspect. No, magic was inside, not in a pot with eye of newt or some shit like that. The room looked like a dance studio, except she didn't have mirrors. She didn’t dare have mirrors. Misfired magic and a reflective glass surface was not something she thought would be a good idea, especially not when some of her students were so young.
The door to the street closed, and Crystal didn’t have to look behind her to know he had chosen to follow. He’d had two choices really, come in and have coffee, or go back out alone.
“All I have is almond milk,” she said, when they were in the kitchen and she handed him a mug of hot black coffee. “Sugar is in that bowl.” She used almond milk because it was better for her magic. It had no link to animals, no connection to any kind of soul that had lived. She offered it to him and didn’t miss the way he scowled for a second as if she’d offered him arsenic.
He drank his black.
“So, tell me about Shayla. Why do you think she is missing and not simply out, howling at the moon or something like that?”
Jason tapped his finger at the side of his mug as if he was thinking, fighting something. Before he answered her, he raised the mug to his mouth and chugged the whole damn thing down in one—scalding hot breath. It left his lips red and swollen—hurt by the heat. She had to bite her own lip before her mind wandered off at the thought of how she could kiss that mouth of his all better. Something in Jason changed, something dark. He wasn’t so much the desperate man she had seen outside. He had a strength, power.
He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. She gave him a moment as he clicked buttons, opened it up and then scrolled to wherever he needed to be. He clicked play.
“Jason,” the young female voice on the call began. “Jason … oh God. I’m such an idiot.” She was whispering. Crystal had to lean in closer to hear her. “It’s Lycocine. Lycocine … I told him it was over. He doesn’t know, I know, but …” There was a loud clicking sound, then movement.
“Who is this?” a man’s voice came on the line, Crystal leant back. This one wasn’t whispering.
“No one.” Shayla’s voice again. Then there was a muffle, a sound … the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Something clattered against something hard. The line went dead.
“Okay. So she isn’t partying.”
“Nope.”
“And it’s Lycocine.”
He nodded.
“Well shit. Humans.”
Chapter 3
The pack house was across town. Down in the deep dark pit of it. The part that people often referred to as the Bronx of the North … of the whole of England sometimes. Maybe it wasn't so bad—if drugs and sex were your thing. It had been a long time since Crystal had ventured into this part of town. It was a forgotten place … a place that people turned their backs on and pretended didn’t exist. Maybe in her younger years, like her teens, when she was still drinking the cheapest cider money could buy to get her drunk enough to feel alive. She’d share it with ten mates, or more, and then they would see who could zap who, not realising that they were already starting their way to the depletion of their magic.
“Are you serious?” she asked as she pulled the car in to the spot where Jason had told her to stop. She was about ready to throw down the locks before she was car-jacked out of her old beat-up run-around. He’d instructed her to stop outside a large house. It had more boards than windows. It was painted white, or at least it had been once. Now it was a murky shade of cream. There were also paintings of flowers and children smiling on the side. The board that hung at what was once a wall, clearly stated that they were open for business and not to be shy.
The main door to the place had a gap and splintered wood that bent inward at the bottom. Of all the things, that angered her the most. What sick bastard would come and kick at a door of a place designed to comfort children and give them peace? That was what it was, a sanctuary … a place for Other children to spend time, to be loved, fed. Children who’d had something go wrong with them, a defect, a disability. It was a place where terminally ill children could go for a little happiness, smiles and peace to forget their burdens.
It wasn’t that Crystal didn’t know it was there, it was that she had forgotten. She had forgotten a lot of things … a lot of important things. Like this.
They got out of her car and Crystal locked it, checked and then locked it again. It wasn’t a grand car by any means, but it was hers, and she wanted to keep hold of it for a few more years. If she could have chained the wheels on, she would have. This was the kind of place someone would swoop in, jack the car up and take all four wheels off just because they were bored.
“It’s just down there,” Jason said pointing to the dark alleyway that ran along the back of the buildings. Now she knew he had to be kidding her. It was so dark down there, like walking into the bowels of something sinister.
“Down the alley?” She stepped closer to Jason. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she found comfort in the protective heat of him, of his wolf. It was sending her mind crazy, but right then, crazy was better than out in the open.
He nodded, and there were those eyes again, those rich, wide eyes. They weren't afraid now. They didn't shine as brightly as they had at her school, but still, they shimmered with his emotion—his power. As she watched him, she realised, he already thought Shayla was dead. He had that look about him. She had seen it in parents, in wives and husbands she’d helped when she was working as a Seeker. They all reached that point where they gave up and resigned themselves to looking for a body and not the person they had originally thought. The best part of her job was proving them wrong and wiping that look from their faces.
For whatever reason, she hoped she could do that for Jason too. They would find Shayla, and they would find her alive.
“The stairs to our place are just down there.”
“Give me your hand,” she said.
“Pardon me?”
She held her hand out to him, palm up. “If you want me to go down a dark back alley with you, then I want to know this isn’t some fucking trick. Give me your hand, or I am about to get back in my car and drive the hell home.”
He hesitated a moment as if he might have been checking she was serious. She was. She raised both brows at him, making her eyes wider, waiting … tick tock. He didn’t have long. She didn’t like being in these parts, and she was damn well happy to make any reason to leave. He put his hand in hers, though, and she closed her fingers around the warmth of his skin.
“Damn, you’re hot.”
“Wolf,” he said, and she nodded. “What are you do—”
She held up her hand, one finger extended and shook her head, then she closed her eyes. But she could see. She could see all around them; she could see herself standing there. She could feel her heart beating easily in her chest … a rhythmic thump, thump that could sooth her to sleep. There was a comfort, connection … fur brushed along her skin in gentle shivers.
Snapping her eyes open, she let go of Jason’s hand quickly, thrusting herself back into her own body, her own mind. “Shit,” she said. “How did you … I …” She rubbed at her hand where his had been just seconds before. She could feel the heat of him, feel it like he was a breath against her skin. She had to take a step away from him. There was no way she could focus with him so close. She’d gone into his body and that shouldn’t have happened. “Your mind is so open.”
He raised a hand to his head as if he might actually touch his mind. “What do you mean?”
She let Jason see the confusion in her eyes. Something she’d usually hide from another. She was good at keeping a straight face, at keeping her emotions in check, but with Jason … the way he
looked at her. She was damn sure he’d be able to see right inside her no matter how much she hid. “Nothing,” she said, finally. “Show me where you live.”
“We have to go about half way down. I can see, but if you need …”
She put her hand out before he could finish his sentence. Light spells, dark spells, all of those were pretty basic and easy to learn. She took no trouble to summon a small spark of light into her hand. It bobbed and hovered, and even though it was a small spell, nothing but a tickle on her magical pot, she still got that niggle in her gut and reminder it was another crumb from her store, and another step closer to darkness.
Jason led her down the alleyway. The smell of rot and garbage spewed out in different shades of stench that made her hold her breath so not to breathe in the toxic fumes. They were on her skin, in her hair. She’d need a long bath after this, maybe with some bleach. How the wolf in front of her could stand it, she didn't understand. His senses were acute. Maybe his powers were latent.
At one part of the alley, the smell of Human excrement smacked her in the face and made her cough. “Jesus,” she said, putting her hand over her nose and mouth. “What do they do? Dump their sewage here.”
“The pipes run under the ground here,” he said. “That’s why this area is so warm. Across there, the—”
“Stop,” she said, putting her hand up. “I don’t need to hear anymore. Heating by shit is about as much as I want to know, and even that is too much.”
He nodded and then turned toward a yard. “We’re here.” They had stopped outside a yard at the back of the main street. It was old and filled with rubbish–—a place where people clearly came to fly tip their shit and make it someone else’s problem, but then, no one else saw it as a problem, so it all stayed there. There was even an old television, and by the word old … it was so old it had one of those large bulky backs. The kind of television that needed two men to lift it. There was also, what Crystal thought had once been a sofa. It had been burnt at some point. Springs and twisted leather lay across the ground. She shook her head, stepped to the side. There were steps leading up to a walkway and along that walkway were four doors.
“This is where you live?” She didn’t mean to sound so disgusted with her tone, but it came out, coating her tongue as she said it. She’d seen worse than this … far worse.
“It’s what we have.”
She followed him up the steps. The walkway was edged by a metal railing. The only way to access it was these steps unless one wanted to climb through the various yards of junk. “Shayla’s place is at the end. This is mine.” His was the one just before hers.
“Other pack brothers live in the other two?”
Jason nodded. “They’re out tonight.”
When they got to Shayla’s door, Crystal touched it and grabbed the handed. It was locked. “Do you have a key, or are we breaking and entering?”
“I have a key.” He had them in his pocket. A small bunch of them. Keys that probably opened the doors to the other places too. “Maybe not the breaking part, but the entering.” He gave a touch of a smile at his slight joke, one that caused a small spark in his eyes. One that held the hint of a happy man. He seemed like he was someone who’d be happy in general. He had that way about him. He unlocked the door, reached in and flicked on the light.
Crystal went to close her hand over her light. This place had been beautiful once. Where this little stray pack lived had probably been a booming motel. She almost remembered when the town had been bursting with tourists. Humans blamed the shifters for the decline in tourism; Others blamed the hiked-up prices and sleazy porn clubs that used various creatures. Mum and Dad no longer wanted to bring little Bobby and Sue for a day at the beach. Who knew what they’d see.
“It looks like she just went out,” Crystal said when she followed Jason into Shayla’s apartment. The door led to a room that was half kitchen, half dining room. There was a table in the corner, but by the stack of laundry on it, discarded mail and empty boxes, Crystal decided that little eating was done there. The kitchen itself was clean. Like most shifter’s kitchens, really. They were just things that came with houses. Although Shayla had packets of cereal on top of the fridge. Crystal had heard that—shifters sustaining themselves with Human food.
“The whole place does.”
There was a door that led into a hallway. From the hallway, there were four more doors and then a flight of stairs. The first door on the left was a bathroom. Nothing was out of place in there either. “She wasn’t taken from here, I assume?”
Jason was standing close to the underneath of the stairs, near the section that Shayla had attached a beam of wood and hung coats. For such a shitty area, the girl had certainly gone to town into making this her home. “That’s what I thought, but …”
Crystal held up her hand to silence him. “Don’t tell me. I work better if I know nothing at first. That way you can’t taint my head with ideas. Do you mind if I just wander around?”
A shrug. “Help yourself.”
The bathroom was small and green, clean, though. There was a rail in the corner with a towel on it. The usual hygiene items decorated the sill of a boarded-up window. Crystal held the edge of the door, then she jumped as something hot and warm blew across her neck. “Jesus Christ,” she said, spinning around and coming almost nose to nose with Jason. “Personal space?”
He ignored her. “All of her boyfriend’s things have gone from here.”
“Remember I just said …”
“You’d not know they were missing.”
No. He was right. “Okay. Just … back up a little. Geez.”
When Jason moved as she had asked, it left her with vacancy against her skin, an imprint, she hadn’t realised she had got used to. But she couldn’t think with him so close. She could just about breathe.
There was a cabinet above the sink. She opened it and stopped.
There … those bottles. Little bottles in blues and greens. She shook her head, clenched her fists tight by her hips. Fire burnt in her fingers, it simmered, getting itself ready. Clenching her teeth, she aimed her hand at the bowl of the toilet and then opened her fingers again and let the pent-up magic fly from her hands and into the water. Shifters eyes turned bright with their emotions … witches’ magic spilt over with theirs.
“Drugs … that’s what your friend is into?”
It was hard to see or think beyond the rage in her own head … the rage at her own things. She scooped two of the empty bottles up and tossed them to Jason. There were no markings on the labels, but the distinct colours, the logo … it didn’t need anything else.
“Do you know what these are? Where they come from?”
He held the two bottles in his large hand. “Humans.”
“Hhhmm, but not just any Humans. The fucking cream of the crop. I don’t know what your friend is into, but I’m not getting into it, and you’d best get yourself out of this too.”
“She’s not into anything. I …”
“Those were in her cabinet.” There was no way she was meddling in this. No way she would risk her life. These were Strays. She felt sorry for him, but the little well of pity in her gut was not enough that would make her take up some kind of suicidal mission like this. Bloody Raven. She’d kick him to the other side of the country tomorrow. “I’ll let myself out. There’s no fee for this.” Pushing past Jason, she could hardly contain everything in her head … her pain, her fear … her god damn memories.
“Please,” Jason said. He followed her.
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Before she could move far enough away, Jason caught her arm and pulled her back. “Please. It’s not what you think.”
As skin met skin, something in her head locked onto his mind again, not like outside, though. She couldn’t see herself through his eyes this time, but the world around them changed in colour. It became brighter, vivid, an increase in senses that was so far from her own. It felt like she was wolf. Her breat
hing hitched, catching in her throat as she moved closer to Jason. She was vaguely aware of the pure masculinity holding her up and pressing against her as he gripped her wrist. “What are you doing?” she barely said. She was getting heavier, weaker. Suddenly she was falling, not to the ground, but almost like she had gone through it. “Let go.”
He did.
She found herself leaning against the wall between the kitchen door and the bathroom door. Her heartbeat was a drum inside her throat. “What’s going on? What are you?”
He was kneeling close to her, his face filled with concern. He went to touch her, but she shook her head and flinched away from him. Her body was a pure fountain of adrenaline. Someone had poured it into her spine … into her magical pot. She flexed out her fingers, holding her hand in front of her face. Her movements didn’t match that of the world around her. They weren’t synced in time. “I can feel my well, it’s deeper.” She squinted at him. “You’re like my familiar.” But it wasn’t only that … he was more, something much worse. She had to press her thighs together, keep the raw heat of herself hidden from him. But he was wolf. He’d have been able to scent her arousal for him the moment it ignited.
“My mother was a half-breed,” he said, drawling it out like he’d said a dirty word. "She was a witch, but she got bitten by a wolf.” He sat back on his haunches. If he had scented her need for him, he’d cast it aside because in his gaze, it wasn’t the look of desire or lust, it was that of a brother again. “Will you please help me find Shayla? I’ll never bother you again. I just … I can’t do it on my own.”
She wanted to reach out to him, to sooth that ache in his voice, but the two bottles, now lying on the ground beside them, were like beacons to her mind. “The drugs …”
“They aren’t hers. I promise. She wouldn’t do drugs. I know her.” He believed it. She could hear every word he said, every ounce of sincerity coming from him.
