Hyena Queen: An Unconventional Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Legend of Synthia Rowley Book 1)

by Ann Mayburn

  Two men joined her, museum guards I faintly recognized, and they quickly formed a triangle with Judy at the point. Behind them, the cherry trees had their leaves shredded by the wind and people screamed in terror. Here and there tentacles were winding through the air with their human cargo, pulling them to the seething mass of darkness in the sky. Ted grabbed me again, this time hauling me to my feet as I watched Judy, shock making me stupid.

  She was chanting now, some melodious language that the men with her echoed, their power making the hair on my body stand up.

  The air was pressed from my lungs, and I had a moment of sheer panic as I couldn’t breathe.

  Then the world seemed to…implode. The tentacles turned to ash, dropping their prizes and I watched in horror as some people fell what had to be hundreds of feet. My mind seemed to supply the sounds of their bodies hitting the earth, because I sure as shit couldn’t hear them over the screaming. Chaos reigned around us, frantic families trying to help their injured loved ones. Nearby, a man was doing CPR on a woman who had a terrible head injury. Next to her, an empty, overturned stroller made me cringe.

  Ted gave my arm a hard tug. “Come on, Syn. Snap out of it. I need you to work with me here. My leg’s hurt and I can’t carry you.”

  Startled out of my daze, I looked down at his leg and gasped. A large piece of wood, like a giant splinter the size of a ruler, stuck out of his calf. “Ted! Are you okay?”

  Of course he wasn’t okay, but that was the kind of foolish thing people said in situations like this. I could barely think, and inside my hyena was going apeshit. She wanted control, now, and she wanted us to get to safety. But when she noticed Ted was hurt, she calmed down a little, her focus shifting. Ted was our family, he was wounded, and we needed to protect him. She didn’t care that he was a bear shifter, she viewed him as a father figure…because I did too. And seeing my surrogate dad hurt was almost enough to make me snap, but I forced myself to hold on.

  Grimacing, Ted nodded. “We need to get inside the museum. It’s safe in there. They’ve got spells on that place that could level Godzilla.”

  I couldn’t string together a rational thought, so I did as he asked, startling when his son Jerry appeared out of nowhere.

  “Dad!” He slung his dad’s arm around his neck, helping Ted limp through the crowd. “I tried to get to you, but the wind was too strong.”

  Jerry had a nice gash over his eye that had dripped blood down his face, turning it into something out of a horror movie. His shamrock green t-shirt was torn, and he had more blood on his khaki shorts. Shredded leaves and bits of trash were stuck in his hair, and his glasses were missing. Even beat up as he was, I was so fucking grateful that he was here.

  I knew I wasn’t really offering Ted any support as I put his arm around my shoulder, but I needed the contact. His warmth gave me a feeling of shelter, and even an injured Ted was still an intimidating presence. It was a long, slow walk to the side entrance of the museum, and there were people screaming and crying everywhere. Sirens were getting louder by the second, and I could see first responders starting to trickle into the crowd.

  “What,” my voice cracked. “What was that thing?”

  “Don’t know,” Ted replied in a voice tight with pain. “Smelled something wrong in the wind. By the time I got out here that thing had already shown up. I saw you out there, fighting to make it to safety. I couldn’t leave you.”

  “We got separated,” Jerry said, guilt evident in his every word. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I tried to get to her, but that wind…it pinned me down. It wouldn’t listen to me, at all. It was like…the wind was empty. It had no spirit. Then those-those worm things came down from the sky. It had to be a danjal, but I haven’t heard of one that big. How is that even possible, Dad?”

  “What’s a danjal?” I huffed out as Ted gave me more of his weight.

  “Later,” Ted rumbled as we paused to let a group of blood splattered police officers run past us to the greenspace.

  I shuddered, more grateful than ever to see the wide brown sandstone steps leading up to the employee entrance.

  Once we were waved inside, it was chaos. My already stunned mind tried to make sense of what I was seeing. Injured people were everywhere, and museum guards and other employees moved among them, some with first aid kits, others merely giving comfort. Blood pooled on once pristine surfaces, and it was jarring to see beautiful works of art surrounded by suffering and carnage.

  “This way,” Ted said, pointing to the left with his chin. “We need to get away from all this human blood and misery before it triggers us.”

  I didn’t argue, but once we were limping down a corridor that led to the cafeteria, I asked, “What do you mean, triggers us?”

  “Makes it harder to control your spirit animal,” Jerry answered. “I was at the scene of a car accident once. A shifter lion and his mate were badly hurt, but he was too far gone to let us near her. Even with a broken leg, his only thought was to defend and protect. When we’re in an area with mass casualties, mass pain, we’re hardwired to go into battle mode. Which during an actual fight is quite helpful, but not so much when there’s nothing to fight.”

  The cafeteria was crowded, but people made way for us. By the time we got to a table, Ted was obviously struggling. The bright overhead lights weren’t kind to any of us, and I noticed more splinters, much smaller than the one in his leg, peppering his left side.

  “Fuck,” he hissed as he sat down.

  Looking like a helpless kid, despite his massive size, Jerry twisted his bloody hands together. “You okay, Dad?”

  Ted reached out and put his hand over Jerry’s. “I’ll be fine. Might have to get around with a red scooter like your grandma’s for a bit, but I’ll be okay. Why don’t you go find me some help, the kind with really good painkillers?”

  “Yeah,” Jerry started to dart away. “I’ll get help.”

  Ted leaned in, his voice low as he said, “Synthia, why was the wind whispering your name?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was outside, looking for Jerry before it started. The wind, before it went all crazy, it was whispering your name. Told me to help you.”

  “I—I have no idea.”

  Jerry returned, dragging a harried looking female paramedic behind him. The woman had blood streaked on her face and uniform, but her gaze was steady. She took one glance at Ted’s leg and pulled out her phone.

  “I’m going to need another wheelchair. Got a puncture injury in the cafeteria, this one to the leg. It’s too near his artery for my peace of mind. Right, thanks.”

  She knelt before Ted, her voice soothing as she began to examine him. “Looks like you got a heck of a splinter.”

  Her chatter washed over me as I stared blankly ahead, my brain trying to absorb everything that had happened. It seemed like lately I was going from one crisis to another without a break. For someone used to living the life of an introvert, unexciting but safe, this was a shock to my system. My orderly, neat, scientific thought process was struggling to deal with some very unscientific shit, and I felt like my life was spinning out of control.

  “Synthia,” Judy yelled at me from the doorway of the cafeteria. “Need a word with you.”

  Ted grunted and started to get up, making the paramedic yell at him.

  “Sit your ass down. You have a tree branch in your leg,” the woman snapped.

  I patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. Get yourself taken care of.”

  “Jerry, go with her.”

  “No, stay with your dad. And call your mom, she’s probably freaking out right now.” As soon as I said that, I realized my own mom was probably worried as hell, but I’d accidentally left my phone in my office. “And can you call my mom and let her know I’m okay? I don’t have my phone on me and she’s probably really worried.”

  He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me down so he could whisper, “Be careful.”

  I nodded. “What?”

  “Watch w
hat you say. You don’t want the Coven’s attention on you when you’re so vulnerable. You can trust Judy, but not anyone else. Understand?”

  It took me a second, I wasn’t at my best right now, then I nodded rapidly. “Got it.”

  The stretcher arrived for Ted, and I waved to them as I was met by a barely standing Judy by the door. All the earlier otherworldly glowy skin shit was gone, leaving behind a woman who was barely keeping her eyes open. Two females, an older brunette and a younger pretty blonde woman flanked her. They were both wearing purple capes, and that meant only one thing. Witches were here on official Coven business.

  Giving a tired sigh, Judy gave me a one-armed hug, the bitter stench of fear still coating her natural floral smell like a blanket of wet ash. “Wasn’t sure if you were outside. Thought I saw you and Ted, but it’s hard to tell with your face to the ground.”

  My laugh sounded somewhat hysterical. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

  “You all right?”

  I almost crapped myself when I swear I heard Judy say in my mind;

  Play it cool, sweet girl.

  When I just gaped at her like a fish on a hook, she cupped my cheek. “Poor thing. I think you knocked your head pretty good when you hit the ground. You got a big old knot on your forehead.”

  To my surprise, she was right. I had a nice, painful bump forming in the area between my forehead and my hairline. “I didn’t even notice.”

  “Let’s get this over with so you can see a doctor,” Judy looped her arm through mine, then patted my hand. “Head injuries are no joke, they can scramble your brains.”

  The women behind us didn’t say anything, just following a step behind like silent sharks. The older woman on the left looked at me like I was dog crap on her shoe. The younger witch kept her expression carefully blank, but her deep set green eyes watched my every move. Even in the chaos, people gave the women in purple cloaks wide berth. Not that I was surprised. I knew enough about witches to know that purple cloaks meant high level bitches. Not quite inner circle coven, but close. And those silver pitchfork pins on their blouses indicated something, but I forgot what. Either way, the witches were powerful enough that despite their lack of numbers, everyone knew they really ran shit in the magical community.

  Some of the shifter stuff I’d read mentioned that some witches saw themselves as the rightful leaders, and believed shifters were there to serve them.

  Like a helpful, if slightly dangerous pet.

  I wondered if these women felt that way. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing to realize how sheltered I’d been as a human. Sure, I’d endured being picked on as a kid, but I’d never experienced being looked at as second-class because of how I’d been born. I mean, I knew they weren’t all like that, look at Judy, but it would be a thought in the back of my mind now every time I met a witch.

  Did she hate shifters?

  Did she hate me?

  I glanced over my shoulder again, trying to steal another look so I could try and figure them out. As a kid, I’d been a big fan of a book series about a boy detective. Using obvious clues, and by just paying attention, he solved crimes most grownups couldn’t understand. Of course, as I got older I realized the boy detective had been modeled after Sherlock Holmes, but their way of investigating was still valid. Know everything you can about your enemy. Look for clues in the way they dress, speak, and carry themselves. Little things like nail polish could indicate personality, and the way a person walked and moved showed a variety of things about their bodies.

  Like vulnerabilities my hyena urged me to exploit.

  After the earlier horror show, my animal spirit was still on edge. More apt to fight than flight. In an effort to distract both myself and her, I began to go through my mental picture of the women behind me.

  The older woman’s diamond earrings were real, and probably cost a fortune even if the stones weren’t very good. They were big, and that seemed to be important to the older woman. She also wore a gold and diamond encrusted pentacle necklace, while the younger wore a bronze one like Judy.

  That wasn’t the only difference between the women. The younger of the two definitely dressed a little more provocatively beneath her cloak. Instead of a matronly pantsuit, she wore a tight grey sleeveless sweater dress and a pair of killer red sandals. Her stride was long, and self-assured, but she seemed jumpy somehow. Like she was just waiting for something to happen. There was something about the way she watched, the way she moved, that let me know she was used to violence. My hyena agreed, but she wasn’t getting any hostile vibes from the young witch.

  No, it was the older one who was glaring holes in my back while sighing, like this was all a big pain in her ass.

  The deeper we went into the museum, the quieter it got, and I relaxed slightly as the last moan of pain and cry of grief faded behind us. Everyone must have left their offices to go see what the commotion was about, because it was empty back here. We’d arrived in the section reserved for security, and Judy led us inside.

  We were soon seated in the reception area in the center of a grouping of small offices and conference rooms. Though we were alone, the lights were on and doors left open as if the occupants would be back any second. It was quiet in here. Too quiet. In fact, I couldn’t hear any background noise. Ever since my transition there had always been background noise that I’d learned to ignore. I could hear the faint scratch of leaves rubbing together, or a cat walking through the yard if I concentrated. There were always sounds of life around me, but not now.

  “It’s too quiet,” I blurted as the witches all took their seats.

  Sinking into the cobalt blue couch she’d chosen next to a tall potted plant, Judy rubbed her temple. “The room is spelled to keep all the snoops out of our conversation. Now, my sisters, if you don’t mind, mending that tear took a lot out of me.”

  The older witch glared at me, but the younger one gave me a small smile. “Hello, Synthia. My name is Grace and I work for the Greater East Coast Coven as an investigator with my partner, Margaret. It was…good fortune that we were in the area today. Fate, if you will.”

  Her partner gave her a condescending look, then talked over her. “We have important things to do. I must report to the Coven Mother personally about what happened here today. Now, girl—”

  “We’re here,” Grace said with a stiff jaw as she talked over Margaret, “Because Judy contacted us about a rather nasty bit of spell work that was attached to you in the Metro the other day. Can you tell us about it?”

  “I,” my voice broke and I rubbed my throat, a clicking sound coming out as I coughed. “Can I get something to drink, please?”

  “Of course,” Judy replied in a voice aching with the need to sleep. “Margaret, go down the hall, seventh door on the left. There’s a small break room there. Get her a bottle of water, please.”

  “What?” Margaret seemed extremely offended that Judy would even suggest that she do anything to help me.

  Judy opened her eyes a little wider, the anger clear on her face. “I can’t move, and Grace is still on probation. She doesn’t have the security clearance to be trusted out there alone. You, on the other hand, are a member of good, longstanding reputation. I can trust you to take care of yourself.”

  Margaret gave a little pursed lip preen then reluctantly nodded, “Well yes, of course. I’ll be right back.”

  “Grab a hot chocolate for me as well, please. I need a sugar boost.”

  The moment the door closed, Grace turned to me and began to transform from a normal human, into the kind of being I’d seen Judy morph into. Scooting away from her, I let out an embarrassing yelp as her light began to fill the room. It was similar to the color of Judy’s glow, but a little more gold than bronze. The color of her pupils and irises began to fade, and I gasped as her pointed ears appeared. Gone was the glamorous young woman who would have fit in at a chic LA party, and in her place was an alien, yet beautiful, witch. It was impossible to read her pale eyes, having no iri
s or pupil makes it a tad difficult, but her expression conveyed her emotions, as did her scent.

  It was strong, rich even, as if her essence hung more potent in the air than a human’s.

  “I can smell the magic on you. Why couldn’t I smell it before? Why didn’t I see the real you?”

  “Witches are masters of illusion,” Grace replied while calmly crossing her legs, her skin shimmering with hidden sunlight. “We are taught to keep ourselves cloaked at all times in public. While the humans are not a threat, shifters can easily scent our emotions when we’re fully revealed. For a species that enjoys twisting the truth to their advantage, having your opponent know when you’re bullshitting sucks. So we always cloak ourselves out in public, and around shifters we don’t know.” Her lips thinned and her foot began to tap as she said, “We’re taught that shifters are dangerous, one step away from being rabid animals if it wasn’t for the witches. Only ‘tamed’ ones can be trusted.”

  I stared from her, to a Judy who was barely conscious. “Tamed? For real? You think I’m a rabid animal that needs to be tamed?”

  “I didn’t say I felt that way. I believe we’re equals. Scent me and know the truth of my words.”

  I did and couldn’t find a whisper of deception coming from her. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You need to know you can trust me, Lady Syn,” Grace said in a whispery voice that tickled my senses. “We don’t have much time. I had a foretelling about you, that you’re going to be very important to the Coven, but also very dangerous. You’re going to change things in a way many have been praying for, but not everyone wants. Without you, and your den, working together with us, the Coven as we know it will fall. With your help, we may yet be able to salvage it and the world as we know it from complete destruction. This I have foreseen and I will do anything to prevent.”