Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  Samantha didn’t like reading books. But working at a newspaper station where she could become a reporter appealed to her. Reading the news and watching it unfold as people who worked there cracked new stories every day? Yes please! Let her be one of them. It was like being a P.I. but instead of just telling her client what had happened, Samantha would get to share that news with the world. She’d always been an adrenaline junkie.

  “You are just making assumptions that this guy followed his family because you think he’s cute,” Samantha accused. "Can we think with our head for a minute instead of our libido?"

  A red hue graced Mystic’s cheeks briefly. She didn't refute Samantha’s claim and instead nodded. "That's true. Let's work with what we know instead. We know there's a Trapper after you. We don't know why. We need to focus on getting you to a safe place and we can worry about everything else later."

  Her flip flops made a smacking sound as she turned around and resumed her pacing. A long purple skirt flared as she moved. She pinched her lips between her fingertips. The sight made Samantha grimace because of Mystic’s long painted red nails. That was going to leave an indention for sure.

  "Why don't you take my car and go to my place? After that we'll figure out a plan. Why he's after you. How we can get him to go away. I have some contacts who, for the right price, will help us figure it out."

  Samantha knew she'd be promising a spellunking type of favor to get the dirt. She was lucky to have Mystic in her corner not just as family but as a best friend. They'd gotten into some trouble over the years, but nothing had ever been as extreme as this situation was.

  "Okay, where are your keys?" The sound of something breaking in the front of A Mystic Spell had Samantha’s heart leaping into her throat. Her hand went up to hold her throat and she could feel the ferocious beating. Was it the Trapper out there? Or Mystic's bitchy black cat Athena? She did knock things over on occasion.

  Mystic did keep her back office locked. She had to with the type of magic she performed. Any kind of distractions like customers walking in the back room could have explosive consequences. That gave them about two minutes if it was him.

  Only one way to find out. Samantha did not want to find out. Squeezing her eyes shut as if she could block out the terrifying possibility that her worst nightmare was behind a locked door. That wouldn't stop him for long.

  Something touched Samantha’s arm. Her eyes snapped open and a scream pushed itself out. Giving away their location probably wasn't the best idea. Hence, Mystic's hand covering Samantha’s mouth. Her other hand went up to her lips and her fingers formed a shushing motion. Giving her a quick nod that she understood her Mystic finally released her face.

  "Seriously? Give a girl warning next time. I think you just shaved ten years off my life." Samantha spoke in a furious whisper.

  Mystic glanced at Samantha’s hair before her eyes met hers. "Sorry. I didn't realize you were still spooked. But, you are sporting white locks again, so you might be right." Her voice was just as soft as Samantha’s had been.

  "What do we do?" She was the spellunking queen. Surely, she could just whip up a special kind of transportation spell. Something that involved them traveling as far from her shop as possible. Doubt she had the time to put one together with death breathing down their necks. This small room made Samantha feel claustrophobic and she just wanted to leave. She started looking around for an escape route.

  Seeing the direction Samantha’s eyes had traveled Mystic gave a nod. She grabbed her cousin’s arm and started to head towards the back door. It went out to the alley behind her shop. The only problem? There were no windows so they couldn't see what might be waiting for them.

  It was either the big bad in here or the possible big bad in the alley.

  A loud thump on the inside shop door that sounded like a battering ram made their decision for them. Samantha wished she hadn't turned around for one last peek behind them. Blood covered the Trapper from head to toe. A loud vibrating sound came out of his chest before he dived for Samantha.

  Fuck that. She grabbed the door handle. She’d take life over monsters any day of the week.

  Chapter Six

  “SIT STILL. YOU are such a big baby.” The older witch, had black hair with streaks of white. She had shown up to club Diablo. Since he couldn’t go out in the daylight without weakening himself she had come to him, packing a horrifying kit with her wrinkled hands.

  She slapped at him when he tried again get away from the needle, that she was currently jabbing in his skin repeatedly. The magical buzz of the machine stopped for a moment and he spoke before she could start up again. Anything to get a thirty second break.

  “You didn’t tell me that you would be jabbing me with a magical needle repeatedly when we spoke over the phone. I don’t like needles.” He slapped at her hands when she started to lean forward with the tattoo gun again.

  “Are you a sissy or are you a vampire?” She looked at him and he felt she was judging more than his ability to take the pain of a needle.

  “Because from where I’m sitting I would say you’re in the former category. It’s just a little needle. How can you fear this?” She held up the thin piece of metal that had been currently stabbing him for the last fifteen minutes.

  “I don’t see why I have to get a tattoo. Why couldn’t you have just given me a spelled piece of jewelry that I could wear?” He knew he was being a cry baby. It struck a chord with his pride that he couldn’t handle the pain she was dishing out in spades.

  “Because a piece of spell jewelry could be cut off and then what? I’ll tell you what, you are then missing a finger, a toe, or say your neck? You don’t need your neck, do you?” Her sarcastic reply was not lost on him. For a grandmotherly type, she didn’t strike him as the type to make you a fresh batch of cookies. More like the type that made you go out to milk the cow, collect the eggs, and make your own flour. If you were lucky, you might earn yourself a cookie by the end of the day.

  The tattoo kit she brought with her was spelled to go lightning fast, to counteract his vampire quick healing. It was the only way to get this tattoo to stick and probably why she charged an ungodly amount for it. The special kit was also the reason the tattoo felt like serial killer practice. It felt like someone was sticking him with a serrated knife repeatedly in the exact spot.

  Humans got tattoos all the time. No big deal, right? Now imagine that same type of tattoo process, except instead of jabbing the needle into the skin the tattoo artists takes a hammer and slams that needle halfway through your skin. At jack hammer speeds. While humming a merry tune. That was the equivalent of getting a magical tattoo. And she had the nerve to call him a baby.

  “I don’t see you getting a tattoo.” He pointed out the obvious to her. Easy for her to call him a pansy but he didn’t see any tattoos on her body. He wondered if she even knew what it felt like. She might have more sympathy if she could feel what he was feeling.

  Blue eyes held humor as she met his gaze. “Magic tolerance is different than physical tolerance. I don’t need a tattoo to keep my strength in the daylight hours. You do. If I needed all my strength in order to save someone I cared about I would suck it up.” She dabbed at his arm none too gently with a paper towel, leaving traces of ink and blood on the white surface. “My advice? Buck up, shut up, or go home.” Her lips twitched when she spoke the last sentence. He could tell she was trying not to laugh out loud. Guess that wouldn’t be very professional for her hourly rate. Glad one of them was having a good time.

  “How long will this take?” He spoke through clenched teeth. The smell of his own blood was making him hungry. There were no humans stashed at the club, but there were some blood bags he could grab when she finished to replenish him.

  He had never seen the need to get a tattoo when he lived. When he’d died, and became a vampire he figured he’d never be able to get a tattoo because of his quick healing abilities. He’d never seen a blood sucker sporting ink before now.

&nb
sp; The witch whose name he hadn’t caught yet, had given him the option of anything he wanted tattooed. Being magical had its benefits, she could draw anything he wanted and the magical gun would do the rest. She warned him that more complex tats would take longer than an hour.

  He glanced down at the infinity symbol on his inner left arm. It felt fitting. As a vampire, he would live forever. He was doing this for somebody that he hoped to spend forever with if he could save her. When the witch had asked him what he’d wanted, he’d closed his eyes for a moment and the infinity symbol had burnt the image behind his eyes.

  The ink was spelled by the witch and would give him one-hundred percent of his strength, even in daylight hours. He hadn’t known it was possible to get ink on his skin that would allow him this luxury or he might have done it a long time ago. Another stab to his skin had him scowling and rethinking that train of thought.

  “Another fifteen minutes or so and I should be done.” She gave him a wicked smile with beautifully white bared teeth. If he had to guess he’d say she was in her late sixties, though she didn’t look a day over fifty. There weren’t many wrinkles on her face, just some laugh lines around her captivating, wise blue eyes.

  “Just sit back and relax.” She put a hand on his chest to push him back. She didn’t have the strength to do that if he didn’t want to move, but he humored her. “If you bite me handsome there’s an additional two-hundred and fifty-thousand-dollar charge. Magical blood is precious and mine is worth its weight in gold, so I’d think about retracting those fangs if I were you.”

  His tongue came out to trace his teeth and he realized the old bat was right and his fangs were down. He was a little embarrassed because that was something fledgling vampires might do. He willed them to retract and sat back and closed his eyes.

  She checked him out from head to toe and gave a wistful sigh. “If I was a bit younger, I might let you get drunk on my magical blood for free.” She shrugged, “But, I’m not and retirement is never easy for witches who have my expensive tastes.”

  He opened his eyes briefly, “A witch of your caliber should have everything she wants and desires. I don’t think I could take the magical love your blood is packing.” He closed his eyes again and muttered, “Especially if that blood has the same touch as your magicked tattoo gun.”

  He willed his body into a state of relaxation as he escaped into his mind. The last thing he heard was the witch chortling quietly at his words.

  “ALL DONE.” THE WITCH sprayed his arm and blotted it dry. Onyx was pulled from inside his mind as soon as she spoke. She pulled out a green jar of cream-from the bag Onyx had christened the bag of horrors. She applied the milky white balm generously to his arm.

  The first touch had him hissing in a breath of relief. This miracle salve had relieved most of the pain she had caused in the last hour.

  “That feels great.” He couldn’t say he’d be getting any additional tattoos in the future, not for a million dollars and a favor and the excruciating pain the last hour. He didn’t imagine anyone but lunatics would sign up for that type of abuse a second time.

  “You aren’t the first baby I’ve had to tattoo.”

  “Who else has been a-what did you call it? Sissy?” he asked. Were there other vampires that had taken this kind of abuse? He needed to buy them a beer in sympathy pain.

  “Oh, you know. Shifters, warlocks, vampires. Any of the supernatural species. You aren’t the only one that heals fast you know?” She gave a small laugh, “But the biggest babies when it comes to ink are the bear shifters. Got to watch out for claws with them.” She pulled up a sleeve of her shirt to show a deep gash.

  He gaped at the deep scar. How had she not bleed out with a mark like that?

  She reached over and closed his mouth, “Don’t worry dear, I charged him an extra five-hundred thousand for that little transgression.” She thought for a minute, “Oh and pack friend for life, which includes all my family. Not that we deal with bears much, but in case anyone ever finds themselves in a tight spot, they won’t be killed on the spot.”

  He shook his head in admiration. A crafty older witch didn’t even begin to cover her skills. He could see Samantha developing that kind of spunk as she got older. He shook his head. He needed to get to her.

  “Is it done then? I’ll have my strength in the sunlight?” He looked down at his arm, which she had covered in cellophane after she had added the cream and held on by a few pieces of tape.

  “Yes. There’s even a slight boost to your strength, only in the daytime mind you. At nighttime, you’ll be at your regular strength.” She whipped out a long piece of parchment and laid it out on the desk.

  “Now I just need your signature and a drop of blood here and here.” She pointed out the spots for him to sign. “This just states we came to an agreement on my payment, which is to be deposited no later than seven days’ time. Emergencies are also covered if needed. One million US dollars and a favor of my choice to be collected whenever I’d like.”

  Onyx pen poised above the parchment pointed out, “Shouldn’t you have had me sign this before you gave me the tattoo? How else are you to guarantee payment?”

  Searing pain streaked through his tattoo. His arm felt like it was about to burst into flame and he shook it, as if doing so could extinguish the flame. Abruptly the pain stopped and all he could do was stare at the old hag. No one should have that kind of power.

  “You don’t think I’d protect myself from those who might try to back out of the magical contract?” She snorted. “I’m older than I look dear.” She grabbed the pen from him and quickly signed on her lines and handed them to him to do the same.

  He glanced at her name. Vivian. Wait a second. That was the witch who was grandmother to Samantha and her cousin Mystic.

  “You’re Samantha’s grandma.” he stated.

  “Indeed, I am.” Vivian gave a proud smile. “My granddaughters’ are very special. The skills they will acquire over the years will put their power above mine in just a few short years.”

  “I got this tattoo so I could save Samantha. She’s being hunted by a Trapper.” He got straight to the point. With her age and wisdom, maybe she’d have some advice for him.

  “I’m not surprised. She did cast an illegal spell not that long ago. She was bound to get on the big boys’ radar at some point.” She pointed, “Now sign the paper if you will. I have stuff to do today.”

  This witch kept surprising him. He raised an eyebrow at her as he leaned over to sign the paper and prick his finger for the blood. “I’d consider Lucifer to be a bit more worrisome than a Trapper, though that’s bad enough.”

  She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I imagine that’s why the Universe gave her you as a protector. Witches always attract what they need the most, which means your skills for her safety are needed.”

  She patted his arm as she rolled up the contract. “Pleasure doing business with you. You’ll find Samantha at her cousin’s shop A Mystic Place.” Her eyes went white for a minute, “Though I’d hurry if I were you. The Trapper is on his way, along with other things.”

  He ran for the door but before he got to his car, he heard Vivian’s voice—which must have been magically transported with the wind, call out “Tell my granddaughters, I said hi.”

  Crazy old witch.

  Chapter Seven

  THEY SLAMMED OPEN the door hard enough it bumped the alley wall behind them. Mystic grabbed the bouncing door and barely got it shut before the crazy guy covered in blood slammed into it. Mystic threw up her hands which contained a purple ball. She flung it at the door and it covered it in a sparkling glitter of magic. That should give them about two minutes.

  Samantha grabbed Mystic's arm and she turned to look at her. A small whimper came out and her eyes were the size of baseballs. Her chin trembled and she whispered, "What in the hell happened to him?"

  Even her fear was more elegant than the small shriek that had torn out of Samantha’s throat. Her hair had fallen
out of its bun and a fine sheen of sweat covered Mystic’s cheeks. It looked like a bear had chased her down through a forest. Samantha was sure she didn't look any better.

  Samantha glanced around the empty alley. The only things she saw were a few green garbage cans from local shops scattered up and down the alleyway. Nothing else. No stray cats. Not even a gum wrapper on the ground for that matter. Even through her fear, Samantha was impressed with the upkeep of the shops in this area.

  After she assured herself it was just them in the alley, Samantha turned back to her cousin. "I'm not sure what happened to him. Honestly, I don't give a flying fuck why he looks like he just murdered a bunch of people. I only care about not being around him when he comes through that door."

  "My car is parked in the front of the shop."

  Samantha’s car was also parked in the front of the shop. How the hell were they going to get into one of their vehicles if they were being chased? What if the guy went to the front of the shop when he realized he couldn't get out the back?

  Samantha’s legs went weak when she heard a growl. The sound came from behind them. In slow motion Mystic and Samantha slowly pivoted to assess the new threat.

  Big sharp teeth. Glowing ruby eyes. Shaggy black mane. Salvia dripping down a gigantic muzzle. Unfucking real. How did a hellhound get into the human world?

  Hellhounds were the guardians of the Underworld. Being out in the open like this meant a chance of humans discovering the paranormal world, because there was no way a person would look at a hellhound and think that it's just a dog. They'd film what they could and share it with news stations, exposing our magical world.

  There was only one reason a Trapper and a hellhound from the underworld would be here. That sneaky vampire bastard had talked his way into Samantha’s panties and apparently, Hades was still out for her blood, life, and magic. That meant Onyx hadn't paid her fine. Jerk.