Bailey slung his bag over his shoulder and winced as it hit his back. He was sure something was cracked, but he would not lie in bed and feel sorry for himself. He showered and examined the damage. The dark purple stains would spread as they turned green and yellow with time. Stubble lined his jaw; he couldn’t be bothered shaving. Besides, it hid some bruises. Gran was in the kitchen, so he skipped breakfast and coffee and made straight for the front door.
“You’re going to school?”
Bailey considered not answering. Did he really need to live here? Until he got a job he did. He could steal for himself, but he didn’t want to do that shit at all. Maybe it was better to move out and steal until he got his act together.
“Yes, what else am I supposed to do?”
“Did the men give you a job to do?”
He stomped to the kitchen and glared at her. She appeared frail in the dull yellow kitchen light, but it was a lie. She’d handed him over without a blink. Why should he care if they hurt her when he vanished? Because then he’d be as bad as them.
“Yeah, I got a list of clubs with richer targets.” He shook his head. “Places where people don’t get messy drunk and forget to check their pockets. Places with security and dress codes. I won’t do it. I don’t want to go to jail for this dumb shit.”
“It’s how we survive.”
“It’s how you survive. Not me. I never wanted this. I want to finish school, find a job, and be normal.”
“We aren’t.” She reached for him. “Please. Do as they say.”
He drew away, refusing to be lulled by her fear and delusion.
“They’ll throw us out if we don’t do as they ask.”
“Then it’s not protection, it’s extortion. They are worse than the government. No one knows shifters exist.”
“They do. Powerful people always do. Witches will find us and kill us.”
Bailey rolled his eyes. “And? The men are using us. They are thugs and criminals.” He lifted his shirt to reveal his bruised skin. “They did this. You let them do this.” He let his shirt drop. “Tell me again who I should be afraid of?” He shook his head and stepped back.
Gran snarled. “You cannot walk away.”
Bailey took another step back. “I’ll be eighteen in three months.” He went out and slammed the front door.
“Bailey!” She called after him but didn’t follow.
On the front step, he drew in a breath made of knives. He was supposed to do as he was told. They’d warned him about stepping out of line and keeping money for himself. But he hadn’t given them the satisfaction of making him cry out or beg them to stop. He’d said nothing.
And he’d found a heat and a strength that he couldn’t explain. It had filled him and given him a place to hide. Now when he reached along the bond to Kass, it was different—and not in the fading away kind of way.
Had Kass helped him?
Witches didn’t do that; they drained shifters and broke them. Or at least that’s what he’d been told. Gran feared witches more than the men and the government. How much of what he’d been told was truth and how much was lies to keep them in line and dependent on protection?
As he walked to school, he toyed with the connection, testing the strength and wondering about the changes. His heartbeat quickened, and he felt Kass’s lips on his. He wasn’t sure if it was a memory, or just his fantasy becoming more real.
He waited for the lights to change and closed his eyes. In those few breaths he felt dust on his skin and tasted the different air. Where was Kass? Bailey was sure he wasn’t in Australia.
He really needed to talk with Kass and ask him what was going on. But he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. What if it was a trap to draw him in so the army could lock him up and study him?
He laughed…now he sounded like Gran.
Besides, he wanted to do more than talk with Kass. With each passing day, he regretted running instead of staying. He wanted more than thoughts and memories and his goddamn hand.
At school it was easy enough to disappear. To be one in a crowd so no one saw him—snow leopard magic that came in handy when he had his fingers in a pocket. He helped himself to some cash from one the of the teacher’s wallets, not for lunch, but so he could buy a copy of his birth certificate. He needed that before he could open a bank account according to the bank’s website, and he didn’t want Gran to think he was anything other than beaten and obedient. But no one was ever taking his money again.
After school he took a bus to the registry office and sat with a lady who explained he could’ve done this online. He told her he didn’t have a computer at home or a credit card.
She gave him one of those looks where she wasn’t sure if he was lying or if she should pity him. The best way out of that was to stare at the table and hunch his shoulders. He wasn’t lying, and he didn’t want her pity.
Her expression changed when she couldn’t find him in the system.
Bailey frowned. “What do you mean? I was born here. My mum was born here.”
“Let’s look her up.”
“Katherine Fisher. She died when I was young. I…I don’t know her birthday.” Or her death day. He should know both. He’d asked to see her grave once, but she didn’t have one according to Gran. Even in death, the government wasn’t allowed to know where she was.
The woman shook her head. “What about your father?”
Bailey shook his head. Worry knotted his gut. “Why aren’t I here?”
“There could be lots of reasons. Do you know the hospital where you were born?” She smiled like it wasn’t a big deal. But his whole life depended on proving he existed.
“I was born at home.” Or at least that’s what he’d been told. The life he knew was coming undone stitch by stitch. Every question cut a few more threads.
“Do you have any other relatives?”
“My grandmother.” She wouldn’t be there. She’d come to Australia as a child, brought by the men who wanted a new life. They’d saved her life, and now she owed them forever.
Gran didn’t exist either—but that was no surprise.
Bailey’s leg bounced, and he stared at the cream melamine desk. “My birth wasn’t registered, was it?”
“It happens.”
“What do I do now?” If he didn’t exist, then he was trapped.
“Can your grandmother come down?”
“She doesn’t know I’m here.” And if she found out, there’d be more than a warning. He’d probably lose a finger, maybe not the whole thing, but at least the tip. “Forget about it. I shouldn’t have bothered.” He stood too fast and gasped as pain shot through his chest. Something was broken. He should see a doctor, but the only ones he knew were the ones that Gran saw, and they worked for the men. He didn’t want to owe them anything.
“Wait, we can get you a birth certificate. It’s just more complicated.”
He stared at her. “How complicated?”
“You’re late.” Gran put his plate on the table. The pasta and sauce were dried around the edges where it had been in the oven staying warm. She refused to use a microwave.
“I was studying with friends.” He should have been studying, instead he’d wasted time gathering bits and pieces for the lady at the registry office. It had taken a week. He had no idea how he’d gotten into school without a birth certificate, but he guessed the thugs had forged something or bribed the admin.
“Huh.”
From that one grunt, he knew he was in trouble again. “What now?”
“You don’t need to finish school. You have a job waiting.”
Working construction and doing misdeeds on the side. He wanted more, even if he wasn’t sure what that looked like.
“With the guys who beat me up? Pretty sure you aren’t supposed to let your kid be roughed up by the thugs you work for.” He ate faster, determined to finish and go to his room.
He could’ve reported the beating to the cops, described the men and left Gran out of
it. But he didn’t want his body to be washed up on the beach or found in a septic tank ten years from now.
“You are making things difficult for me.”
He pushed his plate away. “You are letting them turn me into a criminal. Is that what you want?”
“We need to survive.”
“No, we need to live.” And this wasn’t living. This was cowering in shadows. “We can leave. You can claim the pension and retire.”
“I will not take the government’s money. It’s a bribe.”
“Cool, Gran. You stay stealing. But the day I turn eighteen, I’m done.”
“You can’t walk away like that.”
“I can.” He’d try anyway. The men weren’t snow leopards; they were just humans who knew too much. He could hide from them.
He went to his room and shut the door. Without a laptop, school was that bit harder, but he’d learned to type assignments on his phone then send them to his email, which he could access on the school’s computers.
He pulled out his work, determined to finish it that week. He’d already asked for an extension and couldn’t do so again without losing marks for no good reason.
Gran opened the bedroom door. One of these days she was going to find him with his hands in his pants. Maybe that’s why she kept intruding.
“What now? I’m working.”
“You need to go out.”
“No, I need to do my assignment. I’ll go out tomorrow.”
He returned his attention to his book; aware she stood in the doorway watching him. He kept working.
He knew her games, and the tricks she used to make him comply. This time he wouldn’t fall for them. She stood there for ten minutes before huffing off without closing the door.
Would she tell her friends that he wanted out? That he was becoming more difficult? The bruises hadn’t yet faded, but his resolve had hardened.
He reached into his school bag for his drink bottle, but his hand brushed over the wallet. As soon as he touched the smooth leather, he saw Kass. The way he’d looked at him, the feel of his body. He should’ve stayed in the club and let things play out between them.
His favorite fantasy unspooled in his mind. The beat of the music became the rhythm of his heart as Kass lead him out the back. The door was barely shut before Kass had his mouth on Bailey’s dick.
He smiled at the image of Kass, all clean cut and far too pretty, on his knees.
A crash from the kitchen made his head snap up. His jeans bit into all the wrong places.
Gran muttered in Russian as she cleaned up.
She’d freak out not only about the witch part, but the guy part.
He pulled out the wallet and the driver’s license and stared at Kass’s photo. Had they been drawn together by magic, or by lust?
He wished Gran would answer his questions about witches and why they were so bad. But he’d stopped asking years ago. Kass didn’t look evil, but evil never did. He slid the license away. Instead of waiting for Gran to answer, he could go to the source of his trouble. Kass. But he couldn’t put everything that he wanted to ask on paper. Small steps were the best kind when venturing into the unknown. He’d write an apology for being an asshole the night they met.
Kass was surprised to be handed a letter. Even more surprised that it had been rerouted from the base in Sydney to the middle of nowhere. He didn’t recognize the pointed handwriting, each letter an angry peak. Nor was there a return address on the back. But it had been opened and resealed, not surprising.
He opened the envelope as he walked to the mess.
One sheet of paper, that appeared to have been torn out of an exercise book, and a few lines of the jagged handwriting. It was neat in a threatening way.
His gaze dropped to the end, not reading the words, to see who it was from.
B, signed with a flourish and what could be a squiggle—or a paw print.
His heart jumped, and he skimmed the letter, not that there was much to read.
Hi Kass,
I’m sorry. You know what for.
Thank you. I think you know what for?
B
He stared at the words, wishing there were more. He flipped the page over, then the envelope, searching for a return address, an email address, or a phone number that he’d missed. But there was nothing. Just sixteen words and an initial.
“What you get? Letter from your girlfriend?” Someone nudged his shoulder.
“Nah.” A letter from his mate, and that was far more exciting. He folded the letter and put it in his shirt pocket.
As he’d done for the last week, he let his magic out a bit as he got his meal. Not to flip the mess tables—they were too big and heavy and not in motion—but because it made it easier for him to sense other paranormals, and for them to sense him. He would’ve realized what Bailey was if he hadn’t been keeping himself in check that night. Would that have stopped him from wanting him? From kissing him? Kass didn’t know.
He grabbed his food and a seat by himself so he could read the letter again, even though he’d already memorized it. As he ate, he sent happiness through the bond. He shouldn’t be playing with the connection. It seemed every time he touched it, it was thicker and stronger. And too hard to ignore.
He didn’t expect anything to come back along the bond and flinched when he got buzzed. Or that’s what it felt like. A warmth hummed over his skin and made him smile. For a moment it was like Bailey was near him, within touching distance. He drew in a breath and closed his eyes, wanting it to be real.
“You look pretty happy with yourself, witch.” A dark-skinned man sat opposite him. American. Shifter, and if Kass squinted he could see the shadowed aura of a snake.
Someone had joined his paranormal club of one. “Yeah, letter from home. You know what it’s like.”
He put the letter away, because there was nothing in there to get excited about. Except Bailey had apologized for stealing his wallet and had thanked him for the magical push. And now, they’d buzzed each other. And he didn’t know what it meant, only that it was something.
“I saw you the other day, but wasn’t sure what you were up to, being so obvious.”
“I wanted to find out if there were others. It’s good to know it case there’s any trouble.”
The snake shifter nodded and extended his hand. “Evans, bomb tech on account that I can feel the vibrations.” He flicked his tongue out. On another man it might have been a come on. His pupils weren’t round, they seemed almost like a sun, frayed on the edges.
“Robinson. Sniper. Telekinetic.”
“Sweet.” Evans shoveled food into his mouth like a man who expected to get interrupted. “Were you expecting a Dear John letter?”
“I wasn’t expecting anything.” Certainly not an apology. “You got someone at home?”
“Not anymore. Divorce was finalized before I left.”
Evans seemed happy about it, so Kass congratulated him.
“Yeah, she never knew, but she knew I was hiding something. Sucks sometimes.”
“Yeah.” Kass nodded. “You didn’t want to tell her?”
“No and I guess that was when I figured it would never work out. Your sweetheart in the know?”
“Yeah, shifter. It’s making things weird.” Everything about them was weird and wrong from the kiss to the timing.
Evans narrowed his eyes. “You’re not…”
Kass gave a careful nod. “Just before I left.”
“And now?”
“We never got the chance to talk about it, and I don’t even know if…if they want it.” He wasn’t ready to out himself to Evans.
If Evans noticed the careful pause, he said nothing. “I think one of the Brit officers is in a similar situation. I’ll suss it out and put you in contact.”
“Appreciate it.”
Evans glanced around the mess. “Can you imagine what they’d say if they knew?”
Kass scanned the men and women eating and laughing. The witch h
unts weren’t that long ago. “They wouldn’t be thanking us for our service.”
Chapter 5
Bailey got home after midnight and dumped the credit cards and the card skimmer on the table. He’d been going to the fancy clubs the way he’d been told for the last month. They weren’t his kind of place, and everyone there knew he didn’t belong. Which made it more difficult to gather the expected six cards, but the men also wanted him to carry around a skimmer the size of a cell phone to collect more data. Getting caught with a few cards was one thing, getting caught with that device was another.
He’d done his own research and figured that since he’d been given a list of clubs, they must also have a camera somewhere to record the pin. So either the club was owned by the men, or there was a crooked employee. Either way, he was tangled up in more than a little theft.
Several times he’d considered walking into a police station and handing over the device. But if he did, he’d take the fall and Gran would be punished.
As usual Gran sat up and waited, not out of concern for him but to make sure he wasn’t carrying any secret cash on him. “I’m having a shower.”
“They’ll be happy you are obeying.”
“Whatever.” He didn’t want to chat, he wanted to get naked and take the edge off the hunger consuming him. He needed to get laid.
“And the cash?” She put her hand out the way she had been since taking the cash from his room.
At first, he’d handed over a few notes to shut her up. This week he didn’t even bother. He shrugged, then turned out his pockets and flipped open his carefully empty wallet. “If I can’t keep it, I don’t take it.”
The lie came easily. He’d collected his birth certificate last week and had opened a bank account the same day. No statements, just the app on his phone, hidden in a folder with games. When he finished working each night, he deposited most of the money in the ATM. It wasn’t hard, and his bank account was no longer empty.
The rest of the cash was rolled up in his jocks—he didn’t want to put too much in the bank in case someone got suspicious, nor did he want to leave himself strapped in case he needed it.
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