by Dannika Dark
I could smell Ryker’s cologne as he approached. His complexion was pasty which looked even more unattractive against a shaved head. The man needed a bottle of suntan lotion and a trip to Belize. Between his ears, eyes, and mouth—he had more metal than a rock concert. However, what really made my skin crawl was the sinister tattoo inked across his chest. A grim reaper laughed at me with a skeletal smile. The blade of the scythe ran along Ryker’s throat.
I launched onto the table—arms bound—ready to kick someone in the skull with my heels.
He tucked his hands beneath his armpits and studied me.
“What do you want to do first?” the albino asked, light pulsing in his eyes. “I say we juice her.”
“Later. Let’s start with the cane.”
I pulled at my restraints. “If you don’t take these off, I’m going to scream.”
“Go ahead. Do you think they care?” he laughed. “On second thought I’d rather not have a crowd tonight. Hans, get the gag.”
When Hans moved closer, I clipped him in the jaw. His head rolled back and his eyes widened like saucers.
“Fucking hell, she’s really not into this,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
Ryker grabbed my heel. “Don’t worry, princess. We swing alone; this is just the halftime show.”
“We’re going to punish you for your disobedience,” Hans said. His lashes were as pale as his hair.
You have got to be kidding me. I thrashed my legs out, refusing to submit to this ludicrous game.
“Hold her fucking feet, goddammit.”
The albino slapped me, and I shoved him across the room. I was about to leap off the table and do some serious damage with my heels when something caught my attention.
Logan stepped in, just as cool as could be, and closed the door behind him, sliding the lock.
“Get the fuck out of here.” Ryker’s lip twitched and he cracked a few knuckles. “Private party.”
Chills blistered my arms when I looked into Logan’s eyes and saw a gathering storm. “Which one of you put that red mark on her face?” His words weren’t rushed, and when he opened his mouth and displayed his incisors, their eyes darted back and forth between each other.
Ryker pointed at his friend. “He did it.”
“Then he will die slower,” Logan promised.
“Chitah, we have no quarrel with you.”
Logan was beyond hearing. When Ryker held up his hand, Logan twisted it until the bone snapped. Cold horror washed over me.
He tossed him to the ground like a rag doll, and I heard the tearing of flesh and groans. The Mage slumped to the floor and shook so violently that his eyes rolled back. Logan struck his victims in the jugular, and there was quite a bit of blood from the struggle, as it tinted the ends of his hair.
“If she’s yours, you can have her. This was his idea, and if you let me out of here, I’ll owe you. I’ll owe you fucking big.”
Logan took a position by my side, looking at Hans without mercy.
“Logan, no,” I whispered. Black ringed his eyes and I knew he was only half in control.
He lifted his right hand, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. “Do you know what this is, Mage? It's the world's smallest violin, and it's playing just for you.”
One minute Logan was at my side, the next he threw the Mage to the ground. His lips peeled back as his fangs drove into his neck. Only two puncture marks showed when he pulled back, but it was enough to cause paralysis. Logan punched him in the face several times with an iron fist before slicing him with his teeth. I was shocked by the brutality, and just as soon as it began, Logan’s venom ended the very short life of a man who merely slapped me.
He freed my wrists from the straps and I struck him in the face with the flat of my hand. “Why did you kill them? Does everything have to end in death with you? We could have called the authorities, or just roughed them up a little.”
Ignoring me, he slipped his hands around my waist and nuzzled against my neck. He smelled inexplicably wonderful. The scent was possessive, and I buried myself in its dark sweetness.
“Why did you fly away, little bird?”
“You were gone. I wanted to leave and I couldn’t find you.”
He gathered me in his arms and pulled me off the table.
My stomach turned, and I stepped back. “You have blood in your hair. Why did you do that? If they open an investigation on the murders, then we’re all going to jail.”
Breed jail. I read about it, but had no desire to find out firsthand how those living accommodations would be.
“Too many illegal activities are going on; they won’t request an investigator.”
“How do you know?”
He stroked a hand down his chest, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’ve been to purgatory.”
“Was it worth their life?”
“I’ve never killed a Mage that didn’t have it coming. I can scent guilt much stronger than the slap to your face. Your anxiety flooded through every doorway like a forest fire, but not quick enough. That damn perfume!” he growled. “You have no idea how much I wanted to taste the blood of the one who made you afraid.”
I knew. It was obvious in the fire blazing in his eyes, and the way his fingers trembled as they brushed down my arms. Logan knew my scent, and my heightened emotions only amplified it.
“Guilt doesn’t make you the judge and executioner.”
“What would they have done had I not come in?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know, but… you need to learn to control yourself. I don’t ever want you to kill in front of me again.”
Maybe we differed because I was recently human and retained some of that humanity. Many were older, had less tolerance, and killed in battle. There was no ‘my lawyer will call your lawyer’. This was an advanced society living by primitive rules.
“You can’t go out like that,” I said.
I lifted a folded towel from the floor and ran it over Logan’s face, wiping away as much blood as I could. He looked down at me with hardened eyes, lost behind the heavy brow. He still hadn’t retracted his incisors, and I carefully wiped his mouth.
Strong hands cupped my cheeks and his eyes glazed over with a passionate stare. Honestly, an intimate moment was the last thing on my mind as I stood there in the torture room with a Chitah and two dead bodies.
“Keep your head down. I couldn’t get all of the blood out of your hair.”
“Others have blood on them,” he argued.
“Did anyone see you come in here?”
“No.” Logan’s expression looked fuzzy as he tried pulling me close to him. The fact that he killed for me was going straight to his head, giving him a drunken gaze.
“I’ll go out first. Wait until I’m out of sight, then follow behind. Keep your distance so nobody makes the connection we’re together. If Simon wants to hang out and have a drink with Nero, then I’ll signal to him we’re leaving. We have to get out of here.”
Chapter 25
The room was feverish—heavy with humidity, sweat, and the fragrance of brutality. The music was a deafening roar by the time I reached the top of the stairs. Simon took one look at me and rose to his feet from across the room. I shouldered my way through the crowd towards the front door.
Two men blocked the exit. I was so rattled that I didn’t notice they were looking at me in a familiar way. The tall one reached for the handle. “Good luck, Mage. We’ll give you a running head start.” A malevolent smile flashed across his face and the door swung wide.
I ran against the gusty wind and slid to a stop in front of Logan’s gutted car. Tiny pieces of gravel sprayed out from beneath my boots, clicking against the undercarriage. It wasn’t a fancy vehicle by any means, but I grimaced when I saw the hood pried open and parts hanging out.
Simon jogged up and threw his hands on the edge, staring at the engine as a curse flew out.
“Simon, we have to run!” I took off down an alley and I don’t think
my feet ever touched the ground. “I was given a warning!” I yelled out.
“From who?”
“One was a Mage. The other one—I don’t know. Tall, sunglasses…” I coughed from the dry wind.
“Chitah,” Simon panted, slowing down. “He’ll track our scent.”
As soon as we turned the corner, Simon skidded to a halt.
“What are you doing?” I reached out, but he stepped back and put his hand on top of his head.
“Let me think, be quiet for a minute.”
Empty streets welcomed us like an open hand, trying to lure us into the human bars that lined the edges. Every shadow that moved was an extra tick in my heartbeat. A beer can clattered as it rolled into the gutter, scaring a cat who darted beneath a parked car.
In a blur, Simon flashed across the street from one bar to the next before ending up on a fire escape above me.
“Do what I’m doing!” he yelled.
I flashed in different directions until every square inch of that block carried our scent. Simon had a brilliant idea to throw off our tracker. We covered the area in less than a minute before running northbound.
“Where are we going?”
Simon’s hair looked like waves in the wind as he ran ahead of me. “Subway!”
We hurried down stairs surrounded by dirty, red tiles. Simon paid the toll and we jumped on the train, taking the last seat in an empty car.
I collapsed against the window. Air burned my throat with each inhale.
“I didn’t think we’d get away,” I gasped.
“We haven’t,” he said, looking out the window. “We’re switching trains at the next stop.” Red streaks flushed across his cheeks, and he coughed into his shirt.
“Why?”
“If he’s a Chitah, he’ll track us as long as it takes. Prepare to fight. Bloody hell, prepare to run. I’ll hold him off.”
“I hope you’re kidding.”
He stood up and peered through the doorway at the cars ahead.
“What happened with Nero?”
“We had a pleasant conversation that didn’t end well. I assumed he would want privacy at a fetish club. I assumed wrong. If he has bodyguards with him at all times, we’re going to have a hell of a time getting close again.” He combed his hair with the tips of his fingers and murmured, “Well played, Nero.”
I groaned and dropped my head in my hands.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“My head is throbbing.”
“It’s the adrenaline.” He plopped down beside me, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “Suck it up, buttercup.”
I blew a strand of hair from my eyes. “Where are we going?”
“Back to your place.”
“Justus will kill me. You gave me your word that you wouldn’t—”
“This has gone too far. We’re not putting our lives in jeopardy so that you can salvage your pride. Face the music.”
“You mean the firing squad.”
When the train squealed to a stop, we jumped off. The floors had random stains with cigarette butts crushed in the corners, and graffiti decorated most of the walls. I grimaced, rubbing at my ankle. My boots were made for walking, not sprinting across half of Cognito.
Simon kicked a soda can, startling a nurse who hurried up the stairs out of sight. We were alone. His gaze drifted towards the open mouth of the dark tunnel.
“Simon?”
His head snapped around. “Run!”
Before I could turn, a sound erupted and it wasn’t the train. The figure that stepped out of the shadows was the Chitah. I knew by the distinct roar that decimated any doubt.
He was tall, like Logan, but scrawny and dressed like a bum. The Chitah blew out a hollow breath and stalked forward with large fists.
“You give good chase, female.” He threw a leg over the platform and pulled himself up. “Give me more credit; I’m way better than that. I hate to damage the merchandise, but you pissed me off three blocks ago.”
His eyes shifted color, and my legs wobbled as I stared into their inky depths.
“Silver, get back,” Simon ordered.
“He likes to chase and I’m tired of running. Not a chance. Work with me.”
The Chitah’s eyes flicked between the two of us.
We looked at each other, and I nodded at Simon. All it took was one tooth to paralyze a Mage. “I’ll take his throat,” I whispered, “Charge up; you’ll only get one shot.”
I sprang at the Chitah and he moved to knock my hands away, so I locked my arm around his throat using the force of my body to take him down. We slammed against the hard concrete, knocking my elbow hard enough that I yelled out.
Simon never went for the Chitah, because the Mage emerged from the tunnel wielding a knife. They collided in a blur of movement and engaged in combat. Blood trickled down Simon’s arm.
The Chitah moved beneath me and I stupidly held on before realizing I could knock him out with my light. I chanced it—loosening my hold as I cradled his head in my hands. I wasn’t charged up enough to do much damage, but I was going to give him what I had. Before I could release, the Chitah rammed the heel of his hands into my chest, throwing me back. I nearly fell off the platform, but caught my balance at the last second.
Gasping for breath, I studied the situation. He obviously didn’t see me as competition, as he was dusting off his pants. The only way out of this was to team up with Simon against the Mage, and then take on the Chitah.
I didn’t have a chance to finish that thought before the Chitah threw me to the ground, pinning my wrists above my head. Sharp fangs grazed the soft flesh of my cheek and I crumpled away from him.
The knife gleamed against the cement floor to my right, teasing me, as I was unable to use my gift to pull it. Simon wasn’t a big guy, but he was a demon with knives.
Logan inadvertently taught me one thing: a Chitah not only scented emotion, but also reacted to it. Anxiety filled his nose, but what would happen if I threw him off with desire? Distraction is a valuable tool. I shut my eyes, searching for a memory—anything that would put me in that frame of mind.
Nothing.
I stared into his murky eyes where rings of gold held on. They reminded me of Logan, and I thought about our smoldering kiss. I could almost taste the strawberry on my tongue.
His nostrils flared. The contours of his face softened, confused as he looked between my green eyes, which I’m sure had points of silver that appear when I’m overcharged. With all the strength I could manage, I curled my fingertips around his wrist and knocked my power into him. The Chitah roared as he flew back like a man electrocuted by a bolt of lightning.
I leapt to my feet. “Simon!”
“Doing fine, honeybunch. How are you holding out?”
I laughed as the Chitah rose to his feet, pissed and ready to tear me apart. “Holding my own.”
“Atta girl.”
We shared an unspoken look, knowing that this may not end in our favor. The blade made a sharp sound as I lifted it from the concrete. I threw off a scent of confidence. Could a Chitah tell when I was faking it? That roused another intimate question that distracted me. Need to focus.
The Chitah knelt down, planted his knuckles on the floor, and showed me his teeth. I trembled, unable to feign confidence any longer. He was eyeing my throat.
His lower incisors rose to meet the top.
Out of the darkness, two men emerged from the mouth of the tunnel. Logan leapt onto the platform effortlessly. His chest glimmered from the sweat of a hard run, his hair in tangles, and the leathers looked like they had a good stretch. His face was stone. His body was might, and his low rider pants were sexy as hell.
Logan Cross moved in like a predator. Behind him was another Chitah with a thick, brutal set of incisors. A train rushed by like a silver bullet, swirling Logan’s hair around like a tornado.
I expected them to circle one another, shouting out threats. There was no warning—they attacked.
My heart raced in the mayhem, and with a flick of the wrist, the knife skated to his feet. He gripped the handle and drove it deep into the chest of the Mage. It sliced through bone and made a sickening sound before the man dropped to the ground. Simon flipped him on his back with his fingers wrapped around the handle. The blade was a stunner—metal forged with magic that could paralyze a Mage.
“Turn away, because you don’t want to see this,” he said in a raspy voice.
No, I didn’t. One of the few ways a Mage could die was decapitation. I threw my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut, rocking on my knees.
Minutes passed, and when I looked up, the station was empty except for Simon standing in a pool of blood. By the sound of the conversation, he was talking to a cleaner on the phone.
Cleaners have been around for the past couple of centuries. When a body needs disposing, or witnesses require forgetting, cleaners take care of the job. Modern science poses a threat if humans were to perform an autopsy on Breed. Cleaners are also under legal obligation to report their findings to the appropriate leaders. They were referenced in one of Justus’s law books, and Simon filled me in on his experiences with them.
Simon networked with people who kept secrets. Dark secrets. Otherwise, we would have faced the Council for killing a Mage. While it was in self-defense, the situation became muddy because it involved an open HALO case.
We jogged up the stairs to the sidewalk. I leaned against a brick wall, legs shaking and exhaustion crashing through me in waves.
“Silver, this is Levi, my brother.”
You could see the family resemblance in the eyes and coloring, although Levi was thicker in build and wore his hair closely trimmed to his head. Dark brown stubble ran over his jaw, and his chin punched out a little with a dimple. On the inside of his right forearm was a bold tattoo in thick Old English writing that said: VERITAS.
Levi bowed his head.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Levi.”
That’s when I glared at Logan. “I can’t believe you dragged your brother into this. He could have been hurt! This is how you want me to meet your family? Where the hell were you? Do you have any idea what we had to go through to get that Chitah off our tail?”
