Urban Mythic: Thirteen Novels of Adventure and Romance, featuring Norse and Greek Gods, Demons and Djinn, Angels, Fairies, Vampires, and Werewolves in the Modern World

by C. Gockel

  “I stayed wolf for weeks. I had to play nice doggy around the humans we met until she could get us into the boonies and out of sight. She fed us up. I just let Liz and Farris get on with it, and basked in the freedom of being out of that damned room. Then one morning I woke up naked without fur. Farris, the sneaky bugger, had triggered the change in the night. I was human again, and weak as a baby, but I could move. I staggered into the house and here I am twenty years later.”

  “Explains all the gym time.”

  Lawrence shrugged. “I’ll never let myself be helpless again,” he said grimly. “Never. As for the body building, I enjoy it, but I wasn’t kidding the other day when you asked about it. When everyone you know is strong, any edge is good to have. You should think about it.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve no interest in that. Besides, Mist is strong enough for both of us.”

  We are one. We are strong enough for both of us.

  True enough.

  “You can never be strong enough,” Lawrence said. “Ask the vamps. There’s always someone stronger. Always.”

  All vamps were paranoid suckers... ha! Paranoid blood suckers! “We better get on the door before Edward comes looking for us.”

  Lawrence nodded and together they headed for the elevator.

  21

  Alley Dogs

  David rolled his eyes and said it again. “Dress code.” The guy looked crushed. David checked the next in line and nodded in appreciation of the tux. “Nice. Armani?”

  The guy grimaced. “It’s a knockoff, but a good one.”

  “You’re in.”

  “Thanks man.”

  “Hey, that’s not fair!” the first guy said as the faux Armani-clad shifter side-stepped him and disappeared through the lobby doors. “Where do you get off treating a shifter better than me?”

  David’s eyes ignited as he glared down the steps at the nuisance this human was fast becoming. Said nuisance swallowed and paled at the sight of the glowing orbs, but he was too stupid to leave. David sighed, reining himself in, and looked the client over again. The fool had the era all wrong; he’d chosen the worst ensemble imaginable. Stephen would have his head if he let a 70s disco wannabe in.

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said, trying for friendly and reasonable. “If you go home and change into a plain tux, even one as cheap as the junk you’re wearing now and I’m still on the door when you get back, I’ll let you in and authorise a couple of free drinks. But if you keep flapping your lips at me and making these nice people wait, I’ll have my friend here rip your goddess be head off and hide the body!”

  Lawrence grinned slowly.

  “Now then, I can’t say fairer than that, can I?”

  The waiting shifters chuckled. Some even gave suggestions or alternative punishments. Not all were anatomically possible, and he should know. He was a doctor after all. The human finally realised he wasn’t getting in tonight, and slunk away muttering threats but keeping them low enough that David could pretend not to hear them. Stupid little man. Any one of the waiting shifters could have broken him in half. Even the weakest amongst them.

  “Sorry about that,” David said to a party of four who were next in line. “We get all sorts of crazies here.” He gave them a quick once over and let them in.

  The line flowed smoothly through the doors for a while before another dress code violation. David was almost on autopilot by this stage. He could have been saving lives with Andrew now. They would probably have been making rounds, or debating a new elven healing ritual, but no, here he was safeguarding the club from the horror of black shirts and white suits.

  “Dress code,” he sighed.

  “What?”

  “The theme is 1920s speakeasy. Most of our male guests wear a tux.”

  “Oh, does it really matter? Double breasted is back in, and gangsters wore them didn’t they? I’m sure I read that. Look, I even have the hat!” He put the fedora on and tweaked the brim expertly.

  David smiled. He liked this one. “Put a tie on, and I’ll let you in.”

  The guy’s face fell.

  “No tie?”

  He shook his head.

  David held out a hand to Lawrence who rolled his eyes and retrieved one from a pocket. David passed it to his new best friend, but had to tie it for him. The young human hadn’t seemed feeble-minded a moment ago, but suddenly he was all flustered fingers and thumbs.

  He likes you.

  Oh, it was like that? The young man was a thrill-seeker and didn’t discriminate by gender. At least the guy was circumspect and didn’t try to touch. Not always a given. He allowed David to get the tie on him properly, standing silently flushing with pleasure.

  “I’m going to trust you to hand this back in before you leave.”

  A nod.

  “Have fun. Stay out of trouble.”

  Another nod.

  He waved the red-faced man into the club.

  Lawrence laughed. “That was so sweet.”

  He grimaced. “If I took all the little things seriously, I wouldn’t have any time to stress over the big stuff.” He let the next group in. “Besides, he’s harmless.”

  “They usually are at first, but thrill-seekers can turn nasty when we reject them. Some advice welcome?”

  “Why not, you’re dying to lay it on me.”

  “When it’s a woman, don’t reject them. Make an excuse. You’re working, you’ll lose your job, you have a jealous shifter girlfriend who would literally kill you if you stray. Those work well. When it’s a guy, you’re straight, you’re not out yet, or your boss would fire you because he doesn’t like gays. Anything like that should work. You didn’t mean to, but that guy will come on to you later because you encouraged his fantasy.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “In his mind you did. Ask Mist.”

  Is he right?

  Yes, Mist agreed. The manthing likes you very much now, more than before. You were kind to him.

  David sighed. “Okay.”

  The queue to enter the club dwindled to a trickle as late afternoon turned toward evening. The sun was touching the roofs opposite when real trouble came calling. Mist warned him of the approach of more shifters, and these weren’t interested in good music and food. They were looking for trouble. He drew Lawrence’s attention to a pair of cars entering the lot.

  “Are they...?”

  “Alley Dogs,” Lawrence said grimly as men piled out of the vehicles. “That’s their Alpha in the lead.”

  So this was Stephen’s one-time ally and the current thorn in his side. Raymond Pederson; Georgie’s boss, and according to Stephen, his real enemy. He looked eagerly for a sign that Georgie was here, but all the shifters were men. The disappointment that realisation brought made him snarl. It would have made things so much simpler if he could have dealt with both his problems here and now.

  Pederson was an average looking man in his early thirties, roughly six foot, and around 190lbs. Just an average white guy, brown haired, seemingly normal in every way, but his Presence marked him as a strong alpha male, and Mist didn’t like that. The wolf was hyper alert and warily tasting the air through David. That’s what it felt like, but it was more than scenting or tasting air, it was a sort of reaching out to the magic that shifters exuded. A shifter’s Presence was a form of power that they couldn’t really hide. Alphas could do more with it than others, just as they had more control over their shifting, but that control didn’t extend to making it seem more powerful than it actually was.

  He tested Pederson’s Presence, rolled it around on his tongue, felt it in the back of his head where Mist resided, and knew they were stronger. He was certain they were, but Pederson hadn’t come alone. The Alley Dog’s Alpha wasn’t here for a social call and had chosen a time when the vamps were still down for the day.

  He counted his would-be enemies, he was sure they were at least that, and came up with eleven shifters including Pederson. All of them were strong enough to be ranked s
omewhere in the middle of the pack. None was a weakling, and that right there was suggestive. They were here for trouble, another name for which was Ronnie.

  “Get the others,” he said to Lawrence.

  Lawrence hesitated to obey.

  “Go! And make sure Ronnie stays out of sight.”

  Lawrence bolted inside.

  David positioned himself to block the doors. “Dress code,” he said in a bored voice.

  Pederson stopped as if surprised that anyone had the audacity to block him. His men bunched up behind him. “Stand aside.”

  “Dress... code...” he enunciated the words with exaggerated care as if talking to someone deaf or simple-minded. “You can’t come in.”

  Pederson looked at a loss for a moment and then he got his hackles up, perhaps realising how it looked in front of his pack. He was being challenged, though subtly, and balked; that sort of thing didn’t happen to pack leaders, or shouldn’t.

  David grinned at him, perhaps unwisely, but Mist was making many things seem perfectly acceptable right now, when they would have seemed more than unwise to the old David. The wolf was snarling and urging action in response to Pederson’s challenge, and it was all David could do to keep from complying.

  Calm down!

  Protect the den; protect the pack! The Alpha sleeps, but we are alpha too, and he challenges us. He would take Callia from us! The She is mine! The pack is good, the pack is all, and the She is MINE!

  Before he could reply, Mist shoved power so hard and fast into him that David didn’t have time to scream. He exploded out of his clothes, and spiralled into the darkness of Mist’s mind as the wolf surged forward and into control of their body. Mist wasn’t thinking wolf as the change claimed them, he was obsessed with thoughts of his challenger. Pederson’s challenge, Pederson’s assault on his den and pack, Pederson coming to claim Callia... his She! HIS! He wanted nothing more than to best his nemesis, be stronger, be bigger, be greater than Pederson in every way. In body, in Presence, in strength of will. He would be big, bigger, BIGGEST!

  Mist snarled down at the suddenly pale and hurriedly backing shifters before him. He grinned at them all, not a friendly gesture, his muzzle rumpling to reveal finger-long fangs. He was BIG!

  Goddess, what have you done? David said. We aren’t wolf.

  No, they weren’t, but they hadn’t truly been that since joining. They were manthing and wolf combined. Hybrid. This new form expressed their joining perfectly and literally. Mist didn’t see it in those terms, but David did, and so he understood what the concept of a hybrid form meant. They stood on two legs like a manthing, but their head was wolf-like and their mouth was full of ripping teeth for battle. Their arms were long, good for catching prey, and when Mist flexed his fingers, wickedly sharp claws sprang out like those of a cat. He raised a hand and admired them. They were curved and so very sharp; perfect for gutting his prey.

  Pederson was his prey.

  Like flick knives coming out, and sharp! David was calming down and starting to sound intrigued by their new form. We are hybrid, the best of both our worlds, Mist. This is our Alpha form. Only alphas can do this I bet.

  Good?

  For battle, David agreed. Pederson looks scared, and his people look impressed. Maybe this will hold them and we won’t have to fight.

  We should fight. I am stronger. It is the Way.

  We don’t want the Alley Dogs. I don’t at least. Do you want to lead them?

  Mist hesitated. Given the choice, he would lead rather than be led, but also given the option, he would take Stephen’s wolves for his own over Pederson’s curs. He knew the wolves here; they were familiar now, and he liked Farris. There was Callia to consider too. She was safe here. There weren’t many bitches in Stephen’s pack, but Pederson’s pack was larger and had many. She would be in danger of challenge there.

  No, I do not want them.

  Then we fight only to protect the pack, not in formal challenge.

  Yes.

  Pederson seemed uncertain how to proceed. Mist was a huge obstruction, literally huge, but he hadn’t made a threatening move since shifting shape. He towered over the Alley Dogs, seven feet tall, seven and a half... more?

  More maybe, David said uncertainly.

  Mist stood on the top step leading into the club and Pederson had retreated to the bottom. It made it harder to judge. That the Alley Dogs had retreated was a victory, and well Pederson knew it. He had lost points in his pack’s eyes and would need to make them up somehow later or face challenges. Mist could taste his anger and frustration, but there was fear there as well. It was very satisfying. He liked this new form, this alpha form. It felt strange, but already he could see how useful scaring an enemy into submission rather than fighting could be. Very satisfying it felt too.

  Mist grinned, showing lots of teeth, and he allowed a rumbling growl to escape when one of the Alley Dogs edged a little closer to test his power. The cur backed off.

  Pederson decided finally and exploded out of his clothes. He chose his wolf form... no, he was changing again, this time into his own alpha shape. Mist watched while David speculated that Pederson couldn’t go direct from human to hybrid, as they had done. Mist didn’t care about reasons. The only thing that truly mattered was that the Alley Dog be smaller and weaker. Strength was all that mattered in decisions of dominance and pack position.

  Pederson’s men did not advance with him, and that pleased David. Mist would fight them all if need be, but he agreed that it did make things easier. He tested Pederson’s Presence again and knew he would win this fight. There was no doubt. Pederson was no match physically, and his Presence was inferior as well. He was stronger than Lawrence was, but not close to Mist in power and certainly he was nothing in comparison to Stephen; he had no chance of winning, and he must know it, yet he came on bravely. Mist felt a grudging respect for him for doing so. It was an unwanted distraction that he dismissed a moment later. There was no room for it in a fight.

  Don’t fight him. Force him to submit to us.

  He hesitated at the suggestion. He would prefer blood be shed, but he could probably make Pederson back down if he tried. Before he could think on it further, the decision was snatched out of his hands. Pederson charged and struck the first blow, claws extended. Mist snarled at the pain of ripped flesh, his chest burned with it, and so he struck back without another thought. He raked his enemy’s face snagging his claws in one eye socket. Blood and fluids gushed. It was a telling blow. Pederson screamed at the loss of his eye. It would heal in time, but he was already at a disadvantage in size, and now he was half-blind. He had already lost. It was obvious, but he couldn’t just submit. He would definitely be facing challenges from his pack now.

  Mist knew he had won, and David didn’t want to kill anyone with so many witnesses to see it, so he defended himself rather than simply finishing the fight, and slowly took Pederson apart without landing the killing blow he could so easily serve up. He didn’t think hard upon it, but from the point of view of the Alley Dogs watching the fight, it must have seemed he was playing with Pederson, ripping him up, and not letting him land a blow after the first lucky clawing. They saw it as disrespect, not as an attempt to be merciful. That was understandable. Mercy within the community was an unusual concept, especially when applied to dominance fights. Most, if not all, were to the death. Very few preferred submission once first blood was drawn.

  Pederson was staggering, and obviously unfit to continue when Lawrence and the rest of the Lost Souls shifters arrived, but it didn’t have the effect of calming things; quite the opposite. The Alley Dogs went furry en masse, and the Lost Souls shifters did likewise to defend the club. Mist landed a crunching blow to Pederson’s staggering form, and dropped the half-dead Alpha in his tracks, but it was too late. The fight was already spiralling. Or rather it was, until Edward made an appearance carrying a police issue shock lance and began laying about himself with abandon. He didn’t care which side anyone was on either! Mist
caught a charge from it, probably by accident, as the human swung the weapon wildly trying to force the combatants apart.

  “Back you idiots!” Edward yelled. “The police are on their way! Get back! Pick up your fool of an Alpha! Get him out of sight before we all spend the night in the slam!”

  Do it, Mist. I don’t want to spend the night in a cage.

  Mist hesitated, but no, he wouldn’t be caged. Must not be caged, no. He picked up Pederson’s dead weight and carried him into the lobby. He hesitated, not sure what to do next, but saw the door leading up to Edward’s office and decided to hide from the police up there. The fighting continued outside, but it sounded less than before. Farris ran inside still snarling, muzzle bloody, but not raging. More wolves followed, and soon a flood of Alley Dogs entered the club too. Edward ran in and threw the shock lance to Samantha, one of the hostesses. She caught it nimbly and stashed it out of sight under her counter. Edward went back outside to greet the police cruisers just then screeching to a halt.

  The wolves quickly vanished through various doors. No one cared now that Alley Dogs were mixed in with them, they were all shifters, all monsters together aligned against the human police in that moment. Mist looked around to be sure everyone was out of sight, and then left the lobby himself, carrying Pederson up to Edward’s office to wait.

  He deposited his burden on the couch running along one wall of the office, and studied his enemy. Stephen insisted it was Pederson and not Georgie who was his real enemy, but David considered them both that way. It seemed a little convenient to him that Stephen’s current nemesis be their enemy too. Stephen was Alpha; he didn’t need reasons to be obeyed. If he wanted Pederson dead he need only say so, and it would happen. He didn’t need to pretend they had a common enemy. Mist would do it right now if Stephen gave the order.

  David sent unease at the thought, not agreeing but aware that any number of people at Lost Souls would follow the order if they did not. Killing Pederson didn’t concern Mist at all. If it would make them safer, then of course they should do it, if not, then perhaps they could let him live, but he had no preference. It was all the same to him, but not to David.