by Kim Schubert
Logan stopped growling, looking down at his arm. Indeed, while the hole was sealing around itself, the bullet having gone straight through, it would stall every few seconds in closing. Blue turned Logan’s arm and the wounded shifter hissed.
“Don’t be a baby,” Blue chided.
“If Olivia wouldn’t be upset, I’d end you,” Logan hissed back at him.
Blue smiled, looking the pissed off shifter in the eyes. “You wouldn’t dream of pissing her off that badly.”
Logan growled.
Mark and Gunner came over, Gunner snapping pictures of the wound and pulling out a swab before looking fearfully up at Logan.
“Go ahead,” Logan bit out.
Gunner nodded, taking the swab quickly and sealing it in a glass container. He continued to take pictures until the wound had healed, leaving a small white mark behind.
“That is interesting,” Mark admitted.
“Why are new ways to kill shifters popping up?” Logan mused. “Someone is coming after us as a whole.” It wasn’t enough that his own people were betraying him. Sage’s double cross had stung Logan deeply. He had appointed her to protect the North and she had sold out her own kind for money and power. It was a miserable reminder of his failures as Alpha.
“Not someone, some race,” Blue corrected, his face drawn in anger.
“You believe it’s the vampires as well?” Logan questioned.
Blue’s piercing gaze shot to Logan. “I know it is. Those blood suckers have always done more harm than good.”
“It could just be Zachariah after Olivia,” Mark added.
“No, the vampires never do anything without planning and support. One House would never go rogue. It has never ever happened in their long and sordid history,” Blue stated with full confidence.
“Not a fan of the vampires?” Gunner asked.
“No,” was the extent of Blue’s answer. “I have no idea why Olivia has been so tolerant of them.”
“They pay the bills,” Logan stated, flexing his arm.
“If my math is correct, with the caliber of bullet used, you would have bled out from three hits before your body could heal, due to the delayed healing,” Gunner stated, pushing his glasses up his nose. His gaze flicked nervously around the group. “And for the record, I agree with Blue, the vampires are not to be trusted. None of my other clients kidnap me for my services.”
Logan couldn’t argue with that logic.
“You should be thanking your lucky stars she saved you,” Blue said, his eyes glossy as he addressed Logan.
“I’d have traded places with her in a heartbeat, if it meant she wasn’t harmed.” Logan answered, not liking Blue’s tone.
“Then you would be a fool. While she will be able to bounce back from this, you would have left your mate and child alone. How long do you think a succubus would last against the challenges the shifters would levy?” Blue chided.
Logan growled, “No one would have killed her.”
Mark reached out, placing a hand against Logan’s arm. “As much as it pains me, Blue has a point. Your death was carefully planned out. She is hard to kill.”
Logan didn’t care for this conversation. “Is there anything else, Gunner?” he asked.
Gunner shook his head.
“Let’s go,” Logan commanded.
…
“Seriously, how much longer?” I groaned. The backpack was heavy and I was sweating. I was really wishing I wasn’t so fucking corporeal. Not to mention, this was day fucking two.
“We are almost there,” Doyle stated. I could tell by his tone, he found this amusing. The landscape had been repetitive, flat red rock until we hit the mountains of even redder rock. I was wishing for flat after that. We scaled the often sheer rock face until my fingers were sliced and I was having flashbacks to visiting The Oracle.
At least there was a prize at the end with her. A griffin feather seemed pretty easy. How solidly could those things be attached, anyways? I was surprised they weren’t just collected at random, since they were needed for spells.
“Let’s make camp here. We can continue the rest of the way after we eat,” The Magician stated.
I crashed down, leaning against an outcropping of rocks.
“So, are griffins the same here as in my world? Head of an eagle, body of a lion?” I asked, pulling out a chunk of bread.
“Yes,” The Magician answered.
I shrugged. “How did griffins end up here, anyways? The witches’ target broader than just magicians and succubi?”
“It was far broader. Any clan that aligned themselves with the succubi was seen as a threat. The minotaurs, griffins, mermaids, and unicorns were all locked away.”
“Oh man, you are going to make so many of the kids happy when they hear mermaids and unicorns are real.”
“You have children?” The Magician asked, sitting forward, attentive to my answer.
“No, Selena sterilized me. I can’t have children.” I let that sink in for a moment, seeing his disgust and disappointment.
He shook his head. “I can’t apologize enough for that decision.”
“I take in other children, other succubi like me who have no families, who are forgotten about by everyone else,” I told him.
“How many do you have?”
I shrugged. “Living with us, fourteen. Another six in college or working.”
“That is quite a brood,” he commented.
“Unwanted children are my specialty.”
He grunted. I might have been adding salt to a wound, but I didn’t see it as undeserved.
“You didn’t take any jerky,” Doyle commented, holding out a piece to me.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I don’t eat meat.”
That shocked him, which was a funny look on a minotaur.
“Such a lovely picnic party,” cooed a voice above me.
The Magician’s head jerked up, his body tensing as he slowly stood. Doyle growled, which I have to admit was an impressive sound.
I looked up, into the beady eyes of the griffin. A long, curved beak was poised inches from my head.
“Hey, you speak,” I commented.
It regarded me, its head shifting from side to side.
“You are not of this vile world,” it commented, inching closer.
“True, I’m trying get back to my own world and need one of your feathers,” I informed it.
The griffin stood, jumping down in front of me.
“Why would I help you leave here if I cannot?”
“Goodness of your heart?” I tried.
It preened its feathers, ruffling their lemon and russet silken appearance.
“I suppose The Magician didn’t tell you our feathers only come off in death.”
“Fucking shit, no, he did not.” I stared pointedly at The Magician.
“I had planned on telling you,” he stated.
The griffin laughed, “Who are you to him, my dear? His latest conquest?”
“His daughter,” I stated flatly.
That got its attention. “Daughter, no, it cannot be,” it whispered, peering closer at me.
“Well, I am just going off of his word. I suppose this could be an elaborate hallucination.”
“How did you return? Where is the portal?” The griffin stomped closer to me.
“My body is in my world, my soul here.” I shrugged, I didn’t understand it.
Apparently, the griffin did, as it nodded in thought. “You are a fool to think you can reunite the two,” it asserted, turning to The Magician.
“My power is plentiful to complete such a small task,” he answered.
The griffin tsked, which was a weird sound from a beak.
I reached up and yanked on its feathers. They didn’t budge, but the griffin did spin around.
“Maybe we can just cut it off?” I backed away from the snapping jaws of the griffin. “Dude, do not make me kill you!” I yelled at it.
“You can try, pretty,” i
t hissed at me, continuing to snap its jaws. I rolled back, pinned against the rock. I pulled a throwing dagger from across my chest, rejoicing in its cool metal touch, flicking it toward my target as soon as I grabbed it.
It bounced harmlessly off the griffin’s thick coat.
“Fucker,” I groaned out, annoyed.
Doyle groaned and the griffin’s eyes widened in surprise before it was tossed away from me. I hustled to Doyle’s side, looking down at his hands. Rivulets of blood dripped from his fingertips into the dusty red ground.
“Shit, Magician, can you do something about that?” I asked, palming more knives, moving my body in front of Doyle.
“I don’t need healing or protecting,” Doyle grunted, pushing me aside.
“Fine,” I ground out.
The griffin screamed, launching over the top of the rock face, claws extended. I threw the knives with all my nonexistent strength. One stuck and orange blood oozed from the wound.
“Score one for me,” I smiled, before I flung myself forward and out of the way of her destruction. I felt fairly confident in calling it a she now; there were no dangling bits that I could see, and as she had soared overhead, I tried aiming for dangly bits.
Doyle caught the brunt of the hit, her claws raking across his midsection. He pushed her back with impressive strength, his stomach bleeding freely.
I cast a quick glance at The Magician. He was screwing with little packets of who-knew-what. I growled, having the distasteful feeling of being used.
I opted for a sword, using the rock to launch myself onto her back from behind, my legs locking around her neck. The bitch, yeah I decided she was totally female, launched into the air.
“Whoa, this is not cool!” I screamed as Doyle’s massive form grew smaller.
Bending at the waist, I held the blade against her throat. “Down, bitch.”
She cawed at the open sky and if I wasn’t so freaked out about flying, it might, almost, have been slightly exciting.
She rolled and I used both hands to hold onto the blade around her neck. What happens to body-less soul beings when they fall? I didn’t want to find out. The blade didn’t cut into my hand, although it should have. I can’t say I wasn’t loving not getting hurt.
I pulled the blade up, warm liquid spilling over my hands.
She flew straight up into the sky. Seriously, not what I was after. A popping noise deafened my ears and suddenly we were still. I relaxed my grip on the steel, turning to see that the distance between us and the ground was dwindling rapidly.
The Magician looked strained, fighting against the will of the griffin. At least, I assumed from his pained expression that he was the one responsible for our sudden change of direction.
“Use the sword and cut her feathers off. It will be enough,” he ground out through clenched teeth as the griffin hit the red dirt in front of him.
I relaxed my grip. Twisting to the left, I sliced a handful of feathers off before I slipped off her back.
“It was that easy the entire time?” I grunted, going behind him to check on Doyle.
Doyle’s wounds were healing, looking more like scratches than life threatening wounds, although he was going to need a new tunic.
I picked up my discarded bag, shoving the griffin feathers in it before securing it to my back.
“How long can you keep her like that?” I asked, helping Doyle up.
“A while, let us head down the mountain,” The Magician stated.
I picked up Doyle’s pack, shifting it on my shoulder before following him down the mountain.
“This was his plan all along,” Doyle informed me, moving quickly for one still healing. “He never planned to put either of us in harm’s way.”
“Did he tell you that before or after we were attacked?” I questioned.
“Before,” The Magician said behind me.
The griffin’s cry had us all moving faster.
“How far before she stops trying to kill us?” I yelled.
“I don’t actually know,” The Magician mused.
“Wonderful,” I groaned. The downward force of air above us had us all looking up.
“Get down!” my father yelled, before covering my body with his own.
I felt his weight leave, his cry next to my ear.
“Dammit,” I hissed, dropping my bags and running back up the rocky hill. I scrambled up to the top, tracking the griffin’s progress. I pulled a dagger, throwing it as I ran. It landed in her underbelly, lodging there. She cried out, still holding my father in her claws.
Learning her lesson on flying above me, she changed her altitude, dropping next to the mountain. It was a smart tactic, leaving her hide exposed to only one side.
I added a burst of speed before vaulting over the edge, clamping down on the scream that tried to force its way past my lips.
The winged asshole didn’t change course. I pulled my sword and, with the help of my basically suicidal momentum, pierced her thick, feathered hide just behind her skull. It would be a killing blow for most Supernaturals; hopefully my luck would hold here. I clutched hard to the sword hilt, her scream making me want to cover my ears. She angled her body skyward, sending my sword slicing down her back.
I had to be close to killing her. Such a desperate move was foolish and instinct-based.
Her body went slack with a final cry. We had one moment of perfectly balanced stillness in the air before it all came crashing down. My fingers still clung to the sword, as though it would afford me some sort of protection.
It didn’t, and I will admit I screamed before I blasted apart against the hard packed dirt below us.
I thought it would hurt. I had no idea how much. I bounced several times against the dense ground, my body seeming to split apart and form back together with each ricochet against the red dirt.
I came to a stop, terrified to even try moving, breathing shallowly, tears staining my face. A groan from far behind me had me pushing up to make sure the griffin wasn’t moving.
It wasn’t. I went back to lying on my stomach.
“For the love of the seven hells!” my father cried out. “Did you even think that through before you jumped off a cliff and almost killed yourself?”
He stomped closer, his shadow falling over me. “Can’t kill me. I’m just a soul,” I grunted back.
“Oh, smart. You don’t even know if that’s true.” He hauled me up.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
He put an arm around my shoulder, having no response for that.
“Let’s get you back.”
...
“What’s our next move?” Mark asked in the SUV, driving back to the mansion.
“The newborn blood,” Logan answered. “When Tommy gets off of school, we will have him find all missing and deceased infants and see if we get lucky.”
“Lucky how?” Mark asked.
Logan shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Back at the mansion, Logan gave Katie the rest of the day off. He needed some time with Ginny. She rolled around on the living room floor, shoving her balls and yelling until Logan rolled them back to her.
Mark and Jerry were with him. They were all waiting for Tommy.
“Logan! The next time you text with no details, I’m cutting school!” Tommy yelled out, slamming his backpack against the kitchen table, walking in with his laptop under his arm.
“No, you’re not,” Logan reminded him.
Tommy gave Ginny a kiss before settling down next to Logan on the couch.
“Hit me.”
Logan sighed. This wasn’t the type of thing he wanted to involve a kid in, even a genius kid.
“Logan, I can handle it,” Tommy said to him, pulling out his laptop. Damn incubus emotional sensors. “Olivia trusted me to handle things because she knows all the shit I’ve survived.”
Logan smiled at Tommy, nodding. “I need you to look up all missing infants and infant deaths.”
“What’s the time
frame?” Tommy asked.
Logan groaned, “Is there a way to track that?”
“Eh, maybe, maybe not.” Tommy’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Local?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Logan said, feeling worse and worse about the situation. “It’s a long shot.”
Tommy patted Logan’s knee. “It’s okay. I’ll find it,” he offered, before retreating to his room.
“We need a break,” Jerry whispered.
Logan agreed, but he didn’t know what form it was going to come in.
“How does Olivia usually do this?” he asked, rolling the ball back to Ginny.
Jerry laughed. “She usually just pisses people off until they come after her directly.”
Logan huffed a laugh. “I think it’s time to pay a visit to the vampires.”
Mark and Jerry both smiled.
“I need a few hours to prep,” Jerry said, rubbing his hands together.
“How hard are those silver chains to make?” Logan asked.
Jerry huffed, “I can do it, but I can’t do it by tonight. Nor will I be any use after I complete them.”
“When this is over, I want a pair made. I have a feeling they will come in useful,” Logan stated.
Jerry nodded and Mark threw him the keys as he left.
Logan sighed, rolling the ball back to Ginny.
“Should we call ahead?” Mark asked.
“No, I think the element of surprise will serve us well. I do think we should have backup. Where the fuck is Hudson?” Logan asked, pulling out his phone.
“Logan,” Hudson answered.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“So it’s a long story, but I’m visiting my friend, and I do believe I have a lead.”
“Get to the new house, now,” Logan growled. “We are paying a visit to the vampires.”
“Yes! This shit is getting good.”
…
“Are you certain you don’t want to see Olivia again?” Mark asked cautiously.
Ginny was asleep and Ali had her monitor. She and Grant occupied the other end of the house, where it was quieter but they could still be close at hand if the children needed anything.
Logan watched Hudson arrive, pay the cabbie, and pull out a backpack before sauntering up to the gate.
“I’m certain,” Logan answered. He couldn’t see her like that again, unable to inflate her own lungs or feed herself. His hope would dwindle, and he needed to be strong, for the packs and for the children.
