Sensational Six: Action and Adventure in Sci Fi, Fantasy and Paranormal Romance

by Sasha White

  I thrust my hands out of the water blindly. Scrambling against the edge of the pond, I searched for the knife I’d dropped. If I was going to live, I needed a weapon. Fingertips brushed the handle but I couldn’t get a grip. Thoughts were fading from my mind, replaced by an eerie serenity. As if I was already dead and my soul was quietly slipping from my body. But I wasn’t ready to die. I had too much to live for. Too much to do still. I couldn’t slough off this mortal coil. It was too soon.

  Hands reaching, I touched something metal. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and brought it down into the water. Without thought, I slashed at the arm holding me. Then I saw what I had in my hand--a small hand rake with three sharp prongs. The weapon had to be enough.

  I slashed again and again, unsure if I met my mark every time, or at any time. Soon my vision was obscured by blood mucking the water. Like I was looking through crimson-colored glasses.

  A high-pitched shriek pierced the muffled garbling of the water. As I felt the pressure at my neck loosen, I saw the fury-filled face float down into the black depths. The face of something non-human and alien, like from a fairytale. But not those told by Walt Disney, no these stories were from a more sinister venue where a happily ever after wasn’t on the menu— children were.

  Lifting my head, I pushed up as hard as I could and rolled onto my back at the pond’s edge. Lungs burning like acid, I gasped for air, greedily taking in as much as I could stand. When I could think straight, I scrambled further from the water and rolled onto my knees, nearly retching from the pain that ripped through my chest. Reaching for the knife, I grasped it tight and pushed to a stand.

  Blade poised, with my hair stuck to my forehead and water dripping into my eyes, I stood over the pond and waited to see if my assailant would follow me out of the water. After a few minutes, I realized nothing would come bursting out to attack me again. The thing was gone. For now, at least, it had failed its mission.

  The water rippled again, and I raised the knife to strike. A green warty head broke the surface. The frog jumped out of the pond and landed near my bare foot, now caked in mud. Bulgy eyes blinked up at me expectantly.

  I glared down at the fae ambassador and fumed with rage. I wanted to lift my foot and press it down onto the green mass, hoping to split open its skin and mash its insides until it twitched no more. Instead, I pointed the tip of the blade at the slimy frog.

  “I will not be an easy target. Tell them I will kill any they send to harm me or my father.”

  It croaked once as if in answer, then hopped back into the pond, disappearing beneath the dark water. I hoped after it delivered my message, it would drown in the return trip to this realm. From this point on, I had a real hate-on for frogs.

  As I continued to stare down into the pond, I pondered how the portal worked. Because obviously that was what the water hole was--a gate between this realm and Nightfall. That was how the pixies arrived, and maybe this was the spot where my mother had disappeared all those years ago. The pond was a door. A way to travel back and forth. And it needed to be blocked forever.

  Tucking the knife into the belt of my pants, I marched toward the tool shed. I opened the door, grabbed the long handled spade, and hauled it back to the garden. Unconcerned about the vegetable plants and flowers, I stuck the blade of the shovel into the ground and scooped as much dirt as I could lift. Without pause, I tossed it into the pond.

  Two hours later, back aching and muscles quivering, I had filled in the pond. A sense of smug accomplishment filled me as I surveyed my handiwork. Although the rest of the garden was ruined, with the tomato plants in shambles and most of flowers ripped from their soil beds, I had closed the portal. No one from Nightfall could bother us again. Not unless they found another way in.

  Too exhausted and sore to do anything but crawl up the stairs to my bed, I decided to think on that later. Right now, I just wanted to sleep. Despite the fact my hair was still damp and my shirt still clung to my body, muddy with bits of grass and plant stuck on, I knew I’d fall asleep the second my head hit the pillow.

  I let the shovel fall from my hand and I shuffled, head down, eyes drooping into the house. Once I climbed the stairs, I pushed open the door to my room and ambled to the bed. But before I collapsed on top of the comforter, I had the presence of mind to slip the knife from my belt and slide it under my pillow. The fact I was dead to the world didn’t mean I had any intention of staying that way permanently.

  Chapter 7

  Sipping a glass of orange juice, I folded my omelet over mushrooms and cheese. Today was my day off and I intended to enjoy every second, including a fabulous breakfast, something I hadn’t enjoyed in a while. I’d always been too busy to stop and even eat one, let alone cook such a meal.

  I scooped the omelet up and onto a plate just as my father shuffled into the kitchen. “Mm, what smells so good?”

  “Mushroom and cheese omelet. Do you want one?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  Grabbing the plate, I slid it onto the kitchen table toward my father with an accompanying fork. As I did that, I made sure to keep my neck covered by the collar of my shirt. I hadn’t had time yet to cover the marks with makeup. I didn’t really want to alarm him so early in the morning with the dark bruises and scratches around my throat.

  He dug into the food eagerly, and asked around a mouthful, “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “It’s my day off, Da.” I cracked more eggs into a bowl and whipped them, then added a little milk to make them frothy. “I have some errands to run.” Taking a sip of my juice, I asked, “Why are you up so early?”

  “Dolores and I are going bowling.” Dolores was Mrs. Duka, the widow from next door. “She belongs to a league. I’m thinking of joining.”

  “I think that’s a great idea. You should get out of the house more.” And be around regular human people. But I didn’t voice that last part.

  As I finished the other omelet and slid it onto a plate, Da shuffled up next to me and set his dirty dish in the sink. I didn’t move my head in time and I knew by the widening of his eyes that he had seen the marks on my neck.

  He reached for the collar of my shirt. “What happened?”

  I pulled away from his reach, but he could be spry when he really wanted to be and managed to grip the fabric between his fingers.

  “I’m fine, Da. Really.”

  “That definitely doesn’t look fine. Looks like someone tried to choke you to death.”

  Giving up the ruse, I turned to face him. And that was when he paled. I’d already seen in the mirror what he was staring at, so it didn’t surprise me when he looked wide-eyed. Viewing it for the first time myself, the injuries had nearly knocked the breath from my lungs, and I’d already been prepared for it.

  “My God, Nina.” He took a distancing step away, as if I was contagious. “Who did this to you?”

  I sighed. “A mermaid maybe. Or an undine. Although I don’t think the elemental is usually spiteful like a mermaid can be.”

  “You think a mermaid did this to you?”

  “Something from Nightfall did this. Something that can survive in water.” I touched my neck, running the tips of my fingers over the scabbed-up nail-sized divots.

  Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Well, you better start to. This was the second assassination attempt on this family.”

  “Nina, you’re talking crazy. Assassination attempt? That doesn’t make any sense.” He frowned.

  I ripped down my collar to expose all the marks and bruises. Four prints on one side and one large black circle on the other, the size of someone’s thumb. “Does this look crazy? A figment of my imagination?”

  He refused to look at me.

  “First pixies attack you, then this mermaid tried to drown me in the pond. This isn’t a fairytale, Da. Those from Nightfall are not our friends. They mean us harm, and always have. Including her.”

  He raised his head then, a look o
f unexpected fury crossing his face. “Don’t talk about your mother like that. She has been nothing but kind to me, Nina. And she loves you. She would never hurt you.”

  In that one moment, he looked as ferocious as I’ve ever seen him. Then the emotion dissipated like fog evaporating in the morning sun.

  “She’s already hurt me. And she’s definitely destroyed you.”

  He looked aghast, as if I’d slapped him across his gaunt face. “Why do you say such mean things, Nina?”

  “Because it’s true, Da. She’s sucked the life out of you. You’re nothing but a frail old man now, with nothing to do but whittle away what time you have left by painting stupid portraits of a malicious woman who’s cursed you.”

  The second the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d gone too far. But I’d been holding them in so long I couldn’t help myself. Although I’d hurt my father, badly by the broken look in his eyes, I couldn’t deny a sense of relief at having been able to purge myself. Thoughts I’d been harboring for years.

  At last, after a long period of uncomfortable silence, Da raised his head and looked at me.

  In his eyes I saw the pain I had inflicted and the shame he felt towards me.

  “You constantly say how cruel your mother is, and how you never want to be like her, but you just proved to me, right this moment, how very much alike the two of you really are.”

  Before I could respond to his accusation, the front doorbell rang. After a few seconds, the door opened and Mrs. Duka called out, “Hello! Jason, are you ready to go?”

  Without another word, Da brushed past me and out into the living room. “I’m ready, Dolores. Just let me get on my shoes.”

  I stayed where I was, leaning against the kitchen counter until I heard the front door open and close again, and I was alone with my shame.

  I had hurt my father deeply because of my own impatience of the situation. I wanted him to finally see what was truly going on, but in my haste, I had been cruel. Like her. He was right in that regard.

  However much I wanted to deny the possibility, over and over again, I was changing, growing, into the one person I swore I’d never become.

  My mother, the dark fae princess of Nightfall.

  I’m loathed to admit the fact, but I pampered myself for two hours preparing for my non-date dinner with Severin. I even wore my fanciest and sexiest bra and panties set—black lace. I paid careful attention to my make-up, taking great care to ensure the marks on my neck were camouflaged. Thanks to my fae blood, the wound on my cheek was nearly healed.

  Despite the fact I wore a skirt and heels, I drove my motorcycle to Lombardo’s. The valet wasn’t quite sure what to do with me when I rolled up. All he could do was stare at my legs and the flash of décolletage he was getting from under my half-buttoned black trench coat.

  I gave him a twenty and told him to walk the bike to a decent parking spot. He grabbed the money, shoved it into his pocket and did as I asked. Smart boy.

  When I went into the restaurant, Severin was already waiting at the table. I checked in my coat at the door, smoothed down the line of my skirt and followed the hostess across the restaurant. Severin stood at the table and waited, a smile on his gorgeous rugged face and a fire lit in his eyes. It took all I had not to turn around and run. Saliva pooled in my mouth and I swallowed it down into my nervous stomach. No matter how I saw him, naked in lamplight or in a dimly lit restaurant dressed in casual chic, the man made my stomach flip over and my thighs clench.

  He had to be putting off a ton of pheromones—I heard werewolves could do that. I never reacted to men this way. Never.

  When I reached the table, he pulled out my chair. As I sat, he leaned down to my ear and whispered, “You look delicious enough to eat, Nina.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant it in a sexual way or a culinary way…or both. Either way, his comment was potent. Shivers rushed down my spine and goose-flesh rose on every patch of skin. And I mean every.

  Once I was seated, I tried to appear unaffected by immediately picking up the menu and browsing through it. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything.” When I peered over the menu at him, he grinned. He poured a dark red wine into wineglasses. He set one in front of me. “I hope you like Cabernet. This is one of my favorites.”

  I picked up the glass and sipped. It was a pleasant full-bodied wine and its robust flavor tickled my tongue. Reminded me of Severin, actually. Feeling my cheeks blush, I ducked my head, putting my attention back onto the menu. “It’s nice.” I finally managed to squeak out.

  “You seem really nervous.”

  “Do I?” My voice rose in pitch but I caught myself before it was too obvious and pretended to cough into my hand. I was usually a cool customer but found myself clumsy in many ways around this werewolf.

  Severin wasn’t fooled. He grinned over the rim of his wineglass, fully aware that I was flustered. I imagined every woman had the same reaction. The man was sin incarnate.

  I glanced around the restaurant and noticed that just about every single woman here stared at Severin. Some men too. Some couples had their heads close and chatted non-stop while peering at our table every now and then. The sight didn’t surprise me. Severin was a celebrity in a way.

  “Shall we order and then talk about the mating rituals of werewolves?”

  I must’ve gaped, because whatever my face was doing just spurned him on.

  He set down his glass and reached for my hand across the table. His thumb stroked the sensitive spot on my wrist where my pulse hammered. “Or I can show you, if you like.”

  The menu slipped from my other hand and landed on the table with an audible thunk. “Are you always this forward?”

  “Life’s too short to not say what you mean.” He pressed his thumb over my throbbing vein. “I find you extremely attractive, Nina, and I want to have sex with you.”

  For the first time in a long time, I was speechless. What does a woman say to that?

  Yes. Oh hell yes! A thousand times yes!

  I pulled my hand from his hold and placed it, quivering, in my lap. My throat had run dry and I wasn’t sure if I could form the proper answer. I knew what logic and decorum dictated I should say in a situation like this, but the response battled in my mind with what my body yearned to weep. Instead, I picked up my wine glass and took a sip, trying to compose myself. After I took a hearty drink, I set down the glass. “Um, I’m unsure on how to respond to that.”

  “An honest response would do.”

  Blessedly, the waiter took that exact moment to arrive at our table to take our order. I was thankful for the reprieve. The mood was getting way too intense.

  “May I take your order?”

  Eyes still sparking, Severin glanced at the waiter. “I’ll have the linguine chicken tettrazini.” He looked back to me. “Nina? What would you like?”

  “Angel hair primavera.”

  The waiter smiled. “That’s a great choice.”

  His smile was a little too wide and flirtatious. I glanced at Severin to see if he had noticed.

  Severin gathered the menus and slapped them into the waiter’s hands. “Thank you. I’ll signal you if we need anything else.”

  “Right, yes sir.” Grabbing the menus in his hands, he scampered away to fulfill our order.

  Severin leaned back in his chair and regarded me with his sexy predatory grin. “Now, where were we?”

  “Not anywhere I think we should be.” I fidgeted with the white cloth napkin on the table, when really I wanted to breach the distance separating us and run my hands through the silky strands of his hair and nibble on his full bottom lip. “Technically, I should’ve reported you to SEMA. All werewolf sightings are to be called in immediately.”

  He nodded. “Why haven’t you?”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip, not sure of the answer myself. “I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t want werewolves to be scapegoats for everything that’s bad in this city.”

  He watched me
for a few seconds again, like he was trying to gauge my words, searching for the truth or lie in them. After a beat, he sat forward in his chair and picked up his glass.

  “That’s admirable, and I appreciate the concern. But I assure you we werewolves are well protected.” He took a sip of wine. A drop escaped his lips, but he managed to catch it with the tip of his tongue.

  I watched every agonizing second of the sinuous movement. After managing to ball the napkin into a tight clump on the table, I met his gaze and asked, “Does it bother you when people stare at you all the time?”

  He lifted one shoulder casually. “Not really. It’s the price, I suppose, for being myself.”

  “Do you ever regret coming out? Letting everyone know what you truly are?”

  He ran this thumb along the edge of the wineglass. “Sometimes. It would be nice to have privacy once in a while.” He grinned.

  I returned his smile. The expression was infectious. He had such a charming pleasant way about him, I was enthralled. But I was also afraid. And I didn’t know where that fear came from, but it was there, deep down inside my gut.

  He set down his wine and leaned forward on the table, capturing my gaze. “Would you like to ask me questions?”

  “Could I?”

  He nodded, looking at me from under his eyebrows. “I’m an open book to you, Nina.”

  “Okay, what’s the function of a pack?” I leaned forward, elbows on the table, careful to keep my voice low so the other patrons didn’t overhear our conversation. Rabid curiosity and a sense of purpose chased away the nerves zinging through my body. I no longer felt like swooning. Well, not as much as before.

  “A pack is for community. It’s the one safe place all werewolves can return for support and understanding. It serves as a family unit.”

  “And you are the patriarch?”

  He smiled. “You could say that.”