Pixie the Lion Tamer

by Georgette St. Clair

  As they walked out, Pixie saw Fraser cast another lascivious look at Hillary, staring directly at her ass.

  She shot him a warning look, but he just smirked at her and went back to the video game he’d been playing on his laptop when they arrived.

  Dominick was breathing hard, clenching and unclenching his hands as they walked down the hall. He looked pale and sweaty.

  “What is it?” Pixie asked him. “You’re acting weird. Do you think you were exposed to whatever was in our office building?”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “How do you know?” Pixie demanded. “How much experience do you have with mysterious viruses that knock out dozens of people in one pass?”

  “Because I know. I’m fine. Leave it alone,” Dominick growled.

  Chapter Four

  Dominick was not fine. The necklace which had been ripped from him when he was wrestling with the silver-haired psycho was more than a necklace.

  He’d been wearing it continuously for three years now, ever since the day he’d come home early from work and…his gut churned as he thought of it. He forced the memory out of his mind.

  The necklace bore a talisman, one that he’d paid a hefty sum for. And it had worked perfectly. It had done what he’d asked its creator to do – it had suppressed his lustful urges. That was exactly what he’d needed, since he’d sworn off women forever.

  Now, without the necklace, it seemed that all the pent-up, suppressed lust from the past three years was exploding inside him. He was a seething cauldron of sexual frustration, and it was making all of his instincts go bonkers. When Fraser had propositioned Pixie before, it had taken all of his strength not to shift into lion form and rip his head off. What was up with that? That was the kind of reaction that a shifter only felt when someone was sniffing after his fated mate – and he knew for a fact that Pixie couldn’t be his fated mate, because he’d already met his.

  He watched Pixie striding rapidly down the hallway ahead of him, her slim legs scissoring impatiently as she hurried into the room that Fraser had directed them to. The wave of desire that rolled over him nearly knocked him off his feet.

  The room was as dingy and smelled like mold. He barely noticed. For some reason, all he could think of was Pixie. Her slim body, her small, perfect breasts, her full lips…

  “Dominick.” She’d said something to him.

  “What?” He shook his head in a desperate attempt to clear it. She was staring at him, worried.

  “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I need to go for a walk. Clear my head. I’ll be back,” and he rushed from the room, and headed down the hallway and out the back door, leaving Pixie gaping in amazement behind him.

  He had to get away from her, before he gave in to temptation and ripped her clothes off right there. Of course Pixie would probably stab him if he tried that, and he’d deserve it.

  He smacked himself in the face, hard, as he rushed outside. It didn’t help.

  At least he wasn’t suddenly overwhelmed by lust for Hillary, or anyone else. Just Pixie. All his thoughts were swirling around Pixie.

  He paused outside in the alleyway behind the warehouse building. Normally, he found Pixie absolutely maddening. When she walked in the room, it flipped some kind of switch in him, caused an angry, itchy rage to prickle at him from the inside.

  Without the necklace, though, the anger and the irritation were gone…and replaced with raw, unbridled desire.

  What lousy timing, to lose the necklace when he most needed to keep his wits about him. He couldn’t go back to Shifters, Inc. to search for it; he was sure that the public health department would have it cordoned off and under heavy guard.

  The shaman who’d made him the talisman lived in Dominick’s hometown of Big Timber, six hours to the north, on the coast near the mountains. He wouldn’t have time to go get another one while he was dealing with this crisis. He’d just have to soldier through, somehow.

  To take his mind off of Pixie, he grabbed his cell phone. He had half a dozen missed texts from his brother.

  He hit the call back button, scowling at the phone. “I’m fine,” he said when his brother answered.

  “I heard on the news that a building in your area had been quarantined, but they won’t say why. What’s going on?” Ryder demanded.

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m going to have to lay low for a few days. Tell mom and dad I’m okay. And I’m sorry, we had to leave your car behind in the parking lot, which is now crawling with haz-mat teams.”

  “Don’t worry about the car. So you’re all right?”

  “As far as I can tell, I wasn’t exposed to whatever was in that building. As for me being all right -what were you thinking bringing that bitch to my office to rub your engagement in my face?”

  His brother let out a warning growl. “She’s my fated mate, and my fiancee, whether you like it or not. You need to get past this. We’re getting married in two weeks, our parents expect you to be there, and you had better behave. Do you realize how much grief you’re causing our parents, with your attitude?”

  Dominick let out a bitter laugh. “My attitude. Right, that’s a good one. You’re the one who’s hurting our parents. They hate her even more than I do. If you could just see-” But he was talking to empty air. He could hear the click of the phone as Ryder hung up on him.

  Cursing, he shoved the phone back in his pocket. What the hell else could go wrong today?

  Better not to ask.

  He turned and stalked off, striding away from the building. The hood rats and gangster wanna-bes who lurked in doorways and clumped together on street corners cast sullen glances his way, but he met their gaze straight on and they looked away.

  * * *

  “What’s wrong with him? Are we sure that Dominic isn’t infected with…whatever everyone else was infected with?” Hillary asked.

  The room that Fraser had directed them to was as grimy as the rest of the warehouse. The couches were passable, at least. One was plaid, one was pink and had a floral pattern. There was an overstuffed brown armchair that somebody could sleep in. Fraser had probably stolen all the furniture from somewhere, as well as the odd assortment of mismatched coffee tables, lamps, desk and chairs.

  “We’re not sure of anything,” Pixie sighed. “Then again, it seems like everyone who was infected, or bewitched, or whatever, just keeled over right away. Dominick’s still walking around, he’s just acting weird as hell. Tyler! What took you so long?”

  “Are you kidding? I practically flew here.” Tyler strode through the door, accompanied by one of Fraser’s human bodyguards. He carried a small leather suitcase.

  The bodyguard nodded at Pixie and walked away.

  Tyler was a wolf shifter, handsome in a bookish way, with a stocky body and gold-rimmed glasses.

  He sat down on the couch and opened up the suitcase, scowling. As usual, he didn’t look Pixie in the eye.

  “Where’s Dominick?” he said as he unpacked his laptop, and various other machines that Pixie didn’t recognize, but that she knew Tyler could use to hack into any database or computer in the world.

  “He went for a walk.”

  “Now?” Tyler was startled.

  “He’s acting weird. Weirder than usual. What have you got so far?” Pixie asked impatiently.

  “I’m getting calls from our operatives out in the field,” Tyler said. “I’ve told them all to stay put and carry on with their assignments. It wouldn’t be safe for them to come back here anyway, not until we figure out what we’re dealing with.”

  Tyler was Kenneth’s second in command. Pixie didn’t envy him his position at the moment, having to run Shifters, Inc. while trying to track down the source of a deadly plague, but if anyone could handle it, he could.

  “Have you heard anything about the situation at headquarters? About what happened to everybody?”

  “Nothing useful. ” He was turning on his laptop as he spoke to her. “Everyone has been transported
to the hospital, they’re all alive but unresponsive, and nobody has identified the cause yet. I spoke with the Chief of Police, he ordered me to come to police headquarters immediately to speak to him, I declined. I can get more done out in the field than I can locked away in some briefing room.”

  “That’s what we figured,” Pixie said. “We’re going to have to lay low and investigate this on our own. The chief didn’t tell you anything about anyone’s condition?”

  “He just said that tests are being run. You know they’re not going to give me too much information on a case that’s under investigation.”

  Pixie quickly filled Tyler in on what had happened, and showed him the cell phone that the man had handed her. “He hasn’t called back yet.”

  Tyler examined the phone. “It’s a burner phone. A disposable. Still, I might be able to trace where any calls originate from.”

  He opened up the phone, pried out the sim card, and slid it into a tiny slot on one of his machines. After a few seconds, there was a ping sound; he pulled the card back out and put it back in the phone, handing it to her.

  “That should work. If he calls you, I can track down where the call is coming from. What did he mean that you had what he needed?” Tyler asked her.

  Pixie shook her head. “I’ve been racking my brains. I have no idea. I don’t have anything of value, especially to someone like that. You could tell that he’s rich just from the way he dressed and carried himself. He looked like some corrupt billionaire. What could he want from me?”

  “Anything that you might have stolen from somebody?”

  “I’ve largely retired from that business since I came to work for Shifters. Nowadays I steal things to amuse myself and then I put them back.”

  “That is not amusing,” Hillary said indignantly. “I will have to report this to Kenneth when he recovers.”

  “He already knows,” Pixie snapped. “Don’t make me regret that I let you come with us; oh, too late, I already am.” She deliberately turned her back on Hillary, talking to Tyler, who hunched over the laptop. He was doing searches for the virus symptoms, she saw.

  “I never kept anything I stole before, anyway; I fenced it. I certainly never stole anything that would interest someone like him. And if I had something that he wanted, why wouldn’t he just ask for it?”

  “I guess we won’t know until he calls you back. Let’s hope it’s soon.”

  “He had a strong Eastern European accent, but I couldn’t place the country exactly,” Pixie said. She described his looks, and the strange appearance of his eyes.

  “That’s helpful,” Tyler nodded. “I can check incoming flights to all local airports, and see if anyone who fits that description has entered the country recently, and I’ll hack into the police database and see if they’ve found out anything that they’re not telling us.”

  “Is that legal?” Hillary asked nervously. “I’m not sure that I can allow this.”

  Pixie groaned. She didn’t need any more stress right now, and Hillary’s anxiety was about to give her an aneurysm. Of all the people that the man had to revive, he had to pick Hillary? He couldn’t have actually picked someone who was cut out for field work, and for skirting around the law when necessary?

  “Hillary, let’s go for a walk. Just stay with me,” Pixie said, and she leaped to her feet. Hillary followed her out of the room.

  They walked out front, passing Fraser’s office. “Anastasia will be here shortly,” he called out.

  Pixie nodded, and led Hillary out the front of the warehouse.

  Even in daylight, the neighborhood somehow always looked dingier and darker than the wealthier area to the east of them, as if a pall perpetually hung over it. Stray dogs nosed turned -over garbage cans. Weeds poked up through cracks in the sidewalk. The few people who were wandering around looked sullen and dangerous.

  “So, you really grew up here?” Hillary looked around in wide eyed astonishment.

  “About ten blocks from here, in the projects.” Pixie shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. It taught me how to fend for myself.”

  “Do you still talk to your parents?”

  “Good God, no. My mother was an alcoholic who died of liver failure. And I have no idea who my father was. Anyone who’d voluntarily associate with my mother, I’m better off not knowing. How are things with your mother?”

  “Oh, you know.” Hillary’s face turned doleful. “The same.”

  Hillary’s mother was shrill, waspish and critical. Just about every phone call she made to Hillary ended with Hillary crying.

  “You could stick up for yourself, you know. She has no right to speak to you that way. You’re very smart, you’re good at what you do, and Kenneth really values you as an employee.”

  “He does?” Hillary’s eyes went wide.

  “Of course he does.” Pixie had no idea what Kenneth thought of Hillary, but the girl was clearly desperately in need of a self esteem boost.

  “Oh look, there’s Anastasia,” Pixie said. She could see her pulling up in front of the building. “Let’s go inside and wait for her. She’ll want to talk to Fraser before she talks to us.”

  Pixie saw the ripple of dismay run across Hillary’s face as they walked back inside. Hillary glanced nervously at Fraser’s office as they passed it, but he didn’t look up as they walked by.

  Tyler was hunched over his laptop, and he gestured at them eagerly when they came in. “I’ve got something,” he said. “A man going by the name of Ion Barbu flew a private jet into a small commercial airport two hours from here, three days ago. He departed from Romania.” He turned the computer screen towards Pixie. The picture looked exactly the silver-haired man. He wasn’t wearing sun-glasses, but looking at the picture, his eyes still seemed odd. They were blue, but too bright and perfect.

  “That’s him. I think he’s wearing contact lenses, though,” Pixie said.

  “Yes, it looks like it. I’m also sure the name is fake, because when I search other databases, this person seems to have appeared out of nowhere. I’d say the same for the people that he’s travelling with; database searches don’t turn up anything on them. I think their passports are fake.”

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?” Hillary asked.

  Tyler frowned. “Not yet. If they put out an APB on him, it might spook him, and he might flee the area and take the antidote with him. Let’s give it a little time, see if he contacts Pixie tonight.”

  Fraser banged on the doorway and leaned in, the perpetual leer tugging at his mouth.

  “Looking good, Pixie,” he smirked.

  “You saw me like twenty minutes ago. I haven’t changed,” Pixie said irritably. “What’s up?”

  “Your black magic connection is here.”

  Chapter Five

  Anastasia strode through the doorway, her black ankle length silk dress hugging her lean frame. She had a pale heart shaped face and flowing black curls. She wore a leather braided necklace with various talismans and totems hanging off it, and over her shoulder was slung a black suede fringed purse.

  There were dark circles under her big dark eyes, and she looked tired and drawn.

  “Pixie,” she said. “Long time no see. We used to be friends. You never write, you never call.”

  “Apparently I should have,” Pixie said, surveying Anastasia with a critical eye. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I understand, really I do. If I ever got out of this hellhole, I wouldn’t look back.”

  “You could get out any time you wanted. I did call you a while back, in fact. I told you we had work for you. You could go legit.”

  “Oh, I think it’s a little late for that.” Anastasia’s smile had no humor and no warmth. Her eyes looked darker than Pixie remembered. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “Your eyes are dark. They didn’t used to look like that.”

  “Black magic, my dear. It rots you from the inside out. It shows up in the eyes.”

  “I told you,” Hillary muttered
, glaring at Pixie. “How is dealing with her any better than dealing with that man with the sunglasses?”

  Anastasia sneered at her. “Afraid I’ll turn you into a toad? Oops, looks like someone beat me to it.”

  “Pixie!” Hillary wailed. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”

  “If you don’t want my help, I’ve got plenty of people who do,” Anastasia said, turning to leave.

  Great. Just what Pixie needed right now. Two adults acting like kindergarteners. And Pixie would have to be the mature one? Like anyone outside of this room would ever believe that.

  “Hillary. Go take a walk,” Pixie snapped.

  “Fine. I need to call my mother anyway.” Hillary didn’t need to be told twice. She rushed out of the room without looking back.

  “She has to call her mommy?” Anastasia echoed mockingly.

  “Yeah, yeah. She calls her mother at least three times a day. It’s a beautiful thing. Anyway, let’s get back to our problem.” Pixie introduced Anastasia to Tyler and described, yet again, what had happened at Shifters Inc., including what the silver-haired man had looked like.

  Then Pixie pulled the empty syringe from her pocket and handed it to Anastasia.

  “This was the antidote that he injected in Hillary,” Pixie said. “There have got to still be traces inside the syringe. Can it be reproduced? And what would cause something like this?”

  Anastasia held the syringe up to the light, and shuddered. “I pick up traces of dark magic just from touching this. Very dark. Makes me look pure as the driven snow.”

  She turned and fixed her dark gaze on Pixie. “This will cost you, you know.”

  “Of course.” Everyone wanted their cut. Kenneth was a billionaire; money wouldn’t be an issue. The issue was whether Anastasia, or anyone, could counteract magic this dark.

  Anastasia examined the syringe thoughtfully. She leaned forward and sniffed at it. She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating hard, then opened them again. “It’s most likely some type of virus that was infused with a strain of black magic so it would behave exactly the way the maker wanted it to. A designer virus. The antidote is created at the same time as the virus, and works uniquely to counteract it.”