Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two

by E. M. Whittaker

  You’ve got to be kidding. This isn’t happening, sweetheart. I’m watching Rodriguez use a full-grown tree as a spear against a demonic entity.

  He expected a response and hoped for some insight, but sighed when awkward silence came instead.

  Great, thanks, God. I’m not traveling through the void to talk to Lyssa on a daily basis.

  Travis bit his lip and blinked in succession before his eyes watered. Then he returned to the tiny Latina brandishing a tree against the demonic entity before her.

  “Mye, Rodriguez is using trees as spears!” Travis shouted.

  “She—ugh—she—”

  “Follow me once you’re settled. I do not want Rodriguez leveling a national park. Dealing with human politics is tricky enough. Dealing with park rangers and other officials is a pain. Peters hates it, but he’s better at being professional.”

  Travis winced at the sickening belch Aviere released and her congested voice. “She’s not the only bruiser inside the Renegades. Stop assuming Jemina’s responsible every time… ugh… something—”

  “Who else bellows Spanish battle cries?”

  “Several people.” Another burp later, Aviere sniffled and then cleared her throat. “There’s Mia and a few others lurking around the compound.”

  The battle continued and Travis shivered when more tree roots were ripped from the earth. He spotted Jemina Rodriguez’s face as the curly tresses stuck to her brow and plunging neckline. His eyes widened as her seven-foot-tall partner lifted another sycamore tree and grunted from the effort.

  What the… it’s his size! The bruiser squad must bench-press hundreds of pounds in their spare time!

  Travis waited and shuffled his feet, holding his arms close together. Any moment, he swore Q would lose his grip on the thick stump practically towering over him.

  He kicked the ground when Rodriguez scooted backward, but snickered when she swore at her partner in a shrill pitch.

  Lyssa, I regret tossing those Rosetta Stone CDs you got me years ago. I feel like I need subtitles listening to Rodriguez. Why did I harass you about ordering them? They were handy, weren’t they?

  Q’s white hair flowed with the blustery breeze as he carried the overgrown tree close and leaped toward the demon, shouting at several people to hold their ground. Several rips adorned the frayed blue jeans and gray muscle shirt, and Travis identified the collar resting against Q’s broad neck.

  Overlooking the collar, Travis spotted the veins sticking out of the brute’s neck and Q’s built body as he carried the tree close to him. Scrapes adorned Q’s face and arms as he charged the demonic entity with his full speed and power, unlike Jemina.

  Travis crossed his arms and scowled at the stocky bruiser, tugging against his tie as he watched the magnificent feat.

  Show-off.

  Another battle cry echoed, but Aviere’s fingers on Travis’s arm ended his advance. A slight gasp escaped her as another bellow sounded. Just as Q connected with the crimson-coated demon, he disappeared into thin air.

  “Mye, it’s intense down there. The bruiser squad is showing off.”

  “Oh, I know. Q’s great at destroying things.”

  He snuck a glance behind him and noticed Aviere’s darkened eyes, matching the snide tone from seconds before. “You’re familiar with Rodriguez’s partner?”

  “Yes.” Aviere’s tiny fingers dug into Travis’s arm as her voice deepened. “He’s broken a lot of windows in my apartment.” She pumped a fist into the air before jumping in place. “He better chase after that demon. Q’s running like an old man.”

  “Q said he was your bodyguard once,” Travis pressed, voice sly at Aviere’s mixed reaction.

  “A few years ago, yes. Now stop asking questions and scout or something.”

  “I’m paying attention,” Travis insisted, spreading his power throughout the perimeter. “Please stop sounding condescending, though. I’m finally getting over your voice tasting like Folgers, even with my French Vanilla creamer.”

  “I don’t mean to, but seeing Q brings back memories, that’s all. I’ve always been critical when I see old acquaintances. Makes it awkward sometimes.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “Seeing an ex isn’t the worst thing in the—stop digging your bony fingers into my damn arm!”

  As the pressure built, Travis jerked his arm away, pulling Aviere closer to him.

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  “The last time I saw Q was several years ago, and… well, ah…”

  Travis almost admonished her until he noticed her voice trail off at the end of her sentence. When he faced her, she pointed to Q’s gigantic form lift another tree while clutching her necklace with both hands. Her petite lips pursed into a flat line before she held her breath.

  We’re sitting here in the middle of battle, and Mye looks torn. There’s something between them. Her breathing is shallow, despite holding her breath. Meanwhile, her quivering, parted lips say otherwise, Lyssa. Heartache, perhaps?

  “We had a relationship a while ago, but it didn’t last. People get weird when they can’t touch someone else or comfort them. Cats are notorious for their sexual escapades, but I forget, humans aren’t aware of these things. You understand about the lack of support, though… so maybe you’re not completely clueless. But paralyzing him during foreplay and getting caught wasn’t my brightest moment. We didn’t even get to the good part, either…”

  “That comment wasn’t necessary, Mye.”

  “I didn’t think about it, but—”

  “But nothing!” Travis exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Your friends make our working relationship weird enough!”

  “Yeah… I said I didn’t want to discuss this.”

  “When I first met you, I stared at you twice. Every man assesses how pretty a woman is… I’m sure you understand that. But your comments made things awkward, more so than usual.” A shuddering sigh escaped Travis as he pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re pretty and all… and I won’t lie, you’re built nice… but I never want to imagine you naked.”

  He waited for a choked sob or an exasperated gasp, but remained unnerved at the deafening silence.

  “Mye, you’re attractive, but your friends are out to kill me, I’m pretty sure your brother will maul me to death, and Q—well, he’ll rip me to pieces. However, you’re a different story, and you said it yourself. You hide enough poison on you. If they’re in your claws, I don’t want to think of—”

  “Enough.” Sadness laced her cracking voice. “I get your point.”

  “Good. I like maintaining our professional working relationship. However, I’m curious about one thing… seeing as we get on well enough.”

  “What?”

  “What’s your deal with Q, and how did you have a relationship with your husband if you paralyze people by scratching or clawing them?”

  “Q was before my marriage,” Aviere retorted, her voice huffy. “And my husband built up an immunity. It took several years of testing. It’s complex—and he’s immune to fifteen different kinds of poison—but I don’t expect you to understand. Not many people would undergo that rigorous type of testing, though.”

  When her voice dropped to an inaudible level, Travis read her lips, permitting his eyes to trail around the forest on high alert. He hunted for the demon as Aviere twirled a strand of hair and avoided him. His inner voice chided him for berating the embarrassed woman as she shuffled her feet and clasped her arms behind her back.

  He clenched a fist as he rested his handgun by his thigh, tightening his throat while his heartbeat rose.

  Another warning from his darker persona triggered him to point the weapon at Aviere, who stared at him with melancholy eyes. When darkness enveloped her aura, Travis stumbled backward, one boot thumping against a tree root.

  This is not good, Keith. Spark some of Mye’s fire. Forest green is more favorable than this darkness, right?


  “Mye, did that demon possess you or something?”

  “…No.”

  He released the safety. “You would say that.”

  “Stop. I said you wouldn’t understand.”

  “My partner has the emotional needs of a rock,” Travis declared, steadying his hand. “She’s not big on attachments. I question how she handled marriage if she’d sell out her own brother.”

  “Happily, before I bailed Gunther out of his screw-ups,” she answered, clenching her teeth. “You asked me to stop talking about my personal issues, but you’re continuing the conversation.”

  “You liked being married? How? You don’t like people touching you.”

  “Keith, please. I don’t question you about Lyssa, do I?”

  After considering Aviere’s statement, Travis relented and lowered his weapon. “You have a point. However, this whole conversation became awkward.”

  “How do you think I feel? You’re interrogating me about my husband while I’m fighting myself from being reduced to a giddy high-schooler because of an overgrown buffoon in a ripped muscle shirt lunging a tree at a goddamned demon.”

  Travis snickered as Aviere’s hands moved while she spoke, attempting to control her rapid speech. When they clasped together, he snorted in an attempt to disguise his laughter.

  From his ear, Travis heard Peters cough after slurping on his drink, sharing his sentiment.

  “I shouldn’t want to stare,” Aviere continued, ranting as her voice emanated from its soft squeak. “It’s been years. The guy left before my husband beat the crap out of him. Gunther’s good at scaring people off. However, despite my loyalty, there’s biology and pheromones and… oh, screw it. I can’t be logical when it comes to physical attraction, even if it’s my own—desires.”

  Travis snorted when Aviere dropped her hands and lowered her head, hugging herself in embarrassment.

  “Something tells me you never dated much.”

  “No. Only one man before my husband. Q was…”

  “The one that got away,” Travis murmured, wriggling his eyebrows as he dragged Aviere aside. “You can fantasize about tall, dark, and brooding while we go hunting, Mye.”

  His hazel eyes twinkled in mirth when Aviere hissed and tried clawing him. As her claws connected with his arm, he summoned a darkened forcefield, averting her attack. A condescending smirk played on Travis’s lips as Aviere snarled and cradled her stinging fingers.

  “Stop throwing a tantrum and let’s go. We’re wasting time here and if the bruiser squad gets them, I won’t get my powers back.”

  “You’re right, you won’t. Let’s hurry.”

  “Fine.”

  “By the way… never mention this conversation again if you value your life. Not many people know I had someone before my overbearing husband.”

  The patronizing smirk never left Travis’s face as Aviere scooted by him, kicked the dirt, and griped about her horrible luck as she stomped away.

  Right as Aviere advanced ahead of Travis, he heard Peters’s boisterous laughter and realized he’d stored the knowledge away for blackmail at a later date and time.

  Travis followed Aviere’s lead as they scouted through the forest a few minutes later, trailing behind on his tiptoes as he clung to the handgun by his side.

  Each twig or snapping branch against his cowboy boots put the mage on edge and he stiffened, kicking the earth every time Aviere’s nostrils flared. Each sniff’s pitch reverberated through Travis’s ears until his shoulders tightened and his toes curled in place. Energy fluctuated before him and the wind smelled of burning coal.

  The demon is close. My body feels sluggish… as if bound by weights. Something is attempting to control me and I don’t like it.

  His tired muscles ached as if wading through quicksand when Travis continued walking. At one point, he leaned against a tree, wiping warm sweat from his forehead. As he relaxed, Aviere sniffed again, clearing her throat after a succession of harsh sniffles.

  From the tree, Travis cringed, pressing a hand to his ear to muffle the offensive sound.

  Mye, if you sniff one more time—

  “It’s close,” she called. “Sulfur is everywhere.”

  “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” he asked as his stomach gurgled. “The energy’s darkening. Every time I move, my legs wobble.”

  “I hope you’re exploring the forest. You’re my eyes since I don’t have nifty powers.”

  “Kind of hard when some woman’s sniffing like her nose is stuffy,” he replied, wiping the sweat off his palm. “If you sniff any louder, my eardrum might explode.” As he slunk through the woods, Travis adjusted his stance until he was comfortable holding his weapon. “You didn’t breathe as hard when we broke into Rutherford’s house. You sound winded.”

  “I’m trying to stay grounded.”

  He snorted. “Grounded.”

  “Yes. Your aftershave kills my sense of smell… and any desires I had.”

  Travis’s lips curled into a small smile. “Thank God. I’d worry if you found me attractive, Mye.”

  “Concentrate. If this demon takes us by surprise, I won’t be able to protect you.”

  The Desert Eagle shook in Travis’s hand as he imagined a confrontation without his first line of defense. His eyes darted through the forest while Aviere continued forward, crouching down as she moved fluidly through the forest. He calculated the bullets inside the magazine before jumping, holding his left ear as the earpiece crackled.

  “Hey—”

  “Yeow! Stupid piece of junk!”

  As Travis removed the short-circuited device, he caught a trail of shadow energy snaking along the short grass. Every few seconds, his eyes drifted between the trailing magic and Aviere’s squinted expression as she caressed her ear, whimpering under her breath.

  “Mye, move!” Travis shouted. “It’s coming!”

  The agent groaned when she reached for another weapon.

  No. You are in control, Keith. Take Mye. You’re the magician, not her.

  Fighting against his jittering stomach, Travis willed magic through his fingers while holding his handgun. Tendrils wisped around him as they snatched the crouching shifter, pulling her away from the wicked magic trying to capture her. Several light strands fought against the darkened magic while others shielded her, placing her next to Travis’s side.

  Why are the elements changing? I’m not supposed to command two elements at will.

  He pulled her close as a temporal portal appeared nearby, holding Aviere by the shoulders in case her wanton urges returned. The thought of her uncharacteristic behavior tightened his grip on her as he lowered his head closer to her ear.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Mye,” Travis ordered, studying the demon gliding through the temporal portal. “Seriously, I’m tired of visiting Sistine Memorial. Your charge nurse is adorable, but everyone else gets testy.”

  When Aviere stood in place, he nudged her shoulder, huffing as she twirled a strand of knotty, greasy hair.

  “What is it?”

  “Other than your overpowering aftershave… I’m not shocked Demetrius betrayed Limere. Fitting, actually. The man’s a weasel who’d throw his mother underneath a bus for money.”

  Travis shook his fist, debated on pointing out her contradiction, but diverted his comment when he registered the name. “Angelique’s puppet… he was at the Puckered Lips.”

  “He also goes by Taurus. Well, used to. But, I’m getting off track.” Her voice adopted a matter-of-fact tone as she folded her arms across her chest, facing the floating demonic entity. “Every organization hires one guy you doubt, even if they’re remarkable at their job. My crew has Limere and Maurice, even if Lim’s stoned fifty percent of the time.”

  “Try seventy-five percent,” Travis remarked. “He stinks enough.”

  “Limere hired Demetrius, who became a marketing genius. Slipped past the cops and dons while keeping their movements on the down low. However, he ratted Limere to t
he fuzz several times, which is a no-no in any organization… no matter which faction you’re working for.”

  She wondered why Peters and I took her for questioning while using questionable terminology, Travis marveled, reviewing the slender woman’s solid stance. The hairs on her arms are standing upright. Jesus, I don’t think Mye’s looked so pissed before… well, unless you count when she killed Aravice, Lyssa. If looks could kill, this demon would scatter to the nine hells.

  One hazel eye lingered over Demetrius’s wispy form while the other considered his partner’s shifting stance, listening for her trademark warning growl. Travis spotted familiar energy patterns interlaced with Demetrius’s aura and gasped through his parched dry lips.

  Some of it includes that redheaded mage’s energy. She’s controlling this guy from wherever she is… somehow.

  The agent lowered his head and peered at the energy again without the protection of his sunglasses, eyes widening when he discovered his energy mixed inside their auras.

  There we go. Now, let’s steal my magic back, Lyssa.

  Travis cast an arm toward the floating black mass, impassive when the light beam bounced off an invisible forcefield. His eyes followed the beam while struggling to control its movement. Several seconds later, the beam disbanded, then broke off into individual particles equivalent to laser beams.

  Two strands returned to his right hand and encircled it before being absorbed by the shadow magic bleeding into his aura.

  Well, shit, he mused, watching the remaining participles follow suit. This wasn’t what I expected, but it’s a cool attack if I can control it.

  “Holy crap,” Aviere said, voice awed. “It looks awesome, but I doubt shadow magic will work. When were you gifted with light magic, though?”

  “I guess after our last encounter when I started hearing Lyssa.”

  The mention of his deceased wife changed Travis’s shadow cloak to a luminous light hue. The sunglasses shielded his eyes, and a gruff roar from the demon made Travis turn in his direction. He expected emptiness when discussing her—not this—and waited for his dark persona to encourage the bloodlust Travis fought against every time he stood beside Aviere.