Romance with a Bite

by Tamsin Baker

  She squinted in the low light. Men and… tigers. The actual, snarling, ferocious beasts of animals marched down the hill, accompanied by men in white uniforms. Hana shivered, heat flaring in response—warning—across her shoulder blades. She bade the phoenix inside her quiet, fearful the creatures might somehow sense her presence here. Thought about the cool breeze she sought on her rooftop runs, imagined it washing over her burning skin.

  The tigers and their handlers didn’t turn towards the road that would take them into the Jade City. Instead, they took the circular archway that led into the cemetery. There was something about the animals. The way their eyes glowed, like the powerful Tiger Clan man, Stryker’s had. Spiders crawled down Hana’s spine as she realised what she was seeing.

  Those tigers weren’t mere animals—and the men that strode next to them weren’t handlers. The beasts didn’t need handlers—because Hana would bet her life that there were men inside that ferocious skin.

  Shifters.

  Chapter 18

  Silver’s words at the club joined the riot slithering down Hana’s skin as she watched the Tiger shifters.

  Something wicked this way comes.

  The need to know what the Tigers were doing, where they were going taking the path through the cemetery, warred with Hana’s Phoenix instincts that urged her to run. To take flight, far, far away from the preternatural creatures that prowled closer and closer. With each creeping, dread-filled moment, Hana began to suspect that perhaps they did know she had strayed onto the very edge of their territory. What would she say? What possible reason could she give that wouldn’t land her in a whole world of hurt? That wouldn’t end in a hail of slicing claws and razor-sharp teeth?

  Could she outrun them?

  They were so close now that Hana could see the powerfully muscled limbs of the animals ripple under glossy, striped fur. Hana knew that there would be no out-running these supernatural beasts. She squared her shoulders, heat flaring across her collarbones. If this was it, she would no longer hide who she really was. She would embrace the phoenix, she would—

  Hana snatched back her foot, halting her descent as the procession of tigers took another turn, away from the tree she clung to with white knuckles. The tigers in animal form had stopped before a white marble mausoleum several rows over from her family’s crypt. The faded imprint of a feather glimmered in the moonlight. Phoenix.

  A man in a white suit produced a long piece of metal from his side. Anger quivered in Hana’s muscles and heat intensified in invisible waves across her collarbones. It took only mere minutes for the Tigers to break into the crypt. Hana desired nothing more in that moment than to leap out of the tree and set them all on fire, burn them until there was nothing left. Maybe her ancestors would have had the ability to raze the world to ashes, but Hana was left with the unquenchable desire and the burn of the impotent phoenix across her shoulder blades.

  As each Tiger, animal and man, filed into the crypt of one of her ancestors, Hana knew she had her chance. Her anger threatened to open that cage within her, to let the phoenix free, but she slammed it shut as she slid down the trunk, the bark tearing up her quivering, barely healed hands, and a branch slammed into her knee.

  She didn’t dare to stop and collect the pieces of her precious flask. Instead, she forced herself to move slowly from tree trunk to tree trunk, checking each time that the tigers remained within the ancient crypt, barely daring to breathe.

  Chapter 19

  Hana waited on the edge of Jade City, curled up in the lee of a silver birch, shivering in the cool pre-dawn air, still in her gym shorts and shirt from the night before. It was critical to be sure she hadn’t been followed.

  As dawn peeked between the high rises and the noise of the hawker market vendors preparing congee and pho and other fragrant dishes for the breakfast crowd began to float through the air, Hana deemed it safe enough to take the walk back to Dragon Headquarters.

  She’d stop at Quan’s on the way, to grab a clean uniform from her locker. Better him raising his eyebrows than her imbecile colleagues. Besides, Quan expected it of her. It took a lot to raise the old Turtle’s eyebrows these days. Her phoenix still flared against her skin, the warning blaring loud and sharp, like a siren flashing through her blood, though she’d left the new menace the Tigers had conjured behind her in the cemetery. What had they been after in the Phoenix tomb? And why did they need new beasties—shapeshifters—to get it?

  The opportunity to do a little research on the topic presented itself later that day.

  As she sat at her desk, her captain, Vincent, trudged past, gesturing to the noise coming from upstairs. Payoff day, Hana liked to call it. When all the justice precinct Dragons were paid in kind for the services they rendered the Tigers in alcohol, illicit substances, games of chance, and women. All their needs catered for, in private, by their generous benefactors.

  Hana urged her phoenix to calm as Vincent paused on the steps, glancing down at her.

  “You coming up, Poncoyo?”

  She waved him on ahead, gesturing to a pile of paperwork.

  Vincent just shook his head, but accepted Hana’s reason without question. She didn’t socialise with her workmates, so they didn’t find it suspicious that Hana would remain behind.

  She needed some privacy for what she was about to type into the precinct comms system. She was sure the symbol was linked to the Tigers, and whatever she’d seen them trying to take from the marble mausoleum last night. Her sister, Lylah, had been the Phoenix underground’s hacker in a time when there had many more of them working in secret for the underground. Hana had learnt enough from her to be able to cover her tracks when she desperately needed to look up the location of someone Silver tipped them off about on the odd occasion he wasn’t able to provide it, or to track down other vital information, such as she needed right now.

  After she slipped the cloaking device out of her pocket then attached it to the comm screen, she checked and double checked to make sure it was temporarily untraceable. Hana had never typed the words she was about to type. She glanced around, making sure all the imbecile lizards were partaking in their indulgent payoff from the Tigers. Lunch wrappers littered desks, but Hana was the only one who remained behind. She took a deep breath, energy sizzling down her fingertips.

  Phoenix mausoleum.

  She needed to know what the Tigers were up to. She was sure it was connected to the disappearances around Jade City. If they could work out why these younglings were being targeted, perhaps they could hide them or help them get out of town. She waited while the database searched for call-outs.

  Nothing in the above-board records.

  She tapped in a few more commands, searching for deleted records. Inconvenient, illegal activities that the Tigers wanted swept under the carpet, like all the clean-up crew activities, were often expunged. But Lylah had discovered in the months before her death how to track them. The Dragons didn’t write reports on these activities, but the code Lylah had written enabled them to track all communications, like when the clandestine crews were sent out via texts to hand-helds.

  Again, nothing came up in the search. She tapped again, searching for related terms suggested by Lylah’s software. Artefacts. Clan history.

  There. A record listed under artefacts. Clean-up crew, Snake Quarter. An address on Alcove Avenue. Anticipation skittered along Hana’s spine as she pulled up the map. An antique dealership on the edge of Snake Quarter, where it bordered on the dead zone. The rubble that marked out the final resting place of the Phoenix. A shrine of disgrace and a permanent reminder of why the Phoenix would never be allowed back into the graces of this city.

  Alcove Avenue bordered on the obliterated Phoenix Quarter.

  Hana had barely finished tapping the address into her hand-held when she caught footsteps pounding down from the party above. She quickly disengaged Lylah’s device and flicked back to her data entry about the Vampire Clan feuds.

  One more day before the week
-long long New Year celebrations that were given as holidays across the continent. An excursion to Snake Quarter it was, then. Clean-up crew meant someone had suffered an untimely end. The antique store was still there, and Hana meant to find out who had met their end there, and why.

  Chapter 20

  Logan had kept Seb to his word and they’d swum together in the penthouse balcony pool this afternoon. Seb had groaned and rolled his eyes and been his ungracious self about it, but he’d still come. He’d listened to Logan talk about opportunities in the club, as his father encouraged him to take some more responsibility. Seb had thanked him, then used his shower to get ready for another night out at Scales.

  Logan was now patrolling the Scales fight den, checking on the games of chance and gambling on the fights. He’d asked Jyll to show Alessio, the Tiger youngling who Stryker had ditched the night of the New Moon party, the ropes.

  It wasn’t because of what the girl had said.

  He had his own code of honour, cleaved to it, bent it around the constraints of working for the Tigers, when he could. Alessio was small fry, and as a Tiger, he wouldn’t raise many eyebrows around here. He might even prove an ally in having another eye on Seb, if he were allowed back into Jade Palace at some point.

  That’s why he’d taken pity on the cub, he told himself. It had nothing to do with a crazy, brave female with intelligent amber eyes. Nothing to do with the fact that she’d made him feel about one inch tall, that she was brave enough to stand up for a Tiger when she had thought herself in a pretty bad situation.

  Alessio was a natural. People warmed to him, and he’d already diffused several potentially sticky situations at Scales. He wondered if another such situation had erupted when Jyll and Alessio paced toward him from the downstairs pit. It was pumping tonight, the roar of the crowd loud in Logan’s ears.

  “There’s a kid down there way out of his league, trying to take on Viyaan.”

  Viyaan was a particularly fierce vampire, a veteran of the fight pits of Jade City, and he didn’t pull his punches, or his fangs, for that matter. If fights were too one-sided, the punters started to grumble about match-fixing. It was one of the first things he coached his guys in—maintaining a high standard of competition. Yes, it was brutal, sometimes even fatal, though Logan tried to avoid that where possible. But the fight pits were entertainment first, and a fight where one competitor had no chance of winning wasn’t enough to retain this crowd’s attention.

  And he needed the punters to keep coming through those doors, so that at the end of the month, when the Tiger Clan collectors came calling, he could keep his contribution ridiculously, outlandishly high. Keeping the coffers high meant he had a long leash, and the freedom to make decisions about who entered his club, and what they did.

  It allowed him to stand his ground with creeps like Stryker.

  “Show me,” he said to Alessio.

  They strode down the stairs that led to the polished cement basement, lit up with lights that twinkled like the night sky. Sure enough, a kid, no older than Seb, was in the ring with Viyaan. The vampire circled him, his grin wide, baring fangs already coated in blood, claws out and ready to slash again.

  The kid stumbled and lunged wildly at the vampire, his face almost as bright red as his shortly cropped hair. He didn’t look afraid, and that was a sign that things were not right here.

  Blood seeped through a long-sleeved shirt, and the kid’s face was so bruised up, Logan couldn’t see any identifiable Clan markings. He didn’t appear to have any signs of the Snake in his eyes or the mouth that hung open, panting.

  Perhaps another Dragon, then? Tiger Clan children were usually cloistered in the Palace, making Seb—although he was half Tiger and half Dragon—an exception. It was Seb that Logan thought of, as he watched the vampire circle, laughing at the young boy.

  “Thoughts, Alessio?”

  There was nothing like learning on the job.

  “He’s going to get annihilated in about ten seconds flat.”

  Logan inclined his head.

  “And so…you suggest?”

  Alessio watched the boy for another few seconds as he copped another slash, this time to his stomach. He hunched over the wound, gazing at it as though he couldn’t quite work out what had happened.

  “You gave me another chance, boss,” Alessio said, glancing away, heat going to his cheeks. “I reckon this kid could do with one, too.”

  “If he’s not too out of his head on Xonorah to take it,” smirked Jyll. “Be careful, boss, he might challenge you to a duel too.”

  Logan ruffled Jyll’s hair, play punched Alessio’s shoulder. “I’m used to dealing with messed up younglings.” He smirked.

  The smirk only increased as he stepped up onto the ring, Jyll’s growl following him. He made a slashing motion with his hand that indicated the fight was over then gestured for the next comer up to challenge Viyaan.

  Viyaan beat his chest and fist pumped the cheering crowd. Bear, who was actually a werewolf—admittedly the size of a bear—stepped up into the ring to take the kid’s place. The cement vibrated under his heavy footfalls. The man was a beast. The kid stared from the vampire, to the wolf, to Logan, pupils dilated, and something else…something glowed underneath his white shirt.

  Something gold and scarlet—

  The dragon spread its wings inside him, scenting…Ah, hell. Logan didn’t waste time snatching a spare black robe from the ropes, slinging it over the kid’s back.

  “Let’s get him out of here,” he growled at Jyll, and he and Alessio strung the kid up between them.

  The kid was hot to touch, singing loudly, then mumbling deliriously by the time Jyll had pulled the Aston Martin around to the discreet back entrance of the club. His dragon urged him to stay close to the kid, and such instincts were not to be ignored. Experience had taught him he ignored this sense at his peril. If he wanted to avoid things going balls-up, his best bet was to consider the dragon’s urging seriously.

  “He’s real hot, boss,” said Alessio. “Maybe we should strip off this—”

  “Leave it on,” Logan snarled. Logan had a feeling about what they would find under that shirt, and none of them needed to see it. They would all be instantly sentenced to death, were this to be discovered in his club.

  “Should we take him to a Clan healer?” Alessio asked.

  Logan wasn’t sure that would be helpful either. More likely land the kid in a heap of trouble. Trouble that would be reportable straight up the Dragon-Tiger hierarchy.

  “Kid,” Logan said, voice low. “You got somewhere to go?”

  Chapter 21

  It was the best they could do. Find a friendly face to take the boy. He reached out a hand, shook him again and repressed his intake of breath. No kidding. This boy was so hot, even over the layers of clothes, Logan was surprised his skin wasn’t literally on fire. The kid moaned, eyes starting to roll back in his head.

  “Quan,” he moaned. “Quan’s Den.”

  “Quan’s Den? You know it Jyll? Alessio?”

  “No, boss, never heard of it.”

  “Look it up, Alessio. Jyll, let’s drive.”

  “Quan’s Den. Nothing comes up in Dragon Quarter. Widen search.” Alessio spoke into his hand-held. “Search gambling dens, fight clubs, hideouts.”

  The hand-held listed a bunch of underworld establishments across downtown.

  “Hang on. Here. There’s a gym in Turtle Quarter called Q Den. Could that be it?”

  “Only one way to find out,” said Logan grimly.

  The kid was unconscious by the time they drove across the Indigo Bridge, into the unkempt and dirty streets of Turtle Quarter.

  They missed the laneway turn off for Q Den about five times before Logan cursed, and asked Jyll to pull up, hefted the boy in his arms and walked the last fifty metres to the elusive gym. A glamour shielded this place, not strong enough to put Logan off, but enough to confuse his boys. Interesting. Bill posters covered a small, nondescript doorway th
at Logan edged open with his shoulder and then descended into a gloomy, cavernous space.

  Logan’s survey of the cavern, which looked like it had literally been hewn out of the stone underground, roved over several boxing rings rigged up with makeshift ropes and bags currently being used by several men and women, and snagged on a bar well-equipped with many of his favourite whiskies. Whoever ran the bar had good taste.

  The man behind the bar was short and squat, well-muscled, taking after the Clan that was marked on his face. Turtle. His gaze narrowed at the boy in Logan’s arms and he ducked under the bar, making straight for them.

  “Is this Quan’s Den?” Logan asked.

  “Who’s asking?” Quan gazed at him, wariness lining his eyes.

  Fair enough.

  Logan shrugged. “This kid got himself into some trouble at my bar, the kind of trouble that I don’t need. He asked for Quan, but if we’ve come to the wrong place…”

  Logan tried not to wince at the heat scorching through his jacket from the boy’s skin. The dragon nudged him, impatient. He tried again. “He has… a fever.”

  Logan shifted the boy forward slightly to show the place where the boy’s sweat drenched through his sweatshirt and the boxing robe into Logan’s black shirt. The man’s eyes widened and he glanced, barely perceptibly, towards the female in the closest ring.

  She was fast, fierce. Fearless. She ducked inside the guard of her hulking Turtle Clan opponent, driving home several short, sharp jabs, then an uppercut that caught the Turtle square on the chin. She managed to get a glove behind his head, slam her knee up into his ribs, and follow it up with a brutal thrust of her elbow.

  She was good.

  A braid of long dark hair swung over slender but strong shoulders, and it was the dip of the collarbone, the incongruous Dragon band on her arm and the long, long legs, this time bared from beneath gym shorts that sent a dazzling shock of recognition through him.