by Zoe Parker
‘I’ll have Jameson do some more digging when we get home.’
“Introduce me to the real Alpha,” I say pointing at the real one to make sure he understands I already know who is who.
A chuckle wafts out of the shadows. He steps forward.
“It’s okay, Malcolm, have a seat.” Pink tie, I mean Malcolm, skitters away.
So now that Alpha boy isn’t playing peekaboo anymore, I study him. His hair is white blonde, pulled back into a tidy ponytail that looks strangely ridiculous on him. He’s tall, over six foot I’d wager, but he isn’t a large man.
He’s not solid like Phobe either. And he’s half- Feyrie with a Dark Mark. Meeting his amber eyes evenly, I blatantly smell the air around him. Some type of big cat. Tiger or lion, I bet. He’s also got a good poker face. That means I’ll be playing the guessing game.
I hate the guessing game.
My Magiks brush against him, the Web tinkling with the knowledge it can give me. Which other than some basics, isn’t a lot. Shifters are weird like that, even half-blood ones.
“I’m Iza, who are you, kitty cat?” I’m not one for pretty words and stupid formalities. He’ll learn that quick. Time is short and valuable.
“I am Adrian, Alpha of the Dakota pack,” he answers. “You are not what I expected.”
He is mostly what I expected. Arrogant, powerful for a shifter, and if I’m not mistaken, a bit of a know-it-all.
“I get that a lot.” I say after a few moments of silence.
The shifter who came to meet me the first time steps forward with a look of surprise on his face.
“It was you in the ugly coveralls?”
I shrug at his question. I don’t think they were ugly. “You didn’t expect me to say, ‘Yeah, I’m her. Lemme bust out the five thousand thread count sheets for your boss?’”
He lets a smile slip at my words.
Adrian takes his rightful seat at the booth. The big blonde one vacates in a hurry.
“Please, sit,” he offers, waving towards the spot across from him.
Remaining silent, I slide into the booth. It’s better than snapping out something impolite, which I really want to do.
A waitress comes to stand beside us, waiting patiently. I order a diet soda from her. I motion for the others with me to sit but am ignored. Oh, the whole guard duty thing they took upon themselves.
“Not a drinker?” Adrian asks, his amber eyes intense on me.
He’s trying to figure out what I am or at least trying to gauge what kind of threat I am. Something I’m familiar with—I’m giving him a similar look.
“Nope. Can’t say I am.” My metabolism burns through any human alcohol and the last time I drank Fey Ale, I had a hangover to top hangovers.
“Smart woman. I don’t drink much myself. A shifter’s body burns through the alcohol too fast for it to be enjoyable.” He leans back, displaying himself for my gaze.
He’s wearing a white button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up his elbows. Black baggy jeans with some kind of chain hanging from the pockets. For a wallet maybe? I can still smell leather on him, so in a guess he had a leather jacket on recently.
He’s a good enough looking man, I guess. Has the broody look that probably makes women throw themselves at him until they break. Because there’s no doubt in my mind he breaks them.
He’s not Phobe, though, not even a smidge. So, I give him a quick once over and deliberately look elsewhere. He isn’t selling anything I want to buy.
“How did you call to us and why are you here?”
Good, he isn’t going to drag it out for hours.
“I called you through the Web and I’m here because you invited me here.”
He looks clearly disappointed at my answers. “No one has ever been able to give a call more powerful than an Alpha before. None of us understand it, but there are many who cannot resist it.”
I stir the straw around in my drink while I think about his words. There’s no nice way for me to comment.
“Most of the shifters want me to request you leave our territory.” His words drag my eyebrow up.
Their territory? The Sidhe has been here before human or Feyrie stepped foot on this world.
‘Your inner dragon is not happy. She is very territorial.’ I can’t ignore the humor laced in Phobe’s words.
I kind of want to turn around and kick his shin. I fight the urge to look at him. Part of me thinks he wants to feed my irritation. Phobe likes it when I bite.
“We won’t be going anywhere. Asking us to leave is just a waste of your time,” I finally answer.
It’s nothing but the truth. I’m not about to have a territory pissing contest with kitty here—he’ll lose. This is our home; we aren’t leaving.
His amber eyes brighten, and he says, “You realize this club is full of shifters?”
Oh, here goes the ‘my balls are bigger’ contest.
I shrug. “Why should I care?” I say it so matter-of-factly, he leans forward in surprise.
Shifters have a form of group telepathy, the lucky bastards, which is demonstrated when the area starts to fill with more of them.
I sigh. “Look, I’m trying to go about this in a nice way. Giving me shit isn’t going to help you.”
I will not be pushed around by testosterone-filled men who think they rule the world. Doesn’t matter if they can turn into animals or not.
“You’re elves, nothing more. Shifters can tear you apart in seconds,” Blondie speaks up from beside the booth.
When Adrian doesn’t correct him, I realize he let him say it on purpose. Perhaps he even agrees with him. Briefly, when I first met this putz, I thought things might be different and our groups could be friends. I hoped to find a reasonable way to work things out.
Fine, I’ll give it one more shot.
“Okay, Kitty, let’s try this a more diplomatic way. I suck at it, but why not?” I force serenity into my voice.
I take a drink of the cold soda in front of me to give me some patience. It’s not something I really have in abundance, and this is stretching the limit.
I continue, “We aren’t leaving, but considering you’re all sort of Feyrie—it shouldn’t be that hard for us to get along.” This is as nice as I can get. Will get. I didn’t threaten to awaken their marks and be done with it… yet.
“I’m supposed to let your authority overrule my own, in my territory?” he says haughtily.
Well, there goes the nice.
“My authority does overrule yours.” I feel the shifters around me stir at my words.
The Web flickers with the emotions building up in the room. I do have some sympathy for them—it’s why I’m trying to give them a chance versus just pulling on their marks. I know what it’s like to be forced into something you don’t want to do.
“We’re at the top of the food chain here. No elves can displace us from that spot.” Food chain? He’s really looking at it that way?
Apparently, anyone who hikes their legs to pee can’t think with anything but their egos. If he looked closer at my group, he’d see the power packed into the four of them. Only an idiot—well, there’s the answer to my next question.
‘Stop trying to be fair to a creature who will not appreciate you for it,’ Phobe snarks.
“She’s not even a magical elf. I’ve seen them before and they have a glow around them. They must’ve sent a fraud.” Auryn growls at the blonde shifter’s words.
He looks over at her and keeps running his mouth, “Now her, I can believe she’s some kinda lady. She’s even dressed like one. But you, you’re dressed like a bag lady.”
Not that I care about him thinking she is more of a lady than I, since it’s true, but being called names—that’s just not nice. My friends think so as well. I can feel the hostility leaking off them.
‘They are protective of you, Iza. Insults to you are insults to all of them,’ Phobe says.
Well, that’s going to take a while to get used to. I sen
d some reassurance through the Web and the level of anger drops but doesn’t vanish completely.
“What the hell was that?” the blonde asks.
“What is your name, so I can stop calling you blondie in my head?” I shoot back at him just as rudely.
“Lawrence.”
“Okay, Larry, much better. I was convincing Auryn not to rip your face off.”
“How can you do that? Elves don’t share group telepathy.” Larry snots back at me.
Funny how ignorant they are about Feyrie.
“You know nothing about Feyrie. Keep that in mind.” I stir my soda again. One more time, I can do this one more time. “In this case, we should take the opportunity to get to know one another’s customs and races—”
“Races? There is only one race on your side we have several.”
Adriem coughs into his hand at Larry’s very rude interruption and the blatant ignorance coming out of his mouth.
“Your stupidity is going to be costly.” Auryn’s words are spoken softly but there’s no mistaking the threat underlying them.
“None of you are welcome here. We don’t want your call or your presence. We are the top pack in the state and it will make us weak if we allow a bunch of elves to come in and think they control everything,” Larry continues.
Modest, isn’t he? I watch him with a look of boredom on my face and let my eyes drift to Adrian. He’s watching the exchange with interest. He’s letting the idiot run his mouth to see what type of reaction his words will get. Might have even put him up to it.
It’s rude, yes, but in a clever kind of way. I might have done something similar myself in this situation.
‘Do you have anything to add?’ I ask the ever-quiet Phobe.
‘You are their Ladyl this is your decision to make.’ A very neutral answer coming from him.
‘And if I ask you to kill them?’
‘Then they will all die.’
I catch myself almost looking over my shoulder at him. He’s usually a voice of reason at a time like this. He agreed to that way too easily.
“What do you have to say about any of this, Adrian?” I lean back in my seat and cross my arms, studying his face.
“He doesn’t have the most eloquent way of saying it, but what he’s saying is similar to my own opinion,” he answers in that same snotty voice.
“Basically, you don’t believe we have a right to be here and you want us gone?”
After a moment, he nods.
I continue, “What will you do if I refuse?”
“We will consider it an act of war,” Larry chirps up.
I won’t allow Feyrie to fight amongst themselves. I can’t. They need time to grow and heal. War is coming soon enough as it is. War that will affect these morons the same as us.
I climb to my feet, letting my glamour fall a little. Adrian’s eyes widen. He slides out of the booth and climbs to his own feet. His nostrils flare at what little bit of scent he can get from me.
A kitty who uses his nose? Interesting.
The big mouth Larry takes a step back and his blue eyes widen in disbelief. They aren’t connected to me solidly on the Web yet, but any idiot can feel the power I’m letting leak out.
“You couldn’t just let this be easy, could you?” My voice echoes. Adrian stares, completely unsure what to do. “You know, for a minute I thought you were reasonable, then you started trying to pee on things.” I turn the fullness of my gaze on him.
“Clear this area.” My orders leave no room to be disobeyed. With shock on their faces, several of the shifters step back away from us.
‘Control it,’ Phobe cautions.
Now he’s being the voice of reason, which is strange. Especially since he said he’d kill them all if I wanted him to—and because I can feel his simmering anger. Anger that is totally unrelated to my own.
Irritation at a manageable degree, I walk over the window that looks down at the dance floor. This time I managed to not hurt people. I deserve a damn medal for it.
“You’re not the plain elf I saw moments ago,” Adrian accuses.
“No shit, Sherlock. I never said I was an elf. That was you making assumptions.”
“Your deception doesn’t change anything, Iza,” he states, using my name.
“It’s worse than you hiding in the corner while letting an idiot pretend to be you? You were fooled by your own arrogance, not my glamour.” I know the point hits home when he looks at me in his silence.
“So, what will you do now?” he asks softly.
“Well, we aren’t going anywhere. You can get that out of your head.” Tapping my finger against my lip, I study him. “Do you even know what a Feyrie is?”
He frowns at me. I bite my tongue to keep from yelling at him.
“I’m not talking about the ones you think you’ve met. I’m talking about the Feyrie people. Feyrie is made up of several species/races.” I lean on the railing. “You lot are descendants of Feyrie and humans bumping uglies. And you have no idea where you come from, none of you, which is a shame.”
“Shifters and this Fairy crap aren’t related. The first shifters—” Larry begins.
I cut him off. “Go back to whatever type of life sucking, shape shifting Feyrie bred with humans to make the first vampire or shifter. You’re all half-breeds of half-breeds. How’s that for lineage?”
Larry gasps in anger at my words.
All this shit about bloodlines and pure lineage is crap. A person is who they are. Doesn’t matter where or what they came from.
“You see, I’m a half-breed myself, so I can understand the stigma you feel.”
“You’re part human?” Adrian is way too amused by this prospect.
“No.” I watch the amusement drain right out of him. “Neither side of my heritage is human.” I walk back to the table and sip the now flat soda. “You should thank the folks with me for saving your ass. This would’ve probably gone much worse, otherwise,” I say to Adrian, giving him a toothy grin.
“Your teeth.”
I can clearly tell it’s a thought he didn’t mean to voice.
“Yeah, they’re hard on a toothbrush, lemme tell ya.” My smile broadens, exposing just how many sharp teeth I have. I hope this works for the ‘my balls are bigger’ requirement.
“You assumed—wrong;y, I might add—that we’re all harmless elves with little pointy ears. Assumptions are dangerous things in our world,” I explain, bending the straw from the drink. It’s better to take my frustrations out on it than him.
I continue, “I’m not patient, not even reasonable most of the time. Yet I made a genuine attempt with you.”
“Are you saying you want to war, elf?” Larry pipes up.
My eyes flash. I’ve had enough of him.
“See there’s something you didn’t seem to pick up in my explanation: you’re all watered-down descendants of Feyrie. There will be no war.”
“I’ll cut your throat myself, you bitch.” His face reddens when Adrian’s eyes flare. He steps back, but it unfortunately doesn’t shut him up. “If you don’t leave our territory you will all die.”
“I’d shut him up if you want him to keep breathing, kitty cat.”
I’m not the nicest person in the world but I wanted them to have a chance. All this bullshit is making me regret that decision.
“All right, to clarify a few things. I didn’t want this job, but I got stuck with it—so, let me explain some of the perks.” I walk slowly towards him, letting my Magiks awaken a little more. Knowing my eyes are now black and bright.
“I’m the Shepherd, which means I’m at the center of the Magikal Web that connects all Feyrie together. Every Feyrie and every descendant of a Feyrie are born with a mark. In this case, yours is a Dark Mark.” I smile a little at that.
“I am the Alpha. My pack is only connected to me and the higher Alphas,” Adrian insists.
“Yeah, blah, blah, blah. My steward Jameson has all kinds of books on this shit you should read.
Might help you look like less of a tool right now.” I stop a foot from him and look up into his amber eyes.
“Like I said, there won’t be a war. However, I give you one last chance to make the right choices. Either you gradually come to the dark side and try to rub along with your Feyrie kin or I call all of your marks right now.”
He laughs at my threat. “Magiks aren’t effective against this pack. It is what gives us the edge against vampires. Perhaps you should’ve done your homework.”
My Magiks are effective against any Feyrie.
‘Take them,’ Phobe urges.
‘I genuinely loathe the idea of forcing them, no matter how much the prick is annoying me right now. We are outsiders to them.’ I feel his disapproval, but he says nothing.
I decide to switch tactics.
“If I understand your laws correctly, to become Alpha someone has to beat the current one in combat, right?” Adrian’s eyes swirl with suspicion but he nods. “Death or just defeat?”
“Either.”
I smile, unable to help myself.
Adrian frowns at that smile. “I sense no shifters in your people, I should be able to feel them as Alpha here.”
They aren’t shifters, you big ninny head. “Does the competitor have to be a shifter?”
“No,” he replies.
“But didn’t you say that shifters are descendants of Feyrie so logically wouldn’t that make them a shifter?” Adrian asks slyly.
He’s not very logical for saying logically.
“Feyrie are not shifters. Shifters are mostly human, half-breeds of Feyrie that take on the traits of an animal. Your true form is a human.” I glance over my shoulder at Auryn, Licar and Adriem.
“The difference between you and a Feyrie is that they are creatures that change to look humanoid. Their creature form is their true form.” There’s a lot more differences than that, but we’ll be here all night debating what he doesn’t know.
“So, you have a choice. You can fight any one of us.” I sweep my hand around to indicate the five of us. Auryn chuckles.
Adrian’s eyes weigh me and then move on.
‘You will kill him, if he challenges you, Iza. No argument,’ Phobe says, his irritation clear in his voice.
