Fury Rising (Fury Unbound Book 1)

by Yasmine Galenorn

  I had already been thinking about that. “I have a long skirt with a slit up both sides. It will be a little cumbersome, but I can still manage both dagger and whip.”

  “Be careful, and do your best to remain undercover.” She held my gaze. “I don’t like sending you into this situation, but there’s really no choice.”

  I had been thinking about something, uncertain of whether to ask about it. But finally, I decided I needed to know. “Why did you send me to Jerako, if you already knew what the Greenlings would say?”

  Hecate laughed, her voice rich and throaty. “There’s a method to what might seem like madness. Think carefully, Fury. The governments don’t like learning from the past. Now, Jerako will warn the EUAA to work with Lightning Strikes. If I were to go to the Regent of Seattle and tell him that a weather-magic device was stolen, he would nod and make a show of being appalled, and then the report would slip through the cracks because the Conglomerate is as corrupt as they come. They don’t take the gods seriously, not truly. Add to that, the government has their fingers deep into the World Regency Corporation’s pockets, and you can bet they’ll do their best to divert Lightning Strikes from permanently dissolving the company and executing the person responsible.”

  I was beginning to follow her thoughts. “But if the Greenlings warn them that they’ll whip their ass if weather magic is used…”

  “Exactly. The Conglomerate is terrified of the Greenlings. The Elder Gods? We can cause a fuss and mayhem and destroy some lives. Gaia? She can destroy civilization. They’ll do more if they think their asses are one step away from annihilation.” Hecate’s lips curled in a snarky grin. “And I, for one, won’t have any qualms about seeing them squirm.”

  Tam’s eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised they haven’t tried to exterminate the Greenlings over the eons. After all, they’re the only ones holding the corporatocracies in check. If it weren’t for Jerako and his kin, humans would be out to tear apart the world again.”

  “Not every human is like that, and there are plenty from other races…other species…who are just as short-sighted and greedy.” I shook my head. “Even the gods have their troublemakers.” Realizing who was in the room with me, I glanced at Hecate, but she just nodded.

  “True enough. There are several gods who would love to set up a hellhole on Earth, given the chance. They would happily enslave or destroy anybody giving them trouble. Nobody has a monopoly on being an ass.” She slid off her desk and let out an exasperated sigh. “I wish to hell that the Order of the Black Mist hadn’t been so stupid.”

  “How long do you think that Jerako will give us to find the disk?” Tam asked.

  Hecate shrugged. “If he’s in a generous mood, we may have a month or so. Unless whoever has it goes trigger happy and starts creating storms everywhere. Then, all bets are off and I’d recommend heading out of town.”

  “Then I’d better find that disk. I’ll head into the Junk Yard tonight.” And with that, Tam and I bade her good-bye. Tam returned to Dream Wardens, and I headed home for a nap.

  I entered my apartment, locked the door, then opened the drapes. The view of the water always calmed me down. My stomach rumbled—breakfast had been a long time ago, along with my last sip of coffee—so I headed into my kitchenette and scraped together one last sandwich and a handful of chips. Thanks to Hecate and Jason, I could go grocery shopping, but that could wait until tomorrow.

  Queet startled me as I carried my roast beef sandwich and cup of coffee over to the sofa. He was sitting—in full misty form—on the edge of the ottoman, staring out at the water.

  “What’s going on? Please don’t tell me there’s an Abom near. I don’t think I can handle another one this soon.” I was thoroughly dragged out.

  He shook his head. “No, Fury. Nothing like that. But I do have something to talk to you about. First, though, tell me what happened out on the Arbortariam.”

  “Let me eat first, okay? I need a moment to breathe.” Truth was, I needed more than a moment. Not only was I worried sick about what was going to happen with the Order of the Black Mist, but my reaction to Tam was confusing the hell out of me. I had developed a crush on Jason when I was sixteen, but he had never noticed it. Or, if he did, he never let on. I thought I would outgrow it, especially given the fact that he was engaged.

  But until this week, even though I had dated other men, there had been a part of me dreaming that something would change and we’d end up together. He was handsome and strong and smart. And, to be brutally honest, I suspected I had a bit of hero worship going on.

  After all, he had picked me up off his doorstep, a broken and frightened girl who had somehow escaped from a crazed psychopath. He had taken me in, given me a home, helped me learn how to live again. At night, he had raced into my room when I fought the nightmares, waking me as I screamed my lungs out. He had counseled me when I had been depressed, and called in his sister when I needed to talk to a woman.

  Most of all, he had encouraged me to grow into who I was, never interfering with my relationship with Hecate. The day I had gone to the Junk Yards to face the Carver, he had backed me all the way and never once questioned whether I was doing the right thing.

  But now…in the sweep of a single day, my crush on Jason seemed just that as I found my thoughts turning to Tam. Tam, whose touch had set me afire. Tam, whose eyes were like molten silver, embracing me in their opulent, passionate stare. Tam…who was one of the Bonny Fae and who scared me as much as he attracted me. The Fae lived by their own rules and they didn’t care what anybody else thought. Could I withstand Tam’s intensity? Or would my fire clash with his and erupt in a horrible rain of stinging sparks?

  I slowly ate my sandwich as I watched the waves of Idyll Inlet whip into white caps. The wind had risen and rain beat down in a silver stream. Finally, I found myself breathing normally again, and I finished my sandwich, wiped my lips, and sucked down the last of my coffee.

  Queet waited patiently, which surprised me. He wasn’t the calmest spirit in the world. Finally, I turned to him.

  “Okay, I’ve had my breather. What’s up?”

  “Fury, I know you’re a Theosian. I know that you have to do as Hecate bids you. But I’m worried about you.” He paused. “Do you remember the first time I appeared to you?”

  I frowned, trying to think back, but finally shook my head. “It’s almost like you’ve always been here. Honestly? No. When was it?”

  He stared at the floor for a moment before answering. “I came to you the night your mother died. I was sent to you. You don’t remember me there, but I watched over you while the Carver held you captive, and I made certain you knew exactly what to do in order to escape him. When you reached out for help, Hecate sent me in.”

  Letting out a soft breath, I wasn’t sure what to say. So I simply waited.

  “You haven’t been in the Junk Yard in years, not since you faced the Carver and almost destroyed him. Are you sure you want to go in there again? The magicians are going to be powerful, and their kind like to source women for power. You know that they run a network of enslaved women. I’m not sure you can handle being around them.”

  I frowned, shoving my plate farther back on the coffee table. “You don’t think I can handle a bunch of horny guys?”

  He let out a sound of exasperation. “That’s the thing. They aren’t just ‘horny guys.’ Fury, these are dangerous men capable of sickening acts. I just…want you to be safe.”

  I smiled. Queet wasn’t questioning my ability, he was questioning the men I’d be around. It was true, a number of magicians—especially the ones who overstepped the boundaries—played fast and loose, using women as an extra source because we generally ran more natural power.

  “Queet—remember who I am. I’m a Theosian. Can I be hurt? Yes. Can I fight back? You know it. You’ve seen me bring down Aboms. You’ve seen the creatures I take on. I have to do this—so much is riding on getting the Thunderstrike back and cat
ching the magicians behind the tornado and the theft. If this Order of the Black Mist is determined to cause havoc, the world will be far more dangerous than it is now. I need to do what I can to stop them.”

  He caught my gaze and, out of the misty swirl, I sensed a mix of compassion and regret. “You’re right. I’m already dead. Nobody can do much to me anymore. Well, actually, I’m not going to bet on that, but if the Greenlings storm the cities, it won’t affect me. But you…you belong to the world of the living. Do what you have to do. I’ll be with you, as close as I can be without them sensing me. Call me if you need me. Promise?”

  I nodded. “I promise. And now, I’m going to get a couple hours of sleep, because I have a feeling tonight’s going to tax every reserve I have.” And with that, I curled up on the sofa and fell asleep, watching the waves crest against the shore out on the inlet.

  Chapter 13

  Nobody went to the Junk Yard at night, not unless they were looking for trouble. After a couple hours of sleep, I was ready to rock. I strapped my dagger to my inner thigh so the band would look like a garter from the outside, and I ran a thin layer of makeup over my whip. It wouldn’t affect its use, and while it didn’t fully cover it, the foundation muted the brilliant colors to a low roar. The magic was still strong, but it shouldn’t attract the attention of the casual passerby. My skirt covered up both weapons to a degree, and the slits provided adequate access to them.

  As I zipped up my blue leather corset and slid my feet into ankle boots that were high enough to be sexy, but chunky-heeled enough to run in, I wondered how the hell I was going to pull this off. It wasn’t like I had any clue of who I was looking for.

  Suddenly feeling peevish, I thought about calling off the half-baked scheme, but stopped as I stared out over the inlet. The gods weren’t omniscient—none of them. And they weren’t omnipotent either. Nobody in this whole freaking universe had that kind of power. In some ways, the gods were like humans, like Theosians…like Weres and shifters and Fae. They were just trying to get along in the world.

  I slid a pre-paid cash card into a liner that attached to my dagger sheath. I didn’t bother with ID. If the authorities picked me up, they’d read my chips—which would lead to a whole different can of worms. And if anybody in the club tried to ID me, they wouldn’t have any official documents to go on, unless they had managed to get hold of a chip reader. While that was possible, it was also highly illegal for private citizens to own.

  I wanted to wear my pendant, but that wouldn’t be a good idea. So instead, I fastened a silver chain around my neck that would keep the bloodsucker types at bay. Vampires were rarely seen in public, but going into the Junk Yard? Anything could happen there.

  Finally, I slugged back an herbal mixture that Tam had sent over while I was asleep. It would make it hard for anyone to charm me. Theosians weren’t easily charmed anyway, but this would almost guarantee nobody could slip me a magical drug, or try to mesmerize me. As for regular drugs, some of them would work on me, some not. There wasn’t much I could do except keep my eyes open.

  As I stood at the counter, staring at the pale blue bottle the potion had come in, I realized I didn’t want to go. It wasn’t due to fear. It wasn’t due to being afraid someone would recognize me for who I really was. No, the two times I had been in the Junk Yard, I had come out with my emotions charred to a crisp, forever changed.

  “Are you sure about this, Fury?” Queet whispered from my side. He knew what I was feeling.

  “I have no choice.”

  “Then go, and Hecate be at your back. I’ll go as far as I can. Call me if you need me, I’ll be listening. So will Jason and Tam. They’ll be on the outskirts, waiting. All you have to do is call to me and I’ll tell them to come running.”

  And with Queet’s promise ringing in my ears, I headed downstairs to make my way to the Junk Yard. The last time I was there, I had rained down hell on earth. But it hadn’t been enough to erase the memories…or the cause of them.

  He was in the Junk Yard. I was standing on the outskirts of the gated enclosure, gearing myself up to enter. I glanced up at the moon, gathering my courage.

  The Carver was in there, and he didn’t know that I was still alive, and that I still remembered him. I woke up from a long nap to the certainty that he had returned. That the Carver was sitting in a slummy bar, wondering where to start up again. His face was leathery and scarred, one eye missing thanks to the explosion that I had caused when I gated myself out of his hellhole. The room had erupted in flames, burning him as he tried to get out, and cremating my mother’s body to a charred husk. But it hadn’t been enough, and I had been waiting for this day. I had been waiting for the day I woke up, knowing he was near, knowing that I could finish what I had started the day he murdered my mother.

  I thought about calling Jason and asking him to go with me, but I didn’t want to put him in that position. I knew what I was about to do, and I wasn’t going to ask the person who had saved my ass thirteen years before to put himself on the line—either his life, or his ethics. Jason would understand what I was about to do, but this was my fight, my journey. I had a one-way ticket and it wasn’t going to be a joyride.

  As I slowly entered the monolithic structure, I crossed the line. There was no going back. Hecate’s power coursed through my body. I had come to destroy—to demolish, obliterate, annihilate. And I knew exactly where I was going.

  The image of a small apartment at the top of an abandoned building flickered in my mind. There were a lot of abandoned buildings in the Junk Yard. After all, it had been built to house fifty thousand refugees and now housed who knew how many members of the UnderCult.

  The Junk Yard was a labyrinthine maze of apartment buildings, storefronts, nightclubs, and bars. The buildings were concrete, with a lot of broken windows around. Here and there, a stray dog raced by. There were rumors that centuries ago Seattle had an underground component and while some historians claimed the Junk Yard was built over that area, nobody had ever come out publicly saying that it was true. I had my suspicions that the rumors were right, but I wasn’t interested in finding out. I had enough on my hands with the Abominations. The last thing I wanted to do was to deal with the UnderCult.

  The streets in the Junk Yard were lit by a series of underground track lights that bordered the sidewalks. The lighting had been installed as a way to appease the Jagulins, who disliked the street lamps and bright lights of the city. But it was still a cage, and the Jagulins wanted no part of it.

  I scanned the streets, but I didn’t need to get my bearings. Even though I hadn’t set foot inside the Junk Yard in thirteen years, I knew exactly what apartment to head for. The Carver was staying next door to where he had held my mother and me. Back then, he had been living in a basement. But now, he was in a top apartment.

  I hurried through the night, ignoring the passing comments flung my way from the bogeys and shadow men. Lucky for them, they left it at catcalls only, because I didn’t have time to administer an etiquette lesson. Maybe later, I thought. But for now, Xan, prominently sheathed and hanging over my back, kept them at bay.

  As I reached the burned-out shell of the building in which my life had permanently and forever been changed, I paused. Walking over to the edge, I stared into the gutted-out basement. The building had burned to cinders, the concrete imploding into dust.

  The only memories I had were a blur of flame, my fury rising as his blade carved deep into my mother’s skin. And then—the rolling waves of anger as I reached out to Hecate, drawing her deep into my heart. Then, freeze frame and lurch forward to a roar so loud that it drowned out everything else. And then…I woke up on Jason’s doorstep.

  I inhaled a sharp breath, letting it whistle out slowly, before I continued to the building next door. A light shone in the top right-hand window. My destination.

  Quietly, I entered the building and climbed the stairs, forgoing the elevator. Chances were, it wouldn’t work anyway. As I appro
ached the apartment at the end of the hall I unsheathed my sword. When I was at the door, I stood for a moment, gathering my flame into a single white-hot spark, and then I kicked open the door.

  Inside, the Carver was waiting, standing in front of a desk.

  “I felt you when you were outside my building, Kaeleen,” he said. “I didn’t realize you survived until now.”

  He was still bald, but the skin on his head and his face drooped in folds of scar tissue. One eye was missing, and he wasn’t wearing a patch to cover it. His speech was garbled from the scars on his neck and throat, his tongue swollen and disfigured thanks to my flame so many years ago. The skin of his entire right side was shiny in that way that burn victims have.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” I said. “I didn’t know when you would return, but I’ve been waiting for the day when I would wake up and know you were here. You forever changed my world. I’ve come back to repay you in kind.”

  And those were my last words to him. I swung the sword, aiming for his heart, aiming to obliterate. For some reason, I hadn’t expected him to fight back. I suppose I had expected him to be waiting for me to end his misery—to end the misery he had inflicted on everyone. In my delusion, I had created him as remorseful and ready to die.

  But he wasn’t at that point. Not yet. Instead, the Carver raised his hand and mumbled something under his breath, and a dark form filled the room, shadowy with wings.

  I whirled to find myself facing a creature that reminded me of a cross between a giant bat and a praying mantis. As I swung my sword, the creature reached out with feathered, razor-sharp legs and attempted to stab me. I managed to clip one of them with the tip of my blade, but still, it scored my flesh, leaving a long gash on my arm. The feathered tips were actually metal. I wasn’t facing a living creature, but some sort of creation—a robot, perhaps.