by Jaye Shields
“I’ve had it for a while.”
“Yeah, I know.” But before Murphy could further question her, she let out a cry that echoed throughout the shop.
“Damn it, focus! I swear this is worse than ever.” Sparrow meant it but mostly went all drama-queen to change the subject. After all, how could she explain that the tattoo was a mystical enchantment gifted to her by her Wiccan aunts when she was born?
“Peregrine falcons are incredible predators that should be worshipped for their grace and ability. They’re like me. Small, but fierce.”
The tatted Murphy smiled, and swept his tongue over his lip piercing provocatively. “I know you are.”
“Oh, God, save it.” She nuzzled her face against the leather recliner once more. Note to self: I should probably stop going to an ex-flame for tattoos.
“Ouch!” She wrinkled her nose at the painful tickle.
“You’re such a pansy. You didn’t make this much noise when we did your owl, and that one took quite some time.” Looking to a nearby tat tech, Murphy called out. “Hey, toss me a doughnut. We got a screamer.”
“You know I don’t buy that ‘sugar dulls the pain’ crap. Besides, don’t you remember? Last time, I nearly passed out walking through the door after you were done.”
“Of course I remember. That’s how you ended up in my bed. Gotta love those post-tat endorphins.” The look Murphy sent to Sparrow via the mirror was pure sex.
She let herself appreciate the sight of him. Murphy was an off-beat kind of sexy but was definitely still eye candy. But not her soul mate. “Anyways … ”
“All right, all right. Can’t a guy re-live his wonder days?”
She couldn’t help but smile at the man’s persistence. After seeing Tera with Sabin, she wanted the same thing. Her friend had never been with a man, and when she’d found Sabin, there’d been an instant connection. Not exactly love at first sight since Tera immediately tried to kick his ass, but definitely some sort of soul connection.
A Nelly Furtado ring-tone exploded from Sparrow’s phone. She reached into the pocket of her bright blue coat hanging on a nearby chair.
“Are you kidding me? You’re obsessed.” Murphy sent her a disapproving glance and shook his head at the familiar lyrics about flying birds.
“Birds are my shtick,” she exclaimed matter-of-factly. “I like the Sex Pistols, too, but I don’t need to put them on repeat.” Grinning, Sparrow knew she irked the punkster, who constantly either wore shredded t-shirts of the Clash or the Pistols.
A picture of Tera’s auburn hair and emerald eyes lit up her phone screen. But when Sparrow put the cell to her ear, all she heard was static and various grunts and crashing sounds. She shifted the phone against her ear impatiently as the needle continued to grind ink into her back. Butt-dialed again?
“Tera?” She whispered aggressively into the phone while trying to maintain public cell phone etiquette. “Tera!”
Listening close, she could only make out the sound of general ruckus and yelling. “Hello? Are you listening to Rage Against the Machine again? Turn down that damn music!” But as Sparrow concentrated on the sound, she recognized the noise of combat boots and crunching leaves. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard her best friend’s voice on the other line.
“Sparrow! That’s not music, it’s the real deal. Vampires. Demons. Dragons. Yep, that’s brimstone you’re hearing.”
Her stomach twisted. “Are you punking me right now?” But even as Sparrow questioned Tera, she knew by the panting on the other end of the line that it was serious.
She fumbled for the volume button on her Blackberry to ensure Murphy couldn’t hear the frantic voice on the other end of the line. Tera continued yelling into the phone, confirming her worst nightmare. Tera had gone to say goodbye to Sabin and all hell broke loose. Her best friend and the sleeping city of San Francisco were in great danger, and damn it, her tattoo wasn’t even done.
Chapter Two
In the corner of the dimly lit mead house, a gray-skinned demoness strummed her electric harp. Plugged into a grunge pedal, the sounds were devious and gritty. Just like her. From his spot at the bar, Rowen appraised the harpist. She was beautiful, in a haunted, kill-you kind of way. And since he and his comrades were fresh out of prison, it was damn well time to find some company.
“So are you going to thrum her or what, comrade? If you aren’t, I am.”
Rowen appraised the hungry look of his friend’s expression. As Knights of the Fog, Rowen and his comrades were charged with protecting the realm of portal travel, but their friend had imprisoned Sodor and one other companion, Zeth, with him for a week in their own godsdamn prison.
Rowen returned to the large mug of demon mead in his grip and considered the rough week that just passed. After the leader of the order, Sabin, went MIA after chasing a demon through a portal into the human realm, the knights had gone to retrieve him.
“I knew Sabin was not a traitor,” Rowen glared at the drink in his hands. “We should have known better than to doubt him. Gods Daimonous, you even shot him! We’ve battled side by side for centuries.”
“I just got out of prison, dealt with the Goddess of Chaos — the bitter bitch — and now you’re lecturing me, brother?” Sodor slammed his mead down. “Our leader lets a weak demon get past him into the human realm, finds himself a dryad lover … you can’t blame me for being suspicious.”
“Well, Sodor, if you ever get suspicious about me, I’d prefer a throwing star to the neck than a chest full of astral bullets.”
Sabin had always been Rowen’s closest comrade, and it pained him to replay the image of his friend getting shot up that fateful night in the human realm. Luckily, the Knights of the Fog were immortal and couldn’t be killed in battle if they were pure of heart. It had been Sabin who sent them to prison, and Sabin who released them a week later.
“Too late,” Sodor chastised. “I’m taking her for myself.”
Leaving the counter, Rowen’s fellow knight approached the jamming harpist. She tossed her long black hair while she head-banged, as if advertising what she would look like during a rough ride in the sack. She’d be good for Sodor. After all, his friend had a thing for succubi.
The music halted as the demoness appraised his friend. With Sodor’s thick, muscular build and fluorescent silver hair, he would easily be spotted as a Knight of the Fog. For this reason, Rowen and his comrades never failed in their attempts to procure the attention of females. And sex demons were easy anyway.
Sodor took the gray-skinned, raven-haired demoness’s hand, and Rowen watched them saunter to one of the back rooms.
• • •
An hour later the warriors left through the massive door of the mead hall. Designed for giant species of demons, there was room and then some for the knights to exit the establishment. Now they headed back to work in the Portal Realm. Since Rowen lived in the current world they walked through, the Aerion realm, he could draw them a door to a realm anywhere. He chose to put more distance between their group and the bar first.
“I can’t believe you didn’t find yourself a woman, Rowen.” Sodor gave him a hard slap on the back as their thick, black boots treaded the grassy pasture. Establishments in the Aerion realm were few and far between.
“I was feeling picky. After all, you took the fairest of them.”
“There was also a pretty pink-skinned Quetzalem. You didn’t notice her?”
“I got enough of the Quetzalem while we were in prison, brother.” He received a nod from Sodor in agreement. While imprisoned, the cell next to them had contained three Quetzalem, one of which had decided to aid the Goddess of Chaos in her quest for the price of a get-out-of-jail-free card.
“Damn that copper-skinned Quetzalem. Dragon demons just aren’t what they used to be.” Even in the dark of night, Rowen could m
ake out his comrade’s irritated crystalline gaze. Opaque irises set the Knights of the Fog apart, helping them see in darkness and permeate the dense fog that lingered in the Portal Realm.
Sodor continued. “Do you remember when we fought alongside the Quetzalem? They’re fierce soldiers indeed. Now they are nothing better than meadscum and thieves.”
“That woman must not have been as talented as she looked, for you are still quite riled.”
“You know me,” Sodor grinned mischievously. “I’m insatiable.”
Rowen grinned at his friend. He had to agree. The Quetzalem, or dragon demons, were a breed of humanoid-looking demons with thick scales covering their posterior. From the hard skin of their backs sprouted wings that could be used in flight, and like all dragon breeds, they could breathe fire. The Quetzalem were once a proud warrior breed, but after centuries without leadership, the dragon demons had become a group mostly of mercenaries and blood slaves, hunted for the healing qualities of their blood.
“Speak of the devil.” Sodor’s words were more of a growl as a familiar Quetzalem dropped down from the sky.
“Hope I’m not interrupting.” The gruff voice implied otherwise. Dark golden eyes glowed like a lantern in the dim evening light. “I was making my way to the portal when I spotted two knights. Convenient.”
“Get lost, dragon demon.” Sodor glared as he crossed his arms over his chest, challenging the Quetzalem.
“What business do you have in the portal realm?” Rowen looked the Quetzalem over for weapons.
“Just passing through.” The Quetzalem spoke to Rowen, but never took his eyes off Sodor’s challenging stare. The blue scales covering the dragon demon’s skin hardened, ready if the knight decided to attack.
“Sodor, be at ease.” Rowen dragged his finger across one of the blades strapped to his bared chest. Blood formed on the tip so he could draw a line on the ground to create a temporary door into the portal realm.
The two warriors stepped through the white barrier glowing against the darkness of the night. The Quetzalem followed close behind.
“Holy Hell plane!” But his friend’s words were lost in the raucous sound as they arrived in the Realm of the Fog.
The usually peaceful travel plane echoed with, swords clashing and bullets firing. Their comrade, Zeth, was single-handedly fighting off an entire hoard of demons and vampires. The demons appeared to be trying to exit through the same portal their comrade Sabin had disappeared though weeks earlier.
“Chaos?” Sodor didn’t refer to the crazed mob, but the goddess behind it.
The Quetzalem stepped forward so he was toe to toe with the knights. “I’ll help.”
Rowen growled as he pulled a throwing blade from its holster. “Let’s go to work.”
• • •
Sparrow arrived with her aunts in the middle of hell on earth. “Maybe you guys shouldn’t be here.” Her heart raced as she tried to shoo her elderly aunts back to their family home.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be here,” Aunt Melissandra chided. “After all, you’re the one who doesn’t know how to use her natural-born powers.”
“Yes, darling, please don’t treat us like we’re in our eighties. We’re still a couple decades away.” Morgana ducked as a flying demon whizzed by, her curly blond mane whipped into the air from the speed of the close encounter. “If I’d known this portal on Alcatraz could shed demons, I would have tried to spell it shut decades ago.”
A vampire teleported behind Melissandra. The ladies screamed as something thrust a stake through its back. As the twice-dead creature crumpled to the ground, the woman standing behind it was a beautiful sight.
“Tera!” Sparrow threw her arms around her best friend.
“The Goddess of Chaos is at it again. She already tried to murder me, and now she’s set on bringing chaos to San Francisco.”
“No worries,” Sparrow advised. “We’re here to kick some major demon.”
Tera flashed a quick smile. “Be safe, you guys.” Tera darted to the nearest foe, taking down a vampire with a swift roundhouse kick. Tera’s Sabin appeared next to her and decapitated the vampire with his bare hands. The headless body landed on the ground with a thud.
In only minutes, the venom coursing through the corpse would eat away the body from the inside, leaving only a pile of goo. Standing over the decomposing mess, Sabin clutched Tera close to him; fluorescent silver hair framed the aquamarine gaze locked on his love. Peace in the middle of madness.
“Wow, you two make a gruesome couple,” Sparrow teased over the fighting. During her distraction, a vampire teleported behind her. A scream caught in her throat.
“Take that, leech!” She barely heard her aunt’s voice as she sniffed burning metal in the air. Sparrow turned and saw the vampire convulsing, caught up in a lightning strike implemented by a spell from her aunts. The vampire’s skin bubbled, and smoke rose into the midnight wind, already thick with fog.
“Okay, I was wrong,” Sparrow smiled as she spun around, appraising the demon numbers on all sides of them. “I’m glad you guys came. No more old folk jokes, I promise.”
“That’s right, darling. Knitters can kick ass, too.” Morgana winked as she fluffed her gigantic mane of silvery blond hair. She flicked her finger in the direction of an approaching demon. Only with the help of her slightly younger sister Melissandra could they perform another spell to seize the demon.
Surveying the fog-laden island, Sparrow observed Tera and Sabin containing a group of demons. But vampires still teleported around the island haphazardly and her aunts could only do so much.
Suddenly, the sky above the deserted prison Alcatraz was awash with light. A dragon the size of a horse with thick crimson skin slithered out of the slit in the fog. She watched its mouth open and spew flames like fireworks above the bay.
Oh, God, I hope this ‘narcotic fog’ Tera’s man was boasting about is going to work. Knight or no knight, if anyone in the city witnesses a dragon flying around, we’re all going to be the next government cover-up.
She took a deep breath. Okay, time to whip out the big guns.
The fresh tattoo on her back burned, and she shivered with ready anticipation to embrace her gift. But the change wasn’t right. Her flesh underneath the bandage itched, and where the fresh ink was, her skin ached as if it were tearing apart at the seams.
Then she was flying.
When she was born, her aunts gifted her with a magickal enchantment that stamped her with the marking of a sparrow on her back. And with this mystical tattoo, she could embody that bird. As Sparrow grew older, she realized that the enchantment had spread to any bird tattoos she accrued.
Flying was an incredible feeling, and definitely the best gift her aunts ever could have given her. She just had to hope a falcon could hold its own against fire-breathing dragons.
Sparrow headed for the dragon that soared above, spouting flames at the ground toward her aunts. She spread her virginal falcon wings and smiled inwardly at the power they held against the wind. She cut through the thick fog like a blade, and speed carried her straight for the dragon. The falcon was easily maneuvered, and she had no fear gliding into the monster’s blind spot. She went straight for its eye.
Her hard beak found its mark, puncturing the membrane of the creature’s eyeball. An unexpected pang of guilt gnawed on her conscience as she withdrew her bloodied beak. Causing harm to another creature wasn’t something she wanted to do again, but she had to protect her family, her city.
She flew back toward the ground and let herself become a young woman once again. In a flash of light, her feathers returned to skin.
Sabin’s voice called out. “Think you can launch me upward?” He sheathed his gun.
With that, Sparrow watched her aunts use telekinesis to propel the knight into the air to finish off the
one-eyed dragon. But as the warrior battled atop the flying beast, it spewed flames dangerously close to her family.
“Safety orb! Sparrow! Get over here!”
She ran to where her aunts successfully manifested a protection barrier. They’d been trying to teach her to create them since she was a child, but Sparrow had never been magickally inclined. She’d taken after her mother in that way.
Flames spewed down toward her once more. She braced to turn aviary when excruciating pain erupted in her leg. Daggers clamped around her calf and liquid heat poured from torn skin. Out of the madness she heard her own blood-curdling scream.
“Sparrow!”
Her own name had never sounded so tragic. She looked down at the source of her pain. A small creature that resembled a half-dog, half-pig with red charbroiled skin latched onto her leg. She nearly fainted at the sight of the serrated teeth peeling her flesh away from bone.
Stay where you are, consciousness. Please don’t go anywhere.
The ground shook and the one-eyed dragon landed only feet away, Sabin by its side. The bloodied knight retrieved a dagger and lunged toward the beast latched onto her leg, gutting it in a single swift move. She watched her own crimson blood mix with the blackened innards of the demon all over the ground.
“We have to heal her.”
Her aunt’s voice was an echo across the island. In her semi-conscious state, Sparrow let the roars of the various monsters spilling through the portal and onto the island fade away.
“That’ll take too long. Let’s bandage her up. I knew we should have told her mother. Egret is a much better healer.”
Sparrow watched Tera approach, a look of worry in her eyes and a demon right behind her. “Tera!”
But Sabin was right behind them and easily beheaded the creature. Sparrow nearly vomited, but she still couldn’t help her wise-cracker ways. “Man, Tera, I never realized decapitation skills would be a must for the Dream Guy checklist. Remind me to add that right after the ability to pick out fine dark chocolate.”
