Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection

by C. M. Stunich

  I loved it when he smiled. He looked just an enticing today as he had back when he was a twenty-nine-year-old Praetorian. Thank the gods we Cat’Hu didn’t age once we came into our immortality. I liked keeping my twenty-one-year-old Keti’s looks.

  Marcus leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine.

  I parted for him, moaned almost instantly enjoying the feel of his tongue in my mouth. I’d have given anything to have him take me on the counter, but with Selene having fired up Ra to grant me less than three days to vouch for my work, sex at the clinic was a no go.

  I pulled back, breaking our kiss and ran my finger down the front of Marcus’s turtleneck, soaked up the warmth that seeped from his chest into my hand. The heat veined up my arm. “What I propose is we go back to the house, fill in Lucius and Horatio, and then do whatever it will take to prove to Selene she’s messed with the wrong bitch this time.”

  I wasn’t going to lose to a Titan.

  “Sounds very naughty.” Marcus released his hold of me.

  I smiled but didn’t comment. I loved my guys and really did feel guilty using sex to increase my magickal powers. But for the time being, it was my only option. Our only option. Having been born a human, I didn’t have the same advantages as had the gods. Nor did my guys.

  Taking one of the alabaster jars that contained various bottles of oils from the counter, I handed it to Marcus. “We might need this for later.” I also grabbed the container I kept for spell casting that held a mix of odd stones, including a handful of obsidian. “And might as well toss this into your backpack too. If you don’t mind.”

  He shook his head and placed both items in his bag. As he moved things around, the hilt of a dagger leaned toward the zipper.

  “And here I thought I was the cautious one toting around a head full of memorized curses.”

  “A good Praetorian is always armed,” Marcus said, zipping up the backpack. He then buttoned up his coat and tucked his scarf around his neck.

  Leaving the examination room, I trekked into the hall to lock up the clinic and engage the alarm before grabbing my coat and beret from the closet.

  Marcus walked next to me, his bag dangling over one shoulder.

  A minute later we stepped out the back door and into the adjacent parking lot, my right bootheel skidding on a slick of ice-coated pavement.

  Marcus steadied me.

  The back of my neck went cold.

  I froze.

  It wasn’t an all-out assault on my nape, just a slight little flick as if the tip of an ice pick brushed my skin.

  A Selenian ice pick.

  The freezing cold sensation stoked my memories.

  Visions of my last day in Bubastis slammed my head.

  But it wasn’t the temple I’d remembered, or my mother, or even the barge that had been my saving grace. It was the defiling touch of the Roman brute who’d threatened me. It was the face of the Praetorian who’d killed my mother.

  Fear tornadoed through my gut.

  I turned around and gasped.

  The wicked beast was back, and this time he graced the earth as a ghost.

  2

  Horatio

  “The Selenian has risen,” my nameless contact said, standing in front of a showcase of upright Egyptian sarcophagi displayed as part of The Met’s famed Egyptian exhibit. “This blade will take him down.” He pointed to the relic housed next to one of the ornate coffins.

  As per our usual routine, I held my tongue. Silence was my style when it came to inspecting the artifacts provided by the stocky bloke, as I needed to make certain he hadn’t scammed me, which was always a possibility despite him having never failed me in the past. Unscrupulous antiquities dealers couldn’t be trusted no matter how well they’d come through in previous deals as there was always that one time they’d attempt to cheat you and succeed. Plus, this grimy bastard hailed from a long line of supernatural information traders, making him even less trustworthy. Unfortunately, these were the scums immortals like me needed when fighting the gods and other magickally powerful creatures. It was simply how our world worked.

  I studied the dagger propped on a white ultra-modern lucite column standing behind the wall of glass.

  After more than two thousand years of searching, the dagger used to kill Keti’s mother finally stared back at me. Goosebumps raced up my arm. I knew it was the right blade based on the gold and blue tendrils of smoke curling from the dried blood caked on the weapon’s right edge. My mortal contact couldn’t detect the colorful Bastet-blessed aura, he only knew the dagger was correct because I’d been explicit in where to find it and I’d provided a detailed description of its appearance.

  I stooped for a better look. “Are you certain no one is going to notice a new addition to the Egyptian room?” I eyed my contact’s reflection in the display case’s glass panel. If he’d present so much as the slightest bit of trepidation, my claws and fangs would have him shredded to the point his remains would be unidentifiable. It’s what cats did to mice. And even though I was a panther and my contact a human, we were no different than house cat and mouse.

  “The arrangements have been made, Mr. Horatio,” the nameless man said. “I assure you, no one will cause a fuss. The humans involved will merely accept the dagger as having always been here. Everything has been taken care of, including a change to the museum’s database and records.”

  I had no choice but to trust the man. Keti needed the dagger if she ever wanted to defeat Selene and get her scarab back, her mother’s blood—which remained caked on the blade—being the only object magickally powerful enough to bring down the Praetorian who now wore the talisman. I prayed to the gods she’d understand me having taken on this task without consulting her first, but the information I’d received about a month ago worried me. And I was not going to risk putting Keti in danger as I knew she’d argue the matter. I wanted her completely uninvolved until I had all the pieces in place. It was for her own security that I needed to do this as hushed up as possible. She was a link to the gods, despite not being one of them. And if she’d thought about this, who was to say Selene couldn’t have picked up on it? And gods forbid if the Titan had seen fit to invade one of Keti’s dreams. That bitch would do anything to kill the woman I loved.

  No. I was right to do this my way. Even if Keti would end up hating me for it.

  “You can buy it, if you want,” the man added.

  He words broke my thoughts. “It doesn’t belong to me.” I had no qualms borrowing magickally-infused relics, especially when battling the gods, as sometimes those artifacts were my only defense. But outright stealing a sacred object that didn’t belong to me wasn’t my way. “The dagger was bequeathed to The Met decades ago. It belongs here and will remain in the museum.” I was glad to have found the blade and to have played a part in returning it to where it rightfully belonged. But I wasn’t as thrilled about the act’s unforeseen complications. I hadn’t a clue that the Praetorian would come back with the return of the dagger until two days after I’d located it. Maybe that’s why it was lost in the first place. Maybe the beast had been trying to rise from the dead for some time. My contact hadn’t said.

  Concern for Keti’s safety rose in my nerves.

  The man paced. “Shall we conduct the rest of our business now?”

  I straightened and backed away from the wall-length display. “Why the rush?”

  “No reason.”

  I didn’t like the chump’s response, but decided to play along. He just might have the second item I’d been searching for since I’d left Bubastis.

  Motioning with my fingers for him to proceed, I held out my hand. It was the usual routine—I waited, he produced an ancient piece of terra cotta, I’d inspect it and then we’d set a date for the next meeting since the item in question turned out not to be the one I’d wanted. Every week I prayed our rendezvous would end differently. So far it hadn’t.

  The man reached into his suit jacket pocket and retrieved a small, cl
ay panthress. He dropped it into my palm.

  I wrapped my fingers around the object, its slightly rough terracotta body scraping against my flesh.

  Nothing.

  I waited a second more, prayed I’d pick up even the smallest trace of my mother’s energies. I recalled the day she’d first given me the two clay figurines she’d made. They were for my lararium, the small, household shrine I’d one day make after she and my father had both passed from this earth.

  I wiped the memory from my mind as leaving behind the memorial when I’d left Bubastis was as painful as if I’d left behind my actual parents, though they’d died a year prior to my departure from Egypt. The ache of that loss remained in my soul. Even when I’d found the figurine representing my father, it hadn’t helped as having only half my lararium back was more painful than having none of it. My mother, or rather the item that represented her, was still lost. Maybe it was buried beneath Egyptian ruins or stashed away in a junk shop crate or worse…pulverized to dust, worn away by time and now scattered among the winds. I really didn’t know. But it wasn’t going to stop me from keep trying to locate it.

  “It’s not the right one.” I handed the clay object back to my contact.

  “But I was assured…”

  I gripped the man by the shoulder, but did so in a manner careful not to call attention to us. Lowering my head, I brought my lips to his ear. “I said it is not the right piece.” I dug my fingers deeper into his wool-covered shoulder while I snarled and flashed my huge feline teeth and quickly shifted my face to that of a panther’s, then just as quick back to my human form. “Understood?”

  “Yes…of…of…course.”

  “Good. Then we’ll meet again next week. Same day, same time, same place.” I gave him a warning nudge and this time, thankfully, he didn’t question anything, only scurried from the museum.

  Now all I had to deal with was Keti. Hopefully, she’d be up for the challenge of me helping her raise enough magickal energy to borrow the dagger. I couldn’t retrieve it as it was cursed with a hex only Keti was immune to. My contact was mortal, so the spell hadn’t affected him. But for me to touch the blade was another story. I could only do so if it was in Keti’s hand. But that didn’t matter much as ultimately it had to be Keti to slay Selene’s Praetorian. I just needed to help her get to that point. I kept my fingers crossed she wouldn’t encounter the brute until after she had the dagger in her possession.

  3

  Keti

  Meeting the bastard who’d killed my mother more than two-thousand years ago, was like being suddenly startled from a deep sleep, only ten times more harrowing, and it had nothing to do with fearing the beast. I simply hadn’t expected him.

  My heart caught in my throat.

  “Get behind me,” Marcus ordered.

  Right, like that was going to happen. “You do realize I work with residual energies twenty-four-seven. Not to mention entrails, blood, brains….”

  By the time I’d checked off the third item by raising my middle finger, Marcus was giving me one of those sideways stares that was more glare than glance.

  I zipped my mouth. I also jabbed my hands into the leather gloves I hadn’t managed to put on before leaving the clinic. But really, I was an ancient Egyptian mortician for Ra’s sake. The sight of a ghost wasn’t going to put me off. Even if said specter was one of my greatest enemies. “I can handle this.”

  “I’m sure you can, babe. But we don’t even know what he is.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but then figured it was best to quit while still ahead. Plus, Marcus did argue a vital point. Most things reincarnated from ancient Egypt came back with curses attached. It was the one reason we Cat’Hu never protested those cheesy mummy movies Hollywood loved to make. They weren’t far stretches from the truth. Crappy story lines, yes, but the vindictive mummy stuff was pretty close to reality. Though at the moment, none of that matter. My brain wasn’t registering sane, smart choices.

  In fact, I wasn’t thinking at all.

  And I’m almost sure Marcus wasn’t either or he’d never have allowed me to charge the gossamer Praetorian without even taking into consideration the fact that a ghostly form can’t be knocked down. At least not in the conventional sense, but of course my brain hadn’t registered that perilous fact until after I’d run through the beast, landed on solid blacktop, and French-tongued frozen tar.

  Marcus was at my side in a heartbeat, but I didn’t need his help.

  I pushed off the pavement and stood, my beret knocked from my head and remaining on the ground. At least I hadn’t any broken bones because those were a pain to heal, even for an immortal.

  “What part of get behind me, didn’t you get?” Marcus raised one brown eyebrow.

  I don’t know why I’d pissed him off. By now he should have known I wasn’t the sort of chick who needed a slab of muscle to do her bidding. “I survived the Praetorian before, I’ll survive him again.” Crouching, I grabbed a dagger from my boot.

  Snow started to fall.

  Not a good sign for early October.

  I sucked in a deep breath, the sour tang of trouble coating my throat.

  Aw, crap. An even worse omen.

  My impromptu meeting with the ghostly Praetorian was about to blow up big time, I just knew it. And if I wanted to keep what was about to go down shielded from mortal view, then I needed Kepri’s army of beetles to act as a buffer between us and the outside world.

  As if the god heard my thoughts, thousands of magickal beetles scurried up from the sewer drain in the street and formed a barrier—one no human could detect or break—around the parking lot, and even up the sides of the buildings surrounding the fenced-in space. The scent of rot briefly irked my nose.

  “Stay put,” Marcus whispered. “I’m going to take the Praetorian from the front.”

  That was all fine and good, but I wasn’t going to remain idle while my hunky guardian did all the work.

  I stood and eyed the ghost’s back, shot him a small ball of solar energy from my wrist. I aimed right for his nape, gave him a taste of his own medicine.

  Take that, you little turd.

  Spinning around, the ghost shook off the blast as if it were nothing more than one of those annoying gnats you slap away with a wave of your hand.

  I really needed at least one little win here, but the gods weren’t giving an inch tonight.

  “Looking for this?” The ghost held up a colorful amulet on a gold chain.

  My scarab.

  He draped the relic around his translucent neck.

  A neck I so badly wanted to wring but couldn’t.

  Lucky bastard.

  How the necklace hadn’t fallen through him, I hadn’t a guess, though I’d put my money on magick. Not that that made the pain of seeing my scarab worn by such a vile entity, any less. Though I knew better than to charge him again, especially with Marcus now brandishing that sharp dagger he’d pulled from his backpack. Kissing blacktop, I could manage, gutting myself, probably not.

  But my fingers did itch to tear my necklace from the ghost’s body. I wanted my shifting powers back.

  Marcus inched closer to the Praetorian, the ghost still facing me.

  “You have no right to my magick,” I said, staring my enemy in the eyes.

  “You abandoned the scarab.”

  “Not by choice.” I would never have given up my one direct link to my half-feline soul, as well as my connection to the moon and sun, if I could have fled in human form. But I couldn’t and now those energies were fueling a six-foot-two goon who had the power to come back from the underworld.

  Where was Ma’at and her balancing scales of justice now?

  A vein of lighting lit up the sky.

  Oh, for the love of Aaru. I stared up at the sky, snowflakes making me blink. “Really, Ma’at? Lightening in winter? I know it happens, but not often in the middle of Manhattan.” I shook my head and refocused on the douchebag fingering my scarab. “Will you please stop d
oing that?”

  The ghostly Roman smirked. “Why? Do you feel me doing it? Doing…you?” He stepped forward, his hand still clutching the amulet like he owned it. Like he owned me. “I never did get to sate myself that night,” he said. “Nor did my men. You owe us.”

  I didn’t like how he used the word ‘us’. I only saw one ghost standing before me, but with the resurrected dead, who knew what really lurked in the unseen world? Even as Bastet’s daughter I wasn’t privy to everything about the otherworld.

  I stared at the ghost.

  Heat ignited at the apex of my thighs. I sucked my bottom lip. This was so not happening. It couldn’t be. The Praetorian obviously had power over my scarab or had been taught how to control its energy and the link it had to me. But giving him the satisfaction that I was feeling him between my legs, hell no. I was so not going to voice that realization.

  I stifled a moan, which considering I wasn’t the quiet type in bed, was really a huge feat on my part.

  “Keti?” Marcus cocked his head to the side, a look that fell somewhere between concern and jealousy crossing his handsome face.

  I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. Partially, because I really didn’t know what the Praetorian would do next and partially because I didn’t trust the damn moan that desperately wanted to escape my throat.

  For all I knew, the ghostly bastard could have been granted vast powers just to trap me. And if I died by this devil’s hand, Selene would absorb the power of all the Cat’Hu and wipe my people from the face of the earth.

  Not happening.

  I squeezed my legs closer together, posing as if I had to pee really bad. I’d rather make a fool of myself than give the Selenian specter the slightest access to my private parts. Air probably couldn’t get between my thighs now, which also meant neither could a ghost.

  A burst of arctic wind pummeled the parking lot, a blue glow emitting from the flakes it carried.