by Avery Duncan
“Aright.” She cleared her throat. “Same for you, if you need help or something.
He gave a smile, showing with that one action he knew exactly what she was thinking and he would be more than happy to help.
Chapter 19
Ulrich left the site early, chest tight with anger and eyes venomously searching for the black Bentley he just knew had to be the bastard’s car that was chasing after his sister. He drove past her house, and parked a couple feet away.
It might have been creepy to an onlooker, but as Mary’s protector and older brother, he was inclined to do whatever he had to do to keep her safe.
The door opened, revealing his graceful sister and the dark stranger. His hands clenched white on the wheel when he saw the faint blush come over her face. While he was far away enough to barely be able to see what was happening, he could tell by his connection with her that it was a blush of arousal.
“I’ll kill him,” Ulrich muttered, glaring a hole through the bastards head. “If you touch her, I swear you’ll be dead within the hour. . .”
Talking to air always helped him calm down, as if he were actually talking to the man himself. Ulrich wanted to strangle the bastard as much as he wanted to lock Mary up in a cell to keep her safe.
Jacques bent down slightly, Ulrich about to jump out of the car and beat the pulp out of the fucker. Accept that he straightened, flashing his piercing eyes to where Ulrich was at. Shock held him immobile for only a second before Jacques turned back to his sister, giving her a grin that Ulrich used on woman when he wanted a good lay.
A growl built up in his chest. He could just imagine snapping his neck in half, dragging the corpse back to his father, and wagging his tail proudly at the catch he had made with a demand for a treat. Of course, then Mary would be upset with him. . .
But she would forget. He could kill the man and be done with this, and his sister could stay a virgin—at least, he prayed she was—and Ulrich wouldn’t have to worry about horny bastards trying to do gross things with his sister.
Jaques strode down the driveway, past the people walking around, and into his car. The door closed and Ulrich got the smarmiest, most self-satisfied sneer of his life through the window when the Italian man drove past him.
Ulrich almost exploded with rage.
He got out of his car and stomped up to the now closed door, men backing away warily as they heard the inhuman sound rumbling through him.
“Mary!” he roared, shoving the door open.
He heard a faint squeak from the other room, stomped to where she was at. “The fuck was that?” he demanded, stabbing an angry finger towards the door.
Her eyes widened. “What was what?”
“Don’t play stupid on me, Mary,” he warned, eyes flashing with molten anger as he came close to her.
Her nose wrinkled, completely oblivious to the rage he was feeling. “You mean Jacques?”
“No, I mean the man that clearly wants to be balls deep inside my sister!” he shouted, disgusted, horrified, and furious over the thought.
Her cheeks tinted red, embarrassed. “You don’t have to be so blunt. . .”
“Mary, I told you. I fucking told you to stay away from him! Instead? You bring him over for a ‘spot of tea’,” he growled with potent fury, close to kicking something.
“Actually, it was a cup of water. . .”
“Oh, I don’t want to hear it!” he snarled, the dumbfounded look on her face making the situation worse.
“Ulrich, please calm down? Just take a breath. . .” she coaxed, standing to guide him slowly to the couch.
He ripped himself away from her, body shuddering. The change was so close upon him, but at this point he didn’t even care. If he changed, then maybe he could be numb enough to rip the bastard open and tear him to shreds.
“Stop it,” he growled, voice taking on an animal quality. Mary frowned, paled.
Even though she was pacchetto leader, the change could kill anyone if you were to close when it happened. It was more monumental for Archaeos than it was for Acutos. Archaeos changers were at their worst when they were in the process of changing, unlike the Acutos, who had a tendency to be barely conscious for a few seconds.
“Ulrich,” she pleaded silently, hands reaching for him.
“I can’t lose my baby sister to a man like that,” he said, voice breaking mid-snarl with the anger he was feeling.
“Lose? Brother, who said anything about losing.” Her brow knotted, confused.
“He will take you and hurt you. Can’t you see that? He isn’t right for you, he’ll use you like a whore till he leaves, and you. . .”
Her eyes closed. “I won’t get involved like that with him, brother. I’m not his ‘spot of tea’ as you like to call it.”
The changed deflated out of him, although the anger didn’t.
“I have things to do,” he said with quiet fury before walking out of the house.
He felt her eyes on his back as he made his way to the car. Ulrich wanted to go back, grab her, wrap her in bubble wrap, and stick her somewhere where no one could get her. Sure, he loved his sister. But lately, the threat to her life had been haunting him endlessly.
There was a killer out there, and now an Italian playboy was chasing her tail.
Not exactly a great feeling to the situation.
Jacques was likely at the site with Romero, but Ulrich figured that going to where his current could-be punch buddy was at, he doubted that it would be very wise to go there.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, growling low in his throat with weariness and pent up anger. Even in high school he had hated males around his sister. Apparently, things hadn’t changed.
One thing was for sure, though.
You could bet Jacques’s manhood that if he laid one inappropriate hand on Mary, he wasn’t going to be sexually active for a very long time.
Chapter 20
Later that night, after hours of interrogations and papers and angry frustrated voices, Raffaele knocked on the door to Chase’s room. It only took a couple seconds for the man to open the door, eyes tired and a shadow spreading over his face.
Raff’s eye brows rose as Chase stepped back to let him in. “You look like hell.”
“Thank you, honey. Love you, too,” he said, voice scratched from what Raff assumed was lack of sleep.
“I’m guessing you were a little busy,” he hedged, slipping off his shoes and moving to the bar to grab a beer from the fridge.
“If you’re wondering if I found anything, you’re in luck.”
“What did you find? And you want one?” he asked, gesturing towards the beer.
“God, yes please. Grab two more and pop a squat,” Chase said, sitting on the long couch where his laptop was resting.
Raff grabbed the beers and walked over, kicking his feet up on the table across from the couch. “So what’s doing?” he asked, taking a sip.
“I didn’t find much on the symbols, only a brief meaning about them. You have no idea how hard google is hating on me right now,” he said with dry humor, both of them knowing that he wasn’t using google.
Raff nodded silently, waiting for the blonde man to continue. “Do you believe in the underworld?” he asked.
Blue eyes latched onto Chase, confused. “Of course, our gods are a part of it. Anti-gods and all.”
Chase nodded. “Did you know that. . .things can rise? Become ethereal?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of anything like it in my life,” he said slowly, knowing that as soon as he saw Stuart he was going to start asking questions.
“The symbol on the girls chest, it’s like a pathway. Except, instead of letting things enter it, it lets takes them out. Down to. . .where ever it goes in hell. I can’t really describe it because I’m not sure what we’re dealing with right now, but you can guarantee that by tomorrow, I’ll have more.”
“What does it let out?” Raff asked, sitting up straighter, forgetting about his be
er.
“Basically saying, the soul of the woman. I called the man who did the autopsy, Rick. Asked him if he could maybe identify what the stuff was drawn with. He called back a couple hours ago and said that it was a mix between charcoal and lavender.”
“Lavender? The color?” His brow scrunched.
“No, the herb. It relaxes a person, like body, mind and soul shit. You know what I’m talking about? Well, the Lavender, after I looked some more, is also a transfer agent, if used the right way.”
Raffaele absorbed the information slowly, head starting to hurt. Remembering his beer, he picked it up and practically chugged it. “And how, do I ask, do we sell this off to the humans?”
“Talk to Mary,” he cooed sarcastically.
He growled low.
Chase held up his hands. “I was kidding. Ask her about switching the officers. I hear that her brother is the chief, have him do something about it.”
Raff nodded. “Good idea. Did you find anything else?”
“Besides some lovely nude pictures of our Ms. Mary, no—”
His hand shot out, latching onto Chase’s throat. His eyes bugged, but he managed to laugh through the hold even though it cost him dearly.
“Shut. The fuck. Up.” The words were short, snarled, sounding more animal than human. The mere thought of Chase seeing Mary like that set his blood on fire.
“God damn, man,” he wheezed. “Drop your hands and I won’t say another word about her—Holy fuck you have a good grip.”
Raffaele slowly released the choking man, confused. Not about the choking—he had enjoyed that a lot, actually. But about the reason he had gotten like that with the man—Mary. Mary was precious, pure. No one should see such pictures of her like that, his animal screamed at him.
“I think I’m going to go to bed. You might want to too, no one wants to die with no sleep,” he said slowly, rubbing his forehead.
Chase nodded slowly, hand circling his throat protectively. “Exactly. . .”
“I’m taking these with me,” he mumbled tiredly, holding up the open beer and one of the un-opened ones.
“Just get the hell out of here, Raff,” Chase said, chuckling warily.
He opened the door, nodding his head at Chase. “When you have the rest of information, at the end of the week I’ll set up a meeting with Mary about it.”
“‘Meeting’ meaning. . .?” Chase asked, before the door got slammed in his face.
Raff heard a yelp from the other side, but ignored it and unlocked his, ready to sleep after such a grueling day.
*** DK ***
Raffaele moaned deep in his throat, hands circling the petite waist of the woman who sat above him. Her lips were at his ear, hand tangling in his hair. The other hand was slowly making its merry way to the zipper of his jeans, and he could only agree with what was going to happen next.
Fire surrounded them, heat consuming them both with a passion that felt all to right. Mary’s hair slid against his shoulders, his back, causing shivers to run along his sensitized skin.
“Mary. . .” he moaned gruffly, hands tugging at her shirt. The thin material gave away under his hands, tearing.
He felt the smile on her lips, pressed against his neck now. Sharp teeth bit down, deep enough to leave marks that he was sure they were both going to admire with pride. She was claiming him, and he had no objections.
Cool hands slid against his skin, causing tingles to race up his stomach. His heart thudded in his chest, excitement and anticipation coursing through him as he realized she was so close to freeing his swollen arousal, so close to completely undoing him.
“Raffaele,” she whispered against his skin, eyes meeting his with entrancing seduction in their depths.
His hands tangled in her hair, drawing her close to his body once again. The feel of her mouth on him was almost too much, but it was a destruction he was willing to take. Her tongue flicked at his collar bone, eliciting a sharp groan and a thrust of his hips. He could only imagine how good she would feel against him, bare and hot.
“God, you feel so good. . . So warm. . . I swear, you warm my very soul, Mary,” he moaned, eyes closing in acute pleasure as her hands slipped inside his jeans to the bare skin underneath. He didn’t bother to wear boxers, only took too long to get them off when he wanted something—that something being Mary.
The moment her slim fingers wrapped around him, he growled and flipped her over, hands pushing at the black lace bra that covered her skin. She let out a whimper, so soft that he barely heard it. His fingers found the small reddened skin of her nipple, and he pinched it softly, ready to take it into his mouth with gentle suction.
That is, until he looked up and saw her face.
Boney, dripping claws now dug into his shoulders as black sockets stared down at him. The face wasn’t Mary’s. No, it was a monsters, something he had thought only existed in childhood nightmares.
The face above him was peeled, the skin missing in places. He struggled to pull away, but legs as sharp as knives wrapped around his waist. Horror replaced his arousal, the shout building in his throat.
“You will pay,” she hissed, the sockets filling with a green inner light. He tore at her, hands pushing and tearing.
A clawed hand came up, dripping with what looked to be acid.
For the second time in his life, he screamed.
Chapter 21
Mary walked up to the court house, locking her car door behind her. Clouds were covering the sun, a light breeze causing the autumn leaves to swirl and dance around her. She was about to open the great doors when a man in a brown leather jacket threw it open hastily, almost throwing her to the side.
She barely caught herself as he scurried away, not taking a second glance back. Mary frowned, but dismissed the man and kept walking. The front desk was empty, but she already knew where to go. She got to the small room where the prosecutor sat with a suspect.
The Archaeos male saw her and lowered his head briefly, respectfully. Instantly, she knew that whatever the hell these people were thinking, they were insane. First off, why was a human prosecutor handling this case? Obviously it was one that should be maintained strictly by Acutos and Archaeos. Was it too much to ask to have some order?
Mary swore that as soon as she had Ulrich and her father together, she was going to give them hell. This could have gone much easier had they picked the right race for this case.
“Hello, Ms. Waters,” the prosecutor said, holding out his hand. The suspect sat there, confused looking. The more she looked, the more he seemed familiar to her, as if she had seen him somewhere.
She shook hands with the bland man, who’s brown hair looked a little to greasy for her taste. She subtly wiped the sweat off from his hand onto her jacket, swallowing the distaste.
“Hi, Mr. Ramsey. What do we got here?” she asked, sitting down comfortably. She looked across at the Archaeos that she could smell was innocent. It practically reeked off the man, clogging the room. His nervousness was making her edgy, and it wasn’t even that she was nervous, it just radiated so much from the poor man that it was starting to affect her.
Ramsey cleared his throat, wary at her unfamiliar attitude toward the situation. “This man was said to be walking near the site the last couple of times,” he started.
She cut him off. “By who? Any certifiable person, call, meeting, email? How did you find this out.”
He paced around the room in short strides, shrugging, antsy. “Just someone who called in and gave a name.”
“Did you trace the number?” she asked, tapping her fingers on her arms, which were crossed over her chest.
“Well. . . We were more focused on getting the suspect before he could strike again.”
“And where is his lawyer?”
The man interjected, recognizing that his leader was on his side. “I’ve been asking to call him,” he said, giving a glare to Ramsey.
Blue eyes spat fire at the man. “I heard no such thing. This is betw
een me and her—”
“If he is involved in the case without a lawyer when he stated that he wanted one, he is involved and you infringed on his rights. How many other people have you done that to?” she asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.
The man's hands twisted at his sides, balding forehead dampening.
“That’s what I thought,” she said briskly, standing to her feet. “I would appreciate it if you would escort yourself out.”
He sputtered. “What? You can’t do that—”
She smiled. “I can get the chief in here to take you out if you would like. But if that happened, he might ask about your infringements. . .”
With angry, jerky movements, Ramsey grabbed his black case and left, eyes flashing impotent fire at them as he slammed the door closed behind him.
“Oh, thank you. I thought I would never get out of this hell hole.” He started to stand up.
Mary shook her head, sitting back down. “I know you didn’t do this, but you can’t leave yet.”
He nodded in understanding, although his eyes expressed his confusion. “Why?”
“Have to have you authorized first,” she said, checking her time.
“Oh. . .” he said, still sounding confused.
The room that they sat in was sterile, the walls wood and warm. Originally, they would have met at the station. But with everyone rushing and the rooms filling up faster than they ever had, Mary had asked that they meet at the court house.
Old, replenished, and regal as ever, the court house was the bane of her existence. So many fights and deals, cases and lives, had gone through this very court and half of the people in the city knew what it was like to be in here.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulled it out. “It’s Waters,” she said into the phone, eyes on the man who sat in front of her.
