Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  Cassidy looked at Wolf again as she dug her phone out of her purse. “Hopefully this guy can behave long enough for us to get to your van.”

  I clipped the collar and leash back on. He accepted it stoically, though I could feel the tension thrumming through his body.

  Luckily, the guy that pulled up was laid back enough to not even glance at Wolf. He chatted with Cass the entire way back to the garage where I had stowed my van.

  I tried napping as much as possible, but every time I drifted off, I woke up with the painful awareness that I was in a stifling huge city. I needed to spend some more time in Dallas or Vegas or maybe even L.A.—reacclimate to hunting in a city. I was getting too comfortable, too used to my usual haunts. That could get me killed if I wasn’t careful.

  “If we survive this,” Cass said as we walked into the garage, “there should be a cheaper place for your van. I think.”

  “I nearly broke the machine when I saw how much an hour was here.” Cass grinned at that. “This is it,” I added, nodding to my trusty old vehicle as we neared it.

  Cass gave delicate little shudder as she opened the door and got in. “This really does bother me a lot more than my apartment building.”

  The van’s sturdy construction—more metal than fiberglass—was part of what I liked about it. It took a hell of a lot of work to keep it running, and it was generally a bigger pain in the ass than a newer model might be, but I felt safer sleeping in at night than I did in most hotels. Not that I stayed in hotels all that often.

  “Tell me where I’m headed.”

  Cass gave directions, and we drove in silence otherwise. After a minute, Cass pulled out her phone and started typing.

  “Who are you texting?” I asked.

  “Orin and Avery. Letting them know where we’re going.”

  “Your other boyfriends? I thought they were off in fairyland.”

  “Just in case they come back. Early. Miraculously.”

  We lapsed into silence again. But not the kind we should have had—not the comfortable silence of family members who were falling back into our old hunting patterns. This was the silence of strangers.

  I stared out the windshield and tried to think of something to say. San Francisco at night was beautiful. As we drove down 101, we crossed a short bridge—not one of the major ones, just sort of a segment of highway that passed over water. I admired the moonlight glinting off the bay. “You know,” I said, “this trip is the first time I’ve ever seen the ocean.”

  It was only meant as idle conversation, but Cass looked at me as if I had dropped a tiny bomb inside the van. I guess in a sense I had.

  “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  I shrugged. “I hadn’t made it this far west yet.”

  As we drove further down the highway, we exited for 92 and continued winding our way further west, I glanced up at the construction going on to our right. “How much steel goes into new buildings?” I asked, making note of some kind of delivery truck full of what looked like rebar.

  Cassie followed my gaze as we exited the highway and went down a smaller road. “It really does vary—as long as I stay away from it until it’s actually incorporated into the building, though, I’m usually okay.” She stared out the dark window.

  So much for conversation.

  Fine. I could do quiet, too.

  I just hoped she’d finally give me more to go on before we had to confront the beasts who’d stolen her monster of a boyfriend.

  9

  Cassidy

  My shoes squelched in the mud as soon as I stepped out of the van and onto the small parking lot of Purisima Creek. The muddy little block could probably be called a parking lot at least—nothing was paved, but there were a few cars there.

  I took another step and grimaced.

  If I lived to regret anything about today, it was likely to be that I should have changed out my shoes, after all. Partly because I felt embarrassed that my ankle twisted like I was some girly-girl. And partly because they were damn expensive shoes, which only validated the first part.

  That irritated me to no end, especially since I wanted to show Blaize that I could still hold my own in a fight.

  “Shit,” I muttered, wobbling my way to more solid ground. The Bay Area has so many microclimates, I had forgotten that it rained further down the peninsula that week. This reserve was so dense with redwoods, the sunlight hadn’t had time to dry out the earth.

  Blaize came around the front of the van, frowning down at my shoes.

  “I know,” I told her, holding up my foot while some brown stuff glopped to the ground. “I didn’t think this through. So much for looking good while hunting.”

  A smile ghosted on her face. “Hang on. This is one of the perks of living in a van.” She slid open the passenger door and dug around while Wolf hopped out, looking like he belonged in these woods. He flicked an ear, giving me a, well, wolfish grin, and Blaize turned around, an old, worn pair of cowboy boots in her hands.

  She looked at me. “Still a size nine?”

  “Eight-and-a-half,” I said, “but I can manage.”

  “I’ll get you a pair of socks, too.”

  “Thanks.” I tiptoed my way beside her on the lip of the open door and sat down to undo the straps of my sandals. Yep, just like I suspected. Ruined. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. I was just so focused on getting Drake back, and...

  “I think these are clean,” Blaize said, handing me a pair of white socks.

  “Think?”

  She gave an evil grin. “They’re cleanish.”

  She was probably fucking with me. Right?

  I decided that I didn’t want to ask more, so I quietly slipped them on and tucked my toes into the boots. There was a little bit of extra room and they were certainly worn to fit Blaize’s feet, but they’d fare better than my sandals.

  When was the last time I wore a pair of boots? Way back when we were kids, I supposed. I thought my first hunt with Blaize was in cowboy boots. When I moved to the coast in my early twenties, I traded my boots for a pair of TOMS.

  I stood up and nearly sobbed in relief when mud didn’t seep into them. “They’ll work, I think.”

  Blaize grinned as she handed me a bag of weapons. “You look like you just came out of an L.L. Bean catalogue. Outdoorsy, even.”

  “Just like old times,” I said, trying to make a joke, although that lump was back, making it hard to speak. I missed this. Missed hanging out with Blaize and Gracie. Missed hunting the bad guys and kicking ass.

  I’ve gotten soft.

  She chuckled. “Yep. Except I’m a better hunter than you.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one hunting werewolves with a werewolf.”

  Wolf snorted in response.

  Blaize glanced at him, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Well, we’re trying to save your fairy boyfriend when we used to hunt them.”

  She slung her own pack over her shoulder and passed a heavy-duty flashlight to me. I switched it on and off, double-checking that it still worked. Wolf tried getting away from Blaize, but she cleared her throat and nodded to a sign that said that all dogs must be on a leash. I knew it was to protect the wildlife here, but I couldn’t help my grin at the thought of Wolf being considered a “dog.”

  “Sorry,” she said apologetically, hooking the leash back onto his collar. “We can’t risk getting into trouble.”

  He let out a low whine, looking like he’d rather be doing anything other than being on a lead.

  The thrill of the hunt hit me then, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I rubbed my thighs, working warmth into the cold joints.

  I was...excited to be doing this. Not just to bring back Drake, but to get back in touch with the hunter side of me. The side of me that made supernatural creatures tremble. It made me feel closer to all those ancestors of mine who hunted their entire lives.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “You’re never ready for shit like this,” Blaize said gr
uffly, getting to her feet. Then she grinned. “But also, I’m always ready.”

  And as Wolf padded after her, sniffing the ground, I couldn’t agree more.

  Oh yeah, the cowboy boots were definitely a good idea.

  It was a good mile up to the point where Wolf led us off the worn path and deeper into the woods. There were signs all over the place that warned against leaving the trail—and some not to eat the mushrooms, amusingly enough—but we ignored all of it as we made our way over the winding creek and deeper into the unknown.

  “He’s able to smell where his buddies are, right?” I asked, following the two of them.

  Wolf let out an irritated snarl.

  “Sorry,” I amended, “not your buddies. Your kind.”

  He swished his tail unhappily, but didn’t say anything else.

  “He knows where something is,” Blaize said as he took the lead, practically pulling her along.

  And, once again, I sent a silent thanks her way for the boots as I jogged to keep up with them. Those pilates and cross-fit classes were coming in handy—I wasn’t that out of shape, although I could tell that Blaize was much more used to tramping around weird places than me.

  It had been about an hour since we left the van. Now that we were off the hiking trail, there were many more downed trees and limbs blocking our way and my feet sank deeper into the mud. Some bird warbled in the distance, and another joined it. Mud and who knew what else squished underneath my boots, and I could only imagine what creepy crawlies were out here in the dark. My skin crawled.

  I was definitely a city girl.

  Still though, I found there to be a serene beauty to the place. The redwood trees, while not as old as the ones up at John Muir, were still enormous and tall, with thick hairy bark. Moss colored the trunks, and I found myself gaping at the size of some of nature’s design. The thick woods spread around us, and by this point, we were so far off the path, I doubted any humans had been by this way in a while.

  The perfect place for a pack of wolves to hide and do...wolfly things.

  “Do you think they howl out here?” Blaize asked, echoing. “The pack?”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “Unless they’re being confused for coyotes.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  I stopped and put my hands on my hips, trying to catch my breath. “Because up until recently, wolves haven’t been spotted in California since 1920.”

  She looked back at me and quirked an eyebrow. “Recently? When did the werewolves move into this area?”

  I thought about it, the reports of two packs of grey wolves being spotted in Northern California. The latest had been a mom and her pups, but lycanthropy was hereditary. Maybe it was a werewolf mother running with her two kids. And they were a part of this pack, or they were a sign that the wolves were expanding out here.

  Maybe Kellan had commanded them to come out this way.

  “Well shit,” I muttered under my breath as it hit me.

  “What?”

  “They must be making themselves at home here, if that’s true.”

  Blaize didn’t say anything else, as we both looked at Wolf, who suddenly had his hair standing on end, his ears flattened to his skull. He bared his teeth at something ahead of us.

  We’d just found ourselves in hostile territory.

  Blaize put a finger to her lips, telling me to stay quiet, like I needed to be reminded. I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I crouched to make my way closer to them. She undid his leash, letting him go forward.

  The two of us held our breath as we watched Wolf react. We were down in a small arroyo with a high crest before us that led off further into the woods. I could tell that the trees were denser ahead of us, meaning that we were even further off the beaten path than I had anticipated.

  I felt my heart thud in my chest as Wolf prowled his way up the hillside, disappearing over the edge. Blaize and I exchanged glances as we followed him.

  Before we saw what was on the other side, we froze as we heard a howl. Something that definitely wasn’t a coyote. But a wolf.

  We were found out.

  10

  Blaize

  The wolves definitely knew where we were. We were going to have to brazen this out. Carefully, I drew out the short sword I’d brought—the one made of steel with a high iron content. I’d kept it sheathed up to this point to protect Cass, just like she’d been carrying some kind of silver weapon all night. She had it tucked away somewhere, but I could taste it in the air around us.

  Her silver might be a better immediate defense against werewolves, but decapitation was an all-around solid method for taking out any kind of creature.

  I hefted the sword and stood up from where we were crouched in the gulch. It gave us cover, but I hated being trapped down there while the wolves got the higher ground. Cass and Wolf followed me as I moved carefully up the bank, coming to a stop at the top and calling out, “Hello? We’re here to talk to your pack leader.”

  For a full minute, nothing but silence answered me. Was that even how you talked to werewolves? Mostly I said things like, “Die, fucker” when I spoke to them. Except for Wolf, of course. I talked to him like a regular person.

  Like we had talked to the pack alpha at The Moon Moon.

  Ah, shit. If werewolves turned out to all be regular people, the sort of people who might live in the suburbs, have cookouts and shit, I was going to have to rethink my whole life.

  No, I reminded myself. It might be true that most werewolves were in fact be just humans who went furry once in a while—but those weren’t the kind of werewolves I hunted. To get on my radar, they had to actually hurt someone. My hunter’s curse might lead me to the monsters sometimes, but I had yet to follow my instincts and not find a killer on the other end.

  I had almost given up on getting any response at all when Wolf’s fur suddenly stood straight up, and he dropped into that stiff-legged, head-down crouch wolves do when threatened.

  Something was coming.

  Wolf began circling, and I turned so we were back to back, waving at Cass to join our circle. She slipped into formation easily, as if we hadn’t spent years hunting away from each other. We let Wolf lead, and his movements pulled our little circle to the edge of a small clearing in the trees.

  The wolves were waiting, their fur glinting silver and white in the almost full moonlight—except for the ones coming up to form their own circle behind us. Wolf kept growling, a low, continuous sound as we moved into the open space they’d left for us.

  “We don’t want trouble,” I said carefully. “We’re looking for someone, and we’re hoping your pack leader might have information.”

  A wolf stepped out from behind the others into the middle of the circle. As Wolf snarled and stepped forward toward him, I gasped. They were like mirror images of each other.

  There was a time not all that long ago when I wouldn’t have been able to differentiate one werewolf from another. But traveling with Wolf had made me more aware of the subtle differences in markings.

  “Are they twins?” Cass asked.

  “Apparently something like that,” I answered, my tone brusque. With a flick of my wrist, I motioned forward with one of my knives. Cass and I stepped up so we stood on either side of Wolf. “We’re looking for a fairy prince,” I said.

  “Drake, the Prince of the Autumn court,” Cass clarified, like there were lots of fairy princes around.

  The werewolf pack leader didn’t even flick his gaze toward us. Instead, he let out a low, rumbling noise and crouched down even more, preparing to pounce without ever taking his gaze off Wolf, whose moves mirrored the other wolf as much as his appearance did.

  All hell is about to break loose.

  Even if I hadn’t recognized the wolves’ body language, the area around the clearing was charged with violence—and some kind of crackling magic, too.

  I didn’t know if my own magic, weak as it was, could counteract the power I was feeling—but I was prepa
red to use it if I needed to.

  First things first, however—I needed to be ready to take on the entire werewolf pack that surrounded me. I shifted my weight lightly from foot to foot and slowly spun the knife in my hand, making sure none of my joints stiffened up while I waited.

  The supercharged electricity in the air built up higher and higher until the tiny hairs on my arms stood up. When I could practically hear it, like a whine in the air, the wolves attacked.

  The lead wolf jumped first, attempting to pounce on my companion werewolf. But Wolf was ready and they leapt almost simultaneously, clashing against one another in the air with a crash, and then turning into a whirling, spinning ball of fur and growls.

  I didn’t have any more time to watch them after that first second, as the rest of the wolf pack surrounding us took it as their cue to attack. I swung forward, whipping my sword around in my right hand while I used the knife in the left to block their teeth. I caught the wolf attacking me, but only managed to cut him across the chest—not a fatal wound in any situation, and with an iron blade, it would take more than a simple cut to even disable a werewolf.

  I heard rising growls behind me, along with a few lupine screeches as Cass’s silver weapons struck home. I kept spinning and slicing, hoping to keep the wolves distracted and off-guard.

  Not for the first time in my hunting career, I mourned my inability to use silver weapons—especially when I heard a couple of gunshots echoing around us. I glanced over my shoulder long enough to see Cass take aim a third time. Good. She had brought a weapon loaded with silver bullets. I’d been beginning to fear she’d gone completely Californian and gotten rid of all her firearms or something.

  I continued slicing away at the wolves, and that’s when I noticed something odd. The werewolves that I cut with my iron weapons stopped attacking. Oh, not immediately. But after three or four wounds from an iron weapon, the wolves seem to shake something off—maybe the compulsion to attack?—and then they backed away to the edge of the clearing.