Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  Danyael’s frown furrowed as he observed her. Her senses seemed hypersensitive, resulting in near-constant agony from sights, smells, and sounds—especially voices. How much agony did she have to be in if the only way out of the pain was to silence the speaker, viciously tearing out lips and throat?

  He had found the murderer. All he needed now was to know what happened to her, and to restore her sanity.

  She led him past the twisted metal grate of what had initially seemed like a large storm drain but turned out to be service tunnels for the subway system. The whoosh of not-too-distant trains rolled sound waves through the tunnels; the curved walls echoed them, making it impossible to pinpoint the location of the source.

  The tunnels sloped downhill into natural caves. Man-made light faded into darkness and sounds melted into near-total silence. Danyael could see nothing, hear nothing except his shallow breaths when she led him around a corner. She paused, guiding his hand to touch a low overhang, before crouching to crawl under it.

  He followed her through the entrance of the cave. His breath caught as he straightened. The darkness was absolute, but an alpha empath did not need light to sense the wildly seesawing emotions of hundreds, perhaps thousands of people—each one as mad as her.

  14

  Xin picked up the folder that Danyael had left by the door of the morgue. Her gaze fell on the scribbled numbers. She stifled a sigh. If people were going to write down passcodes, why not just place them on a yellow sticky-note next to the security keypad and save hackers like her the trouble of breaking past firewalls? She followed Yu Long out of the building. He stood two feet from the door, his handgun aimed at the silent forest.

  “Can you reach him?” she asked.

  Yu Long shook his head. “He didn’t let me past his psychic shields. We’re cut off once we’re more than a few feet away from each other.”

  He drew a deep breath, ostensibly to shout Danyael’s name, but Dr. Shen came up from behind him and placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t shout. It would be unwise. The jiangshi are sensitive to noise.”

  Unwise? Unwise was making the serum out of Danyael’s blood and then allowing the formula to be stolen.

  Yu Long looked at Xin. “Do we go after him?”

  “Of course.”

  “I can’t track him. He’s too heavily shielded. He’s practically invisible, like a ghost in the psychic world.”

  “And Zara would say that it’s the reason God gave us five other senses. As for me, I just need one sensor.” She tugged out her smartphone and activated an application. The screen flashed into a topographical map, and moments later, a red blip appeared.

  Yu Long’s jaw dropped. “You’re tracking him?”

  “Always.”

  “But…how?”

  “The sensor was built into his wedding ring—the one thing he never takes off.”

  “Does…he know?”

  “Of course not. Zara doesn’t either, but she would approve. Let’s go.”

  “Wait. You and I are not going up against the jiangshi, in plural, without backup.” He called someone on his smartphone and issued orders in a tone that implied he wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. “My team will be here in five minutes.” He glanced at Dr. Shen. “What do we do with her?”

  Xin turned to the doctor. “What can you tell us about the jiangshi?”

  “Their physical awareness is amplified; otherwise, they’re not all that different from humans. Their violence, however, provides the illusion of extraordinary speed and strength, and indifference to injury until killed.”

  “Wonderful,” Yu Long grunted. “We actually do have a vampire problem here in Zhengzhou.”

  Xin frowned. “But these people who are turning into jiangshi come from somewhere. Why haven’t their families reported them missing?”

  “Who says they haven’t?” Yu Long turned away to gaze into the darkness of the tree line. “Perhaps no one has thought to ask if they were on shuang kuangxi or if they might have had minor psychic abilities.”

  The harsh edge in his voice grated a warning. Xin studied him carefully. “Who is it?”

  He shook his head and a sigh escaped. “My cousin. She’s been missing for three months. She’s had a history of experimenting with drugs, and she’s a minor psychic—not a big enough deal for the government to care.”

  “It’s going to start caring, right about now.”

  Yu Long nodded. His hollow-eyed gaze locked on Dr. Shen. “Are the effects of shuang kuangxi reversible?”

  Dr. Shen interlaced her fingers, and her eyes were downcast. “I don’t know. We’ve tried. We’ve not succeeded.”

  “I suspect it’s something you and Danyael will be working on together, as soon as we find him,” Xin said. “If there’s a cure, he’ll find it.”

  “And in the meantime?” Yu Long asked. “Do we kill the jiangshi we find?”

  “They’re a threat to innocent people.”

  “I know.”

  “They won’t stop until they’re put down.”

  A muscle twitched in Yu Long’s cheek. “I know.”

  Xin tilted her head, a gesture both coquettish and challenging. “So why are you asking?”

  Yu Long’s shoulders straightened. “Some questions have to be asked. She is my cousin, their only daughter. The sacrifices they’ve made for her—you don’t understand.”

  “I don’t understand normal relationships between parent and child, but it doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic.”

  “Parent…” Dr. Shen whispered. “Your parents…”

  “Parent. Singular. And she’s not even really my mother. Ching Shih raised me.”

  “Ching Shih…” The doctor breathed the name like a prayer. “Your mother. Is she happy?”

  Happy? Xin had never thought of her mother as happy. Even contented was a stretch. Ching Shih went through the motions of life, excelling at everything she did, yet seemingly unsatisfied with everything she accomplished. It was as if there was a bottomless pit in her that could never be filled no matter what or how much was poured in, and after a while, Xin just got tired of trying.

  “I don’t know if she’s happy,” Xin said. “Perhaps you should ask her.”

  Dr. Shen’s eyes widened. “She is here. In Zhengzhou?”

  “Yes.”

  “I…I want to see her.”

  Her curiosity piqued, Xin studied the doctor’s pale face. “It can be arranged.”

  “They’re here,” Yu Long cut in. The lack of alarm in his voice assured Xin that he was expecting his men, and not the jiangshi. Moments later, a team of thirty men in combat gear rounded the corner and converged on Yu Long and Xin.

  Xin glanced down at her smartphone. Danyael was on the move. Alive. Good start. She glanced around the circle, her gaze resting on each man in turn. “We are in pursuit of Danyael Sabre, who may be with the jiangshi—people affected by shuang kuangxi. Their minds are altered by the drug; they are driven by rage and will not stop their attack until they are killed. Our goal is to find Danyael and to bring him back alive and unhurt. Do not engage anything or anyone near him. He can take care of himself. Is that understood?”

  Heads nodded and voices murmured in assent.

  She held out her hand to Yu Long, who placed his handgun in her hand before tugging another from his holster.

  “Are you any good with that?” he asked with a nod at the Glock.

  “I can shoot straight, and I can reload.” Xin held the gun in one hand and her smartphone in the other and walked toward the tree line. Yu Long’s men fanned out behind and beside her.

  Yu Long chuckled. “I see you’re still leading armies into battle.”

  “What?”

  “You used to do that, you know.”

  Xin did not raise her gaze from the smartphone that was tracking Danyael’s location, but she frowned regardless. “Fu Hao used to lead armies into battle. You need to stop mistaking us
for the same person.”

  “How can I when you order people around as if you’re a queen?”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Yes, you do. Sometimes, you phrase it nicely and even say please, but you expect to be obeyed.”

  “Because I’m right, not because I’m a queen.”

  He laughed, the sound warm and delighted. “I’m guessing you’ve never met a man who could handle you.”

  “I don’t need to be handled, Yu Long.”

  “What then do you need?”

  “An equal.”

  He fell silent. “That’s hard,” he said.

  No, it wasn’t, or at least it didn’t have to be. Why did everyone else make such a big deal out of her donor’s genes? Couldn’t they see, as she did, that it only got in the way of the real her?

  The dense cluster of trees peeled back to reveal the concrete edge of a reservoir. She glanced at her smartphone and then down at a large tunnel. The grate covering the entrance of the tunnel had rusted and decayed. “Where does it go?”

  Yu Long frowned. “It looks like a heat vent from our subway system. This entrance leads to service tunnels that run parallel to the subway.”

  “How far do they go?”

  “Throughout Zhengzhou. You could access any part of the city by traveling through the tunnels, if you’re prepared to do lots of walking.”

  “It’s a hell of a place to hide out.”

  Yu Long nodded slowly. “Yes, it is.” He held out his hand to stop her when she would have stepped into the tunnel first. “The reason my men are here is to protect you. I could lose my head if China’s national treasure is ripped apart by a jiangshi.”

  “I wish you would stop thinking of me as Fu Hao.”

  “I’m trying, but you’re not helping the situation. If you were a bit more of a damsel in distress—”

  “Not my style.”

  “Didn’t think so. Just for the record, I think it was rude of King Wu Ding to sit comfortably on his throne while his wife led the Shang armies into battle.” He pushed past her to take the lead. “Just tap my shoulder at every junction so I know which way to turn.”

  The next twenty minutes passed in the steady tread of combat boots against concrete. The soldier walking beside her pointed the flashlight on his rifle at the ground to guide her safely along the narrow path. The unevenly curving walls of the tunnel made the slightest whisper echo in unreliable ways that might have driven even a bat into the wall.

  Xin placed the palm of her hand at the base of Yu Long’s neck. “He’s close.” She held up a fist to signal a halt, before gesturing to the two men bringing up the rear to hold their positions and keep watch. The next turn around the corner opened into a space so large the glow of the flashlight barely touched the far wall.

  “We’re probably beneath a subway station,” Yu Long murmured. His gaze moved across the immense room with tunnels sprouting in various directions. “Which way—?”

  A scream shredded the darkness. Flashlights swung in the direction of the sound. Gunfire exploded in controlled bursts, and the tattered figure crouched over one of Yu Long’s men collapsed in a spray of blood.

  Shrill howls like those of animals in pain ricocheted around the tunnels, bouncing off walls. The soldiers swung around to face the tunnels, their machine guns braced against their shoulders and their backs up against each other as their circle folded in upon itself, enclosing Xin in the middle.

  What the hell! How was she supposed to see anything if soldiers formed a wall of shoulders around her?

  The ululating cries rose in pitch and exploded into a blur of clawing hands and tearing teeth. Soldiers screamed and fell beneath the weight of bodies lunging forward or dropping from the ceiling. Gunfire shredded the attacking jiangshi, but they kept moving; they kept coming until their chests were ripped apart by bullets. When one fell, three others filled its place, riding the crest of an endless tide of death.

  A soldier’s scream ended in a bloody gurgle. Another man’s cry cut off when a jiangshi’s teeth ripped into his throat. He flailed beneath the creature’s attack. Xin squeezed out two bullets into the jiangshi’s skull. It dropped dead on top of the unmoving soldier.

  Two other jiangshi rushed toward her. Her bullet plowed through a creature’s chest. It staggered before dropping to its knees and keeling over. Xin swung her gun around, but the other jiangshi was already on her, its hands lashing out. The reek of its body swamped her.

  “Stop.” Danyael’s command sliced through the violence.

  Like a cascade of ice-cold water, fear drenched Xin. It squeezed the breath from her lungs and yanked every coherent thought from her head. It seemed as if time froze. Every motion stilled. Fingers halted fractions of an inch away from triggers. Bloodied hands, tensed into clawlike appendages, paused in front of exposed throats.

  Danyael stepped out from the darkness and into the blurry glow of a fallen flashlight. With his sculptured features cast partially in shadow, he looked like an angel. His eyes seemed to take in the entire situation in a single glance. Impossibly—perhaps it was a trick of the light—his eyes darkened until they were black as sin.

  The fear rolled back like the sea retreating before the overwhelming surge of a tsunami, but the devastating wave, when it surged in, brought with it peace—the perfect harmony of mind, body, and spirit. Xin drew a deep breath; she could almost sense it filling every cell.

  Danyael…She had seen him both heal and kill—secondary expressions of his empathic ability to absorb and project physical pain—but this, his primary ability to control emotions, amazed her in the purity of its expression and simplicity of its execution.

  The jiangshi retreated, their faces masks of confusion. The inhuman rage that had fueled their attack simmered but did not boil over, controlled by Danyael’s expert hand. Xin’s gaze traveled over their filthy faces. The moment of rationality offered a glimpse of the humans they had once been. She glanced over her shoulder at Yu Long as his eyes searched the ranks of jiangshi for his cousin. A sigh whispered out of him; its despair confirmed he did not find her.

  The jiangshi turned their backs on the soldiers to shuffle toward the tunnels. Xin met Yu Long’s eyes and nodded.

  “Fire!” he ordered.

  The jiangshi arched and dropped to their knees as gunfire cut through their backs. Several spun around, teeth bared, their momentary sanity purged from their eyes. One lunged past Danyael, launching toward Xin.

  Danyael reached out and touched the creature. It jolted to a stop a foot away from Xin. The lines of anger on its face melted into brokenhearted loneliness—emotional isolation so complete it would have driven anyone to suicide.

  The jiangshi dropped to its knees. Tears streaked through the dirt staining its cheeks. For a moment, its eyes met Xin’s. The anguish in them pleaded for the grace and mercy of death.

  It pounded its head against concrete, smashing its skull into the hard ground until the tiny smear of red became a pool of crimson. Eyes glazing, an expression of relief and hope inched across its face before it curled into a fetal ball and toppled sideways.

  Dead.

  Killed by Danyael’s unparalleled ability to drive living beings to suicide.

  Xin jerked her gaze up. Danyael stood several feet away; their eyes met—his glittering with deadly power. No one who had seen Danyael unleash the full extent of his empathic power mistook his compassion for weakness ever again.

  His eyes flashed.

  The fight instinct that consumed the jiangshi transformed into flight. They scattered, vanishing into the darkness of the tunnels.

  Xin stormed up to Danyael. “What are you doing?”

  “Saving their lives, and saving yours.”

  “Do you know what they are? They’re the ones committing all those violent, untraceable murders around Zhengzhou.”

  “It’s not their fault; they can’t control it. Their senses are amplified, and the constant stimulation drives them mad. They’re just try
ing to shut out the sensation from the world around them.”

  “That’s why they’re attacking people? That’s why they rip out throats with their bare hands?”

  “To silence the noise.”

  “They’re dangerous,” Xin said.

  “They’re victims, too,” Danyael insisted.

  “I don’t give a damn if they’re victims. The jiangshi are killers, and they’re infectious. Excelsior created a serum from your blood. The formula was stolen from the lab and has become Zhengzhou’s fastest spreading designer drug.”

  Danyael stiffened.

  Xin continued. “They call it shuang kuangxi. Most people who take it drift in a zen-like dream state, but a few—the minor psychics—go mad. Their senses overload.”

  “Minor psychics…what about the alphas? The betas?”

  “Most of them know better than to indulge in recreational drugs, but it doesn’t mean shuang kuangxi can’t be forced on them and used as a weapon against them. Anyone whose mind isn’t trained enough or will isn’t strong enough will crack.” Xin’s eyes narrowed. “The world cannot afford mutants driven mad by your blood.”

  15

  Xin’s accusation hung heavily in the gulf of silence between her and Danyael. In the darkness, the alpha empath’s eyes were stricken with horror and guilt, his feature etched with pain.

  She cringed mentally. Her words had crushed him. But what else should she have said?

  Nothing, she realized. Sometimes, shattering friendship could not be avoided.

  It did not mean it did not hurt.

  The breath she drew ached in her chest. It was a hell of a moment to realize that Danyael’s trust and friendship had meant a great deal to her and that she treasured it above any other.

  The silence grew, expanding as if it were alive until Danyael pricked it with a bitter sound trapped between an ironic chuckle and a quiet sigh. “There is nothing you can say to me that doesn’t already play in an endless loop in my mind. I know my blood did this to them. I felt a…connection when I calmed the one who tried to attack me. I followed her back here. She wanted to show me the others. I think she was trying to get me to help them.”