The DarkWorld SkinWalker Series Box Set Vol II: The SkinWalker Series Books 4, 5 & 6: Blood Promise, Scorched Fury, & Fate's Edge (DarkWorld: SkinWalker)

by T. G. Ayer

  The guy let out a soft whimper and fell silent as the point of my claw settled on this throat. Evie came up from behind him and smiling, grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him into the air. He shrieked now, free of the threat of my claw.

  The scent of ammonia filled the air, and I wrinkled my nose. Evie’s eyes widened as she too smelled the scent of warm urine filling the air.

  Evie dropped him unceremoniously into the coffin, then reached for Bruno who she tossed directly on top of him. She ignored the man’s squirming and pleading and tipped her head at the coffin lid.

  I hurried over to her and grabbed hold of one end. With my walker strength, and the ability to move my limbs, it was easy to lift the lid, a feat that the whiny bad-guy didn’t miss. His eyes widened as the lid descended and he began to scream.

  Funny how people like him could dish it out, but had a hard time taking it.

  Evie dropped her end of the lid, and as soon as I felt the give, I let go of mine. The concrete lid closed snugly and Evie dusted her hands together and stepped back.

  “They’ll need air,” I said. “There’s two of them, and they’ll have an hour’s worth of air…if that.”

  The nephilim looked up at me, her expression absent of apology. “Then we’d better get the cops here fast.”

  Oh, I like her.

  Chapter 5

  An hour later I was standing in a police interrogation room that the local cops had provided our team for the purposes of wrapping up our contribution to their investigation.

  The gray-painted rectangular room was small, the wooden table only offering enough space for six chairs, although nobody was sitting with the tension in the room spiking high.

  “I told you, I’m fine,” I said for the tenth time, shifting my gaze to the two-way mirror on one wall. An internal door opened into the room, a relief as I had been concerned that the locals would eavesdrop if we gave them half a chance.

  “You don’t look fine. You look like crap,” said Cassie, shoving her ponytail back, an edge in her voice.

  The cold fluorescent drew harsh hollows in her already gaunt face, and turned her blonde hair to gray white. She looked almost ghostly, and I had to force myself to keep it to myself. I blinked at the odd observation, wondering if I’d been knocked on the head a little too hard at some point.

  I had to force myself to focus on Cassie’s words as she continued, “I’m the one that’s fine, having only been shocked once and left behind the bush. You, on the other hand, are not fine. They zapped you twice. I was the one who had to lie there and watch you be electrocuted and then dragged off without being able to do a damn thing to stop them. I particularly hate being useless.”

  I patted her on the shoulder—Cassie wasn’t one for physical affection unless she herself initiated it—and said, “It wasn’t your fault, and there wasn’t anything you could have done about it. They knew what they were doing. And they got their mark.”

  Cassie didn’t so much as shrug me off as shift away to begin pacing. “And we didn’t.”

  I was physically fine. Even mentally, considering the experience hadn’t been bad enough to put me in PTSD mode. Still, I’d only find out for certain the next time I was imprisoned in cold, dark and narrow confines.

  Which would hopefully be next to never.

  “We were all working blind on this. Don’t forget that all we had were what the local cops had given us. We didn’t have the faintest idea that this was orchestrated to bring you here.” My boss, Horner, studied my face, as if he could find the solution to our predicament there. Then he straightened. “Thankfully, the team suspected something was wrong when neither of you answered their requests for confirmation.” Horner, despite his shorter, stubbier, stature, seemed to hold a latent power within his form.

  “Yeah, they came barreling in like the cavalry, there to save the day but a little too late.” Cassie sounded bitter now, as if she’d decided that it would be better to blame the team. Then she snorted. “To think they revived and checked me out long before you were even conscious again.”

  And there it was. The crux of Cassie’s anger. I’d been in danger and she’d not been the one to save me. The next words out of her mouth only served to confirm my suspicion. “So who is this Evangeline person who saved you?”

  I shrugged. “She’s some type of agent as well.”

  “I reckon that was a pretty good spot of luck right there.” Cassie nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Which agency? And what was she doing there anyway?”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t revealed Evie’s race to them, more because I wasn’t sure she’d want her existence exposed to all and sundry. She hadn’t told me not to tell anyone, but neither had she said I could. “She didn’t say. Everything happened within seconds. She saved me from the coffin just in time. I’d almost run out of air. She’d barely gotten me out, and then the men were back.”

  Cassie cleared her throat. “So, pray tell how it is possible that a mere woman managed to lift off the lid of this coffin? I’ve seen the thing. It’s heavy. You weren’t able to lift it off even with your panther strength.”

  “No clue. Adrenaline does funny things, I guess.”

  “Is she a demon or something?” Cassie asked her blue eyes fervent as she sought out a reason to dislike the person who had saved me.

  Before I could answer, High Councilman Horner said, “We’ve received confirmation that the group by whom you were attacked are after the Ni'amh. They are suspected to be in cahoots with—or are controlled by—the Shadowmen. Or Shadow Wraiths as they are more commonly called. They’re a small army of hybrid elf-demon assassins.”

  I frowned, about to blurt out the fact that the Ni'amh was not one person, but rather a group of five supernatural women meant to band together to save the world—even if I knew very well that Horner likely knew more about the Ni'amh than I did.

  But my words stuck in my throat as the door opened and a tall, dark man walked in. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’m Asher, and this is Bell and Godfrey.” He waved a hand at the two men behind him who looked like fibbies, all dark suits, close-cropped hair and stiff spines.

  They took up position on either side of the door, as if guarding the entrance, and immediately got my hackles up, position and expression implying we were not allowed to leave unless we obtained their permission.

  “What are you? FBI?” asked Cassie, her tone cold.

  Asher quirked his lips and smiled, his teeth flashing stark against his burnished skin. “What gave us away?”

  “What can I do for you agent Asher?” asked Horner, cutting Cassie off as she opened her mouth to respond. Horner’s tone implied he was well aware of who Asher was. And that he was not surprised that the agent was here.

  Asher smiled and shrugged off his long coat, placing it carefully over the back of the nearest chair. “I’m on this case as well—albeit from an FBI perspective. We need to know what the Shadow Wraiths want and if they are really connected to your agent’s abductors.”

  Horner nodded slowly, then looked over at me. Though still wary, I gave Asher a recap, careful to keep the nephilim details out of it. I also refrained from any mention of the Ni'amh, unsure of how much the FBI already knew about supernaturals.

  It seemed that, with each passing year, the existence of the supernatural world was becoming more well-known and as far as I was concerned, bringing too much danger to our doorstep.

  “So there are two men from a coffin who can be interrogated, if you feel the need to,” I said, bringing my account to a close.

  Asher’s lips turned up into a humorless smile. “I assure you that the two men in the coffin would have no real clue as to who the true perpetrators were. You’ll find they are more likely petty thieves or con men and know nothing more than that their boss paid them handsomely to do it and provided detailed instructions. Should you investigate further, you’re likely to discover that said boss no longer exists.”

  Despite the man’s attractive f
eatures and muscular build, Asher’s brusque, secretive I-know-more-about-this-than-you attitude was scraping on a nerve, and I folded my arms. “Are you suggesting we close our investigation? Is there something you are trying to stop us from finding out?”

  He smiled, this time the expression more arrogant than when he’d entered the room. “I’m afraid that I can only let you know when I can be assured the time is right.”

  “And when will that time be? You going to read the Tarot? Speak to a seer? Or is there a prophecy or something?”

  At the word prophecy, Asher’s smile thinned—only the slightest movement, but I caught it. What was this man hiding from us?

  I studied him, taking a second look at his arrogant bearing and wide-footed stance. Despite his physical vibe, I got the feeling that he was playing a part, attempting to convince us that he was holding all the cards—for what reason I still had no clue. I was still hung up on the fact that the FBI had anything to do with our case in the first place.

  Right now, Asher was keeping his cards close to his chest, and I didn’t like it one bit. And from the looks of Cassie’s and High Councilman Horner’s faces, neither did they.

  Asher straightened, apparently not prepared to continue to undergo any further scrutiny. He retrieved his coat and draped it over his arm, giving his two FBI agents a firm nod. “High Councilman Horner, Agent Odel, Agent Monteith, thank you for your time and for your cooperation. I’ll be happy to convey confirmation of your generous help to my superiors.” With that, he turned and left the room, followed closely by the two fibbies.

  Cassie released a pent-up breath, and I felt the muscles in my shoulders relax. Still staring at the closed door, I said, “He knew exactly who we were.”

  “Not surprising. Asher is noted for doing his job well. It’s why the FBI uses him.”

  “He’s not an agent?”

  Horner shook his head. “He’s a consultant only. Acts with all the powers of the FBI, though.”

  “That explains his fibby bodyguards.”

  “Don’t interpret that as them watching his every move. The two agents do his bidding without question. The FBI is doing, and will continue to do, everything in their power to get him on board but Asher has turned down every offer.”

  “Why? What’s his deal? And why isn’t he working for us?”

  Horner shrugged. “Asher’s origins are shrouded in secrecy, but we do know he is supernatural. He appeared a few years ago, seemingly out of nowhere. And almost immediately began working with the FBI. Sentinel tried to poach him, but although he would work with us, he refused to work for us.”

  I was about to say that was a bit arrogant of him, but I bit my tongue. I’d done the very same thing to Omega and Sentinel, and so had Mel and a good few other supernaturals who didn’t want to be seen as the exclusive property of one particular organization.

  Horner’s voice drew me from my introspection. “The man does work with the FBI, so there may be future opportunities to join forces. In the interim, I suggest we all toe the line and maintain good, open communications.”

  “But not totally divulging what we have?” I asked, glancing over at Cassie who nodded as if she’d been about to ask the same thing.

  Horner smiled. “Total transparency is bad for business.”

  Chapter 6

  I sat in the gazebo outside my family home in Tukats, watching the orange light of the setting sun reflect on the windows facing the lawn. I remembered the day of Greer's funeral when Logan, Saleem, Tara, and Lily had sat with me in this monument to my childhood, and helped me mourn my sister’s passing.

  Now, I sat here alone, my life cast to the winds of turmoil.

  Horner had disbanded the team after we’d each given an individual debrief, and had seemed unconcerned that Evie had refused to come in to talk to him. He’d sent Cassie and me home, with strict warnings to watch our backs. I’d realized then that Cassie and I had never discussed what being part of the Ni'amh meant. But to be honest, I hadn’t brought the topic up with any of the others either, more for concern that they hadn’t been informed as yet.

  My panther ears perked up—my senses on one hundred percent alert now after being abducted—as the sound of grass crunching beneath feet drew closer. The encroaching shadows melded into the shape of my father who peered into the darkened interior of the gazebo as he drew closer.

  “You okay, honey?” he asked, his low baritone filled with concern.

  He stepped inside the small gazebo, ducking his head to avoid hitting the low doorway. He was silent as he sat beside me on the narrow seat. He’d built the gazebo with his own two hands, an attempt to appease my sister Greer, in a time long past, a moment in her teen years when she’d needed and Dad had provided. The only problem was that neither had known that Dad could never give Greer what she needed.

  The gazebo had turned into a haven for me, the child who nobody had wanted to see, the child who was a constant reminder of loss. So, I’d gone unseen and unheard, spending the better part of my days hidden within this little building, blankets and snacks, camping lanterns and bug spray all keeping me company until late at night.

  Now I’d retreated to my safe haven, and my father had known exactly where I’d be. Truth be told, I’d have preferred to have been upstairs in my room, at Logan’s side. I glanced up at my bedroom window and sighed.

  Beside me Dad sighed, echoing the sad nostalgia in my being, and I recognized the sound. “Has she found it yet?” I asked softly.

  Dad shrugged. “I won’t know until she returns. I don’t believe Galakris receives cell reception.”

  I shook my head. “Very funny.” I rolled my eyes and then sighed. “I worry about her. You should have let me go with her.”

  A flash of white gleamed for a moment as Dad smiled. “Your mother is totally capable of taking care of herself. She’s been tracking for twice as long as you’ve been alive, in case that slipped your mind.”

  “I know. I just don’t like the idea of her being incommunicado for so long. I’m not sure how you can handle it. I’m pretty sure I’d go crazy if I wasn’t able to speak to Logan at all.”

  Dad ran his hand over my back, the action comforting in more ways than he could know. I missed my mother, especially with having just gotten her back so recently. It made me nervous knowing I couldn’t check on her to make sure she was okay. “You’re so much like her. Celeste is strong-willed. I didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.”

  I stared at him in the growing darkness. “Could Sentinel have not procured the flower using their normal channels? Why did Mom have to be the one to go?”

  Dad shook his head. “After what Niko did, those channels have shut down completely. He used the flower to create Synthe. Or rather to adapt the drug to slow, and to halt the change. Niko’s misuse of the flower made Sentinel, and the Ancients understand the dangers of it being easily accessible.”

  I sighed. “I understand that. I just don’t think she should have gone alone. If at all.”

  “Your mother has contacts in Galakris. Someone who owed her a favor. She was certain she could get us a batch fairly easily. Unfortunately, it meant she’d be out of touch for a while.” Dad smiled sadly. “Take it up with her when she gets back.”

  I bit my tongue, swallowing the words that had threatened to erupt from my mouth: If she comes back. I was not sure why I was being so negative about things. These days it seemed that everything was making me morose.

  Sighing, I linked my fingers and twisted my hands. Restlessness rippled through me like a wave. “How is she?” I asked softly.

  Dad shifted beside me. “She’s recovering from her last treatment, still weak as her DNA strands slowly accept the new coding I’m experimenting with. The treatments are making her weak—that much is unavoidable—but she’s been pushing through each phase like a trooper.”

  “That’s our Lily, the fighter; a tear-out-your-throat-first-ask-questions-later kind of girl.” I smiled, simply because if
I didn’t smile, I’d end up bawling my eyes out.

  So many terrible, painful events to experience over the last few months. Greer’s death, Storm’s betrayal, Logan’s coma, Angelo’s death and now Saleem’s disappearance. Not to mention Mel’s persecution by a dangerous poltergeist, Omega’s abduction of Saleem’s mother, and the revelations of the mysterious five parts of the Ni'amh.

  Dad’s voice drew me from my thoughts as he said, “She could be ready for the Final Phase.”

  “Sounds ominous,” I said.

  Dad chuckled. “I guess it does.”

  He inhaled slowly, and though it was dark, my panther eyes shifted slightly, just enough to allow me the benefit of my night vision. And I saw the pensive look in his eyes as he stared off into the distance.

  Then he cleared his throat as he began to drum his fingers on his knee. “It’s simple enough. The process forces the induction of a shift. The chemicals within the serum mimic the hormonal patterns a walker experiences in the moments before he changes form. It applies to both human to walker, and walker to human transition.”

  I nodded, and he paused, seeming to sense that movement. “I know. I’ve seen it for myself.”

  It gave me the shivers just to remember when I’d seen it happen. I'd witnessed exactly what a walker undergoes when their shifting processes are halted or manipulated in any way.

  “When?” Dad asked, a note in his voice telling me he suspected the circumstance but wanted to hear it for himself.

  “When uncle Niko had experimented on him. I’d been forced to watch Anjelo scream as his bones shifted. He was stuck in agony, partially human and almost panther.”

  Dad sighed again, and this time his breath was ragged. “I wish I knew what went through my brother’s mind. What motivated him to do the horrible things he did. I can understand how difficult being Pariah is. I just don’t see how his personal turmoil could translate into hurting other people.”

  I took a deep breath, the reality of what Uncle Niko had suffered, and what he’d inflicted upon those around him, hitting me hard. They were tortured souls, the pariahs of our walker community. Those walkers who could not shift into their walker forms.