by Maya Daniels
“Not you, Drake. Get your ass inside and close the door.”
I was so close, so damn close to escape I can taste it. Sucking in a deep breath, sending prayers to anyone that will listen, I blow it out slowly as I close the door in front of me and turn to face him. Not daring to lock gazes, I stare at his chin. My boss is a perfect example of an immortal being. His physical appearance, which is stuck in his mid-thirties when most of us reach our prime, can lure the unsuspecting fools into a sense of false security. The smart-pressed suit molds to his large frame like a second skin. Refined features, too perfect to be mistaken for a human, hide a wild, predatory power that will knock your socks off before you can take a breath. A demigod, descendant of Ares, god of war, he makes his ancestor proud with his handsome face, chestnut hair, and deep brown eyes.
“Sit!” he barks, and I almost jump out of my skin.
Lowering gingerly at the edge of the already uncomfortable chair, I sit ramrod straight, still staring at his chin. It’s an excellent chin, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely not that fascinating that I keep staring at it. The slight smirk that fleets his face tells me as much. Jerking my eyes to the desk, I grip the sides of the chair so I keep my smartass mouth in check. This is not the time to blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind, a trait I often can’t control well. Minutes tick by, the struggle with my panic turning into anger.
“I told you the truth of what happened.” Pushing the words through my clenched teeth, I finally meet his gaze. My chin juts out defiantly at his calm perusal.
“The shifter got away. He was your target.” Leaning his forearms on the desk, his eyes bore into mine. “I have told you many times. You follow orders, do you understand?”
“You would’ve done the same thing if you were there.” Holding onto my courage with everything in me, I don’t look away. “I can still hear the terror in that scream. I have no clue what that thing was, but I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Where are your weapons?” I was hoping with all the shit tonight he wouldn’t notice. I should’ve known better.
“I did not carry weapons on me tonight.” Not wanting to give him time to ask questions, I continue talking, changing the subject. “No weapon I own would’ve helped tonight. I think whatever that thing is, it’s not going to just leave. I can feel that we have a big problem on our hands.”
“Shadows, you said?” He searches my face, and I let him see the fear I’ve been pushing aside.
“Like a shadow.” Punctuating that I’m not sure what the hell it is, I force myself to look through the memory closely. “There were two of them before they merged into one. And I could tell when it had its attention on me. Definitely sentient and deadly.”
“A mist…” His chocolate-brown eyes narrow, while his deep voice trails off, sending a nervous flutter through my chest that short-circuits my brain.
“And the shifter said he didn’t kill the witch, he found her already dead before the call came in.” I have no idea why I poked that bear, and I want to kick myself.
“You had time to chat with it?” One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifts in question.
“If you call him planting a boot in my face chatting, sure.” Shrugging a shoulder, my fingers grip the sides of the chair so tight I can hear the wood groaning.
“What am I going to do with you, Drake?” Leaning back in his comfy chair, Andrius folds his fingers over his flat stomach.
“Let me go home to take a shower and get some sleep?” Tilting my head, my vision blurs imagining doing just that. “Some food will be nice, too,” I add wistfully.
“I blame this on your mixed heritage.” Scowling at me, his lips press in a thin line. “Your powers are clashing, distracting you. This was your last try to prove I didn’t make a mistake by giving you a chance. Not even my curiosity on figuring you out can last forever.”
“I’m not trying to get my ass out of trouble, Andrius.” At his sharp look, I backpedal really fast. “Boss…Mr. Roberti, Sir.” Ending it with a groan, I cover my face with my hands. “I’m blowing this up big time.” My words are muffled through my fingers.
Roberti grunts, agreeing that I’m only digging a deeper hole for myself. At least he is not quiet. That’s when I’m ready to pee my pants, when he says nothing. Removing my hands from my face, I fill my lungs and release the breath I’m holding, slowly locking my eyes on his again. The moment of truth has come, and there is no delaying the inevitable. It’s my only chance right now if I want to stay in the Agency.
Honesty.
“Okay, listen.” The jackhammering of my heart against my ribs makes me sound breathless and on the verge of tears. “Three weeks ago, some new power started manifesting. Its bursts of energy come and go as they please, and I can’t control it. It makes me zone out at times, not to a point where I have no idea what I’m doing or where I am. It’s more like my mind wanders off at awkward moments. It doesn’t happen often.” I rush to assure him before he tells me to get lost. “But it does happen, and that’s the reason I’ve screwed up a few times. On the bright side, it helps when I use it on anyone. It paralyzes them long enough that they can be incapacitated…if it lasts longer than a few seconds.”
“Your mother is a pure-blooded vampire,” Roberti says pointedly.
“I didn’t notice,” I reply dryly by default and bite the inside of my mouth the same second. What the hell is wrong with you Franky! I scream at myself internally.
“And your father, a pure-blooded Fae.” Andrius narrows his eyes at me again, turning them into slits. “Or so all of you say.”
“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Anger bubbles up inside me just like every time my parents are mentioned, especially after my father was killed.
“These new powers could be coming from his side.” His words would’ve been comforting if not for the calculating look in his gaze while he stares at me like I’m a bug under a microscope. “You should’ve come to me the moment this happened.”
“I thought I had it under wraps.” The shrug I give him is not intentional, it’s like a twitch my body is making out of my control. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
“You are going to go home and stay home”—His eyes bore into mine, the power punch to obey him almost doubling me over—“until I tell you to come back.”
“I just need food, a shower, and a good night sleep. Not necessarily in that order either. I’ll be as good as new in the morning.” A weight lifts off my chest. He is not kicking me out.
I got excited too soon.
“You are suspended until further notice.” My mouth opens to argue my case, but it’s left hanging, “Get out!”
I realize I didn’t say a word back to him when I’m standing outside the building in front of my bike. Scrubbing a hand over my face, my head hangs down on my shoulders. There is nothing I can do to change his mind right now, so I better head home. Yanking the full face helmet off the handle, I shove it over my head, slapping the top of it with my palm a couple of times. I push the visor down after I straddle the Ducati, the purring of the beast between my legs not soothing me as it usually does.
“Fuck!” The bike wobbles slightly when I slam my palm on it a few times in anger.
With nothing else left to do and a dread taking residence in my chest, I rev the engine before skidding out of the parking lot like the hounds of Hell are on my tail.
Chapter 3
The chatter is a distant hum assaulting my ears as I stare into nothing above the wall full of liquor bottles at the bar. It has been four days since I got suspended and I think I started going insane inside my one-bedroom apartment. The first two days, I only slept, ate, and then slept some more. Those are a blur, and I think I didn’t even take a shower. The third day I got pissed off at myself, so I might’ve broken a few things when I chucked them at the wall. The hallway might also have a fist-size hole next to my bedroom door, but nobody needs to know about that.
To break the insanity before I
destroy everything I own—although I don’t own much—tonight I dress up and take myself to Raven’s Feather, a pub owned by my friend. My only friend, actually, Daren. He is a mage that wants nothing to do with his kind, so he started his own business in the middle of town. Having to hide what I am doesn’t make me a social butterfly, so I usually stay away from everyone. Physical touch is something I find repulsive most of the time. My skin is too sensitive, almost like a magnet sucking in whatever the person is feeling at the moment. Not that anyone will touch me, not if they know I am a hybrid. They’ll come for my head.
But not Daren.
We crossed paths while I was angry at the world for being a freak, and he was just as angry for losing the woman he loved. She was a hybrid as well, and when the Mages found out, they had her killed, then branded Daren as a traitor. No one is allowed to hide a hybrid. Well, unless you are Andrius, in which case they all turn to look the other way.
The sigil marking Daren is displayed on top of his left hand like a black stamp. He wears it proudly, which is the main reason I actually spoke to him the first time I saw him. Our mutual dislike of the entitled pure bloods, as well as him not hitting on me, made us fast friends.
As unfortunate or as heart breaking as his fate is, and he loves to tell the story often, it kinda worked out well for him. Not being associated with any species, in particular, gained him quite a clientele and a badass reputation to boot. He does not tolerate any bullshit, and has no problem using his magic on anyone. Everyone is welcomed here as long as they follow the rules.
No killing inside the pub.
That’s it. As soon as you leave the door, you’re on your own. Luckily, Daren has pretty good wards around the place, so it’s kinda safe-ish to get to your ride without a problem. Also having the higher-ups visiting has made it a less likely spot to get murdered. All in all, not bad for a town full of supernaturals running on instinct more than rational thought.
“You want another one, or are you going to milk that one all night?” Daren comes at the corner of the bar where I’m hugging the beer between my palms like it’s my precious.
“You buying?” Lifting an eyebrow in challenge, I chug half the beer down my throat.
“Sure.” Smirking, he keeps rubbing the glass in his hands with a rag. “If you tell me why you’re more prickly than usual.”
“I’m not prickly.” My mouth twists in a grimace after I snap at him. “Okay fine, I’m prickly, but when I have a reason to be.”
“If you say so.” His dark brown hair flops over his forehead, and he jerks his head to move it out of his green eyes. Amusement is dancing in his gaze when my eyes narrow at him. “A beer for your thoughts.” He chuckles.
“It’s a penny for your thoughts, jackass.” Sipping the beer, my attention goes over his shoulder as I look at everyone behind me through the mirrored wall.
“Pennies don’t work on you.” Still chuckling, he grabs a large, frosted mug, filling it up from the tap.
“Touché, my friend.” Pointing my beer bottle at him, my lips twitch, but I can’t find enough strength to smile.
Daren slams the mug full of beer on the bar, snatching the now empty bottle from my hand. Leaning his hip across from me, his arms fold over his chest. I know the look on his face, and I’m really not in the mood to talk about my problems, but I can tell he is not going to leave me be until I tell him why I’m sitting here instead of chasing some asshole through the streets of Sienna.
“I got suspended.” Daring him to say anything with a glare, I pick up the beer, taking a long gulp, still looking at him over the rim of the mug.
“Shit.” All the teasing is replaced with a troubled look in his eyes. “You okay? How stupid, I know you’re not okay.” Lowering his voice, he leans closer to me. “Does it have something to do with the disappearances?”
That gets my attention like nothing else. My gut clenches and a shiver like ghostly fingers runs up and down my spine. The image of the shadows twisting over the body in the middle of the street flashes through my mind's eye. The stupid energy that has been missing for three days surges through me and stiffens my shoulders.
“What disappearances?” I’m watching Daren so intently that his eyes widen and he jerks away from me.
My gaze bobs to the mirrored wall behind him, and I can see why he freaked out. My eyes are glowing on my face like lanterns. A gift from my mother and my vampire side. Total contradiction to my elven features, pert nose, and full bow-shaped lips. The golden skin only adds to the freak of nature that is me.
“Damn it, Franky. I hate it when you do that.” Frowning, Daren rolls his shoulders, his black button-down stretching over his broad chest.
“Yes, because I do it just for you.” My words are as dry as sandpaper. Closing my eyes, I press my thumb and forefinger on the bridge of my nose. “It’s been a stressful few days, Daren. You could even say I’m not in full control of myself.”
“No kidding.” Mumbling under his breath, he sighs. “You really don’t know what’s been going on?”
My eyes snap open, looking at him without removing the fingers that are applying pressure on the bridge of my nose. Sometimes I wonder if Daren keeps talking nonsense instead of getting to the point just because he wants to hear himself talk. Too bad for him I’m not in the mood for games tonight. Seeing that I’m just staring at him without saying a word, he comes closer.
“Seven people have gone missing in the last four days.” His gaze sweeps the pub before landing on me again. “All random, too. You see them now, and a couple of hours later they are nowhere to be found.”
“I’m sure the Agency is on it.” Uneasiness claws at my chest and I swallow thickly. I hope I’m telling him the truth.
“Aiden was here yesterday. When I asked him, he glared at me and stomped away.” The way Daren is pouting tells me Aiden didn’t just stomp away, he must’ve been an ass, too.
“That’s not something that will slip Roberti’s notice, Daren. The Agency is on it. I’m sure of it.”
“Give me a minute.” Daren strides off to the other end of the bar where a feline shifter is waving his empty bottle.
My mind is spinning with what he just told me. Could it be connected? Are the shadows that I saw picking off the people in this town one by one while we all play sitting ducks? More importantly, why did Andrius dismiss me so fast without asking a million questions? If my boss is anything he is anal about details. He wants to know if anyone in this town even breathes wrong. So why ignore what I told him? Suspending me is not strange. It has been coming for a long time. But everything else just doesn’t sit right with me.
The stupid energy surges through me so suddenly that I gasp and straighten on the barstool, my forearms pressing hard on the polished wood of the bar. My shoulders stiffen with a pinprick between my shoulder blades and the short hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Trying my best not to be too obvious, I scan the bar behind me through the mirrored wall that is holding shelves of bottled liquor. Someone is watching me; I know it as I know my own name, but I can’t see anyone paying any attention to the bar. When a few minutes pass and still I haven’t spotted anyone looking in my direction, I slowly relax. I’m getting too jumpy for my liking.
“Paranoia is the last thing you need, girl.” Shaking my head, I lift the mug to my lips.
The slapping of a wet towel on the bar next to me makes me jump, the beer sloshing all over my hand, some of it ending up on my shirt and face. Spattering and coughing, I glare at Daren while he watches me sheepishly from behind the bar. Too busy coughing out a lung, I imagine punching him in the face, which is what I really want at the moment. Maybe his slightly crooked nose can straighten up that way.
“Jumpy much?” The shaking of his shoulders doesn’t match his straight face.
“One of these days, you’ll end up dead,” I rasp, my throat burning like I’ve swallowed barbed wire.
“That’s not even funny right now.” Grabbing a lemon, he starts
slicing it. It looks hilarious in his large hands—the same ones I’ve seen wield weapons like they are an extension of his arms.
I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want everyone to see us talking, or because he doesn’t want me to see the fear that flashed through his eyes before he hid them from me. Either way, I don’t care as long as he has something useful to tell me.
“So, who told you about this? Did anyone you know disappear?” Turning sideways, I lean my forearm on the bar, not looking directly at Daren.
He stays quiet for a few moments, and I observe the rest of the crowd. The booths lining both sides of the walls are all occupied. Judging by their body language and the proximity of the way they sit, a few couples are on their first, maybe second dates. Four of the tables are for the wolf shifters, easily recognizable by the bulk of their bodies and the fact that they always sit in a group. The pack mentality is not a joke. Here and there the feline shifters sit on their own, their posture saying they are ready to pounce at any moment. There are a few Fae, and even without their distinct features, you’ll be able to spot them because the couple of waitresses that Daren has in this pub gravitate towards them, their magic and allure very hard to resist. Not that they are trying to stay away from it. And then there are the vamps. The loners of our society are mostly on their own, nursing a glass of wine or scotch, looking down their noses at everyone.
None of them look suspicious, to say the least.
“A wolf shifter came a few days ago, asking for a missing girl from his pack,” Daren murmurs behind me. “Said if he can’t find information here, he is going to see a witch for a tracking spell.”
My heart does a painful thud against my ribs, and my gut flipflops. It may be a coincidence, I tell myself, but I don’t believe it even as the thought floats through my mind. There are no such things as coincidences in our world. If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck…and all that other bullshit. I don’t mention the wolf shifter I was chasing the night I got suspended. Continuing to scan the pub, my nostrils flare in hopes to keep my heartbeat steady.
