by Kim Faulks
The claw marks across my palm were still red and swollen. A memory slipped into place, a sigil carved across the flesh…a triangle…no, more than a triangle…
I sat the bottle on the counter and made for my old wooden chest. The battered thing was handed down by Alma, filled with all the information she wanted me to have over the years.
I lifted the lid and dug through the old bibles. Leather skimmed under my fingers. Rubber bands bound others tight. Ruptured spines threatened to spill secrets. I eased the top bibles aside, searching for the golden sigil on the brown leather cover.
It was a small book, thin by comparison to the other mammoth tomes. The pages were flat, not buckled or bent. But inside the cover was pure gold. The sigils were both dark and light, protecting as well as sending energy back to the owner a thousand fold.
I flicked through the pages, they were the same sigils I used to paint my blood into the walls of this place, and the same sigils I marked on my skin after each shower.
Triangle…triangle.
I flicked through the pages, my gaze skimming hoops and swirls and straight-edged markings. But no triangle. Not a fucking one.
That had to be a mistake. I’d seen triangles in here before. I’d written triangles in here before…
I flicked through the pages once more, this time shoving up from the floor to walk blindly into to kitchen. Page after page I searched, and once more for the ones with ADHD, trying like hell to focus.
Nope…nada.
I leaned across and grabbed a pencil, turning to the nearest blank page. My memory was slow. I tried to remember, and then traced a line across the top, and then angled both sides down to meet at the middle. There was more to it, straight lines, ending in a curl somewhere.
I unscrewed the cap and poured the vodka into the glass, eyeing the artwork. It wasn’t right, not anywhere near it. I raised the glass and drank. Heat burned along my throat and settled in my belly. I was so taken with the feeling, so consumed by the heat, I stared at the pencil in my hand. What the hell was I doing?
An open book sat on the counter…my book…my sigil book.
My thoughts were slow, blending and oozing like crusted molasses, but they were getting nowhere. Something didn’t feel right. What the hell would I want with the book? The pages held no trigger. Blank…both of them. I flicked to the pages before. Just normal spells for the dark moon. Nothin’ too crazy.
I flipped the cover closed and drained the glass.
I gripped the bottle and shoved the vodka back into the freezer. My hand smarted…scratches were cut across my palm, itching and nagging.
That’s right. The sigil…the sigil I was trying to remember. I turned my head, staring at the open book on the counter, and felt something at work here, something that twisted and muddled until my thoughts just fell away.
Like a déjà vu without the fucking vu.
I flipped the book closed and stared out of the window. Shift, that’s right. That’s what I was doing, heading for the seedy strip club smack bang in the heart of the supernatural suburbs.
I picked up the glass, rinsed, and turned the tumbler upside down to drain as I made for the bedroom. I’d need a sleep, make sure I was firing on all damn cylinders.
I stepped on the back of my boot and kicked it free, followed by the other…and, as the sun slipped lower on the horizon, I threw my keys and phone on the bedside table, climbed into bed, and rested my head on the pillow.
The faint smell of dog invaded. But I was too far gone, as sleep reached up with merciless claws and dragged me under.
***
The air pulsed with the heavy beat. It was a stripper's beat, nice and slow, thundering through your body. I stood outside the club, glanced to the damn line of people that ran along the front and disappeared around the corner, and headed for the front of the line.
Shadows moved, giving birth to the biggest no-necked muthafucker I’d ever seen. I craned my head, lifting my gaze higher and higher. Had to be part giant…with three fucking eyes. Jesus…abort…abort.
I slowed my steps, until he lifted a monstrous paw and motioned me forward. I tried to find my steps, tried to stop looking at that wicked fucking eye in the middle of his forehead.
Panic gripped me as I neared. Which one do I look into…which one do I focus on and unleash the charm? I shoved back my shoulders and pressed my breasts hard against the tight leather shirt.
A cool midnight breezed licked my skin, drawing my nipples to a point. They’d poke an eye out at a hundred paces if I got any colder.
An eye…
Eyes, more like it. I tried to focus, doing the rounds from his normal eyes…to the eye. I raised my brows, forcing a smile as panic fucking rose.
His brows furrowed, clenching the skin around the other. “What the fuck are you looking at?”
“Eye…zzz.”
Not my finest fucking moment. He stepped forward, gripped my collar with one move, and shoved. “End of the goddamn line.”
Shit…shit…
I stumbled, catching my heel on the chipped pavement and pitched forward. They all stared, sneering silently as I turned the corner and stumbled along the damn line. Bloody hell. The thing stretched for halfway along the outside of the club. Others shivered under the bitter damn breeze that seemed to come from nowhere.
They watched me as I ground my jaw and hit the end of the line. Goddamn eye…I had him. I fucking had him. I took my place and leaned against the wall, feeling the heavy beat vibrate the walls.
The sound slipped out into the midnight air. I turned my head, resolved to spending the next three fucking years of my life waiting to get inside, and stared at the locked steel door.
A door that had to lead inside. I glanced along the line. No one was moving. Not even a damn shuffle of a step. I sighed, glanced around the darkness, and casually moved closer.
The steel vibrated. Yep, definitely led inside. Probably a fire door…felt like a fire door. They shouldn’t be locked, right? Should be kept open, safety to the public and all that.
“Can’t have a damn wolf singeing his fur, can we?” I murmured and gripped the lock.
“Need a hand with that?”
I jumped at the deep growl and turned. He leaned against the building, staring not at me, but at the lock in my hand.
“I’ve got it…thanks,” I muttered, but I didn’t have it, not really.
Flesh and bone were one thing—if it had a pulse, I could manipulate it, but inanimate objects were another matter altogether. I yanked, until the inch-thick link snapped taut. Still, the guy never moved.
I shifted, giving him my back, and muttered. “Wanna back up a little, buddy?”
I glanced over my shoulder at the hard smirk as he lifted his head. Faint orange flames danced within the dark pools of his eyes. My gut tightened, heart raced—a damn hellhound.
And, suddenly, giving him my back wasn’t such a great idea. I yanked the locked, jerked, tried to twist, but the damn thing refused to move. There was a gap, like half a fucking inch, until the door refused to budge.
“I think you could make it,” he murmured. “If you sucked it in and turned sideways, you might be able to slip through.”
Desperation flared with those words. I found his gaze. “You think?”
There was a smirk, and then a slight shake of his head before he reached over, took the lock from my hand, and yanked.
Metal twisted and whined and, with a loud snap, broke free. One piece came away in his hand, the other hung, buckled and bent, from the lock.
“Ladies first,” he murmured with a cocky ass grin.
I wanted to wipe that smirk from his face. Wanted to do a lot of things. But hellhounds were vicious and powerful sonsofbitches. This was one supe I didn’t want to piss off.
I dropped the busted lock to the ground and yanked the handle. The hinge let out a screech before I stepped into the small hallway. I could feel him behind me, steps echoed, moving close. I wanted to glance over m
y shoulder, wanted to snarl and force him backwards.
Voices called out from outside the door. Others were following, leaving the three-hour line behind. The music grew louder, thundering through the space as I shuffled forward and hit a door.
One twist of the hand and I was grinding my teeth.
“Allow me,” the hellhound murmured and leaned across.
His shoulder brushed my arm, chest pressed against me, and the more I leaned backwards, the more he moved in. The handle rattled under his grip. He seemed to take his fucking time, snarled, and then leaned forward that little bit more.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his breath warm against my face. “Slippery hands.”
They weren’t the only things slippery with this guy. Orange flames sparked and flashed in his gaze, burning a little brighter the more he pushed against me, until the lock gave way and the door opened.
He leaned backwards, gaze down, not giving a damn thing away as I turned and left him behind. A heavy black curtain cut us off from the rest of the bar. I swept the fabric aside and headed across the crowded dance floor.
The rear end of Shift doubled as a night club, the tiny dance floor was crammed with humans posing as supes. There were groupies for all kinds of walks of life—but none more than the tattooed wannabes that filled this dance floor.
I shoved through, elbowing a leather-clad woman with bleached blonde hair out of the way.
“Watch it,” she snarled and lifted her hand. Sigils adorned her fingers and ran the length of her arm in thick black tattoos.
I stared a little too long, memories of sigils and palms surfacing. There was something going on, something that didn’t feel quite right.
“You have something, sweetheart?” The blonde licked her lips and moved in. “You know, the stuff that opens up your sight, the real stuff.”
I flinched and shook my head, catching sight of the hellhound across the room. He was watching me with hellfire eyes. I stepped from the dance floor and carved my way through the crowded tables. This place was choked, ten deep at the bar and even more crammed around the doorway for the toilets. I left the back bar behind and made for the pole dancers.
Fur and skin shimmied and shook. They catered to all tastes in this seedy bar. A wolf stood on the platform amongst the bare-breasted women; the shifter circled the floor, tail raised, and then stood on her hind legs and shifted. Fur shrank back to skin, face flattened, turning dark eyes into brown.
Bones crunched and cracked under the change. But the sickening sound didn’t seem to worry the men who waved fists filled with bills in the air, calling her over.
I stepped through the tables, moving away from the hunters and the hounds, and searched the rest of the bar. Thander wanted me here…and the ghoul wasn’t known for shitting around. So there was a reason. I just needed to find what that reason was.
The front bar sat amongst blinding lights, but the rest of the club was in relative darkness. Men and women crowded the edges, some mind-grinding up against the wall, kissing and biting bare flesh with bared fangs.
If a human wanted to get picked up by a supe, then this would be the place to come. Someone moved against me, brushing a hand across my ass. I turned my head, catching a wink of a vamp. He smiled, motioned me over to the side of the room. I couldn’t stop from smirking. He was young, newly turned. I was guessing three, five years at most.
His sire would be close by. I glanced around the room, catching movement beside me. And there he was, perfect and poised, a man far beyond his time.
His pale skin shimmered as he leaned in, fangs peeking out under blood red lips. “Please accept my apologies. He’s young…”
There was panic in his eyes. Everyone knew The Circle’s hunters, and everyone steered clear. I gave a nod. Young or not, the vamp would get a lot more than a warm vein with me. The sire and his pup moved away, shifting their target to someone else.
I scanned the room, watching them narrow in on one young wolf. He lifted his head, scenting the air as they narrowed in, and bared his fangs. But the bloodsuckers weren’t taking the hint, moving closer, trying their best with the charm.
Somethings never change, and it was the unending hate between wolf and vamp that filled my days. Mercy, revenge, and just downright-hate crimes kept me busy.
Someone turned behind the wolf, giving his back to the strippers and drawing my gaze. Pale skin shone against the dimmed lights. A demon? Without seeing his eyes, I didn’t know for sure. My gaze slipped to the young woman at his side. She stared at the guy with a mixture of adoration and awe. A human, no doubt…one of those supe bangers.
Baldy reached into his jacket as the young vamp moved in on the wolf behind them. The young wolf shoved to his feet and took a step forward, white fangs bared in the dark, eyes blazing with hate and fear—not a good combination.
But the place was crawling with bouncers. Two of them moved in like a pincer, steering the vampires away. Bald guy turned his head at the commotion, and then lifted those infernal black demon eyes to me.
My heart lunged, slamming against the confines of my ribs. I shifted my gaze, fixing on someone else now…anyone else. But my mind was racing.
It was him…the demon from Titus’s sketch.
I reached for my pocket, drawing my phone free as the demon turned back to the woman, handing her what looked like a thick pile of stubs. She leaned in, kissed him on the cheek, and stepped away.
With business done, the ell-owned bastard stepped away. I shoved forward as someone moved across the room. My steps were mirrored, drawing my gaze. It was Mr. Hellfire-eyes himself, head down, long strides cutting between dancers on the packed floor.
There was a panicked gaze in my direction as I surged forward, and, for a second, I saw how fucking drop-dead gorgeous he was. Dark smoldering eyes, tousled, long black hair, and tattoos that marred perfect, milky skin.
His gaze narrowed in on me as a fight broke out. Punches were thrown, screams erupted. I cut across the floor, eyeing the young wolf as I left the hellhound behind and raced after the demon.
The place was too damn dark. I searched for a bald head amongst the ocean of patrons and caught the flare of pale skin to my left.
A guy turned hard, knocking into me and spilling his drink. “Hey,” he barked, looked at the mess over his hand and then lifted his gaze. “Looks like you owe me a drink, gorgeous.”
“In your fucking dreams, dude,” I snarled and kept walking.
Green lit up my hand as I hit the button on my phone and scrolled through the contacts.
Stubborn, snarly male made me enter his number before I left. Just as well…I hit Titus’s number and shoved forward through the growing crowd.
There was a ring on the other end and then a voice, as the music changed into something heavy and damn loud.
“It’s me,” I yelled into the phone. “I’m at a club called Shift, and your demon is here…can you hear me? Titus…you there?”
I yanked the phone away, staring at the screen as someone hit me from behind.
“Hey, bitch!” the guy yelled, moving in between the flash of lights. It was drinks guy…only this time, he was pissed. “I said you owe me a fucking drink.”
The darkness inside me lashed out, like a tendril on a whip, slowing the frenzy of the music…slowing everything. I could see it all. His desires, his hate…his pain, and his need, and that cold, deep-seated need to own. “You don’t want to do this.”
He stilled, heavy breaths raising his chest. Blue eyes narrowed, and then stilled on mine. I knew what he wanted. The same thing everyone in this club wanted…to belong.
“Use me. Hurt me…do anything you want,” he whispered. Need raged in those perfect eyes. “Please.”
But it wasn’t just him…it was everyone…this club, this street, this suburb…the entire fucking world.
And I felt them all. All the need…all the desire, all flooding into me at once.
My knees shook, hands trembled. My phone slipped as I stu
mbled under the weight. So much pain…cruel pain. Consuming pain.
And with that darkness came something else. A knowing…just reach out, whispered a voice inside my head. Reach out and take them. I lowered my gaze to the human standing in front of me, his tortured gaze so damn pathetic.
Hate filled me, hate and hurt and rage. There was a twitch of my power, a summoning that felt cold and savage. His face twisted, blue eyes widened. Terror sparked inside the blue.
I warned you, that voice inside whispered, and yet I felt the words on the tip of my tongue. I could hurt him…really hurt him. I could hurt them all…everyone…everything.
Even Alma…even Titus…and Gabriel.
Panic thundered, severing that darkness inside. Their faces filled me, soft and warm, and I wrenched the touch away, shattering the hold over this human, this street, this suburb…and the world.
A pale blur moved amongst the dancers. I turned, catching the dark, bottomless stare from across the room. The demon watched me, red lips twisting into a cruel smile. He turned from me, heading left…
My damn phone. I dropped my gaze to the floor and then knelt. Red flashed amongst heels and boots. The screen was alight with an incoming call. I surged forward, scurrying on hand and knees, and reached.
A boot kicked the damn thing, sending it left. “Move,” I yelled as my phone was kicked once more, sending it end over end into the dark.
I shoved from the ground and lunged, leaving the phone behind. Sonofabitch was getting away. I prayed Titus heard me, prayed he was on his way, 'cause this demon was damn strong—and fucking big.
I scanned the crowd, punching through the wall of fucking humans and caught sight of a hallway leading off to the left.
“Move,” I growled, twisting at the waist and stepping through the crowd. “Get out of the fucking way.”
Hard lights flashed as the beat changed once more. The intermittent glare was cruel, illuminating the hallway before it was cast in total darkness once more.
I couldn’t let him get away…not now. The music faded the deeper I went, turning once more to lead me further from the dance floor.
