“You’ll have a real chance to make a difference in the lives of kids that aren’t as fortunate as others.”
As it turns out, the promises are not too good to be true. I got accepted into a local community college, and I’ve been working hard to become a teacher ever since. I have a new life now, and I have to say that it’s pretty wonderful to actually be a part of something by your own design.
I should tell you that I’m not dating. There’s just no way that my heart’s ready for that kind of thing. The entire ordeal with Matias and Dale had given me a lot to think about. Once I decide to become involved with another person, I’m going to take it easy. I’m going to really allow things to fruit on their own time. What’s more is that I’m not going to accept a standard type of relationship just because it fits within someone else's agenda for how they want us to live our lives.
That being said, I don’t want to rule anything out without consideration.
When I first met Matias… I mean, when I really met him — there was no way I could have been prepared for the rollercoaster that our lives would become. Everything about that relationship was magical. I remember being bewildered at first, and dealing with a lot of disbelief. The lack of faith that I had for our relationship almost killed it, and I felt really bad about that. I promised myself that the next time someone came across my path, I wasn’t going to jump out at them and start fucking them right away. But… I also wasn’t going to shut my heart out from the possibilities of new love either.
I knew now, that love was something that came from God, and that there are no limits to love. I knew that love was something that connected us beyond our individual lives. I knew that there was a larger purpose for things. Whether or not that larger purpose was just a story that I found myself getting caught up within, in that time of my life — I didn’t feel the need to shun it.
I didn’t feel threatened by God anymore, if that makes sense. Life went on in this way for some time, and I focused on working on myself first. You know the old adage, ‘love yourself first, and then you’ll be ready to love another.’ I was really working on taking that to heart.
One day, my receptivity to love made an interruption in my daily routine. I had just finished up a class on the philosophy of education, and the professor called me up to her desk after class. I was a bit confused, and worried for a moment, because I thought the meeting had something to do with a controversial stance I had taken on the most recent class paper.
“Is this about that last essay…” I began. “Because, I did my best to support that argument. I really did. I put way too much research in and I just wasn’t able to go back to the traditional way of thinking.”
She smiled.
“Your paper was brilliant, and in a way, this is relevant. A lot of the students in this class admire the work that you do, and I think that you hold a lot of promise. I see a bright future for you, but before you get there, I was hoping you could help me out a bit.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, I think I’d like to take you on as an assistant,” she replied. “You’d be spending some extra time each week with me, and we could focus on grading the other student’s homework assignments. You would also do some minor tasks, like preparing curricula by distilling information out of research books — that kind of thing.”
“Wow…” I replied. “I’m glad you think so highly of my work.”
She nodded, non-committal.
“There’s something else that I’d like you to take care of, today, actually — if you have a moment.”
“What’s that?” I asked, “I have some time after this class before the rest of my schedule.”
“Great,” she replied. “There’s a new student. Someone around your age. I was hoping you would be able to show him around the department. Maybe get a sense for any questions he might have about his class schedule, and about the teaching major in general. I know that you’ve put a lot of time in, and I think he’ll benefit from your expertise.”
I was shocked.
“Sure,” I replied.
“Great,” she said, easily.
The door knocked, and the professor looked up at the clock.
“That must be him,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I kind of assumed you’d be available before asking you. It’s just that I have a knack for understanding these types of things about my students. All things being fair, I’m glad you consented.”
The professor walked over and opened up the door to let the new student into the room.
My jaw dropped to the floor.
“A cutie, huh?” the professor replied. “I’m going to step out for a moment, and let you two introduce one another.”
The professor winked and stepped out of the room, but not before offering her last bit of advice.
“Don’t forget to show him the ropes…”
I couldn’t speak.
I tried blinking to change my perspective, but he wouldn’t disappear. I even tried blinking to change my frame of mind, but the man reached out to pull my hands away from my sides. Then he held me.
“The rules have changed now,” he said. “We saved heaven and earth. In exchange, God has given the two of us a unique gift.”
Tears fell out from my eyes, and I buried my face in his chest. When I put my head up to his heart, I could hear it. I could feel the blood pulsing through his body.
“You’re alive!” I cried, sobbing into his button up oxford. “You’re really alive!”
“You have a new guardian angel,” he said, bringing my body closer into his. “And he loves you a lot.”
He smiled and kissed me.
Matias was back for good.
* * *
The End
Join my newsletter:
https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/d5d1w1
Read more from Jae Vogel:
https://www.amazon.com/Jae-Vogel/e/B01EDNENPC/
Skin Deep
A SkinWalker Novel #1
T.G. Ayer
SKIN DEEP – A SKINWALKER NOVEL BOOK 1 © Copyright 2015 T.G.Ayer
* * *
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Skin Deep
Rebel. Vigilante. Alpha. She must find the balance between her two lives before they tear her apart.
* * *
Abandoned by her mother and raised by her aloof Alpha father, panther shifter Kailin Odel has finally found a way to feel like she makes a difference.
Discovering her unique power to track Wraith's, Kailin moonlights as a Hunter - ridding the streets of Chicago of these soul-sucking demons. Her human friends have no idea the supernatural worlds exists alongside theirs. No idea shifter and demons walk in the shadows. And Kai prefers to keep it that way.
Until she discovers the body of a murdered shifter, and is quickly embroiled in a world of supernatural drug-dealing and renegade shifters who leave a trail of blood and mayhem wherever they go.
When Logan Westin, paranormal investigator and super-hot human, begins investigating the murder Kai refuses to allow her feelings to control her. Humans are off-limits, no matter how sizzlingly sexy they are. But can Kai keep him at bay? And does she eve
n want to?
In her quest to find the killer Kai inadvertently puts her friends' life in danger and brings her to the attention of the sadistic shifter killer. Her comfortable life is gone, her friend murdered, and shifters are disappearing around her.
To survive and to save her friends, Kai must allow herself to trust Logan, to give her scarred heart to someone again.
Chapter One
There was a razor-fine line between protector and vigilante, and right now I knew I was skating it blind.
Funny thing was, I didn’t much care.
Tangled nerves sparked liquid fire within my veins. Muscles tightened, knees locked in a solid crouch. The fevered rush was a familiar beast. Moisture filmed my palms, heat simmered in the whorls of my ears. On occasion, even my heart missed a beat or two. Slick palms and a dubious pulse were understandable. Hot ears? Not so much. Grandma Ivy had a theory -- hot ears meant somewhere, someone spoke your name.
Not in a good way either.
If Gran was right -- something I did not doubt -- and my ears were some sort of psychic thought-detector; then I'd bet my twisted Panther DNA it meant some mean-assed Wraith was groaning for my head on a bloody spike. A fair number of those Shades lost in the Ether would have me to thank for their current address. But, as yet, none have dropped by to voice their dissatisfaction.
The rooftop view of Chicago's night sky was glorious. Faint strains of a string quartet wafted from the restaurant below. My mark had not yet arrived. I supported the steel crossbow with strong, steady hands. While its weight was solid, it was also a comfort. So strange when its purpose was to end a life. I crouched on the edge of the rooftop, a mere shadow, invisible in my dark turtleneck and black leather pants. The high-necked sweater was camouflage, hiding the stark truth beneath.
From hairline to lower spine, the skin of my back was imprinted with the tapered, irregular pattern of a Panther's pelt. Very few Walkers have such a Mark. A blessing and a curse, it meant I was special. It also meant growing up in the Colony pretending I didn't hear the snide whispers and envious comments.
Muscles bunched, tensed. I steadied the weapon, balancing it on my knee. A sudden wind gusted around me, tugging at my hair, pulling slim strands free from the thick braid, which hung to my waist. Loosened strands whipped around and stung my cheeks with tiny slaps. The one thing I got from my mother that I could have with me all the time -- thick, midnight hair that sometimes caught my father's eye and cast a grayness over his face. Times when the distance between us felt like miles.
The glittering night was subdued. Silent condemnation? Even the chatter of traffic was a whisper on the air. A powerful engine throbbed below. An old Bentley pulled up to the curb pouring its passengers onto the sidewalk. Two young women, rail thin to the point of skeletal, were draped over their distinguished host, doe-eyed and adoring. I restrained the bitter urge to vomit.
Silver hair, arrogant lines. My target had arrived.
Game on.
The girls tittered and the night air drew the sound to me, crisp and clear. If I'd cocked my ear, I'd have heard the words he uttered to them. But I wasn't interested in anything he had to say.
Enjoy it while you can, you piece of scum. Tonight, I will send your sorry hide back to the Darkness where you belong.
Larson Keyes: Politician, adulterer, wife-beater. King of vices. But none of it mattered - Senator Keyes was already dead. What was contained within the flesh-and-bone shell of the man was NOT a man. Inside the polished exterior, something insidious and gut-wrenchingly evil now lived, had taken slow and deliberate control. Neither the senator, nor his family, would ever know he'd been killed by a Wraith. A possessor of bodies, devourer of souls.
I forced my jaws to unclench -- my teeth hurt.
Sliding the tiny vial into the chamber in the crossbow, I readied the weapon, taking care to keep my fingers clear of the poison-tipped arrow. The diminutive arrow was designed to sink into the creature’s flesh, decreasing the possibility of it being removed. The longer the poison remained, the quicker the death.
I aimed and fired a single silent shot.
Below me, the Wraith clutched his chest. His breath clattered in his throat, Adam's apple bouncing in tempo. His eyes bulged, face caught in a horrible grimace, pulled taut in a gross parody of shock and agony. Screams echoed around him as the large man crumpled to the unforgiving concrete.
The sight of Keyes' now-lifeless body spurred both horrified girls to run in terror. They did not see the dark wispy shadows, which spewed from his mouth. Did not see those shadows writhe and curl and twist away from the body, grey smoky fingers reaching for the tiny rips in the Veil, seeking to escape to the questionable safety of the Dark-World. They should be grateful to be blessed with such blindness. I certainly would have been.
The body of the Host lay discarded. A dried husk of the man smiling and preening mere minutes before. Desiccated skin lay sunken on bones, papery thin and fluttering in the breeze.
I rose, stretched my cramped limbs. I had time to contemplate the blood on my hands. Impossible to avoid the body count. After all, I was a killer. A Wraith-Hunter. But even though it's the Wraith I track and sever from this World, it's the body of the Host I have to terminate.
The same Host who dies soon after the Wraith takes up residence, smothered by an evil blackness which sucks the life from him until what's left is a living shell without a soul. The Host was a lifeless puppet, and it didn't matter. My heart still shattered a little, ached a little each time I lined my target up within the cross hairs of my scope.
Every time I watched a Host die by my hand.
And, after the deed, I was still a killer.
I left the rooftop, stuffing the small crossbow into my backpack, and turned my back on the sirens. As they sang in the distance, I shimmied down the fire escape super-fast. I dared not tempting Fate. It would be difficult to save anyone else from the black clutches of another Wraith if I were stuck in a prison cell. As I jogged away, my body zinged with pride. Then I came crashing down from my temporary high.
I was probably the only one proud of me. Would my father care? Only enough to admonish me, and warn me not to embarrass his precious reputation. Would my mother care? Who knew? I hadn't seen or heard from her in twelve years. Nobody in my family had heard from her since the day she'd walked out on us without so much as a fare thee well.
Heading back to the Rehab Center, I sent a prayer of gratitude to the Lady Ailuros. My job as a trainee drug counselor gave me access to a patient information network, which acted as a grapevine of the abused. One of the ways to sniff out a Wraith. Along with countless other addicts, Senator Keyes daughter Katie had sought secret refuge from his beatings in the euphoria of drugs. Her young, innocent face, so similar to mine. A different world and we could have been friends -- giggled over boys and neoned our hair together. Shared stories of our first kisses.
But reality had a way of keeping that alternate world very well cut off from me. So I had concentrated on helping her.
Wraiths left a residue on their victims. A substance in their breath, which clings to those they came into close contact with. And those they tortured and abused. A substance only I could see. Katie had worn the pale peach tendrils around her in a misty shroud. An almost coral sign akin to a neon arrow.
Wraith marks the spot.
And I wasn’t about to complain. That very residue allowed me to track them, hunt them.
And kill them.
Chapter Two
The door stood open and my supervisor walked back and forth, already arranging the chairs in a cozy circle. Clancy grinned as I entered. “Hello, Miss Tardy,” she teased. I stuck my tongue out at her and stashed my backpack behind the desk.
I always arrived at least thirty minutes early, something she teased me for often enough. Today, despite still being wired from the hunt last night, I was only fifteen minutes early, so technically, she was right and I was late.
I’d headed to the group therapy ses
sion in spite of the dull headache pounding my skull with the feverish tenacity of a jackhammer. Post-assassination stress headache. I blinked the thoughts away and focused.
While these sessions weren’t compulsory for the clients, my attendance was mandatory as far as I was concerned. I’d never missed a session since I started working for the Sandhurst Centre for Rehabilitation—also known as the Rehab Centre.
“You okay?” Clancy’s voice cut through my thoughts and I realized I still stood at the table, stock still.
I nodded. “I’m fine, just a headache.” I squeezed my forehead, trying to massage the throbbing away. The pain had crept up on me, so unbearable now I couldn’t swallow without feeling it pulse in my throat and in my skull.
Clancy tucked her long, dark hair behind her ear and walked over to me, her green eyes narrowing on my face. “Look, take off if you’re not feeling up to it, okay? Go home and sleep it off.”
I shook my head and regretted it immediately as a sudden throb gripped my head in an agonizing vice. Swallowing a groan I said, “No, really, I’ll manage.”
“Alright. But you look like crap. What will our kids think?”
A giggle escaped my lips. “Yes, Ms. McBride. I’ll put on a happy face for the kids,” I answered, my voice still dry but filled with laughter.
Clancy grinned and rummaged through the desk, rearranging paperwork, her hair hiding her features. Our coloring—hair, eyes, even skin tone—was so similar many people assumed we were related. I took it as a compliment. Despite being Human, Clancy embodied everything I wanted in a friend and mentor. And she always had my back.
But she didn’t know I wasn’t Human. And I had no intention of finding out how she would react to my true identity. What would she think if she knew her bright young counselor was a Panther shapeshifter? Humans weren’t known for their acceptance of the unknown and I wanted our relationship to remain just the way it was.
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 311
