by Zoe Perdita
Well, that and drinking.
Unlike Ken, Davis didn’t lecture Tyler about lung cancer as he slipped outside and sipped his coffee with a lit cigarette between his lips. Davis only interrupted him when it was time to leave, and Tyler went.
He knew he needed the meetings – they were the one place he didn’t feel like a total lying fraud. He could tell the group whatever, no judgment and all that bullshit. So many stories were worse than his.
People lost their families and their kids. Sold everything for one last hit. Ended up with incurable diseases or other medical complications that would follow them the rest of their lives. All in all, he got out of heroin addiction virtually unscathed. Being a shifter helped him heal, and he hadn’t ended up homeless or a whore either.
Small miracles and all.
Davis hummed along to the radio and asked if Tyler ate the meatballs. It was stuff their mom would’ve said, and he answered with gritted teeth.
When they finally stopped at the community center at the edge of the Flats, Tyler climbed out of the car as fast as he could. The parking lot was almost totally empty, and the signs of new construction were evident all over the place – with shops opening and several new apartment buildings going up.
“You’re trying too hard,” Tyler grumbled.
Davis blinked. “To what? Help you?”
Tyler shrugged.
As far as he was concerned, Davis abandoned them fifteen years ago. He wasn’t ready to be buddy buddy again, not after the shit he’d gone through. But if what Ken said was true, and Davis just wanted to help—shit.
Tyler could use just one thing at the moment. Still, asking Davis was like pulling out his own claws with his teeth.
Fucking painful.
Tyler took a deep breath. “If you want to help, I need to talk to Jin Yue. And not about drugs or anything like that. Just a meeting. It’s important, but I can’t tell you why. Not yet.”
Davis studied him for a long moment, and it felt a lot like looking in a mirror of himself – a mirror of what might’ve been. “You promise this isn’t illegal?”
Tyler’s shoulders slumped. “Not entirely. Well, the only person who might get hurt deserves it. I—if I told you more than that you’d think I was crazy, but I’m not.”
Davis rubbed the spot between his eyes and nodded. “I’ll try. It’s not like I talk to Jin all the time. He’s busy with his other businesses. Isn’t your friend Rory his mate or something?”
“Yeah, but I doubt he’d introduce me. I don’t need long. Ten minutes at most.”
“Okay,” Davis said with a slight smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
As Tyler stalked away, his heart lodged in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t swallow it. At least Davis didn’t follow him because that would’ve made it worse.
He didn’t need to see Jin Yue to ask the Dragon to free Quinn—that wasn’t going to happen now that Tyler made his bargain. But he did need to know where the Montgomery family home was, and the most likely candidate for that was the only shifter with a house at Lake Orlando.
At least, Rory said that’s where Jin lived part of the time.
The gentle patter of rain fell as he entered the building. Spring in Haven was always like that – wet and cold – even though the day started with clear skies and sunshine. All those angry gray clouds in the distance might as well have gathered inside him.
The meeting proceeded as usual. Tyler’s eyes wandered from the yellowing walls to the curling linoleum in order to avoid looking directly at anyone as they recounted their last few days dealing with life. Most of them sounded a lot better than his last few days.
While NA helped, it was better if the members of his group weren’t his friends in the long run. Getting too close to former addicts was a bad idea. What if they relapsed? Or he did? It was easier to keep them all at arms length and avoid the eventual pain.
Yet here he was willing to pull a stranger close to him. Willing to put his neck out and piss off a light mage just to help someone he hardly knew. And the thought of Quinn knowing about that side of him—the weak, sick side that dreamed of getting high one last time—formed a hole in his belly.
Well, Tyler wouldn’t tell Quinn.
Easy enough.
I can give you whatever you want.
Tyler frowned. He said he didn’t know what he wanted, but what if he did and he didn’t want to admit it?
“Does anyone have something else to share?” Sue asked. She was the group leader, another person with a tragic backstory that Tyler knew all too well.
He hadn’t planned on sharing, but his hand snaked up before he could stop it.
“Tyler,” she said and smiled.
Twenty sets of curious eyes turned toward him, and Tyler stared at his hands gripped tightly in his lap. His jeans had a hole in the thigh, and he fought the urge to poke at it. The words came out before he could stop them, like that time he knocked over a pitcher of lemonade at the school picnic and everybody watched helplessly as it spilled onto the ground.
“I met someone. And he needs my help. I mean, I might be the only one who can help him, and I want to because he’s. . . different. Fuck! I don’t know how. But I know I have to try.”
For once, Davis actually came through.
Tyler’d been in the Dragon’s building a few times, but he’d always gone down into the casino and never up to the skyscraper portion. This time, a tiger shifter led him through the elegant hallway filled with marble columns and golden dragon statues and up the elevator. She didn’t say anything, but she did nod at him when the doors opened and her mouth twitched into a slight smile.
That didn’t do much to calm the sick worry raging inside Tyler at the moment. Not to mention he was facing the Dragon, and he should be trying to figure out what to say but his brain just kept screaming that Quinn was in trouble.
Shit.
The room was dark. The only light that filtered in the window came from the red glow of Chinatown below them. The Dragon sat in a chair facing Tyler, his eyes golden and bright.
Tyler’s gut clenched.
“Did you come to tell me about the shifter being held by that Montgomery bastard too?” Jin Yue rumbled from the darkness.
Tyler scowled.
Jin already knew about Quinn’s predicament?
“Yeah. Actually, I just wanted to know where the Montgomery house was. That’s it. Quinn’s not your problem.”
“But he is yours? Funny. An associate of mine said you were looking to free him and invoked my name. Did you get Bradley to piss his pants by thinking a dragon might light on his house too?” Jin said and chuckled.
Tyler wished Jin turned on a goddamn light like a normal person. “Rory told you?”
That didn’t get an answer, and Tyler tightened his hands into fists. He sucked in a breath and smelled the scent of wet rocks and scales mixed with a slightly spicy alcohol he couldn't place. Weren’t dragons supposed to smell hot?
“Can you tell me where his house is or not?”
“What do I get out of it?” Jin asked and ice clinked in a glass.
The alpha wanted to rip free, and now this asshole had to test his already thin patience. “Nothing. I just—fuck it!”
The Dragon laughed, and Tyler expected something painful to happen.
Instead, Jin spoke. “I only want one thing, and I think you’ll do it regardless. Get rid of Bradley Montgomery. His magic reeks, and his house is covered in so many spells it’s an embarrassment to the entire neighborhood.”
“You want me to kill him?” Tyler breathed and his fists loosened. He could do it, and he knew that. Snapping that bastard’s neck would be way too easy, but what about what happened afterward?
Detective Sharp told him not to kill anyone, and if Bradley died suddenly, the cops would suspect him. Not to mention how disappointed Ken and Cage would be if Tyler got arrested for murder. Even Davis would be rightfully pissed.
Plus, there
was no saying Bradley’s death would break the spell.
“I honestly don’t care how you do it,” Jin said. “I’ll even add in a little bonus. Half off your rent for both the shop and your apartment as long as you live there. How’s that for incentive?”
Tyler’s lip curled. He knew Jin Yue had something to do with his new place, even if Davis would never admit it. Fucking typical. Still, it didn’t matter at the moment, and a reduction in his rent was good, but—
“How about I pay half rent for a year and get the title too. I want to own the place, and I think you’re my landlord.”
He caught the glint of fangs in the darkness, and Tyler bared his own. He might be no match for a dragon, but he wasn’t about to cower in front of one even if he should.
“You think I should give you prime real estate for a fraction of the price for something you’re probably going to do anyway? You’ve got balls, alpha,” Jin said, his voice rich and deep.
“I wasn’t planning on killing anyone,” Tyler said and wished his damn mouth didn’t dry out like that.
It’d be easy (as long as he got past the magic), sure, but how the hell would he feel afterwards? Ken would never look at him the same way. And Cage. . . . Davis. . . . Tyler shoved that from his mind and focused on Quinn.
He’s the one who needed help.
“Deal. But that means whatever you do you can’t get caught. And don’t tell Rory. He doesn’t like the darker side of my business dealings. I’m sure you understand that well, Mr. Harrison. You lived in the dark for a long time, didn’t you?”
Tyler cleared his throat. He wasn’t about to ask how Jin Yue knew that. The Dragon probably knew every damn thing about him. Plus, he was right. The darkness of Tyler’s addiction crowded his brain and body for years. “Yeah.”
Now he looked forward to living in the light.
When Tyler left the Dragon casino, he had the address for the Montgomery house tucked into his pocket, including how to see it when it didn’t want to be seen (the instructions didn’t make a lot of sense, but Jin said to follow them exactly and that it was some kind of misdirection magic that warlocks used).
He didn’t ask how a dragon knew that.
Damn. Maybe Quinn should’ve asked Jin to break the spell. He’d probably have figured it out by now.
On Tyler’s way home he caught the sting of silver on the air. It mingled with the clean scent of rain, but it was distinct enough to catch his attention.
He turned and spotted a group of three guys around his age, hanging out across the street. They leaned against the concrete barricade above the river, and one of them caught his eye and held it.
They looked more like delinquents than hunters, but Tyler eyed them warily as he stepped into his shop.
When he glanced again, they were gone.
7
Bradley usually didn’t get visitors at home, so when the doorbell chimed on Saturday afternoon, Quinn perked up from the springy couch in the library and peeked out of the window at the front lawn.
An inconspicuous blue car was pulled into the driveway, past the large iron gates, and parked at a jaunty angle. While a magical barrier surrounded the house to keep Quinn inside the bounds, it didn’t seem to affect members of the old families – the prominent magical users who ran in Haven’s high society. Quinn read they were the ancestors of Haven City’s original founders, though he didn’t see what was so special about that.
However, the car wasn’t ostentatious enough to belong to anyone who knew Bradley well.
His curiosity piqued, Quinn slipped out of the library and down the hall. He was given almost total free run of the prison most of the time, unless Bradley was in a particularly bad mood. Then he’d lock Quinn in the basement for a while, sometimes days, and those were the worst. There wasn’t much to do in that room surrounded by damp bricks and the oppressive sensation of earth piled above his head.
Lately, Bradley had been away from the house more than he’d been home, though he was here today. Except for Merci, the cook and the maid who cleaned twice a week, no one else came to the house regularly. Especially since Dick Hayward stopped his frequent visits after his family home burned down. Bradley didn’t want to have anything to do with the scandal that erupted in the wake of that disaster.
By the time Quinn got to the landing, he heard the doorbell chime a second time, and Bradley himself stalked across the gleaming hardwood entryway to answer it. His shoes clacked against the floor, and Quinn pressed himself into the shadows of the upper landing to see who it was.
His heart jumped into his throat as Bradley huffed and turned the handle. What if it was Tyler? What would Quinn do? Or Bradley himself?
Though, that thought was quickly squashed when a man with hair nearly as pale as Quinn’s own stepped inside. Even through Bradley’s fetid stench, Quinn caught the hint of magic on the air—spice mixed with the warmth of burning leaves. The man smelled like autumn, and Quinn had no clue what kind of magic that was.
“Brad! It’s been a long time,” the man said and his eyes wandered around the hall as he slid past Bradley’s arm.
“Seth,” Bradley said, his voice dropped low. From that angle Quinn could just make out the frown on Bradley’s lips. “What are you doing here?”
“This place hasn’t changed at all,” Seth said and whistled. He gazed up at the landing where Quinn hid, and for a moment Quinn swore the man saw him. His eyes were a bright shade of violet.
That meant he was a seer.
Interesting.
Quinn had read about them, and he remembered a young girl and boy who used to come to the house. They were also seers though that was years ago now. Perhaps this was that boy.
Quinn hardly remembered him since he hadn’t been allowed to play with the other children much on account of his ‘condition.’
Bradley blocked Seth’s way and crossed his arms. He was taller than the seer, though not domineeringly so. “What are you doing?”
“Nat just told me about your father, and I thought I’d pay my respects. I remember playing here when we were kids. Your nanny watched us sometimes,” Seth said.
Bradley’s eyes narrowed, and Quinn fought the urge to sneak closer or waltz down the stairs and make a scene. If he did that, his small piece of freedom would be undoubtedly snatched away. “I haven’t spoken to Natalie in years. She didn’t even attend the funeral. Why are you really here?”
Seth smiled and reached out his hand, which Bradley shrunk from as if Seth were a leper. “I told you. Nostalgia. Didn’t you used to have an adopted brother? What was his name?”
Quinn’s heart beat faster. That seer was looking for him! Did Tyler have something to do with this? No one else cared about Quinn’s enslavement, so that was the only explanation.
“Get out,” Bradley snarled and pointed at the door.
“Was it Quinn?” Seth said, ignoring Bradley’s order and moving toward the stairs. “I think that was his name. Does he still live here?”
“That’s none of your business,” Bradley said and moved to block Seth.
“So he does live here.”
Bradley didn’t answer, and Quinn balled his hands into tight fists.
Finally, Bradley let out a long breath. “He was committed after my father died. I have no legal reason to tell you where. He’s ill and a danger to himself, if you must know. Now get out before I call the police.”
Seth smiled thinly. “I am the police, Brad. But I’ll go. Nice to see you again,” he said and cast one last look at Quinn in the shadows before he stepped outside.
Bradley watched from the door as the car rumbled away.
Quinn didn’t move until Bradley stalked back to wherever he’d been, probably his study.
While the gesture was nice, the police couldn’t help. Only someone who broke the spell could do that.
By the time Thursday afternoon wound around, it felt like a year had gone by.
Quinn spent those two days pacing the vastly oversized
Montgomery manor and using what little access he had to the outside world (his Internet usage was restricted to two hours a day, and he’d never mastered typing quickly) to find out what he could about Tyler.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much besides a link to his tattoo shop’s website with examples of his work and the phone number. Quinn thought about calling that number a hundred times, but if he did Bradley might find some excuse not to let him go back to the meeting.
It had been so long since he hadn’t had to ask permission to do things, he wondered what it would be like to actually be free. The twinge of pride in the back of his mind, the bit that never let him crumple under the Montgomery family’s rule, told Quinn he’d do well. He’d be able to get his long served revenge on those who imprisoned him.
Would he fall into the trap of his kind, like Montgomery senior warned? The man said it a lot back then – how evil Quinn was. How necessary it was to keep his power under control. Siphon it off for everyone’s safety.
The urge to do what his nature wanted him to do was irresistibly strong at times, and he saw no reason to hold back. His magic dealt in the truth, and if the one receiving it couldn’t handle the revelation, that had little to do with him.
Still, Quinn learned long ago to keep those kinds of thoughts to himself.
He also looked up Jin Yue, since it seemed important if the mere utterance of that name frightened Bradley. All Quinn found were a few articles about Jin’s businesses in Chinatown and the Flats, which told him absolutely nothing of any substance.
So Quinn asked Merci, and her eyes widened.
“He’s a dragon,” she hissed under her breath. She was the only person who spoke to Quinn regularly, besides Bradley himself.
Quinn sighed. “That’s not so impressive. Dragons lost their magic ages ago.”
Merci scrunched her cheeks and eyed him dubiously. “Magic? Shifters aren’t magic. Did one of those books tell you that?”
