Broken Heart Tails (Broken Heart Vampires)

by Michele Bardsley

  “I really don’t think you understand,” persisted the errand boy. “You should think twice about going against the Convocation.”

  “I really don’t think you understand.” Ash threw the words back at him. “I don’t give a shit about the Convocation. They’re liars, thieves, and jerk-offs.” Ash pointed at him and blue light danced around her fingertip. The man stumbled backward, his eyes wide. “Maybe you should remember who I am … and what I can do.”

  * * * * *

  Ash gripped the doorknob of her hotel room. This joint was so ancient and so broken down that the owners hadn’t bothered switching to a card-key system. She liked the old-fashioned brass key rattling in the lock.

  “Ash the Destroyer.”

  Shit. Whoever-this-was had followed her from the bar, invisible to most, but not to Ash. No one was able to get under her radar. She leaned her forehead against the wood door. Paint flaked off and drifted to the concrete. “I’m so not in the mood to kill you.”

  “Terrific,” said the same Irish voice of a female. “I’m not in the mood to die.”

  Sighing, Ash turned and looked down at the tiny woman standing next to her. The top of her head barely reached Ash’s hip. She had a ton of red, curly hair, creamy skin, and eyes as green as summer grass. She wore Converse sneakers, faded jeans, and a T-shirt touting ‘Van Halen Rules.’

  “What are you? A midget?”

  “If’n I was, I surely wouldn’t like your terminology. Don’t you know that humans with dwarfism like to be called ‘little people’?”

  Being politically correct was the least of Ash’s worries. “You’re not human.”

  “Thank Brigid for that! I’m a fairy, thank you very much.”

  “What the hell is a fairy doing in Oklahoma?”

  She stared up at Ash unflinchingly. “I’m lookin’ for you.”

  Terrific. Ash unlocked the door and swung it open. “Go away.”

  “Faith and begorrah! You’re a hard one, aren’t you?”

  The woman touched Ash’s elbow. “I heard you went freelance.”

  Ash gave her points for daring to touch her. She looked down. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Word gets around. Not every day that the Convocation’s number-one enforcer tells ‘em to go take a flyin’ leap.”

  Ash barely stopped her grin, but the fairy was watching her too closely. She put out her tiny hand. “I’m Jak.”

  “Jack?” Memory flickered. The terrier sprinting across the backyard, red tongue lolling as he chased after the stick she’d thrown. It was the only trick he’d ever learned. Damn dog.

  “J-A-K. The fairy language is complicated and confuses most humans. My fairy name is longer than you are tall. So, Jak it is. Are you goin’ to invite me in?”

  “Whatever.” Ash went into the hotel room. She flicked on the light, which cast a dim, yellow glow from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling.

  The room didn’t boast any amenities. Hell, not even the antiquated television sitting on the dresser worked. The twin bed was hard as rock. The chair in the corner had stuffing popping out of several tears.

  “Is this where you live then?”

  “I don’t live anywhere,” said Ash, staring at Jak. “How the hell did you find me in Tulsa?”

  “People pay attention, especially to one such as you. You lived in this city once, did you not?”

  “That’s your business how?”

  The fairy wasn’t offended. She perched on the edge of the ugly chair. “Why don’t you settle down somewhere and open a business?”

  Ash’s Ass Kickers. Hmm. Had a nice ring to it. She shook her head, bemused at her silly thoughts. “Settling down is too dangerous.”

  “Only if you don’t know how to guard yourself.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” Ash took off her jacket and tossed it onto the bed.

  Jak examined her black, skin-tight pants tucked into sturdy black boots and her pink tank top. Some assassins, most with a fetish for black clothing, didn’t appreciate her pension for bright colors. Hey, she might kick ass for a living, but she was still a girl.

  “I recognize Bernie’s work. Not many people get to wear his creations.” Her gaze flicked to the jacket. “Did he make that, too?”

  Ash shrugged. Jak had a keen eye. All of Ash’s clothes were specially made by her friend and literal fashion wizard Bernie. He knew how to make magical materials that wouldn’t cut, burn, tear, or restrict. The jacket was one-of-a-kind. One of its most useful elements was its dozen pockets. She could hide anything, huge or tiny, in them. They all offered endless storage and the cloth stretched to accommodate just about any object.

  Ash sat on the corner of the bed. “What do you want?”

  “I want to do you a favor.” Jak’s gaze flitted around the terrible room. She picked at a thread on her jeans. The woman’s nervousness was so great that it filtered through Ash’s psychic shields. Jak played a good game, but nobody who liked living was completely unafraid of Ash. It was one thing to die. It was quite another to have your essence stolen and then stored inside a being with the ability to assume your form. For creatures unfortunate enough to be absorbed by Ash, there was no afterlife.

  “Have you ever taken the soul of a fairy?”

  “Yes.” Ash felt a flicker of guilt, but she got over it. Most people born on the Earth got to choose what kind of lives they had. They went to school or traveled or took jobs and raised families. They worried about things like love and happiness and loss and sorrow. But for those few who were like Ash, there was never a choice. Sometimes, you were born into your destiny.

  She couldn’t change the fact that she was a soul shifter. But she had finally realized she could change who she worked for and how she lived the rest of her life. She would never have a family or a husband or a 9-to-5 job. She would never be normal, never be anything other than what she’d been born. But how she used her gift was no longer controlled by the Convocation. She was free.

  Jak pursed her lips. “I like to think that you took those who needed taken. That maybe the Convocation’s mission to keep the balance meant that you prevailed over evil.” Her gaze met Ash’s. “But that’s probably not true, is it? If’n it was, why leave the service of those watching over the magic in this world?”

  “That’s an excellent question. Keep pondering it.” Ash really wasn’t in the mood to play conversational ping-pong. Still, Jak’s comments made her think about her old job. Maintaining the balance worked both ways. It wasn’t very often that Ash had been sent to take down beings on the side of good. But whoever the Convocation marked, Ash took down—good or bad.

  Jak watched Ash as if she could determine what kind of thoughts were bouncing around in her head. The fairy nodded, as if she’d made a decision. “There are those among us that would like to see you dead. Now that you’re not under the protection of the Convocation, you’re fair game.”

  “I appreciate the warning.” Ash felt herself softening. Always a mistake to feel comradery. Still. “Why did you seek me out, Jak?”

  “I told you. I offer you a favor.”

  “And what do you want in return?”

  “A favor, o’ course.” Jak spread arms in a gesture of pleading.

  Fairy wishes were fool’s gold. Wish for a million dollars, and they’d take it from the nearest bank. Rich for a day; in prison for life. Owing a fairy a favor … that was much worse.

  “A favor for a favor,” said Jak. “Mine is that I tell you where to find a dragon.”

  Ash’s brows rose. “Yeah, right.”

  Jak’s gaze was as innocent as a babe’s. “I heard you killed the last one.”

  Was that the only thing that impressed Otherkin these days? Technically, Ash had a little help taking down Synd. The dark mage was dead, except his soul was missing. And not because Ash took it. It was gone before she killed him. And she happened to know there were a few dragons left, even though the world thought them gone forever.

  “Thi
s is a full dragon, not some hybrid or some dude with diluted dragon blood?”

  “Full, I swear.” Her eyes were bright.

  Ash considered Jak’s proposal. The problem with being a soul shifter, other than being the only one in existence, was that once she imbibed her first living essence, she had to take a soul every ninety days. She could take more, but not less, otherwise, she degenerated. She was immortal in the sense that she could live forever. But she was not indestructible. She could be killed.

  Long ago, there had been more soul shifters. Their need to take essences and their ability to assume the forms of those whose souls were devoured absolutely terrified sentient beings. They’d been deemed evil by human and Otherkin alike and hunted to extinction.

  Her existence was an anomaly. Unless you believed in prophecy.

  “It is said that the soul of a dragon could sustain you for the next hundred years.” A smile played over Jak’s bow-shaped mouth. “You’d be well and truly free of the Convocation.”

  For a while. And wouldn’t they hate that? She was valuable so long as she needed to consume souls. If she had true freedom, however limited, from her curse, the Convocation would put a helluva lot more effort into killing her.

  Did the Convocation know about the dragon? If so, his life was forfeit, if not by her, then by them. They’d kill the every dragon to keep her in line, just like they’d led the unfortunate skinwalker to her door. Had they cared she was only sixteen and hadn’t known her true nature?

  Hell, no.

  Her gaze strayed to Jak, who waited patiently. Fairies weren’t liars, but they knew how to bend the truth. They knew how to tempt the desperate.

  “He’s alive?” asked Ash. “Not stuck in a museum somewhere mislabeled as a dinosaur?”

  “Of course, he’s alive.” Jak looked scandalized. “Your word is your bond, soul shifter. Everyone knows that you never break a promise. Do we have a deal?”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what favor you want,” said Ash.

  “Not yet,” said Jak.

  The fairy wanted Ash to owe her. Hmm. Maybe she couldn’t control the favor, but she could control certain aspects.

  “I will only agree if you ask your favor within 30 days.”

  “Aye.”

  Jak agreed far too quickly, which made Ash wary. Bartering with the devil was probably safer, but what the hell. “Deal. Where’s the dragon?”

  “In Las Vegas. His name is Ryan Jin. He just opened the hottest joint on the Strip—the Black Dragon Resort and Casino.”

  “Wow. Way to hide.” A dragon touting his existence. Was he suicidal? Why hadn’t the Convocation captured him? Maybe they tried and failed. They would never send her to do the deed. They wouldn’t want her getting hold of a dragon soul. She wondered how long they’d known about this dragon. Bastards.

  Jak slid off the chair. “Vegas would be a good place for you. Lots of magical folk live there. You could settle down and open a detective agency.”

  “I’m not a detective.”

  Jak shrugged. She dug into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a shiny green rock. “Here.”

  Ash took the rock and examined it. Then she looked at Jak. “This is your idea of a phone?”

  “You hold it and say my name. I’ll know where you are.”

  Duh. Jak would know where Ash was as long as the rock was on Ash’s person. She knew a beacon when she saw one. She placed it on the bed. “Are we done?”

  “Not yet, soul shifter. I’ll be back soon for me favor.” Jak knew when to make an exit. In a shower of purple sparkles, she disappeared.

  Ash sighed, and looked at the green stone.

  Fucking fairies.

  * * * * *

  Ash pulled into the gravel driveway and let the Mercedes idle. The house was abandoned, the yard unkempt, the metal fence rusted and broken. Honeysuckle bushes were thick around the listing gate. In the backyard, weeds poked up through the high grass. Somewhere in that mess were the remains of Jack’s doghouse.

  Here was where her life had ended. The life she would give almost anything to have again.

  Two weeks ago, she’d told the guardians to go screw themselves. Even then, in the back of her mind, she knew she was coming back to Tulsa. Only to put off, day after day, what she’d come here to do.

  She’d never been back. At first, she wasn’t allowed to do anything but train. Weapons. Martial arts. Magic rites. Learning how to kick ass had given her focus, a way to work out her grief and her rage. Her first jobs had short leashes held by iron-fisted chaperones. After a while, the Convocation trusted her to go into the world, to do her job, on her own.

  Ash shut off the Mercedes and shoved the passenger door open. What had she hoped to find here? Answers? Redemption? Hope?

  I’m so pathetic.

  She rounded the front of the car and walked to the gate. It was falling off its hinges. Honeysuckle wound through metal loops, reaching toward her like victims reciting last prayers. The sweet scent of the flowers made her nauseous. Staring at them, she drifted back to that night so long ago…

  The sweet scent of honeysuckle wafted from the vines entwining the metal fence. She leaned down and tugged off a yellow blossom. Gently she pinched the stamen and withdrew it, licking away the pearl of nectar on its end.

  Her mother had taught her how to do that.

  Guilt crimped her stomach. She looked at the desecrated flower and wished she hadn’t plucked it, hadn’t stolen its honey. The yellow petals were already browning and curling inward. Sighing, she tossed it to the ground.

  “That house is haunted.”

  Ash whirled around whipping out her hip daggers. The poisoned tips of the blades hovered above the head of the one who’d crept up on her.

  “Are those real?” The little girl’s sky-blue eyes were as wide as saucers. “Can I touch one?”

  “No.” Ash slid the daggers into their holsters. “Don’t you know that sneaking up on people can get you killed?”

  “It hasn’t yet.” The girl was dressed in overalls and a yellow shirt. Her feet were bare. Her brown hair was a rat’s nest with twigs sticking out of it. The overalls were dirty, too. Cobwebs were stuck to her shoulders. “You gonna buy that house?”

  “No.” Ash looked her over speculatively. “What were you doing inside it?”

  “I’m not allowed to play here.”

  It wasn’t a denial. Well, goddamn. Ash was trying to work up the nerve to go inside the home she’d lived in for nearly sixteen years and this little sprite was visiting it regularly. She made Ash feel like a coward.

  “I bet you’re not afraid of anything,” said the girl.

  “You’d lose that bet.” Ash stuck out her hand. “Call me Ash.”

  “That’s a weird name.” She grabbed Ash’s hand and pumped it. “Margaret Lynne Huntson.”

  Huntson? Looked like her past knew she was arriving and had thrown a party. “Is your father named Rick?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  He almost kissed me. I almost fell in love with him. “No,” she said. “I don’t know your daddy. I’m a good guesser.”

  Margaret Lynne Huntson considered this possibility. Then she peered up Ash suspiciously. “What’s my mommy’s name?”

  “Maggie?”

  Margaret’s gaze re-evaluated Ash’s intelligence. “You’re not a good guesser. You’re just lucky.”

  Wrong again, kid. If life had been different, this might be her little girl. No. Rick was never meant to be hers. The Convocation had made damned sure she would embrace her so-called destiny.

  “My birthday was yesterday,” confided Margaret. “I’m officially seven years old.”

  “That’s fascinating. Hey! Isn’t it almost dinner time?”

  “Nope. You look like my Rock n’ Roll Barbie, only she has better hair.”

  “Oh, yeah? Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  But Margaret was bored with hairstyle insults. She chewed on her thumb
. “What’re you doing here?”

  Oh, for the love of humanity. Why couldn’t this kid just go away? “Ever hear of the Ghostbusters?”

  “Ghostbusters don’t wear pink.”

  “I do.” Ash squatted down and got eye-to-eye with her. “Do you know why this house is haunted?”

  The girl’s eyes flickered. Once again, Ash felt like she was being judged. “Daddy says a girl lived here. Her name was Natasha. A bad man killed her parents and took her away.” She tilted her head. Dirt was smeared under her chin. “Do you think he killed Natasha, too?”

  “Yes,” said Ash. “He did.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Her declaration startled Ash. “So, are you gonna talk to the ghost lady?”

  “What lady?”

  “She’s in there. Sometimes, she calls me Tashie. I don’t think she’s mean,” said Margaret. “Just sad.” She ran to the fence and pulled off a honeysuckle blossom. “Hey, do you know how to get the honey?”

  Ash’s stomach squeezed. “Why don’t you show me?”

  “You just take this part out, very carefully.” Margaret gently tugged the stamen out and showed it to Ash. “Then you lick it.” Her little pink tongue darted across the fuzzy end. “Do you want to try?”

  “Maybe later.”

  Margaret rolled her eyes. “That’s what grown-ups say when they mean no.” She tossed the flower to the ground. “I gotta go home now.”

  Ash watched her run down the driveway and wondered how her bare feet could take the biting abuse of the gravel. She crossed the street and pivoted right, skipping down the sidewalk.

  She was walking in the direction of Rick’s old house. Three blocks up, two blocks to the right, and one block left. Did he still live there? Or had he just moved into the same neighborhood? Oh, hell. Why did she care?

  Her gaze caught the discarded flower. Then she looked at the house.

  It was time to face her ghosts.

  * * * * *

  The furniture was gone. Ash didn’t know why she thought it would all be here, dusty and disused maybe, but in place. In some part of her mind, she’d believed everything would be the same. She had wanted her memories to be intact. She wanted confirmation that she had once been normal, sane.