Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  “Come and get me, hairy beasts.” I widened my stance, keeping all three men in sight. One more blink and they were on me. Too many limbs. Too quick. I loosed the fiery rage on them anyway. My knuckles cracked against a nose. In return, a fist rammed into my left eye, swelling the lid shut in seconds.

  After that, I began to enjoy the pain. Sweet, savory pain. A rib snapped and the world went black. The itch to fix what was broken hummed beneath my skin. I smothered the feeling. With my one good eye, I blinked the darkness away. Not yet. I didn’t deserve peace yet. My foot lashed out and dislocated a kneecap—the crunch of shifting cartilage rang in my ears.

  Gaia, that felt good.

  Two of the men trounced me, wrestling my arms behind my back. A kick to the back of my knee drove me to the crumbling asphalt. “Strip him naked,” one of them said. “We’ll tie him up and make an example out of him. No one cheats in the cage fights.”

  A stab of panic pierced my chest. I could endure any form of physical torture but that. Anything but that. I whipped my head back and connected with a groin, almost wincing when the man let out a weak whimper. With a yank, I freed my arms and rolled away. But not fast enough. A steel-toed boot struck my cheekbone.

  The pain was exquisite but way too distracting. I tasted copper on my tongue. I couldn’t see anymore. Groaning, I rolled again and a foot stomped on my spine. “Take his pants off while I’ve got him pinned like the cockroach he is.”

  That’s when I lost control of the anger. Rage burned so hot, so intensely, it consumed me completely.

  I blacked out.

  I took a long drag from my cigarette. Held my breath. Exhaled.

  White smoke rose in front of me, a soft cloud that curled and twisted into the night air. A chill shivered up my spine, the alley’s brick wall cold against my back. My nose wrinkled, the burnt scent mingling with the pungent odor of trash from a pair of dumpsters wedged against the far wall of the dead-end street.

  My attention was focused on the slender girl in front of me. I hummed softly, a tune I didn’t quite remember the name of, spinning a lock of blue hair around my finger as I watched her work. I didn’t make a habit of standing in grungy alleys—Nevaeh liked to slap graffiti all over the rundown walls in the slums of Nathra City. Especially when I was on patrol.

  Nevaeh’s work was masterful, though. I loved watching her paint. My best friend didn’t only illustrate walls; she was a talented sketch artist and she had done all of my tattoo work. Unfortunately, she didn’t want to make a career of her talent. I had offered to give her the startup funds, to open a shop or to take art classes if she wanted.

  “I don’t want to paint for money,” she had said. “This world is too dark already. I want to add some beauty to it.”

  I couldn’t blame her. Still. Her skill was undeniable.

  With a heavy sigh I tapped my cigarette, shaking free the ashes gathering on the end. Nevaeh’s brush paused over the rough stone as she shoved strands of long, lavender hair from her eyes. Her illustration was little more than an outline at the moment, a large snake slowly taking form. He was less intricate than most of her other designs, likely an homage to some shifter conquest of hers. I envied her ability to stay detached. Maybe it was because she had a rule against kissing them—a form of shifter intimacy that was for more than casual hookups.

  Nevaeh only did what made her happy, end of story. I had never quite managed that level of aloof iciness. When I found someone interesting, I latched on hard and fast. Every time.

  Which was why I was standing in a dark alley in the middle of the night, watching my only friend paint yet another mural on the wall. I had long ago given up hope that people wouldn’t disappoint me. Nevaeh was the exception.

  My gaze snagged on her outfit, an almost identical copy of my own—tiny black jean shorts, fishnets too torn to be new, and a vintage t-shirt cut down to a crop top. The only real difference was the black and white canvas shoes on her feet.

  As if she could feel my scrutiny, Nevaeh turned where she squatted and leaned back onto her heels.

  “You don’t have to stay, you know.” She grinned, blowing a giant bubble with her gum before nodding pointedly at the pile of cigarette butts at my feet. “You’re going to burn through a week's pay at that rate.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mordecai pays me excessively. Might as well treat myself.”

  “Yeah, to lung cancer.”

  “Beats living under his thumb the rest of my life.” I glanced around the alley. “I suppose I should do something tonight.”

  “You are doing something. You’re watching me work and keeping this alley safe.”

  “And failing.” I waved my cigarette at her art. “You’re defacing the wall.”

  “I call it improving.” Nevaeh huffed, loosening a band from her wrist and looping her hair into a bun. Even in the dim light from the street lamps her silver and brown eyes sparkled with glee.

  Truthfully, I should have stopped her. I had been told by Mordecai to find the artist responsible for “vandalizing” his city and report them. But who was I to step in? My Enforcer position had very few perks. Not reporting my best friend was certainly one of them.

  I dropped the last bit of my cigarette to the ground, stomping out the orange ember with the toe of my slick black combat boot. Stars glittered in the sky above us; brighter here, toward the Fae district. We couldn’t see them at all in the main shifter areas.

  Pressure tickled along my spine—my wings threatening to break free, daring me to shift, telling me to go find trouble instead of waiting for trouble to find me. Not yet. I didn’t really feel like patrolling tonight. Mordecai trusted me at least enough that as long as the night stayed quiet, I could do absolutely nothing if I wanted.

  Unless Alec told him.

  I ran the thought over in my mind. Mordecai’s son would definitely report me if he caught me relaxing in the alley. But he should be sleeping.

  Should be.

  Nathra City had a Night Enforcer and a Day Enforcer. I covered nights, Alec days. Shifters were cruel, and the most bloodthirsty ones loved to find unassuming Fae to pick on. As Enforcers, we were to make sure things didn’t get out of hand—that the Fae weren’t being slaughtered pointlessly and the shifters weren’t being generally unruly. The laws were no sympathy of Mordecai’s—in fact, most of his rules were instilled to keep the Fae under as much control as possible.

  Still, the Fae worked too many critical jobs in the city to allow the shifters to do as they pleased. Not that they had much choice. Mordecai had set traps all around the city, an invisible fence. The perimeter was a minefield with an enormous detonation radius. Escape was nearly impossible, and the few times any of the Fae had tried, Alec had dragged their bodies back into the city to use as an example.

  No one escaped the dragons.

  From the position of a shifter and an Enforcer, I knew we had too much power. Too much freedom. An unpopular opinion, and one I couldn’t vocalize, but it was the truth.

  Once, the Fae and shifters had lived side by side. Or, at least, that’s what I understood from the small bits of history I had gathered on my own.

  Two decades ago, Mordecai had changed that.

  He had power but wanted more. A veritable army of shifters answered to him and they saw the Fae as no more than animals. If Mordecai and Alec treated the Fae like lower class citizens, why wouldn’t the rest of the Nathra shifter population follow their lead?

  Mordecai was already powerful—too powerful—and his mind was a dark and twisted place I wanted nothing to do with. I knew firsthand what he was willing to do to innocent Fae for his own sick version of pleasure. And control. The same way he would do anything to keep me in line. A shiver raced up my spine.

  Shouts lit up the night. Nevaeh paused her work, moving to stand beside me. She cocked her head, the street lights casting an amber glow across her light brown skin.

  “What do you hear?” I asked.

  Her ears rounded, sliding upwar
d on her head. My friend halted the transformation right before her face began to lengthen, but whiskers still poked from her cheekbones.

  She paused, ears twitching. “That Fae is at The Pit again tonight.”

  “Well that’s not unusual.”

  “He won.”

  My brow pinched. I tugged at the silver ring in my lip. “Who did he fight, the ferret? He never wins.”

  “Wolf Man. He shifted. The fight was a forfeit, not an earned win.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “A few shifters didn’t take too kindly to his victory.”

  “Of course they didn’t.” I sighed and pushed off the wall, breaking into a jog. My heartbeat rose with each step.

  Nevaeh was talking about a very specific Fae, one who couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. I had found him more than once in the shifter districts, snarling and picking fights. Mostly, he kept to The Pit. His fights were legal and relatively unmonitored. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to chase him out of our territory, though. Probably wouldn’t be the last. I usually circled this alley several times a night. The Pit caused me far more grief than anywhere else in the city.

  As often as I could, I spared the Fae from real punishment. He and the rest of his kind didn’t deserve the abuse they suffered. I was an Enforcer, I could do that much. I could stop the shifters.

  Still, I had a part to play. If I didn’t perform well, the cost wouldn’t be worth the effort. Mordecai made sure of that. At the very least I would lose my position, which meant my ability to help. At most . . . I tried not to think about that end of the spectrum.

  I rounded the corner, cracking my neck and stretching my fingers in front of me, Nevaeh close on my heels.

  The scene that met my eyes stopped me cold.

  Three shifters had that antagonistic Fae pinned to the ground and were kicking the life from him. I wasn’t even sure he was still conscious. He didn’t so much as flinch when the alpha of the group slammed a steel-toed boot into his side.

  I cleared my throat loudly, rolling back my shoulders. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Nevaeh straightened her posture to match my own, mimicking my pace as we strode from the shadows. She paused and I passed her, narrowing my eyes on the three shifters. They had stopped their assault the moment I had spoken, but one gripped the Fae’s throat, holding him up for another round of blows.

  The alpha cracked a wicked grin in my direction. “We’re teaching this Fae his place.”

  “He’s learning a lot while he’s unconscious, huh?” Nevaeh spat. I raised a hand, shooting her a glance. Her jaw snapped shut, fire still glinting in her eyes.

  “Do you know who I am?” I kept my voice low, calm. My heart pounded in my ears, though, and I tried to determine the state of the Fae. Blood splattered the ground around him. His face was swollen almost beyond recognition. Thankfully that shock of red hair was one-of-a-kind in this city. But he was so still . . .

  “Of course we do. And? You really want us to leave this Fae be?”

  “There are laws against Fae brutality,” I said carefully, beginning a slow circle around the group.

  “He’s a troublemaker.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “He took shifter money. He’s a nuisance. We’re doing you a favor.”

  “I’m paid to deal with him, am I not?” I snapped. “Leave. Now. Before I report all three of you to the Great Dragon for misplaced Fae aggression.”

  The alpha shifter shoved the Fae to the ground. His head bounced off the asphalt. I restrained a wince as he said, “Fine. He’s your problem.”

  One of his companions raised a boot to deliver another blow. A small tug pulled at my throat, the smallest of shifts, and I growled. Low, threatening, lethal . . .

  Inhuman.

  All three shifters eyed me, considering, before they stepped away from the Fae. Muttered curses reached my ears as the men disappeared into The Pit. I hurried to the wounded Fae, sliding a hand to his wrist. His pulse tapped at my fingertips, weak but steady. I released a long breath.

  “I have to take him back to the penthouse,” I whispered to Nevaeh. “I’m going to shift. Put him on my back.”

  “But Reagan—”

  “If I don’t get him out of here, those shifters will kill him. If they don’t, and I leave him, another shifter will. You know that.”

  “If you’re caught you’ll be tried for treason. You’re already pushing your luck helping so many this month. If he catches you, Mordecai will kill you both.”

  “Let him try,” I growled.

  “You say that now,” Nevaeh pleaded, “but you know what’s happened when he’s caught you before. I can’t watch you get hurt like that again.”

  “He won’t hurt me again. He won’t catch me.” My nostrils flared, but she was right. I wasn’t as brave as I sounded. I didn’t want her to talk me out of this, though. Helping the Fae . . . this was all I had.

  I didn’t give her a chance to respond, dropping my lighter and cigarette case to the ground before I kicked off my boots. Stepping farther into the lane, I closed my eyes. Took a long breath.

  A burst of electricity zipped through my veins.

  Searing pain blazed to life in parallel lines along either side of my spine. I didn’t know why the wings always came first; they were the only partial shift I had never managed, but even if I had the weight of them was agony for my human form to hold up. A soft grunt slipped from my lips. Nevaeh shot a concerned glance in my direction. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the cracks as my bones extended and my frame widened. A low growl rumbled from my throat as my teeth extended, sharp against my tongue.

  My whole transformation took maybe a minute. Bones, fur, wings . . . I let myself adjust to the new form, panting heavily. Shreds of fabric littered the ground around me. My clothing.

  Oops. Forgot about those.

  I stretched my spine, each of my paws, curled my toes. Lifting my wings, I shook myself and growled at Nevaeh.

  She rolled her eyes and grinned. “The mighty winged lion might scare anyone else, but you’re only a cute wittle kitty cat to me,” she cooed.

  I scowled, as much as a lion could. Nevaeh lifted the Fae without issue. She might be tiny, and a rat shifter, but the strength of our kind wasn’t based on our animal forms. We were all incredibly strong, especially compared to humans and Fae. When he was between my wing joints, she paused to stare at his immobile form.

  “He’ll fall,” Nevaeh warned, crossing her arms over her chest. I looked pointedly at the belt she had looped twice around her torso. Her silver and brown eyes narrowed. “Not a chance in hell. This is brand new.”

  Rounding my eyes, I stepped closer, nudging her arm with my nose. When I rubbed the top of my head against her side, she groaned and tugged the belt free. “You’re buying me a new one.”

  I jerked my head in imitation of a nod, the weight of my mane adjusting with the motion. The second I heard the belt snap into place, I huffed a soft breath and bolted down the blacktop lane. When the buildings parted enough that I could open my wings, I spread them wide, letting them carry me into the sky.

  The Fae moved slightly and I held my breath. Waited. He stayed in place and I relaxed. I could fly faster if I didn’t have to worry about him falling off; and I needed to move. His blood was already seeping into my white fur.

  I carried Fae back to my apartment more often than I should admit. Only when they were near death, only when I thought there was no way I could save them hastily. Occasionally, the Fae were grateful. Many were afraid, and a few seemed so numbed by their heinous lifestyles that they were utterly indifferent to their own survival.

  This one though . . . This Fae was going to be angry, I knew already. He was a different breed. He was aggressive, an attacker. A provoker. I had never met a Fae like him. I could see the rage in his eyes every time we met, the bloodlust. More than once I had wondered if he was tempted to attack me, to try resisting with more than the saucy
mouth he couldn’t seem to control.

  He adjusted again and I glanced over my shoulder. I wondered what kind of inner pain could fuel the kind of violence he held. Mordecai and Alec had so little regard for the Fae, and had hurt or killed so many without thought, that nothing would surprise me.

  Stillness suited him though. The lines of his face softened, the anger smoothed into peace. He looked innocent. Gentle. Almost handsome, even.

  Almost.

  Air huffed through my nose at the thought. I flapped my wings gently, careful not to shake him too hard. Nathra City twinkled below, a constellation of lights that spanned the entire shifter district. Thankfully, I didn’t live too far from The Pit. Mordecai decided that, if I wasn’t going to live at the manor with him and Alec, he wanted his Enforcers on both ends of the city—so my penthouse was on the southern end, closer to the Fae homes.

  Mordecai claimed he was being generous allowing the Fae to have dwellings at all. Generous would be allowing them to leave, not treating them like cattle. I didn’t believe the drivel he fed the other shifters, the ones all too eager to eat up the nasty stories he spewed about the Fae.

  I had studied their dwellings in my circles over the city; the crumbling buildings, the high risers covered in meager gardens. Fae abhorred technology, alongside the processed foods and materials that many shifters hoarded. Myself included. I loved my cell phone, when I had the time to enjoy owning one. I couldn’t imagine a life without music at my fingertips.

  The Fae took their distaste to a whole new level though, covering every spare inch of their territory in plants of all kinds. Maybe they did it for survival. I had to admit, the ruinous buildings they inhabited held a certain beauty capped in new, green life. I couldn’t shake my guilt though, going back to a shiny penthouse when I knew there were Fae without the basics.

  I did what I could. Snuck food and medicine down, left full bags on random doorsteps. I helped Fae who were caught in the hands of more vindictive shifters, even though the aggression made no sense to me. We had everything. Why kick a dead horse, after all. The Fae couldn’t get any lower; Mordecai made sure of that. He reminded us regularly that the other shifter cities around us would never tolerate Fae presence.