A very naked girl.
She straightened, revealing pale skin covered in colorful tattoos. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen a naked female at The Pit, but when my eyes traveled up to blue and black hair, I wanted to die. Someone needed to put me out of my misery and fast because the Night Enforcer’s nude image was now forever imprinted on my brain.
I grimaced as her keen gaze swung my way, no doubt taking in my fresh new bruises and weakened state. Her thoughts practically shouted: The idiot Fae needs my help again. But will I save him this time? He’s a complete prick after all.
My lips curled mockingly. Then I rolled to a stand—one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Somehow I didn’t cry out, despite the shooting pains lancing up and down my body. I swaggered to her—well, more of a swerve than a swagger. I noticed the shifters openly curse and grumble at having their fun interrupted, but they made no move to stop me. Were they afraid of the big bad kitty cat? I wasn’t. Far from it. The only thing I felt was annoyance.
Leaning in close to her, I murmured, “I don’t need your help, stalker.”
I strode for the exit and held my breath so I wouldn’t hunch over my aching ribs like the injured sap that I was. On my way out, I swiped a half empty beer bottle off a table, the owner too shell-shocked from the almighty lion’s appearance to protest.
At last, after huffing up a flight of stairs, I emerged from the place that had nearly cost me my pathetic life. Again. I think I have a death wish. As the night’s incessant downpour further washed the alcoholic haze from my mind, I groaned, thunking my head against the warehouse’s outer brick wall.
“This isn’t a safe spot to rest. Or wallow. Whichever one you’re doing.”
That voice! Would she ever leave me alone?
“Noted,” I mumbled, peeking at her through my damp hair. I shouldn’t have. My stupid male eyes went straight to her chest for the second time today. And this time all I saw was skin and more skin, and a red-and-black heart tattoo right between her—
“Do you want my help, or do you want to stand there gawking all night?”
My eyes snapped to hers and I scowled. “Neither.”
“Not an option. I’m taking you home.” She planted her hands on her hips and I quickly looked away.
I took a slow sip of beer, grimacing at the thought of shifter lips having touched that same rim, then settled more comfortably against the bricks. “You take your babysitting duties quite seriously. But no. I’m not ready to go home yet, and I sure wouldn’t let you know where that is.”
Leaning against the wall beside me, she crossed her arms and slid one leg over the other. “You’re literally the most impossible Fae I’ve ever tried to help. Why is that?”
Oh, she thought this was unburden my heart time? That wasn’t happening.
“Look,” I said, drilling holes into her eyes in an attempt to keep my gaze from wandering. “This city is crawling with Fae who would trip over themselves for some help. So help them, not me. I’m not your problem. You do, on the other hand, seem to have a stalking problem. It’s not attractive, I’ll say that much.”
Being as she was female, I expected the slight to offend her. But my attempts at getting rid of her once and for all failed yet again. She simply stood there, looking annoyed. Definitely not stomping away in a huff like I’d hoped. Like I needed. Time to up my game. She was giving me no choice.
I rose from my slouch and faced her fully, putting as much hatred and loathing as I could behind my words as I said, “You don’t seem to understand subtleties, so I’m going to say this as clearly as I can: I. Hate. Shifters. Every single one of you. The sight of you. The smell of you. Standing next to you repulses me. So the last thing, the very last thing I want is to be your charity case. In fact, if you ever see me beaten half to death in an alley, don’t rescue me. Never again. Got that?”
She stared at me, lips pressed into a thin line. Her breathing was even as she unfalteringly met my eyes. And then she sighed. “Yeah, I hear you. I mean, if you’re so eager to die, taking one of Mordecai’s shady jobs is a sure way to do it. But you’re right—you’re a waste of my time.” She spun on her heel and stepped away.
Instead of victory, shock zipped through me. I had anticipated dozens of reactions—anger, hurt, disgust—but not sadness. The look she had given me . . . Not pity, exactly. More like acceptance. Like I was a lost cause. Like I really was a waste of time.
Gaia. Watching her walk away was worse than a punch in the gut. Let her go. Good riddance. Go after her. My brain fired off conflicting commands and I shoved a hand through my hair, yanking on the ends. What was wrong with me? She was a shifter!
“There’s this boy,” I began, then blew out an exasperated breath. Why was I still talking? She paused, one pale foot off the ground. Didn’t turn around, but she was listening. My mouth started blabbing again. “His name is Benji. Eight years old and never shuts up.”
Her other foot lowered. “I may have seen him once or twice. There aren’t many Fae children anymore.”
For some reason—maybe because she was acknowledging me after what I had said—I continued. “You’re right, there aren’t. Too many lose their parents and get shoved into the Fae orphanage, myself included. That hellhole is barely livable—dirty, the children malnourished with hardly any supervision. Most don’t survive. And that’s where Benji’s heading if his mom doesn’t get better. That’s . . . that’s why I’m applying for the job on that flyer. She needs the money, and he needs his mom. So, yeah.”
I was all kinds of uncomfortable after dumping those facts into her . . . lap. My eyes dipped down her spine, low, lower, until they rested on a fiery red and orange bird tattooed across her hips. A Phoenix. The tail feathers swooped over her right—
I needed to get out of here.
“Look, I get it. The tattooed skin, the Enforcer title . . . what I can become. You look at me and all you see is what people like me have done to yours. To you. But you don’t actually know anything about me.” She paused, shuffling her feet, then cast a nervous glance around. “Mordecai is my father by law, not blood. I don’t agree with the majority of things he does and says, but you try disagreeing with the Great Dragon. I do what I can, though. And what I can do right now is warn you that whatever this job is, Mordecai is up to something. I don’t know what, but I don’t trust the information he gave me. Do with that what you will.”
Goosebumps rose on my arms and the back of my neck. She spoke treason. I could easily report her and—I huffed, shaking my head. I was such an idiot. “You’re a spy, aren’t you.” I didn’t phrase the words as a question. No shifter would willingly trust a Fae. “What game are you playing at?”
“I don’t play games. Like I said, I do what I can. I see an injustice, I try to help. I’m in a position where I have that option, and we all know Alec isn’t going to save any Fae.” She moved closer to a motorcycle leaning against the far wall of the alley, street lights catching the vibrant blue paint. Glancing around as though checking for prying eyes, she leaned over the bike and dug into the saddle bags. Clothing. She had spare clothing. Thank Gaia. “Look, if you don’t want my help, fine. There are other Fae who do. But you seem to find the most trouble.”
She slipped a shirt and shorts on and faced me once again. My shoulders loosened, then tightened as light caught the arch of her throat. Twin marks ran lengthwise across her neck. Scars. Shaking my head, I replied, “You’d better believe I find trouble, because I see the injustice too and won’t sit back while shifters abuse our kind.”
“And you think The Pit—”
“Yes,” I interrupted her. “Because the cage fights help me!” Her eyes widened as she digested that blurted piece of information. I sighed, tipping back the beer bottle for one last swallow. I was such an idiot. “Here’s the thing, Enforcer: when your back’s to a wall, you’re willing to risk more. I didn’t choose this life, but nothing will keep me from that job interview tomorrow. A position like that is the on
ly chance I have at bettering the crap life I’ve been forced into.”
I pushed off the wall and turned from her, beginning the trek back to Fae territory. I’d probably regret this conversation in the morning. We had both been too honest, too real.
“Reagan.”
I peered over my shoulder at her. “What?”
“My name’s Reagan, not Enforcer.”
Right then and there, I knew I was going to do something incredibly stupid. Probably the dumbest thing I’d ever done in all twenty-three years of my life. My traitorous tongue formed one word: “Tarik.”
I gave the stalker shifter my name.
Mordecai and Alec were in a particularly foul mood today. I trailed behind them, scuffing my boots across the asphalt, flicking the cap of my lighter with my thumb. A nervous habit. They hadn’t explained why they had requested my presence. Two Enforcers and the Great Dragon seemed like overkill for Fae matters, and I doubted highly that they cared about my fifteenth birthday tomorrow.
I glanced up, squinting under the bright sun. Whatever was going on, this was Alec’s patrol. He should be able to handle this without me.
“Keep up, Reagan, I don’t have all day.” Mordecai’s clipped tone broke through my thoughts. I wasn’t sure why he was seeing to this personally, either. He never left the mansion unless something went terribly wrong.
A chill ran the length of my spine, warning bells toning in my mind.
My lighter clicked open again. The urge to light a cigarette twitched through my fingers, tension tightening my shoulders. Each step we took toward the Fae district shot ice through my veins. This wasn’t standard procedure. I racked my brain, scanning the last week’s events for anything that might clue me in. Nothing. Nothing abnormal, anyway.
Except—
“So what’s this all about?” I asked, struggling to conceal the tremor in my voice.
“You’ll see soon enough.” Mordecai turned his head to grin at me.
The matching expression on Alec’s face sent my stomach plummeting. He had been a friend, once. My best friend. We had spent more hours than I could count working on his vintage motorcycles; hell, Alec taught me how to ride my own bike. But the last few years he was too much like his father. Power and ambition were his hobbies, and our friendship had fallen to the wayside. Doubly so when he started to think he was entitled to more. To me.
And now he was here, for whatever this was. I had a really bad feeling.
Only one thing had gone wrong this week. My back and hips still ached from the raw lashes I carried as punishment. I had already paid the price though. The mistakes were mine. Surely he wouldn’t . . .
My heart stuttered, then clenched. Mordecai stopped before a torn-down apartment building and led us up two short sets of stairs. Crumbling concrete rained from under our feet, bouncing down to the floor below. My breaths came in short bursts, the air fire in my lungs. The rhythm of my heart was a drumbeat in my ears.
He wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
At the end of the hallway, he stopped before a door. A crooked “3” hung from beneath a caved peephole. Mordecai waited until I caught up, then slammed his boot into the door handle.
The weak wood splintered and collapsed under the force. A small Fae family sat around a table—a tall, slender woman with dark walnut-toned hair, her partner with blue eyes that glittered in the afternoon light, and two small children.
The eldest was almost six.
I only knew that because I had been punished for passing food to that six-year-old. She was malnourished, thin, frail. But her spirit—I had been drawn to her the moment she smiled, unafraid, when I had been patrolling one afternoon. I wanted to help her, to nourish the bright light that sparkled in her amber eyes.
The same eyes that now widened in confusion, framed by red-brown curls. I froze in the door frame, watched the questions on her face morph to betrayal.
My heart shattered, the jagged shards tearing at my chest from the inside.
Alec extended his claws. I moved to shift but Mordecai anticipated my interference. He slammed me against the wall, a sharp blade pressed to my throat.
“We don’t help the Fae, Reagan.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “And I don’t abide those who willingly take from my coffers. Alec, if you would.”
I struggled, the blade biting into my skin. Blood trickled onto my chest as I blurted, “Please, don’t. I forced her to take the supplies. She didn’t want to.”
First mistake. A confession.
Alec extended his claws and attacked. The father lunged to protect his children and took the full brunt of Alec’s dragon claws as they shredded his chest apart. Bile rose up my throat, stomach heaving when the small boy fell beside him. Sobs filled the room as the mother gripped the girl tightly against her side.
“Please,” I begged. “Please don’t do this.”
Second mistake. Pleading.
Mordecai ignored my tears and lifted the blade long enough to motion for his son to continue. I tried to free myself, pressure trembling against my spine as my wings threatened to punch free. Cold steel found a new mark on my neck, a new line of blood springing up right below the first.
“Let this be a lesson to you. I don’t tolerate mistakes, Reagan.”
At the end of the sentence the girl’s mother fell, her throat slit. I swallowed. Met those honey-toned eyes.
A sob shuddered through me when she crumpled into the spreading pool of blood. Mordecai released me then and I shoved past him, gathering the small girl to my chest. Tears fell unrestrained down my cheeks. My body shook so hard I almost lost my grip on the poor child.
This young, innocent Fae . . . her death was my fault. Her family's deaths . . . My fault. Her blood was on my—
“One minute,” Mordecai said, his cold voice cutting through my sorrows. “If you’re not outside in one minute, I’ll slaughter every other Fae in this building and burn it to the ground. You’re emotional, Reagan. Weak. Maybe this will teach you to be strong.”
His footsteps retreated, tailed by Alec’s. I spared a glance at the girl’s eyes but they were dull, lifeless, and my chest ached as tears welled up again. Gently, I brushed them closed and lowered her back to the ground. I would find a way to make sure they were buried properly, even if I had to sneak back myself. I glanced down at my clothing, to the crimson splattered and smeared across my own skin. Blood.
Her blood, mingling with mine.
—
A gasp tore from my lungs—a dream. I knew it was a dream. I had lived this moment a thousand times. And still, as the memory played out, I was powerless to change anything.
Powerless to silence my own mind.
My fingers slipped to my throat, traced the thin scars that Mordecai’s knife left as a permanent reminder. I wiped at the tears that always followed that dream, reducing them to dark spots on my sleeve.
Four years had passed since that day, and every time the dream came the emotions were as strong as the first time. The pain in my chest was still raw agony, my heart clenched tight beneath my ribs. My nightmares had been worse, once. When I moved from the mansion they had lessened, gradually. Now they visited only once or twice a month, if I was lucky.
Still too much. That day should have never happened. I had been sloppy, and their lost lives were still my biggest regret. The girl and the bright, sparkling life in her beautiful eyes . . . gone.
And it had been my fault.
I blew out a breath, scrubbing my palms over my face. My eyes fell to my cell phone. Nine-thirty. In my waking frenzy, I had torn my earbuds out. I freed them from my blankets, shoving them back into place.
Without them—without music—I never would have managed to sleep again. I buried my face into my pillow and tugged the blankets over my head.
—
“Reagan.” The sound was foggy. Who would interrupt my sleep? No one had access to my— “You look a little cold. Want to use me as a blanket?”
Oh,
hell no.
“Alec, get out of my room.”
“Are you sure? I could—”
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Get out.”
I heard the small huff, the retreating footsteps. Blinking, I glanced at the clock beside my bed. Eleven? Like, eleven in the morning? This better be good. Alec had pulled an earbud from my ear and I plucked the other free, dropping them onto my comforter beside my phone.
Shoving off the covers, I rolled out of bed and pulled a long t-shirt over gray leggings. I stormed down the hall, eyes narrowed. Alec leaned against the kitchen counter, helping himself to the cupboard.
“Why did you wake me up? What do you want?”
He cast a long look my way, eyes traveling head-to-toe and back. “Not too bad. Would be better—”
I growled, the low lion tone rumbling from my throat. Alec cut himself off as I snarled, “What do you want?”
“I don’t. Mordecai wants you at the mansion.” He shuffled a box aside and snapped the cabinet shut. “The shifters have been rowdy since the mining job hit the papers this morning. He needs me to make sure the Fae get safely in and out. While I lead them along the border, he needs you to secure the manor, since the interviews will be held in the mines.”
“In the mines? Why?”
Alec shrugged. “Something about wanting to be sure the Fae know what their working conditions will be?”
I really didn’t like the sound of this. “When does he need me?”
“Eleven forty-five.” He glanced at the oven clock and grinned. “So, twenty minutes?”
“Fine. Go. I have to shower.”
“I could—”
“Go.”
I showered quickly and dropped into lion form. Mordecai would have clothing waiting for me. I stepped out onto the balcony, sun beaming warmth across my skin as I shifted and leapt into the air. Spreading my wings, I glided toward the mansion at the northern edge of the city.
Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1) Page 6
