by N M Thorn
“How long?” the man asked, stopping her, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Your curse cannot be eternal. How long must they suffer, Aoife?”
“Nine hundred years,” screeched Aoife.
Aodh heard his sister’s tearful gasp and loud cries of his brothers. Nine hundred years they will have to live as swans, alone and scared, deprived of love and care of their father and missing everyone they cherished. “Mother, please, punish me for eternity, but let my siblings go,” he begged his stepmother hopelessly.
She gaped at him, an uneven arrogant smile curving her lips, and shook her head. “You never knew how to keep your mouth shut, Aodh. So, let me improve my curse a little, and you will have nine hundred years to blame yourself for that.”
Aodh opened his wings and bent his long neck, bowing to his evil stepmother, silently begging her for mercy.
“Three hundred years, you will spend here at the Loch Dairbhreach and these will be the easiest part of my curse,” she continued frostily, evil dripping from her every word. “The next three hundred years, you will be tormented by the stormy Sruth na Maoile. And for the last three hundred years, you will fly to the Iorras Domhnann. And no one in this world or the Otherworld”—she glanced quickly at the man, whom she called Hunter—“can break my curse! Only when the King from the North will marry the Princess from the South will this curse be broken.”
After her words, silence enveloped the lake and only the two little swans were weeping softly, clinging to their older sister. Fionnghuala opened up her wings, covering them, trying to console them in their sorrow and dismay.
“Do not shed your tears for nothing, sweet Fionnghuala,” seethed the evil witch, gloating over the children’s pain and suffering. “You all would do well to thank Lord Hunter. He cannot help you, but because he interrupted my spell, you get to keep your sweet voices.”
Aodh raised his eyes and met the blazing gaze of the man without blinking. “I shall not say my thanks to Lord Hunter now,” said Aodh, and his voice, loud and clear, was carried far by the light wind over the still waters of the Loch Dairbhreach. “But I shall pray to Lord Hunter every moment of my existence, begging him that one day he will help me get my vengeance. And I swear that I shall not rest in this world or the Otherworld until I have it.”
Aoife hooted laughing. “Hunter does not belong here, sweet child, and he is powerless in this domain. He cannot give you what you desire so greatly. Have a nice nine hundred years.”
She waved her hand and disappeared into thin air.
But the man extended his arm toward Aodh and nodded to him. Then he waved his hand, opening a door of blinding light and walked through it, leaving the terrified little swans alone and miserable. And even though he didn’t say anything, Aodh knew that he would see this man again. In this world or the Otherworld.
Chapter 1
~ Zane Burns, a.k.a. Gunz ~
Modern Day, South Florida
The restaurant was nothing special, just another tiny hole-in-the-wall located on one of the countless South Florida canals. There wasn’t anything noteworthy about its limited menu either. The only thing special about this place was its relaxed atmosphere. The restaurant had an open porch with three tables facing the canal. But the regulars were never sitting on the porch. They preferred to stay inside, leaving the romantic view to tourists and lovey-dovey couples.
Gunz discovered this place shortly after he moved to South Florida, and since then he became one of the regulars, visiting the restaurant at least a couple of times a week. He liked the laid-back atmosphere and easy-going crowd. It was a place where he allowed himself to relax and drop his guard. To a degree.
The inside room of the restaurant wasn’t big, just a few tables and a bar. A big screen TV was hanging on the wall behind the bar, next to a few shelves with liquor. The air was infused with the smell of alcohol and fried food, and a heavy curtain of cigarette smoke was hanging under the ceiling. The room was relatively dark. Out of six wall lights only three were on, but no one ever asked to turn up the light.
Gunz walked through the room, quickly surveying every corner, and sat down at the bar. Tonight, besides a few regulars, there was no one new. A pretty young woman in her mid-twenties approached him right away. Here, she was everything—the owner of the restaurant, a bartender, a waitress—all-in-one, cross-functional queen of Missi’s Kitchen.
“Usual, Mr. Burns?” she asked, smiling at him. Her skin, the color of dark chocolate, was smooth like silk and her large gray eyes framed with thick black eyelashes looked unnaturally bright on her face. Her long black hair was braided into countless thin braids and pulled into a ponytail on the back of her head, calling attention to her elegant neck.
“Yes, Missi, thank you,” said Gunz.
She put three small shot glasses on the bar table in front of him and filled them with vodka. “I’ll be back with your food in a moment,” she told him, heading toward the kitchen door.
“Take your time, Missi,” muttered Gunz, picking up the first shot glass. “I’m not in any rush tonight.” He took a deep breath and downed the vodka without flinching. Placing the empty shot glass on the table, he exhaled and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the harsh burning liquid rushing down his throat.
For a few minutes, he sat quietly staring at the TV. It was set to the local news channel, but he didn’t listen to the news, his thoughts far away. Then he sighed and picked up the second shot glass. He gulped the vodka and put the empty glass next to the first one.
“Hard day, Mr. Burns?” asked Missi, placing a plate with a burger and steaming pile of french fries in front of him. “You seem to look broodier than usual.”
Gunz smirked. He picked up a hot french fry with his fingers and nibbled on it. “You could say so,” he said finally. “Just one of those days… This day a couple of years ago, I lost… someone.”
“Your friend?” asked Missi, gazing at him with sympathy in her bright eyes.
“Yeah… friend. Vladislav Kirilenko,” he replied absentmindedly, taking the next burning-hot fry from his plate. “I lost him to the world of magic. He’s never coming back.”
“The World of Magic,” she repeated in disbelief, her eyebrows rising. “What is that? A fantasy novel? There is no such thing as magic. You’re making fun of me, Mr. Burns.” She shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her full lips.
Gunz smiled tiredly and picked up the last shot glass, squeezing it in his fist. “Third one for the fallen,” he murmured and drank it quickly, returning the empty glass to Missi. “You know, Missi, I’ve been coming to your restaurant for over a year. Don’t you think it’s time you stop calling me Mr. Burns? I don’t think I’m that much older than you. You know that you can call me Zane, or even Gunz, if you prefer to use my nickname.”
“I know. I don’t like nicknames. You’re a man, not a pet,” she said lightly, taking away the empty shot glasses and wiping the table top with a white towel. “Zane Burns…” She pronounced his name slowly, like she was sizing it up. “Sounds good, but I prefer to call you Mr. Burns. For some reason, it seems to fit you better.”
Gunz felt someone’s hand on his elbow and a hardly noticeable wave of magical energy swept through him. He snapped his head to the right and found a fake blond sitting next to him. She was devouring him with her eyes, her lipstick-enhanced lips stretched in a sensual smile. Her hand unceremoniously traveled up his arm, following the shape of his biceps and stopped at his shoulder.
“Yum,” she said, gently probing him with her magic. “I’ll call you anything you want, hon.”
Gunz gave her a frosty once-over, turning his senses up. He had no doubt that she was something other than human. Her fingers softly massaged his shoulder, sending a stronger wave of magical energy through him. For a moment, his mind got clouded with desire and his body responded to her salacious magic with more eagerness than he expected.
Succubus, concluded Gunz, channeling the Fire, burning the poison of her magic out o
f his body. Her hand traveled down his arm, landing on his inner thigh. He seized her wrist, prying it off his leg and sent some Fire toward his hand. Her skin blistered like from the touch of a hot stove and she yelped in pain.
“Who are you? What are you?” she whimpered, trying to free herself from his smoldering grip, but he didn’t let her go.
Gunz glanced around, making sure that no one, including Missy, was watching. “I’m a man who is not looking for company,” he growled, sending some fire toward his eyes. The bright flames went up in the depths of his eyes, and she gasped. “Especially not the company of your kind.” He released her wrist, observing red spots of burns and blisters on her skin. “Leave this place and forget about its existence. You understand?”
She nodded, fear making her every move jerky, and rushed out of the restaurant, nursing her burnt wrist. Gunz sighed, releasing the Fire and turned back to the bar.
“Hey, Missi,” he called and waited a moment as she appeared from the kitchen. “Can I have everything to go, please? And one more before I leave.” He pointed at the bottle of Russian vodka that he usually ordered.
She put a shot glass on the bar table and filled it with vodka. “That’s unusual,” she murmured, her hands quickly packaging the burger and fries into a take-out box. “You never drink more than three shots.”
A lopsided smile crossed his face, making a single dimple appear on one of his cheeks. “I know. Usually three shots are my limit, but today I felt like I needed more.” He downed the vodka and got up, grabbing the take-out box.
Missi shook her head, checking him with concern. “Do you want me to call you a cab?”
“Thank you, Missi. I’ll walk. Take care.” He nodded to her and walked out of the restaurant.
Gunz walked away from the restaurant and turned into a dark alley. He stopped and rubbed his forehead tiredly. Maybe Missi was right. I didn’t need that fourth shot, he thought, smirking. It had been a while since he felt drunk and right now the world around him seemed to be unsteady. Possibly it was a combination of vodka with the residuals of the succubus magic. He surveyed the alley carefully to make sure that no one could see him and once satisfied, he waved his hand, unfolding the fire curtain of a portal.
He walked through the fire and ended up in the backyard of his house in Coral Springs. The house wasn’t really his. It belonged to his friend, but she was away and wasn’t planning to come back any time soon. In the meantime, Gunz had the full use of her house. Dizziness assailed him as he took a step forward. He chuckled and sat down heavily on the steps in front of the backdoor.
He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the door of the house, still feeling a little buzzed. He was about to get up when he felt a soft touch to his leg. Gunz looked down and noticed a small kitten. It couldn’t have been more than a month old. The kitten was trying to climb on his lap, its tiny sharp claws catching the hard fabric of his jeans.
“Oh, hello, little buddy. What are you doing here?” said Gunz. He put the take-out box on the steps and gently picked up the kitten, holding it in his hands. The kitten turned on his engine, purring loudly, and licked his hand. Gunz laughed, gently stroking the kitten’s thick gray fur with his fingers. “You found the wrong man, little buddy. I’m a dog person—give me a giant German Shepherd any day. Well, occasionally, I don’t mind dealing with lizards. But cats…”
The kitten ignored his statement and climbed up his shirt, settling on his shoulder. He meowed into his ear and poked his cheek with his wet nose. Gunz petted the kitten, leaving him sitting on his shoulder, and picked up the take-out box. “Well, you’re taking your life in your own paws, buddy… but if you’re sure that you want to adopt a man like me then let’s get going.” He unlocked the door and walked into the kitchen.
Inside, Gunz put the kitten on the floor and opened the refrigerator. He poured some milk in a small bowl and placed it in front of him.
“Sorry, little buddy, I don’t have any cat food or litter for you”—he quickly glanced at the wall clock that was showing past one in the morning—“and it’s too late for shopping. I’ll buy everything you need first thing in the morning.”
The kitten ignored him, preoccupied with his milk. Gunz squatted next to him and softly stroked his back. The kitten moved closer to his bowl and growled defensively. Gunz laughed, rising. “I think, I’ll call you Mishka in honor of my good friend. You sure remind me of him.”
He left the kitten in the kitchen and walked to the living room. His body was buzzing with exhaustion of this endless day and the incident with the succubus didn’t sit well with him. Missi’s restaurant was normally free of supernatural visitors. He was probably the only one. And the succubus’ behavior seemed a bit odd too. Until he used his power, she didn’t sense the creature of magic in him. Something didn’t feel right.
His cell phone rang, making him flinch. He pulled it out and looked at the display. Jim. One o’clock in the morning? That can’t be good. He clicked the green button, answering the call.
“Hello, Jim,” he said and fell silent for a few seconds, listening to Jim. “You want me to come over now? Can it wait till morning?”
He lowered the phone down for a moment and sighed, bringing the shouting device back to his ear.
“No, I’m not drunk. Just a little—" Jim interrupted him urgently, obviously not pleased and Gunz fell silent again, listening to his boss. “Yes, sir, I know the consequences of losing control of my power and I assure you, I’m in complete control.”
Gunz lowered himself on the couch, rubbing the stubble on his chin tiredly.
“Yes, sir, I know that my job doesn’t have weekends and days off,” he said, hoping to calm Jim down. “I’m sorry, sir, I needed to unwind a little… I’m not drunk…”
He was working with Agent Andrews for over a year and he never heard him talking like this to him. Something serious was going on.
“Yes, sir, I know what Code Shadow means… I understand the urgency of the situation… No, sir. You don’t need to summon me.”
Jim didn’t have magic and he couldn’t use summoning spells, but his partner, Angelique, could. She was a witch and a seer. Gunz hated when they used summoning spells to call him. The persistent pull of the summoning spell on his mind was driving him crazy, giving him a pounding headache afterwards.
“I prefer not to drive right now, so I’ll open my portal to your office right away, if you don’t mind… Yes, sir, to Angelique’s office… I’ll see you both in a few minutes.”
Gunz hung up the phone and shook his head, biting his lip. Code Shadow. It meant an abnormally high level of supernatural activity, endangering civilian lives. Since he started to work with the secret division of the FBI, dealing with supernatural occurrences, it was the first time that Code Shadow was officially issued.
“Fire Salamander—go,” he muttered to himself and waved his hand, opening the fire portal into Angelique’s office.
Chapter 2
~ Zane Burns, a.k.a. Gunz ~
Gunz walked out of the portal and nodded at Angelique. She was sitting at her desk, but as soon as she saw him, she closed her laptop and got up, greeting him with a warm smile.
“Vladislav, hi,” she said, approaching him, and softly touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
He sighed and sat down on a chair, stretching his legs. When Gunz moved to South Florida and started to work with the FBI, he changed his name assuming the alias Alexander Burns. His real name was part of his past, which he could never go back to and he didn’t want any reminders. But Angelique constantly used his former name no matter how many times he asked her not to. Sometimes he thought she did it just to play on his nerves.
“Not Vladislav, Angelique. That man is gone, and he’s not coming back. And why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“For starters, you look like crap,” she said with a light shrug of her shoulders, clothed in a classic, FBI-inspired suit. “And you smell like the world’s finest distillery. I think I can ge
t drunk just by standing next to you.”
“Enjoy it while you can. How else can you get buzzed for free and without drinking?” he replied, winking at her. “Where is Jim?”
The door opened, and Jim walked briskly into the office before Angelique got a chance to say anything. Ask and you shall receive, thought Gunz rising and extended his hand to Jim. Jim stopped, giving him a quick once-over and pursed his lips. Ignoring his hand, he headed toward the wall with a city map on it. He pulled a small picture out of his pocket and pinned it to the map, sticking a red pin into the wall with a lot more force than was needed. Then he slammed his hand on the wall next to the map and turned around.
“Fifth case,” he growled. His eyes, blazing with aggravation, darted from Angelique’s face to Gunz. Gunz met his burning gaze calmly.
“Care to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, approaching Jim.
Five small pictures were pinned to the map. Gunz looked at the faces—three women and two men of different ages and races. The pins on the map weren’t connected and Gunz assumed that so far neither Angelique nor Jim found any connections between these victims.
“I wish I knew what was going on,” snapped Jim. “Five people are dead within five days. Absolutely healthy people. The autopsy reports came back clean—no foul play, no violence. But they can’t explain why all these people are dead either. There was absolutely nothing wrong with them medically.”
“Jim, why do you think these cases are supernatural?” asked Gunz, exploring the faces of the victims. “Just because medics can’t find a cause of death, it doesn’t mean that something supernatural killed these people. Usually monsters leave plenty of signs for medical examiners to discover. There has to be a normal explanation.”
