by Knight
As I climb the stairs with BB and Griffin, the sound of his screams reach me and I can’t help the grin that breaks out across my face—that would have been my choice too.
Once we are back upstairs, I check the cell room but Griffin informs me in a snotty tone that he let them out so they could leave. I nod and go back to ignoring him as BB and I leave the warehouse. The hallways on the way to the exit are covered in blood and bodies, and it only makes me look at Griffin in a new light.
The man definitely isn’t human, so what is he?
The front door to the warehouse stands open and off its hinges, and I throw Griffin another look but he ignores it, stalking over to a computer system and starting to type. I roll my eyes and make my way outside, sucking in the clean, city air as opposed to the dirty, blood-filled atmosphere left in the warehouse behind us.
“Thank you,” BB says softly, her voice carrying on the night’s air. I nod and turn to her to see her wrapping her arms around herself.
We must be in the industrial district, since only other warehouses and empty factories stretch as far as the eye can see. The one we are in is surrounded by a chain-link face and the car park is nearly empty. A perfect place to hide a slave trade.
“Where will you go?” I inquire, needing to know she will be okay. I won’t ever be some fucking hero or any of that bullshit, but that woman stuck her own neck out to help me.
“Home. They won’t scare me away, but I will take precautions.” She looks around, a new light in her face, one I don’t doubt speaks of change—going through something like that changes a person. You see the depths of depravity and greed of the human soul and you don’t come out untainted.
“Don’t you want to leave?” I question, genuinely curious.
“No.” She smiles slightly before looking at the city around us. “This is my home. It might be corrupt, we might have more ghettos than we have posh apartment buildings, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I was born here, I grew up here. They can’t take that away from me.”
“Touching, truly it is, but we need to get going,” Griffin grumbles, breaking the moment.
Throwing him a glare, I look back at BB with a sad smile. “Good luck.”
“Who needs luck when I have my own guardian angel?” she teases, as she turns and starts walking away.
Griffin snorts and I turn to him, already glaring. “Shouldn’t you help her get home?” I growl.
“She’s not my concern. I will drop you off and then go to the club.” He crosses his arms, staring me down.
“Nope. You’re going to make sure she gets home. I’ll take myself,” I retort snottily.
He rolls his eyes up to the sky with a sigh. “Why would I do that?”
I step closer, lowering my voice as it turns into a silky purr. “Because for some reason you’re following me.” I hold up my hand to stop his denial. “Cut the shit, I don’t know why or how but if you ever, and I mean ever, want to get onto my good side then you’re going to take BB home.”
We stare each other down, and his jaw works while his eyes flash sparks at me. “Fine, how will you get home?” Each word is harsh, like a whip hitting my skin with near physical intensity.
“By car of course.” I grin, holding up the car keys I stole from the doctor’s coat pocket. When I click ‘unlock,’ a silver BMW near the door beeps and I grin.
He looks from me to it before stepping back. “Home,” he orders, shaking out his shoulders. I frown at him but it turns into a gasp when two large, black wings emerge from behind him.
I just gape, and he winks at me before turning and with a running jump swoops into the air. He holds his wings out at his side as he swoops down on BB and grabs her. I hear her scream and him swear before they are lost in the darkness of the night.
Shaking my head, I block out the craziness. If I think about it all then I’ll lose my mind, and I have too much to do tonight for that. Time to go get pretty, then go clubbing. Who said the life of a dead woman wasn’t fun?
We land on what the pilot tells me is Carmicheal’s private airstrip. He gives me directions to the house where they were attacked, and I nod before strapping on my weapons. When I am done, I turn to face them. Their faces are pale and I can smell their fear, it only makes me smile.
Leaving the plane without a word, I set off in the direction of the trees that edge the small airstrip. The pilot told me it was the fastest way and there is a path cutting through nature if you know where to look, which leads right to the back of the house.
I guess it is time for this minotaur to be back in the battle again, and I will start with the witches who dare threaten me.
Once in the trees, I can see the path he meant and I follow it at a slow jog, stretching my body and forcing it back into motion again after so long of being immobile. The flat forest slopes down and I can start to make out a mansion in the distance. It’s no fucking house, that is for sure.
When I reach the treeline bordering onto the backyard of the property I stop, letting the shadows conceal me as I take it all in. Beyond the forest lies a large backyard. A pool is to the left, and to the right is a whole garden filled with large trees, plants, and even a statue. The mansion towers over it all with a large balcony and stone railing, which looks over the backyard. Three doors lead into different sections of the house and large, arched windows show me it is at least three stories high.
On the roof above the balcony is a flat section, obviously for stargazing. Looks like the outcasts are doing well for themselves. Tilting my head, I push my senses out farther until I can see the spell cast around the property like a tripwire. It’s not quite a containment spell, they obviously didn’t have enough power or witches for that—no, it’s a simple tripwire laid in a crisscross pattern around the house to alert them of anyone approaching.
The doors and windows are also spelled with a locking charm, the magic flaring in my mind as I look at it. Spending so long around magic, witches, and cruel queens, taught me to notice the way magic flares. Most supes can’t see it unless they are really concentrating hard, and even then, some can’t. It takes a special type of supe and a powerful one at that, to see past the illusion magic throws up.
It also means if you can see it, you can most likely break it. Not the tripwire, they would notice that, but breaking an illusion on a window? It wouldn’t even ping back if I do it properly.
It’s getting to the window that will be a problem. Searching around, I spot the answer among the trees. I can move around until I am to the right, the treeline is closer there and all I will need to do is take a running jump and make it to the roof.
I move through the darkness quickly, making sure to pick my feet up and advance as silently as I can so as not draw attention to myself. When I reach the spot I picked out, I sling my swords from my front so they are swiveled onto the very base of my spine—this way they won’t make a noise when I hit the roof. Backing up, I lean down and take a couple of deep breaths before pushing off and sprinting to the edge of the treeline.
When the light hits the edge I jump, flinging myself through the air, with my hands outstretched to grasp the lip of the roof, which overhangs the grey, wooden slats of the house.
The feeling of being weightless hits me, but I don’t look down. I concentrate on my goal until the lip slaps my hands. Grabbing it, I stop my fall into the wall with my feet, remaining still and breathing, waiting in case anyone heard me.
When no one comes to investigate I pull myself up onto the roof and crouch there. I sneak across the slate tiles and steady myself with my hand. I’m a big guy and we aren’t meant for sneaking. I prefer to just kick down doors and kill everybody, but I have no idea what I am walking into and before I never cared if I lived or died, now I have a mate to think of.
When I reach the flat bit in the roof, I drop down to the balcony below, and freeze when my boots make a bang against the floor. Holding my breath, I wait again, but no one so much as looks out the sliding doors leading o
nto it.
Shuffling my feet instead of walking, I hover my hands over the magic sealing the door shut. It’s weak, not like the trip wire or even the downstairs windows and doors. It’s obvious they didn’t expect anyone to get up here and didn’t waste much magic on it. Stupid fucking witches.
Cockiness is always their problem, they think just because they wouldn’t come in this way no one else would. It’s always their downfall, their egos. They believe in the eyes of their gods. That they were blessed with their gods’ powers and that they can wield that magic, even now when most lines seem to be dying out. This makes them believe they are the strongest.
They rely on their magic so heavily that most don’t even know how to fight or wield a weapon. Strip them of their magic and they are no better than humans.
Pushing against the magic, I test its bounce back without breaking it. It only bounces slightly, just like I thought—weak.
I close my eyes and concentrate on drawing my power from the witch-charmed torc on my arm. It was given to me by the only witch I never killed on sight, spelled to my arm and mine alone to let me break enchantments. It didn’t work with such magic like the ones that held me, but for small things like this, it will.
It flows down my arm and to the magic I am touching, growing across it until it encompasses the magic there, then it squeezes, popping the magic until it falls in glowing tatters to the floor at my feet.
Sliding open the door, I step into the darkened bedroom the balcony leads to. I scan it quickly noting the king-size bed, armoire, rug, fire, and the open bathroom door leading off. I am positive no one is inside, so I walk forward but freeze when my boots make noise against the wooden floor.
Growling quietly to myself I reach down and unlace them and kick them off, placing them side by side at the open sliding door. Now on silent bare feet, I make my way to the closed door that obviously leads out of the room. I hold my hand over it and search for any magic, but when I find none I snort and crack open the door, peering out.
A hallway, with other closed doors, sits beyond with an open landing not too far away, and there is another hallway on this floor at the other end of the landing. Sneaking out, I close the door softly behind me and move towards the other hallway. They would have grouped them together, all the better to watch them, and they must be using magic to control them or bind them.
When I reach the landing I spot the black, twisted wooden banister leading along to curved stairs, which go down to the second floor. The house is deadly quiet, so when I hear a sigh and a door opening behind me, I spin and grab the startled witch before she can loose any magic or warnings.
Covering her mouth, I twist her neck and snap it, and let her drop to the floor quietly. There was no point asking her any questions, her mouth and words would be her weapon. One witch dead, many more to go.
Grinning, I reach behind me and grab both swords, this is going to be fun. It has been too long since I let the beast out to kill, but I let it out now.
The change takes over me, sliding across my body like silk and reforming me into the minotaur.
The hunters scream as I massacre my way through their masses. They manage to get a few good cuts and shots in, but I ignore the pain and the blood, letting my need for their blood, for their death and souls, roar through me until all I can think about is my next swing of the axe.
Ripping the head off one man, I throw it like a ball at the woman behind him with such force, that she flies backwards through the front door with a scream. Something slices down my back, and I turn with a growl, wrenching the knife away from the human who tried to stab me and chopping off his head.
More pour in and my dragon is fighting me for control, wanting free after all these years of sleeping. He can taste the souls on them and the ones lingering from the dead littered at my feet.
I roll my eyes at his huffing and jump over the crowd and back away, dropping my weapons to the floor with a clang as I let him take over.
One second I’m a man, the next I’m a dragon, the change is that swift and sure. Landing on the floor with a roar, I lower my head and grin at them. Their mouths drop open and either they haven’t seen a dragon before, or they have never heard the tales and lore of me in my dragon form.
I’m not like the others, no scales of multiple colours cover me. My skin is like leather, a dark shade of black. Not the black of this world or even the night sky, but a complete and utter lack of colour. One that if you stare too much, they say you see death and the beyond itself. My wings have long, sharp talons at the end and look more bat-like than dragon. Huge, black spikes run down my spine leading to my tail, which has a ball at the end with smaller spikes on it.
Those spikes continue onto my head, splitting down each side like horns framing my skull in what dragon lore used to call the royal crown. My snout ends in a point and my teeth are double the size of a normal dragon with venom held inside.
My eyes are a luminous purple, and when I breathe fire it is purple as well, so bright that it is said to be seen through my skin, but it is the black fire they should fear the most. The one that steals and captures the souls of innocents and evils alike, swallowing it whole.
They linger inside me after, and I can use their powers or strengths, sometimes even see their memories. Eventually they fade, and they will never go to whatever waits behind this world. They are destroyed, every scrap of them wiped out from the world like they never existed.
No, it is not my fire they should fear, but what comes after the fire. The reaping.
Breathing in, I let the fire build in my belly. Their fear doubles and in this form I can see each individual sweat droplet as it rolls down their bodies, see the hammering of their pulse, and feel their heartbeats and shaking. It’s addictive.
Opening my mouth wide, I blow.
Purple fire rains hell down on them, scorching them and burning them alive as they scream and try to fight it. Swinging my head from left to right I catch them all as they try to flee from me.
When none remain, I shut my mouth before the black smoke starts to leak out, begging and calling me to eat their souls, which hang in the balance, but I don’t want that sort of evil and judgment coursing through my body, so instead I watch as each soul floats above their vacant bodies before fading from view.
May hell have mercy on their wretched souls, mercy I did not show.
I spent the last two hours tracking my mate across the city. I found some witnesses that led me to a restaurant. When I...questioned the staff there, they told me she had left with a patron of theirs. I could smell their fear and hate, and that told me all I needed to know. She didn’t leave voluntarily.
Back to square one, I focused on our bond again until I finally ended up outside the warehouse that I am staring at now. Over in the industrial district, with litter and run-down factories and buildings, the place looks abandoned, but when I tried the door I found it open.
When I step inside, the smell of death, decay, blood, and unwashed bodies hits me, making me crinkle my nose, but underneath it all? The smell of my mate.
Tracking it through the hallways, ignoring the bodies of men dressed in black, I find myself outside a large room. Inside there are metal cells and video equipment that has me clenching my fists, especially when I scent my mate in one of those cages. The dead, naked man inside gives me pause and makes me grin. Oh yes, she has definitely been here.
I backtrack out of the room and head to the only other door. It leads down, and when I reach the bottom of the stairs I frown at the bloodstains and chains littering the little landing. Stepping into what I can only describe as a fucked up laboratory, I scan the cells with their open doors.
The smells down here give me pause as I sort through them all. Wolf, naga, witch, demon, and so many more, but the strongest of all is the scent of human, my mate and...is that a fucking Nephilim? I thought the bastards had been killed off by now.
They are untrustworthy psychopaths, usually trained as assassins, a
nd council lap dogs. So why is one here? Unless it was captured like the rest, but that doesn’t seem right. The rest of the scents are distinctly feminine and this one is male.
The freshest scent of death leads me down the hallway until I find the half mangled, bloodied body of what I am guessing used to be a doctor. From the equipment and setup, it looks like they were experimenting on supernaturals, but why?
Left with more questions than answers and no sign of Dawn, I head back upstairs and stand in the chaos that is the hallway. What has my little monster gotten herself into and where is she now?
Leaving the warehouse, I tilt my head when I hear a caw from above. I spot the bird and grin at my fortune. Crooking my finger, I hold out my hand and wait as it flies down and lands there, its intelligent eyes locked on mine. Birds make excellent spies.
Stroking its head, I hold its beady gaze and reach across the distance, fusing my mind with its. Memories pour in and I frown as I watch what happened here tonight.
I cut off the flow of information and stroke the bird’s head once before throwing it up in the air, letting it fly away. At least I know where my mate is heading, that winged bastard mentioned The Clubhouse and warned her not to go, but if I know my mate at all, his order will only make her want to go even more. She also seemed unhurt, which might just save the city from me decimating it if she had been, but the humans’ fates still hangs in the balance. I will wait to pass judgment until I know fully what happened.
Now, it’s time to find Dawn.
Driving the stolen BMW with a grin, I change gear and speed up, whooping to myself as I race around the empty city corners of the industrial district. I should head back and meet Nos, but I know Griffin will go straight to The Clubhouse without me and I want to make sure I get there first.
Marco drugged me, threw me in a cage, and left me to his humans. He dies and not just by Griffin’s hands, I want in on that. I look down at myself and frown, and I doubt they would let me into the club like this. I look like I’ve been part of a serial killer movie. My dress is torn and covered in...well, I don’t even know at this point. I don’t know if Nos will be back at the hotel and I don’t want to head back to grab my stuff if they are investigating the body I left behind. I really need to come up with a safe place to store my things.