“How old?”
“Kid was born almost two years ago. A little boy.”
“Vincent’s?” Dakota asked.
“Seems so,” Ashton responded dryly.
“Why didn’t we know sooner?” If there was even a chance that little boy would inherit his father’s magic, they needed to know. They had to make sure he didn’t become a threat.
“I told you, I didn’t even know until she came to see me last week.”
Anastasia stood to pace, her mind going a million miles a minute. A kid? The bastard had fathered a son! How the hell had they not known about it?
As she panicked, Dakota asked, “Why did she come see you?”
“She seems to think someone is coming for her son. Says she’s been seeing them in dreams.”
“Is it possible she’s just crazy?” Dakota folded his arms.
Ashton sighed. “Honestly, that’s what I thought at first, too. But she was adamant and, given the history there, I sent an officer over.”
Anastasia stopped pacing and turned toward the man, but he just stared at Dakota.
“And?” Dakota nudged.
“He saw something that I haven’t quite been able to wrap my mind around.”
“What did he see?” Anastasia demanded.
Ashton chewed on the inside of his cheek. “He swears he saw Vincent through a window.”
Anastasia walked over and put her hands on the back of the chair she’d been sitting in only moments before. “That’s not possible. I destroyed him.”
“I’m only telling you what my guy swears he saw.”
“Your guy is wrong.”
Ashton narrowed his eyes. “I assure you that while it may not have been Vincent he saw, there was someone in that house.”
“Do you have an address for her?” Dakota interrupted.
“Do you really think she’s going to want to see either of you? I get that he was unhinged, but you did kill the father of her child.”
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Anastasia insisted. “Address?”
Ashton wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Dakota. “I hate that I have to say this”—he turned his attention to Anastasia—“but don’t kill her.”
The captain trusted her as much as one trusted running with scissors, but suggesting she might murder someone who wasn’t a threat was taking it a little too far.
“I’m not a murderer,” Anastasia growled, then she turned on her heal and stormed from his office.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Dakota said once he caught up with her.
“Don’t defend him, Dakota. He hates me, and that’s something I am a hundred percent okay with, because to be honest, I’m not crazy about him either.”
They continued down to the parking garage and climbed back into the car.
Vincent had a son. Another power-hungry sorcerer in the world that she may have to kill one day.
She didn’t believe the officer had seen Vincent; it just wasn’t possible. She’d destroyed him, hadn’t she? If he was still alive, then where the hell had he been for the last two years? She wasn’t foolish enough to think he would have given up his goal of world—worlds—domination.
And if it hadn’t been him, just who had the officer seen in the window?
“What are you thinking about?” Dakota asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“The fact that Vincent had a kid and we somehow only just learned about it.”
“The child is not an it, Ana.”
“It’s Vincent’s child, Dakota. It’s not human.”
“Vincent was human. Somewhat, anyway. So are you.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Why not? What does it matter who fathered him? He’s an innocent child.”
Anastasia shot Dakota a glare. “He may grow up to be just like his father.”
“And he may not. It’s not the bloodline that determines who you become. You, of all people, should know that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Vincent was your uncle. That means you two shared blood, and you are a good person even though he wasn’t.”
“I turned dark, Dakota. The temptation was there.”
“But you resisted.”
She shook her head and chewed on her lower lip. He was wrong; it wasn’t the same thing. This kid could turn into someone horrible, and while she wouldn’t harm him as a child, the second he grew up and turned dark like Vincent, she would put a stop to him. Without hesitation.
They pulled into the driveway of a two-story townhouse on the outskirts of town. The pale blue paint was paired with white shutters and a white front door. Overall, the home looked welcoming, and nothing like the residence of a woman who had been involved with a psychopath bent on world domination.
Anastasia started to climb out, but Dakota grabbed her hand. “Vincent’s son or not, you need to remember that right now, Gwen is a woman trying to protect her child.” The subtle warning to keep calm was there in his voice, but it only pissed her off.
She wasn’t a hotheaded murderer who was going to start killing innocent people. Dakota, of all people, should know that. She just also wasn’t an idiot who thought a son of Vincent’s would grow up to be a positive member of society.
After a quick squeeze, he released her, and they stepped out of the car. Three knocks later, a blonde woman opened the door. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and there were bags under her eyes, showing that she hadn’t been sleeping much. Her mouth was pulled in a tight line. A cartoon played somewhere in the house.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
They’d never actually seen her in person before. In fact, the only reason they even knew she existed was because Vincent had been seen with her a few times by the public. Ashton had told them she’d all but disappeared after his death.
“I’m Dakota Parker, and this is my wife, Anastasia.”
The woman’s face reddened, and she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Apparently, she’d heard of them also.
“We have been informed that you are worried about the safety of your son.”
“He is none of your damn business, you fucking murderers.”
“Miss Mur—”
The woman drove her finger into Dakota’s chest, and it wasn’t until he reached for Anastasia’s hand that she realized she’d growled. She took a step back to let Dakota handle the woman himself.
“Don’t you dare Miss Murphy me. You murdered the man I loved.” She shot Anastasia a glare. “Slaughtered your own uncle. My son and I are none of your concern, so get the fuck away from my house before I go get my gun and shoot you both.”
“Do you really think a gun can stop me?” Anastasia warned, her fingers sparking.
Gwen didn’t even flinch. “I think it would hurt like hell.”
Dakota looked between the two women and finally just took a step back, pulling Anastasia with him.
“We only want to help,” he said. “If someone does come for your son, call the police and tell them to find us. We will be in town a little bit longer.”
“I told you that I don’t want your help.”
“I understand, but you may need it.” Dakota pulled Anastasia to the car.
4
Seattle
Anastasia
“We shouldn’t have left.” Anastasia insisted as they wove in and out of traffic.
“We didn’t have a choice, Ana. She could have called the police on us.”
“They don’t worry me.”
“You know, they should. You may be the all-powerful Sorceress, but that doesn’t make you immune to this world’s laws when we’re here.”
She glared at him. “I never said it did.”
“No, but you’re sure as hell acting like it.” His hands clenched the steering wheel as he pulled onto the highway. “You may not like it, but Gwen is a human. Her baby is human, whether Vin
cent is the father or not.”
“If Vincent is the father, we may have a bigger problem than whether or not I follow protocol.”
“And therein lies the issue. When it comes to Vincent, you have a blind spot. You ever think that it’s possible Gwen will raise a good son?”
“She was with Vincent, Dakota. That doesn’t allude much to a good natured, rational side.”
“Love is love, Anastasia. Just because you don’t understand why it’s there, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
“Where the hell is this coming from?”
“I’m just trying to get you to see it from another perspective. I love you, but you have a tendency to view things in black and white. There are shades of grey, Ana, and sometimes, those shades are worth looking into.”
She knew what he was saying, understood the consequences she would face if she acted on her instinct when it came to anything Vincent spawned, but she’d seen Maximus and Ophelia. Those two had been Vincent’s children, blood relatives or not, and they had nearly taken out all of Terrenia.
He’s a harmless child… for now.
Anastasia leaned back in her seat and watched as they drove past buildings that had once all been crumbled brick and mortar.
She would stick close, and the second that boy turned into anything more, she would take him out. No more innocent lives would be lost because of Vincent.
Dakota eased the car down the off-ramp and groaned. “Shit.” Smoke billowed from between two buildings up ahead. “Looks like we found them. Fucking fairies.”
The Pickries had been damn hard to catch. They’d stayed underground most of the time, only surfacing to cause trouble. So, why are they not worried about being caught now?
Pulling into the alley, Dakota put the car in park. At the end of the alley, two men wrestled on the ground, swinging and kicking at one another. Blood poured from different spots on their faces and arms.
Anastasia shook her head. “Seems those bastards are into fighting sports.” She removed her seat belt and opened the door.
“The Pickries are causing that?” Dakota asked as they stood behind the doors and watched a slightly larger dark-haired man tackle the other back to the ground.
“Even if they aren’t forcing them to fight, I guarantee they had something to do with it.”
The Pickries were perched on top of broken down cars, watching the fighting eagerly. Bloodthirsty bastards.
Dakota slammed his door, and the Pickries’ heads swirled around to look at them. Their iridescent yellow-gold eyes lit up with anticipation when they realized who the new company was.
“Hey!” Dakota yelled to the men.
“Just in time, we’ve grown bored.” The larger of the Pickries smiled widely and snapped his fingers. The other beings moved so fast, Anastasia didn’t see them until it was too late. Both men fell to the pavement, their necks snapped.
“When the hell did you start killing for sport?” Dakota asked angrily.
“When we got bored of this world.” The singsong voice had the tone of amusement, but disdain dripped from its words. “We grew tired of waiting for you to find us.”
“What’s not to like about Seattle? I love it here,” Anastasia responded sarcastically.
“You would. You are ugly inside, Sorceress. A monster wrapped with a pretty little bow.”
“Oh, you think I’m pretty?” She pressed her hand to her chest in mock appreciation. “That’s so sweet.”
“You mock me?”
“I do,” she retorted.
It howled in laughter and looked to the other four that watched with eager eyes. “Baby Sorceress thinks she knows what’s coming.” Its head swirled back to hers. “What’s already here.” It smiled, showing tiny, razor-sharp teeth.
“You? Do you not remember I kicked your ass already?”
It jumped down from its perch on top of an abandoned car and crept closer to her. “You will die,” it said simply.
Anastasia reached for the gun in her waistband. “Not likely.” She fired, and it fell to the ground, yellow blood oozing from the wound. “Who else wants a piece of me?” She aimed the weapon at the others.
“It will slaughter you, Baby Sorceress.”
She grinned. “Let whatever it is come.” Anastasia waved her hand, and a portal appeared. She swung her arm in a sweeping motion toward the remaining Pickries and the corpse on the ground, and watched with satisfaction as they were all flung into the swirling light. Once they disappeared, she shut the portal and holstered her weapon. “Well, that was easy.”
“What do you think they were talking about?”
“Who knows. Probably just trying to intimidate us.” But something inside her screamed for attention, as if a part of her knew something terrible was headed their way. Wasn’t that why she hadn’t wanted to start a family yet? If they added children to the mix, there was more to lose.
“Let’s head back to the house.” Dakota turned back to the car. “I’ll call Ashton and let him know about the bodies.”
“Good idea.” She looked down at the dead human men. When had the Pickries turned violent? They’d fought, sure, even kidnapped Dakota and other Terrenians, but there had been a purpose behind their actions, never just murder for sport.
“You coming?” Dakota asked as he opened the driver’s side door to the ’69 Mustang his father rebuilt years before.
She nodded and headed toward him. No sense in stressing about it now; the Pickries were back in their own world, and they could all kill each other for all she cared.
Hell, she hoped they did.
5
Pickrie World
Plews
“Home sweet home,” Plews commented when he and Kleve landed back in the Pickrie world—their world. One they hadn’t been able to visit for over two years. In their race, only the king possessed power enough to travel between the worlds.
Plews looked down at the body of Jeog, at the bullet hole in his neck. If he’d cared much for the other Pickrie, he might have mourned his death. Truth was, he was bored of both the brethren he’d been trapped with for so long.
“Can you smell that, Brother?” Kleve breathed deeply and grinned, showing off perfectly white, sharp teeth.
“Shall we go find our king?” Plews asked as they flew up toward where the castle stood. Giant flowers greeted them with sweet scents as they made their way home.
The large fortress was made entirely of gold—a metal that was as easy to come by in their world as air—and sat atop their only mountain.
Gemstones in various colors glinted in the sunlight, bringing a smile to the Pickrie’s face. It has been far too long. They flew through the aerial entrance and into the throne room where their king sat. Or, should have sat.
“Leay, why are you in the king’s seat?” Kleave asked curiously after they landed.
The elder Pickrie looked up and smiled. “Plews! Kleave! It’s wonderful to see you this day. Tell me, where have you been? We believed you dead!”
Plews looked over at Kleave, just as confused as he was. “We have been trapped in the Seattle world. The Sorceress sent us here.”
Leay rolled his eyes. “Of course she did. A horrible one, she is. At least she sent you home!”
“Agreed,” Kleave commented.
“Why have you taken the throne? What has happened to our king?”
Leay tipped his chin higher. “I am your king now.”
“What happened to—?”
Leay held up his hand. “We do not discuss it. Now, please tell me of your travels.”
“We had none. We merely sought out a way to return home,” Kleave lied. The three Pickries who remained behind decided to do so of their own volition. They’d abandoned the sorcerer’s cause once they’d realized it was a doomed one, and passed their time with humans who had a particular taste for them.
Plews nearly grinned at the thought. They’d been sought after by humans who wanted to experience ecstasy with other beings and found the
y quite enjoyed the adventure. Sex, as they called it, proved to be a tasteful pastime.
Of course, the puny species had been unable to stay away once they’d gotten a taste, and while it was amusing at first, they’d chosen to eliminate any trail the Sorceress might have been able to follow back to them.
That was until Jeog had decided he wanted to make the humans fight each other. It had been a brilliant plan to lead her to them, and since Plews desperately wanted to go home, he hadn’t argued.
“Why must you tell false truths?” Leay sighed, and Plews’ attention snapped back to his king.
“I’m not sure I understand what you are saying.” Kleave swallowed hard, and Plews pitied his friend. Lying to the king was punishable by death.
Leay’s eyes turned to Plews. “Tell me, Plews, do you have a different truth to tell?”
Plews considered; he could tell the truth and condemn his friend to death, or lie and join him.
It was an easy decision.
“I regret to report that Kleave is lying, my king. We chose to stay in Seattle and expand our knowledge of the humans. It is regrettable that we stayed away as long as we did.” Plews bowed his head and nearly snickered when Kleave looked his way.
It wasn’t Plews’s fault. Why should he die for Kleave’s lie?
“Very well.” Leay snapped his fingers, and two of his guards flew down to lift Kleave up. “For telling me a false truth, you are sentenced to death.” Leay smiled and nodded to the others.
Pickrie blood rained down on the floor as the guards tore Kleave apart for his crime. When the deed was done, Leay turned his attention to Plews.
“Tell me of the Sorceress.”
“What would you know of her?”
“As I understand it, you still received our telepathic messages, yes?”
Plews nodded.
“Did you inform the Sorceress of anything that was coming?”
“No, my king. I do regretfully inform you that Jeog told her something was coming, but he did not elaborate on details.”
“Where is Jeog now?”
“Dead. His body came through with us, and we left it to be absorbed back into the world.”
Siren Page 3