by Lillian Lark
“Focus, Erickson. Do you want to protect Zeph? You need to get a handle on yourself.”
Alice is right. My attention goes back to my mate as Zeph starts to lean in, acting as if Henderson has snared her interest.
“Zeph knew the risks when she accepted the job… I’m pretty sure anyway. Goddess’s sake, I did not expect to have to babysit you through this. It’s like as soon as you met her you lost your damn mind—” Alice stops, and my neck tingles from her eyes on me. “Oh no, is she your mate?”
It’s as if my vulnerabilities shine in the dim light of the bar. I want to hide them, but I also want to claim them. I want everyone to know Zeph is my mate. Just like I had wanted everyone to know Asa was my mate. The thought makes my inner wolf snap. I shake my head in confusion at the contrary beast.
“Would it help to be able to hear them?” Alice offers.
Alice’s earpiece already feeds her the conversation. From this distance, I can hear the tone of Zeph’s and Henderson’s voices but not the specifics. I think about it for a second before nodding. It might be better for the wolf to hear Zeph’s voice.
Alice points at me. “You better not distract her.”
When I hear Zeph’s voice clearly, the beast is soothed, some. The cadence of her words helps in a way that has me feeling embarrassed about how antsy my wolf is. I only get to enjoy the purr of Zeph for a moment before the conversation starts to register.
"You own this establishment? I just saw it featured in Spelled Out.”
“Yes, this bar has done really well. We’ve already made triple the initial investment within the first week.”
“That’s rather impressive,” Zeph says reluctantly.
“I think I can impress you in a lot of ways if you give me the chance.”
My face screws up at the line. Zeph makes a sound of doubt but pauses as if thinking it over. She’s acting, but my heartbeat picks up in jealousy. I grit my teeth, reining in the wolf hard, trying to focus on the conversation.
“I heard that you’re expanding to the roof. I’d like to see the work you’re having done. It would be a quieter place to… talk.”
Henderson straightens in his seat, looking pleased. Phase two of the plan has begun.
Henderson’s smug words barely register as I watch him escort Zeph out of the bar. Alice tosses money on the table for the drinks we didn’t touch and moments later we are going up the stairs to the roof.
Alice prepares all her tricks. If I’m the muscle, then she is the firepower. Normally I’d marvel at all the spells she has on hand, but I’m focused on listening to the earpiece while the target talks about the tile work under construction. From the coded descriptions Zeph drops into the dialogue, they are still on the part of the roof near the door.
I pull out the tranquilizer gun Alice gave me earlier. If magical methods don’t work in apprehending Henderson, mundane means would have to do.
With a nod, Alice and I burst through the roof door.
The sudden brightness of the sun is searing but there isn’t time to adjust. We have at most five minutes before security shows up; it shouldn’t matter. The barrier spell we leave on the doorway will give us extra time. Our way out, once we detain Henderson, is an escape portal Alice invested in.
Henderson turns toward us and curses. Alice takes point, hands already glowing in her casting.
“Wyatt Henderson! You are being taken into custody by authority of the Council; surrender yourself and come peacefully.”
Henderson’s face morphs into something ugly and I watch Zeph quickly move out of his reach, shielded from the fight by a wall. Henderson swings back to her and realizes he’s lost the use of a hostage. He snarls and I don’t hesitate to shoot him with the tranquilizer dart.
I hadn’t gone shooting with my brothers in years. We didn’t do anything more than shoot at cans on a fence, but my aim strikes true.
Henderson pulls the dart from his chest angrily. “You aren’t taking me in!”
Either he has a built-up tolerance or the sedative needs time to work. The air changes, static tickles my exposed skin, and suddenly I fly backward from the brute power Henderson throws. I hit the barrier, but a shriek breaks the air.
“Alice!”
Time slows down for me. Alice, who had tried to flank Henderson, goes over the edge of the roof.
Helpless horror turns to devastation when I see Zeph run to the edge. A scream traps in my throat when she jumps off.
Chapter 3
Zephyrine
The wind whistles past my ears and a laugh bubbles from me as I dive toward Alice. I haven’t stretched my wings in months; I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it. Harpies don’t have to fly, our wings are an extension of our magic and don’t atrophy with disuse. But something about the wind bending around me makes my soul sing.
I should do favors for Sophia more often. It’s easy to become complacent in my quiet life and forget how alive it feels to fly.
I dive quickly, catching up to the screaming Alice well before she faces the danger of the asphalt. She stops screaming when I snatch her and we shoot upward, the wind assisting us.
I’m not worried about the people below seeing us. Harpies have a mild form of magic that keeps observers from noticing a harpy while in flight. People will see what they expect to see. With the city’s population of paranormal beings, it wouldn’t matter anyway. Law enforcement would just come up with something to excuse someone reporting what they had seen.
I hold Alice tightly and let the thermals of the wind lift us. The winds are my specialty. My sisters have different talents, but the air currents have always wanted to please me. The strength of the current and the speed we pull from the dive at, has us approaching the roof of the building quickly.
“Watch the talons.” Fear makes Alice’s voice reedy.
I snort but adjust my hands. In full harpy form, my kind takes on more bird attributes than just wings. The black curving claws and scales on my hands could battle against swords in my ancestors’ day but are now just remnants from the past. I could recede that part of the transformation but who knows, they could prove useful in this situation.
“Greg, we are incoming,” Alice says into the earpiece I forgot about in the thrill of the drop.
We approach the roof’s edge at a rapid rate.
“Drop me as soon as we make the roof. I don’t want to be airborne any longer than I need to.” Alice’s voice sounds stronger but still wavers.
We break the roofline and I do as Alice requests, dropping her back into the fray. The absence of her weight shocks me. The winds, delighted to show off, add speed to my ascent that makes my eyes water.
It’s glorious. I should be more careful, more cautious, there could be wards in these skies. Magical security around the tops of buildings for the residents.
Hitting a single ward would knock me out, as harpies are susceptible to magic. We feel the ebbs and flows around us daily. It might be a leftover skill from ancient times but it works against us now.
I swoop back around the building since I know this area is clear. It would be better to check in with my team rather than getting sky drunk in the city.
“ZEPH! Watch out!”
Alice shouts at me but I feel the crackle in the air too late.
Gregory
Time stops for me when Henderson throws the bolt of energy at Zeph.
I had thought the man harmless, covered in blood. When Zeph jumped off the side of the building after Alice, I had lost my mind. The wolf demanded blood for the loss of a mate, and I gave it. I used my fists to try and satisfy the rage and grief of losing something before I ever had it.
Alice’s voice in the earpiece had shocked me. Henderson was coughing blood when I stumbled toward the edge of the building just as a giant bird shot upward from below the roofline. Alice dropped from its clutches, doing a neat tumbling trick to break her fall, and started casting again.
“That bitch,” Henderson spat from the bl
oody spot on the ground I had left him. I heard him move.
My brain took a precious moment to realize that it wasn’t a bird but Zeph. Zeph with a giant set of wings, soaring upward before banking around.
The release from grief was a physical thing. I wanted to laugh. An angel? Do those exist or is she something else?
“Greg! Stop him!” Alice shouts before turning to Zeph, “ZEPH! Watch out!”
But it’s too late. I am too late.
Henderson’s bolt hits Zeph. She begins to fall like a dead weight, unconscious. I start to yell.
To Alice who finished her containment spell but can’t cast anything that would reach Zeph as she falls. To Zeph to wake up, to pull out of the drop. I hang over the edge of the roof. I watch the falling body of my mate and the wolf in me wants to howl.
Hope soars when Zeph’s wings snap back open, but her actions are unbalanced, confused. She careens around the building, out of my line of sight.
I scream her name, the sound ripping a hole in my chest.
Zephyrine
A voice screams into my ear as I fall. My eyes want to open but the lids are so heavy. I finally react, trying to stop this descent, but my gestures are slow, useless. The voice still screams when I crash.
Blinding pain and the smell of blood alternates with moments of darkness. I want to give up, whimper into the darkness like an injured animal, but I can’t allow myself to let go.
A different voice breaks in then, smooth, cool water on hot steel. My vision blurs but my ears work even if my mind reels in agony. I’m being asked questions. I try to move but the grind of bone on bone makes me scream. My throat burns with a nauseous warning.
The helplessness of the situation sparks a rage in me, and I lash out. I am no victim. My talons catch something fleshy. I try to make my eyes focus. My sight returns and I freeze.
Death hovers over me, a darkly angelic face, undoubtedly here to take me from this plane. I am no victim, but who am I to fight Death? It’s too late, I’ve already struck something I can’t win against.
Deep slashes mar the perfection of Death’s visage. The wounds across his face begin to bleed but Death smiles down at me even as the blood drips. Can Death bleed?
I would have assumed an otherworldly being would look stern or serene. A removed expression. But this smile brims with delight.
“A fighter! Very good.” Death’s happy look changes as the tinny voice in my ear makes itself known to us. Death’s brows knit; another man is shouting to me from the device I had put in my ear earlier. The sound fascinates the being before me and Death plucks the device from my ear carefully.
Confusion chokes me and the surroundings of metal and concrete won’t stop spinning. The relief is overwhelming when the darkness claims me.
Asa
The harpy is in bad shape from what I see. I had worried that she would already be on her way to the otherworld when I first approached her but the snarl and swipe she had taken at me had been a relief. She won’t die yet, not this one. Her unfocused eyes had hinted at delirium, probably from the pain, which would be significant. But her soul will stay on this plane.
It’s a simple thing to make me so happy, but I had seen a lot of death in my time. The wars had been the worst, but the particular skills I have make it difficult to stay out of those conflicts. So, I served with the soldiers. Aiding them in the aftermath of the decisions of powerful men.
I am a damn good medic to have around. This feisty bird is lucky that out of all the balconies she could have gotten tangled in, she crashed into mine. The smile on my face tugs the scratches she made in my cheek, which just makes me smile wider. I have a soft spot for beings with spirit.
I make soft crooning sounds while I catalog the injuries. Wincing at the obviously broken wing. I would have thought they’d both be broken but it looks as if only one took the brunt of the impact with the wrought-iron.
There’s blood, both from the wing and her, but nothing gushes. A gash in the bird’s hair soaks the side of her face with blood. I’ll have to be careful with her head, she probably has a concussion.
“Mace, get towels.” My words are direct and leave no room for arguments. I move slowly to her side; it looks as if she has lost consciousness but I’m still careful. Mace doesn’t move. The device I had plucked from her ear still squawks; probably the harpy’s group panicking. I’ll address that in a moment.
Mace’s eyes are wide as he takes in our unexpected guest. “Th-th-that’s a—”
“Harpy.” I cut him off. “And she’s very hurt. I don’t think she’s in danger of dying but the pain is going to be overwhelming when she’s conscious again, so I’d like to work quickly. If I’m remembering correctly, harpies don’t like to be magically anesthetized.”
Mace snaps out of his shock right as the earpiece squawks again and I place it near my ear. The familiar voice makes me freeze. It’s tinny but unmistakable, even screaming in a devastation I’ve never heard from him.
“Gregory?” I ask.
His voice stops abruptly; does he recognize my voice in the same way I can his?
“Asa?”
My eyes close with a small amount of relief. I don’t know if it’s from hearing his voice or that he recognized mine. My good sense says him recognizing my voice means little in the grand scheme of things. But I’m rarely sensible about this man.
“Where is Zeph? Is she okay?”
The woman below me is beautiful. It’s obvious even under the blood and injury. I’d ignored that before, but now there’s a twinge in my chest because something in Gregory’s voice makes me want to retreat.
“If Zeph is the harpy, I can tell you she’ll live but is injured.”
“If you do anything to her, I’ll—” Gregory stops himself from saying more.
I almost drop the earpiece. The shattered heart that I had thought nearly healed, cracks. The idea that I’d show up after Gregory’s job and just convince him that we should get back together dies a horrible, flaming death.
“What would you do, Gregory? Just who is this woman to you?”
“She’s my mate!” He sounds senseless.
I want to vomit. Or cry. An unfamiliar sensation that feels like being punched in the stomach and stabbed in the back at the same time takes over me.
“Well, maybe I should warn the poor girl before you discard her too. Better yet, maybe she and I will spend some time together, getting to know each other.” My mouth opens, words come out. Do I mean them? Or do I just want to spread the pain in my chest to someone else?
“Asa!”
“Don’t be like that, I didn’t know you were the jealous type. It must be something else new about you. I must be going as your mate is needing some medical attention. You know where you can find us.” I drop the earpiece, so hollow with anger that it only feels a little satisfying to crush it under my shoe.
Chapter 4
Zephyrine
The pain is present before I open my eyes. I thought I had seen Death but I’m surely alive. If I were dead, it wouldn’t hurt as much. I crack an eye open; the light blinds me and I screw my eyes shut again. My head feels like a balloon is pressing against the inside of my skull and a bitter taste lines my mouth.
It’s reminiscent of the times Aunt Fairuza hit us with spells to knock us out during flight training. To build up a “tolerance.” I’d scoff if it wouldn’t make my head explode.
When I go through the sensation of magic currents around me, I tense. There’s more than one magic source. Odd, I only remember getting hit once. The fear starts to creep up my spine; the feel of the room isn’t unpleasant, but I don’t recognize it.
My resurfacing happens slowly. I lie on a soft surface, face down. A bed? The pillowcase feels cool against my cheeks and has a soothing scent. A weight presses down on my back, and I gather myself to try to move it. A male voice breaks into the ever-present cloud of pain in my head.
“Zeph, is it? You’re safe here. How about you try and wake
up if you can and we’ll have a short talk, so you don’t carve me up with your claws or use any other skills you have.”
I want to be on guard. To personify the responsible harpy my mother and her sisters trained. But his voice. Gods above his voice is beautiful. A deep roll with crisp parts. And familiar. Why does his voice sound familiar?
I try to open my eyes again, squinting. The light dims as my mysterious host moves to draw a curtain. My surroundings are blurry shapes. The owner of the alluring voice comes to sit on a chair in front of my side of the bed.
“Where am I?” My voice croaks.
“At my house. As soon as you feel up to it, you can call or email anyone you need to. You were injured while in flight. You ran into my hotel room’s balcony and have a broken wing. I feared that you had broken both wings, but you were lucky—”
“Don’t feel lucky,” I interrupt.
A warm chuckle comes from my host and causes the muscles in my chest, tight from fear, to loosen. If this guy is as trustworthy as my instincts say, I’ll be fine. If he’s not, I’m doomed. My body refuses to be alert in his presence.
“Ah well, I apologize, but you started to wake up before I had finished splinting the wing and I had to spell you to sleep again. I’ve heard that harpies don’t react well to other magics, but I don’t think I could have handled setting the wing if you were awake.”
I had never broken a wing before, but Amara had broken her wing when we were younger, and the memory of her screams haunted me for years after. I’d take a magical hangover over experiencing that firsthand.
“Who are you?” I struggle to lift myself from my stomach but gasp at the sharp pain. My vision is still blurry.
“Easy.” The shape of my host jumps up. “Do you want to be on your side?”
I nod. My host’s hands are gentle as he positions me. He situates another pillow for my body spoon. The places where he touches me warm under his competent motions.