by Jami Gray
Which meant one disturbing message and eight hours later, I found myself crammed into the sardine can doubling as a plane. As it rolled to a stop on the tarmac, I moved into the narrow aisle, squishing between a young mother holding a squirming toddler, and a heavy set, cranky businessman as we jockeyed for a place. Juggling my camera bag while I dug out my cell phone didn’t endear me to my fellow passengers either. Since our flight out of Fairbanks, Alaska had been delayed, everyone wanted off, right now. People were pulling out bags and resetting their various electronic devices. Muted conversations swelled around me while the toddler took advantage of his mother’s inattention to flash me a gap-tooth grin. I wiggled my fingers at him. The grin widened, at least until his mom distracted him with a stuffed toy.
Thumbing my phone’s screen, I discovered seven missed calls and two voice mails. Nerves tightened.
Numbers scrolled across my incoming call list. The first one held a 619 area code. Coronado, California. It repeated twice. My stomach lurched and old anger snarled. I scrolled past it like all the others I’d received in the last few months, and then found the one I needed. It was listed four times.
Damn it!
My stomach roiled.
I hit the icon to retrieve my voicemails, then tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear. It made pulling my battered backpack from the overhead compartment tricky. Finally getting it free, I settled it on my free shoulder, only then able to reclaim my phone. The awkward juggle allowed me to ignore the strange visual dance of adverted glances from my fellow passengers. Of course the burn scars curling under my jaw and dripping like delicate lace down my neck before disappearing under my T-shirt were hard to miss. Hell, even I wasn’t used to them yet.
“Cyn? You need to call me as soon as you land.” Frantic and breathless, I almost didn’t recognize Kelsey’s voice. My fingers tightened on my phone. “Look, there’s been a change of plans. I’m heading north to hole up and wait for you.” Her harsh breathing was audible even with the rumblings of the departing passengers as we shuffled to the exit. “Whoever’s been watching me, I think they got in my condo. You know that itch you talk about? Yeah, well it’s graduated to hives.” Her voice became muffled, and then cleared, “…not comfortable sharing over the phone, so just hurry the hell up and get here, okay?”
The next message came from the 619 area code so I didn’t bother listening. I hit speed dial, praying Kelsey would pick up. Her phone rang and went to voicemail. “Kels, it’s me. I’m on my way. Call me back.” I checked to see when she’d called. Forty-five minutes ago.
Stuck in the exit shuffle, I hit the oven between the airplane and the actual airport masquerading as the jet way at a stuttering run. Once there was room, I began dodging the zombie-like crowd of departing passengers, ignoring the muttered complaints trailing in my wake. Like I gave a shit right now. Kelsey was an up-and-coming corporate lawyer in a Phoenix law firm and the last damn person to panic. Until being taken in by the Ardens as teenagers, we had both navigated the wonderfully warped world of foster care with guts and bravado. The underlying fear in her message scared the bejesus out of me.
My bags thumped against my shoulders and hips as my booted feet pounded down the seemingly never-ending airport corridors. Exiting through the automated doors, the sucking wall of a hundred-plus degrees of Phoenix summer put a hitch in my step. I hopped on the shuttle for long-term parking. As it made its way to where I had left my Jeep two and a half weeks ago, I tried Kelsey’s number again. No answer. Next call went to my cabin up north. The stupid machine picked up. “Kels? Are you there?” I waited, trying not to pant like a racehorse. Nothing. Sickening dread tightened my stomach muscles and I tried her condo in Tempe. Nothing.
The shuttle lurched to a stop at the curb in a cloud of exhaust. I ran, weaving my way through the blistering metal of parked cars under the relentless afternoon sun, my T-shirt sticking to my back like a leech. Finding my Jeep, I threw my backpack in the back and, with a little more care, set my padded camera bag on the passenger floorboard. Habit had me plugging in my phone before I settled behind the wheel. Not waiting for my poor air conditioner to beat back the searing heat, I started the engine, navigated out of the lot, and hit the freeway.
My fingers danced on the steering wheel with frenetic worry and my left leg bounced like a piston. My body got busy stressing out, while my mind remained startlingly clear. The dichotomy felt all too familiar. Lessons learned during my stint with the U.S. Marine’s Intelligence Unit stuck like glue. Shoving my emotions to the side, logic took center stage and survival became the name of the game.
Kelsey would be heading north, to Sedona, to the cabin we inherited from our foster parents. The one I called home when I was here. A little haven of security tucked away from the world. Listed under our foster mother’s maiden name and known only to us, it made a perfect hideout. A glance at the Jeep’s dash confirmed a full tank. If I followed the speed limit, I’d hit Sedona in little over two hours. A quick prayer to whatever deities were listening and I pressed my foot harder on the gas. Speed limits be damned.
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Lying in Ruins
A Fate’s Vultures Novel
On a mission to retrieve a kidnapped child, a woman skilled secrecy must join forces with a nomadic vigilante bent on revenge to hunt a common enemy through the desiccated remains of civilization.
She picked the wrong damn day to visit. From her positions in the doorway, Charity took in the blood-spattered room as she leant against the doorjamb of the shop service as Pebble Creek’s delivery and message center.
Next to her, leaning against the other side and modeling the latest in crimson-stained field medic bandages, was her old mentor turned friend, Boden. ‘As soon as the last Raider was down, I headed back and found this.’ His expression was as grim as his voice.
This encompassed the carnage gathering flies and filling the confines of the room with the stench of hard death. A scent the spring air couldn’t cut even as it found its way in through the doorway and shattered window. Light danced among the carnage as sunlight hit pieces of old glass, igniting tiny bloodstained fireflies. It was a too familiar scene.
Years before her birth, the winds of change swept over the world, laying waste with gleeful abandon, ripping apart the wonders of civilized man and reminding those who survived how overrated being civilized truly was. Man-made super viruses danced through the heavy urban populations and vital crops leaving decimation in its wake. Wasn’t long before logic fell to its knees under the unbreakable grip of fear while cities raged and burned.
Even Mother Nature got into the mix, drowning coastlines and recreating the landscape and borders with the tools at her disposal. Each event cascaded into a brutal lesson for humanity’s children, a lesson they refused to heed until they had no choice. Then, it was too late to do anything but survive. And survival became a brutal, vicious game with very few rules.
Part of her wanted to turn on her heel and walk away. She had enough things to worry about right now, and adding this cluster to her to-do list wasn’t ideal. Instinct whispered and instead of leaving, she stepped inside.
There wasn’t much to the room besides a long counter with a good size opening dead center. It stretched across the width of the room, splitting it in half. She counted three, maybe four, bodies. It was hard to tell if the leg sticking out from behind the counter was still attached to a body. However, identifying the body on her side of the counter was easy. It was Crane, the man she was here to see. Looked like her meeting was canceled. ‘Had to have happened during the raiding party attack.’
‘Yeah.’ Boden’s one-word answer landed like a two-ton stone.
She shifted a bit and winced as the movement pulled at the shallow bullet graze in her torn shoulder, a remnant from the brief, but furious, earlier firefight. ‘I’m not a big believer in coincidence.’
That earned her a grunt fro
m Boden. ‘Funny, neither am I.’ He dug a thick finger under the bloodstained strip of cloth covering his weathered chest and scratched. ‘Especially when they come in pairs. First, Raiders don’t generally come this far up the pass, especially during early spring. Too much hassle, which is why Crane picked this spot.’
This spot being Pebble Creek, a virtual stronghold situated in a narrow natural valley between two ridges in the southern area of what used to be Idaho. A place that should be too far not to tempt the desert dwelling Raiders into crossing the ravaged bones of what once made up Nevada, Utah and Idaho. After the Collapse, what humanity remained, hunkered down in a few key urban areas or huddled in strategic rural communities like Pebble Creek, run by men like Crane. ‘Second?’
‘Second, Crane was outnumbered, which tells me they were targeting him, not any of the supplies or shipments.’
Her attention went to the neat stack of boxes lining the back wall. A recent delivery? ‘Which would make the attack at the front gate a smoke screen?’
‘Probably.’
She sighed. An hour ago she rode into Pebble Creek, hoping to claim some of Crane’s time and maybe get a solid lead on the trail of breadcrumbs she was sent to follow. Instead, she was waylaid by Boden, after one of the guards on watch informed him of her arrival. Since Crane was in the middle of something, she passed the time playing catch up with Boden. They were headed to the café to grab some coffee when the Raiders hit, and everything went to hell. Just her luck the damn scavengers decided to descend en masse in some crazed version of a suicide attack. Suspicions nibbled on the ragged edges of her mind, but she still asked, ‘Why Crane?’
‘You want a list?’ Boden drawled.
Right, there were tons of reason to want Crane dead, which made narrowing it down night to impossible. You could accuse Crane of many things—arrogance and being a dick were the first two that came to mind—but he wasn’t stupid. The man who held a territory free and clear while surrounded by the two biggest powers on what was left of this side of the Mississippi was the further thing from stupid. Unlucky as shit since he was dead, but not stupid.
Time to try and figure out what the hell happened and screwed her plans to hell.
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Glossary
Amanusas:
One of four Kyn races, delight in chaos, half-demon and half-human or Kyn. Six bloodlines—War, Earth, Secrets, Enticement, Death and Inequity—referred to as ‘Blood of’. For example: Natasha is Blood of Secrets.
Amá:
Navajo for “mother”.
Ape’:
Shoshonee for “father”.
awéé’:
Navajo for “baby”.
ayóo-anííníshní:
Navajo for “I love you”.
Baide’:
Shoshonee for “daughter”.
Between:
The second realm between the mortal and magical worlds, accessible by the Kyn.
Bitten:
Humans transformed to shifters through vicious attack. Magic needs human to be on brink of death to complete conversion. They are lower in the pack’s structure as the control of wolf is tenuous at best. Tend not to live long.
Biovita:
A biotech lab in Hillsboro, OR where Brant Sutler, a human geneticist worked creating drug to turn Kyn wolves feral.
Blood ward:
A magical construct based on a castor’s blood to defend or protect a place or person.
Bonded:
Rare metaphysical tie between Kyn, generally shifters, that connects two individuals at soul level. A step above mated. Partners generally don’t survive the passing of the other.
Born:
Kyn Shifters who are born, some are Pure Bloods—rare few bloodlines.
Bound:
An Amanusa, caught in a casted circle by a summoner who uses all their names, to enslave—body and soul—to do the summoner’s bidding. If a name is missed, they become half-Bound.
Chindis:
Vengeful spirits of the dead, raised by witches, however can be done by anyone with the ability, controlled by their summoner. Torment victims and rip them apart psychically. Generally are spirits of those who died violently or before their time. Once vengeance is taken, they’ll rest.
Cinar International:
European based corporation.
The Council:
The ruling eleven members of the Kyn, chosen from around the world and headquartered in Turkey.
Division:
Preternatural Crimes Division, a group of talented and/or psychic humans who work for US Government and assist the Kyn on supernatural crimes.
Feral:
Wolves whose animal nature has taken control. Tend to attack humans and those closest to them. Nothing of the thinking man is left behind.
Fey:
One of four Kyn races, Sidhe descendants.
Kyn:
The entire preternatural community, composed of all four houses: Fey, Lycos, Amanusa, and Magi.
Lycos/Shifters:
One of four Kyn races, shape shifters, generally predator animals.
Magi:
One of four Kyn races, made of witches and wizards.
Mated:
Emotional bond created when two shifters commit.
Mavericks:
Lone wolves who have chosen to leave packs and roam on own. Can be Born or Bitten.
Mirroring:
Ability to send part of yourself into another by merging two magics, can add strength, but only as passenger. Empathic magic, deep level merger gives access to individual’s mind/heart. Witches can mirror.
Pinnanku tease em puinnuhi:
Shoshonee for “See you again next time.”
Sarielian Order:
The ultimate group of Wraiths, made of nine of the most dangerous Kyn of the world.
Shadowed Paths:
The walkways in Between, used when Shadow Walking.
Shadow Walking:
Ability to travel in the realm that exists between the waking world and the magical one.
Side:
A realm accessible to the Amanusa, not easily borne by other Kyn, completely unbearable by humans. A third plane of existence.
Sisna:
Sanskrit demon slur, lewd version of tailed demon or phallus-worshipper.
sitsi’:
Navajo term for daughter.
Soul Stealer:
Nomâhtsé’ héõo’ Adanta Eater of Souls, a psychic being created by black magic from the remains of a soul, tied to summoner. Gains strength eating the souls of others.
Taliesin Security:
The public security company housing the Northwest Kyn.
Tachair:
Gaelic word for “light”, Raine uses it for light spell.
Three-fold Law:
Witches follow concept: What you do, will come back to you three-fold.
Tracker:
Shifters who are outside Pack hierarchy, their duty is to hunt/execute rogue shifters and threats (internal/external) to Pack.
Witches:
Practitioners of natural magic/white magic who follow the Three Fold law.
Wizards:
Practitioners of spells, potions, tend toward dark magic, use science and rituals.
Wraiths:
Twelve member highly skilled collection of North American Kyn who serve as the ultimate police for the Kyn and human monsters. They are not publicly acknowledged, basis of Boogieman stories for Kyn, even human not sure if they exist.
Yázhí:
Navajo equivalent of “little one”.
88 Ivories:
Music/dance club in downtown Portland
Cast of Kyn
Northwest Kyn
Ryan Mulcahy (d.)
Former Head of Fey House,
Captain of the Wraiths,
Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Taliesin
Natasha Bertoi
Head of Amanusa House,
Current Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Taliesin
Warrick Vidis
Head of Lycan House,
Chief Financial Officer (CFO) of Taliesin
Cheveyo
Head of Magi House,
Chief Information Officer (CIO) of Taliesin
Carys Iver
Current Head of Fey House, Chief Legal Council for Taliesin