by Dana Archer
Bryon spreads out his arms and laughs, the hearty and rich sound of a man who should be surrounded by friends and loved ones. “Then I’ve been successful. This clan of one is alive and well.”
On a slow pivot, I take in the darkened alley, the shadows seeming to surround us while the wail of police sirens cut through the night somewhere off in the distance. “I see more. I see a city of innocents among the depraved. I see little girls looking for someone to protect them. Women who sell their bodies to survive. And lost souls who only want a place to call home. I see the Murphy clan lands, and let me tell you, your territory has gone downhill.”
Bryon pushes from his spot on the ground, leaving his blankets in a pile with his backpack, and walks past me, the shadows parting for him. At the mouth of the alley, he leans against the side of the building, surveying the main street where police lights shine like flickering candles in the distance. “Lyla should’ve heeded my warning. Maybe your mate wouldn’t have a mark on her head now.”
“A mark? You knew the male who’s been trashing your city wants to kill Lyla, and you didn’t do anything about it. Didn’t bother telling me?” The accusation is growled, my voice taking on the animalistic quality of my tiger.
“I don’t intervene in people’s lives. I made that mistake once, twice…too many times. I’m done. I’m not a hero, and I keep messing things up. No way will I repeat my mistakes. Not for you, not for Lyla, and not for any of the little girls, hookers, or lost souls in this city.” Bryon cuts me a warning look. “Do not bother coming here again to plead for their lives. Begging doesn’t move me anymore.”
“Did they beg for their lives?” I lower my voice to a near whisper since I can’t pull off the little show of magic and throw my voice or whatever it is Bryon accomplished. “The females of your clan? The children? Did they beg before their lives were cut short?”
Bryon stares at me for a long moment. Nothing shows. There’s no wash of power, no crippling release of an alpha’s anger, and no spark of magic. There’s just the empty gaze of a man haunted by demons. His mouth moves. No sound comes out loud, yet I hear him. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there when they died. My alpha leader did beg, however. He pleaded with me, threw himself at my feet, and cried for death…for forgiveness. I delivered it, spilling his blood to mix with that of my clan. Then…then I set as many of their souls free as I could before walking away with the only soul I can’t release.”
The knowledge I sought about Bryon’s hand in the death of his clan doesn’t comfort me any more than it has likely given him peace. It does, however, give credence to my words. “Without a tie to their alpha and the spirit of their firstborn ancestor, they can’t find their way to their goddess’s realm. You essentially slammed heaven’s door in their faces and cast them out.”
Bryon shrugs. “It was an act of kindness.”
“Cutting their ties to their bears, to you, and to your goddess was an act of kindness?”
“For those who hadn’t already ascended to our goddess’s realm, yes, it was an act of kindness. My clan members who found their way to the heavens before I closed the door are stuck there for eternity. No second chances. That’s a Royal’s fate, right? We’re either miserable here as outsiders or miserable there as prisoners. Figured my little nieces and nephews, those babies who couldn’t even walk yet, and my sisters who hadn’t yet taken a mate deserved something better.”
“And you gave it to them.”
“I gave them the chance. What they do with it is none of my business.”
“Just like the fates of those in this city, right? Those little girls who only want to be protected, the women who have nobody to love them, the young men who can’t figure out their place in this world? Not your business.” I smirk. “But do you ever look at the humans around you and wonder if they carry your clan mates’ souls?”
Bryon sighs and crosses his arms. “You never stop trying to be a hero, do you?”
“Shifter Affairs adds a nice letter of acknowledgment to an agent’s file in response to the accomplishments they make. I have one—printed on parchment paper with a gold emblem stamped on it. I wouldn’t complain about receiving more letters.”
Bryon shakes his head, his gaze never leaving the evidence of police activity at the far end of the main road. “Yuran pride. Cedric, Theo, and Vince. They showed up just before Lyla’s sister was taken. and have been coming and going ever since. I haven’t seen Theo and Vince in several years, though. Not sure where they went. But Cedric comes around often.”
“He’s dealing Elixir.”
“Among other things,” Bryon answers, even though I didn’t form it as a question. “Drugs, women, stolen goods, whatever sells, but he leaves me alone. That’s all I care about.”
“And now he’s killing his buyers.”
Bryon shakes his head. “Experimenting on them. There’s a difference.”
I bite back my frustrated response. Bryon is not a willing informant. He’s already told me he doesn’t involve himself in the lives of those living in this city. Not anymore. Pushing him too far will put an end to this conversation. “Really? What makes it different?”
“Nothing, I suppose, but their deaths don’t matter. Cedric chose the scum of this city to use as his guinea pigs.” Bryon raises a hand when I open my mouth. “They deserved death, and they deserved to suffer. I would know. I’ve lived among them for years. Saw what Lyla’s mother did to her and Sam. Trust me when I say those Cedric killed deserved to die.”
“What crimes did Officer Eddie De Nola and Doyle Lynch, the barely mature youngest son of a well-respected shifter group, commit that would lump them into the same category as Lyla’s mother?”
Bryon holds my glare but doesn’t answer.
“Or didn’t you know it was Doyle who hanged himself in the park?” At Bryon’s pinched brow, I nod. “Or that Officer Eddie left a suicide note and died by carbon monoxide poisoning weeks before he was set to retire. According to Lyla, neither was suicidal. They were model citizens and men who upheld the law. So if you know of their crimes, tell me, because as it is now, they’re being called victims, not criminals deserving of death.”
“What has Cedric added to Elixir?” With a seriousness in his gaze, Bryon focuses on me instead of the police lights off in the distance.
“The only thing Lyla can identify is witch’s salve.” Lyla texted me the results of the test, confirming the identification of the thickening substance, on the way out here. “It appears to either slow or stop Elixir from damaging the user’s organs, but Izzy claims a Royal is adding his blood to the drug, thereby reversing the damage Elixir causes. I would never have thought that possible, but I don’t know what a true shaman can do. That’s why I’m here. Share your knowledge, alpha of the Murphy clan.”
“Cedric is not a true shaman. He’s a fool who doesn’t understand our actions have consequences.”
“Or that we’re predators among prey we can’t kill.”
“As I said that applies to us. We are predators. He’s a fool, a wannabe dominant looking to win his alpha leader’s favor.”
“Then he’s a fool who has not only figured out how to reverse the negative effects of Elixir but also learned how to compel others to take their own lives. My question to you is”—I wait until Bryon glances my way—“is it his blood or witch’s salve that’s compelling those who take this new variant of Elixir to obey him?”
“Then you should be talking to a wiccan, not the last remaining member of the Murphy clan. I have never made witch’s salve nor used it to retain any tattoos. I’m tattoo-free.”
I let what I’m about to say show in my expression. “There are no other shamanic practitioners in West Virginia I trust.”
Bryon grabs his stomach and bends over laughing, then sputters out loud. “Goddess, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in ages.”
“I need information.”
Still laughing, Bryon waves me away. “And I need you to leave me alone befo
re you manage to make me piss my pants.”
“Cedric is controlling his users.” I shove against his shoulder to make him look at me. “Almost the same way as those bound by blood vows.”
“How so?” Again Bryon’s mouth moves but the only voice I hear is his whispered words in my ear.
“Harry, a homeless wolf single, was picked up a couple of days ago and brought to Shifter Affairs. Seems he was causing a scene down by Lyla’s old clinic. He was convinced she could help him catch a train home if he told her the things he was supposed to tell her. Then he got agitated when she refused to let him go. He ended up ripping his own throat out.”
“What things was he supposed to tell her?”
“He gave us riddles that led us to find Eddie and Doyle. There’s one victim we haven’t found yet. A bad girl who swallows hard shafts.”
“A hooker, then?”
“We’re assuming. Do you know of any missing?”
Bryon shrugs. “I don’t sleep with hookers, nor do I care what happens to them.”
“But you do sleep with Izzy and like to tell her stories.”
“She’s good at what she does. Very good. She deserves hearing every story she gets.”
“You’re talking about my little cousin.” Distant cousin, but she’s still family.
“And if she was a bear, I’d consider mating her just for the sex.” Bryon shrugs. “But we’re not here to talk about me screwing Izzy. Tell me your theory about Harry.”
“He took the same version of Elixir our three victims who committed suicide had in their systems. Witch’s salve is the only thing we can point to as being different.”
“I suppose if whoever made the witch’s salve is skilled enough in dark magic, they’d be able to weave a compulsion to obey them into the ointment. That’d be enough to control a human, likely a single too. Not a blood vow exactly. More of a simple coercion, but still, such things are usually done with blood.”
“And Izzy said a Royal’s been adding his blood to the different variants of Elixir. Is Cedric skilled enough to pull off a compulsion that’d make someone commit suicide?”
Bryon shrugs.
“I want your opinion.”
“Yes.” Bryon cracks his jaw, his words once more coming naturally from his lips. “Don’t focus on him, though. Lock Lyla away so Cedric can’t steal her and ignore these deaths. Cedric will go away. He always does. Or he’ll become to his own greed. Either way, it’s best to stay out of it. Let fate have its way.”
“I won’t lock Lyla away.”
“Then you’re a fool.” Bryon points a finger at me, a warning not to say anything. “Lyla is not a woman who can be allowed to make her own decisions. You need to take precautions so her empathy doesn’t overrule what she promises to you. That woman is an angel walking these streets, and the scum who live here know that. They exploit her for that. And that’s what will get her killed if you don’t make sure she can’t put herself in danger. It wouldn’t take much to kill her either. A simple swipe of a nail across her throat, and your gift from your goddess is gone.”
Bryon’s right. Until Lyla shares a soul bond with me, she’s mortal. That fact is all too fresh in my mind. So is the knowledge we’re not ready to broach the subject of soul bonding yet. I’ve wasted too much time trying to convince myself I deserve to suffer for eternity for something I had no control over. All I can do now is make up for time lost. And move on. Regretting my choices won’t give us back what we missed.
“I will not lock Lyla away. She’s my partner, my other half.” I tamp down the anger pushing at me over the very idea of anyone locking her away. “And I will protect her. Tell me where to find Cedric. Until he’s gone, Lyla will never be safe.”
“I don’t know—”
“You have the power to find out. Don’t deny it. You can beseech the devil and get me that knowledge if you wanted.”
“But I won’t. I can’t.” Bryon turns his head, his face inches from mine. “Some things never give up their claim to the one who called them forth. They dig into a man’s soul and linger, waiting for the right opportunity to remind the user how good it felt to tap in to its strength. How good it felt to be in control. How good it felt to wield that power. Those are dangerous things. More dangerous than any killer or drug Cedric might sell. Those things are what an honorable man will spend his life hiding from. I won’t mess up now for you or Lyla. If you’re supposed to be so worthy to have been blessed with a female, save her yourself.”
With a bitter laugh on my lips, I lean close enough to Bryon to kiss him, our noses almost touching and our gazes locked. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find a way to secure Lyla’s safety even if I have to call the devil to do my bidding. Because she’s taught me a truth you obviously haven’t figured out yet.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Nothing you’ve taken…nothing you’ve called forth…nothing you’ve unleashed is as powerful as what I’ve been blessed with. There’s power waiting in the arms of your true mate. Power you can’t even begin to contemplate. Power that’s so pure, you can touch heaven. Everything else pales in comparison, Bryon. Everything.”
“My true mate was a child of my clan. I released her soul with those others who hadn’t ascended.”
“Then go find her.” I lower my voice until no sound comes out, only my lips moving, yet I know he’ll hear the words whispered in his ear. “And stop listening to the lying voices in your head.”
“You can’t save me twice.”
“You’re standing here, breathing and alive. Doing perfectly fine, actually. You don’t need me to save you. Try saving yourself if you need saving. Or better yet, find the girl who’ll kiss your boo-boos and make everything all better.”
The shove against my shoulders throws me into the path of a passing car. Headlights blind me. Tires squeal. Then a long, piercing horn blast cuts through the air as the car speeds away. I never take my focus off Bryon’s pissed-off glare.
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” I cock a brow as another driver lays on their horn and goes around me. “Don’t worry. Your female will make it all better. That’s what makes the bond so powerful. No matter how screwed up in the head we are, our other half can turn us into true heroes. Warriors of the heavens. Walking gods, Bryon. Nothing tops that power rush.”
Bryon tips his head back on a groan. “Get out of the road before someone hits you, then go make sure your female is going to be around long enough to turn you into that walking sex god or whatever you think she can turn you into.”
“At least my lover doesn’t charge me for sex. Of course, I give her all the stories she wants to hear for free.”
“Screw you, Uri.”
“Sorry, wrong Alexander, but Izzy might be up for some loving. I can ask her if you want.”
Bryon turns his back on me and walks back down the alley without responding.
“You sure? One story, one night with you. I could hook you up while you’re waiting for your true mate to come along and save your ass.”
Bryon gives me the middle finger.
My laugh follows him down the street, but the point Bryon made is one that’s nowhere close to being funny. There’s a killer on these streets who wants my female.
There’s only one thing to do: hunt him.
Twenty-Five
Lyla
My gaze drifts to the man sitting on the bus next to me. Ezra’s build and features are similar to Uri’s. Only his pale blue eyes are different. The nearly translucent color is breathtaking to say the least. The icy cold reflected in them isn’t as pretty to behold, however.
Where Uri is primitive, Ezra is a leashed killer and an angry one at that. It’s no wonder Uri was okay with me meeting Abby as long as Ezra is by my side. Not even blindness would stop Uri’s twin from defending me. Ezra might not recognize the depth of that respect and trust, but I do.
“Thank you for saving me, Ezra.” Sitting on the sidelines while everyone else is out there huntin
g for the predator who’s used my friends and family to test—and perfect—this new drug would likely have left me resentful of Uri. That’s not the proper response. Belonging to him means I should support him one hundred percent. Or at least put up a solid front for the world and argue with Uri in private.
Brow raised, Ezra looks down at where I’m wedged between the window and his side. “What exactly did I save you from?”
“Having to sit up front with Kade and getting grilled on my involvement with Uri.” Technically not a lie. The bus was packed when we got on. This seat in the back was the only one with enough room for both Ezra and Odin. Me? I would’ve had to squeeze myself in somewhere anyway. On the opposite side of Uri’s twin and his seeing eye dog works fine for me. This version of the truth also saves me from having to admit I’m not perfect and neither has been my involvement with Uri. We’re both works in progress.
“And why did you assume I wouldn’t ask about your relationship with Uri? I am his twin. Uri’s business is more my business than it is Kade’s.”
The harsh growl to his voice raises the hair on my arms. I slip my hands under the loose sleeves of my jacket and rub at the goose bumps. It doesn’t do any good. I’m not cold. “Because of what you said to me the night we met.”
“And that was?”
“That I belong to Uri. I figured since you already made that connection, there wouldn’t be anything more to ask.” Hopefully, at least.
“Sure there is. I’ve just chosen to keep my end of the agreement I reached with my twin.” Ezra lays his hand against Odin’s side when the dog nudges him.
The reason behind the silent interaction between man and dog became clear after the first time people started getting off the bus. Odin’s checking to see if Ezra wants to get off with the others exiting, but this isn’t our stop. We have two more before we get to ours. Ezra asked specifically how many we’d stop at before getting off.
“What agreement is that?” I can’t help but ask. Uri hasn’t been too forthcoming when it comes to his years before me. Of course, I haven’t asked for specifics. That’ll have to change.