by Lizzy Ford
A door was outlined several feet down. Zoey took Grant’s arms while Vikki grabbed his legs. They made their way towards the door. Zoey smashed it open with her hip and looked around. It appeared to be an office. Furniture was covered in white sheeting while the window let in light from the floodlights. Lowering Grant to the ground, she raced to the window. The lock was jammed shut.
Zoey stepped back and drove the steel toe of her boot through the window before kicking several more times to clear out enough space to jump. She leaned out. “Two stories.”
“Better than four,” Vikki grunted. She dragged Grant to the window.
They looked towards the door at the sickening sound of the hallway outside caving in. In the window, they could hear the sounds of explosions and the building collapsing in on itself.
“Hope you can fly, Grant,” Zoey whispered and dragged the body onto the sill. “I can always break the fall.”
Vikki hefted Grant’s legs up. “Chrissy better get laid for this.”
“I’m sure they’ll … work it out.”
“Vacation?”
“Yeah. Where you going?” Zoey balanced herself carefully, not wanting to fling the human out the window or fall before she was ready.
“Liam wants to go to Ireland.”
“Isn’t it cold there?”
“Not during summer.”
“I’d rather go to the Bahamas.” The inane chatter helped distract her from the pain and fatigue of her shaking body.
“Declan will take you wherever you want. Count of three. One.”
The building beneath them collapsed several feet. Zoey’s back foot slipped. “Fuck!” She toppled out of the window, dragging Grant with her. Vikki went flying overhead.
Closing her eyes, Zoey hit the ground hard on her back, bracing Grant’s fall. She lay still, too stunned to move.
The building crumbled and imploded ten feet from her, spewing dust and rubble, along with chunks of concrete as the upper levels toppled.
“Gotcha!” Ginny shouted, snatching her arms.
Zoey watched the building fall as her friend dragged her – with Grant on top – away. Tiff hauled a half-conscious Vikki out of the way before both pushed Grant off her. Ginny checked the human to make sure he was okay before sitting back on her ass, muttering a few curses.
“Way too close,” she groaned.
It took a good minute for Zoey to be able to breathe again, and she sucked in a deep breath. “Oh, fuck,” Zoey rested her head back, content to rest for a moment while the ground shook from the impact of the building falling.
“He’s alive.” Ginny reported.
But is he okay? Zoey said nothing about what Olivia said. She rolled onto her side, realizing her fingers were still wound in Olivia’s hair. Disgusted but victorious, she managed to climb to her knees. Blood flowed down her body to the gravel beneath. Her whole body hurt from the fall, while the fire from wounds caused by Olivia left her nauseated. “I feel like shit.”
“Zoey is that …” Tiff drifted off, staring at what was clenched in Zoey’s hand.
“You gonna stuff and mount it?” Ginny asked, equally baffled.
Zoey managed a hoarse laugh, her body aching. “No. It’s … a gift.”
“You lost it, didn’t you.” Ginny shook her head.
Vikki crawled on her knees over to Zoey and flung her arms around her. Her best friend hauled her against her, smelling of sweat, blood and dust.
Zoey groaned.
“Shut up, Zoey,” Vikki grunted. “We survived another day.”
“But so many others didn’t.” Overwhelmed by the events of the week, Zoey didn’t fight the tears that filled her eyes.
“You see them?” Vikki tugged her around to face the pile of twenty Halflings in various stages of recovery a short distance away. “They’re alive because of you.”
Zoey’s heart ached. She said nothing. Vikki hugged her closer, and she closed her eyes, comforted by her friend. Ginny dropped beside them, followed by Tiff, and the two wrapped their arms around her and Vikki. Their heads met, and the four sat quietly.
“Everyone still think Team Rogue was the best idea ever?” Zoey joked weakly and wiped her eyes.
“Hell yeah,” all three chorused without hesitation.
“I love you guys.”
“And tomorrow we start it all again,” Ginny whispered. “Cambions got off easy today. We’ll have to make sure we fix that.”
Zoey sighed. “Yeah. Business as usual.” Except everything was different this time around. No longer living in the shadow of either society, with her soul-mate at her side, Zoey didn’t think anything was going to prevent her from wiping out the Cambions by the end of the year. “Thank god. No more of this political shit.”
“Hate to break this up, but I think Grant needs a hospital,” Vikki murmured.
“Can you guys walk?” Tiff asked.
“Yeah,” Zoey said.
The four moved apart. Zoey climbed to one knee. Her left leg, right arm and shoulder, and both sides hurt. “I might need a medic,” she said, dizziness making the world even less stable.
“Chrissy or a real medic?” Vikki joked.
Laughter bubbled up within Zoey. Overwhelmed, she waited for some drop of regret to enter her mind but felt only relief that they’d survived.
“Oh, shit, she heard that,” Vikki said and plucked the communications piece from her ear. “Gin, Tiff, let’s drag Grant up the hill.”
Zoey glanced at the Halflings. She lifted her wounded arm enough to signal them to regroup on the hill before giving the compound another look. Olivia’s words haunted her. The genetic experiments had been going on for a hundred years, which meant the program was exactly what Olivia claimed: part of the society and not her grotesque invention.
I won a battle but not the war, she said.
Declan’s response was swift. There’s always tomorrow, kitten.
Drained, Zoey turned away. She led the way away from the compound and up the hill, breathing hard and muscles screaming by the time she reached the top. Lydia met her and flung her arms around her.
“Next time, I get to go!” she whispered.
Zoey laughed and hugged her the best she could. “Have Wes teach you to drive first.”
Lydia grinned and shifted away to greet Vikki.
Chrissy was looking past Zoey
“He needs help,” Zoey said, knowing where the human was looking.
“You just had to blow up the guy I like.”
“Who dropped a grenade on me?”
Chrissy rolled her eyes then offered a warm smile, moving past Zoey.
Zoey glanced at the waiting members of the Incubatti, who kept their distance. The Professor was shaking his head at her bloodied, shredded appearance, while Paul and his Cambions huddled away from the others. Zoey blew them a kiss, a silent promise to kick their asses when she was recovered, before turning her attention to her soul-mate and the man beside him.
She limped to Ethan, shivering as the magic of the incubuses trickled into her system. At once, the headache subsided. Not certain what to say, she held up Olivia’s head and offered it to Ethan.
“I meant to bring us her head in a figurative sense, Zoey,” Declan said softly, emotionless.
“I don’t do figurative!” she shot back.
“Hell, I’ll take it.” Ethan stretched forward to accept the gruesome gift. His gaze was friendly, and he appeared unconcerned about the blood dripping onto his slacks. “Best gift from a daughter-in-law I could ever receive.”
Zoey smiled. The depth of his emotion was clear on his features, a combination of anger and sorrow. He stepped away to give the two of them space. She looked up at her soul-mate, at once caught in his gorgeous eyes.
He cupped one cheek and tugged her closer, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re beautiful, Zoey.”
“I’m a mess.”
“That, too,” he agreed, amusement and relief trickling past his façade.
Warm magic swept through her, easing her pain and igniting a fire at the base of her belly. The energy between them was raw. It shimmered with something new, something raw and consuming, powerful and amazing.
I love this. Zoey basked in the bond, astonished by how different it felt today from before. “Thank you for helping me,” she murmured.
“Anytime.”
“Grant needs a special doctor. Olivia injected him with shit.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Her eyes flickered to his full lips, and she resisted the urge to kiss him, uncertain what he considered civilized behavior in public. “What happens now?”
“My Council will stop hunting you down. The Sucubatti Council will likely do the same, assuming you hunt down Cambions from here on out.”
“I don’t care about that,” she said. “I mean, what happens now, between us?”
“You come home with me, and we fuck until one of us passes out.”
She chuckled. “And in the morning?”
“You do what you do best. As long as you’re in my bed every night, I don’t care.”
“I guess I made that promise.” She pretended to consider.
He lifted his head from hers, eyebrow raised.
“I’ve gotta take care of my team and then maybe I’ll have time for you.” A flare of sex magic in the air made her bite back a moan. He could make her come without touching her, a reminder she didn’t want to think about. She gave a mischievous smile. “Oh, and strike three. You’re forgiven.”
His features softened. “You’re serious.”
Zoey swallowed hard, the energy thrumming with promised passion between them. “Yeah. I am.”
“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear those words.” The intensity of his look, the emotions he rarely shared within his gaze, made her tears well up.
Zoey backpedaled a few steps, not about to break down and cry in public, the way she felt like doing now. She wanted to crawl into his arms forever and heal with him, their bodies, souls and hearts pressed together once more. She wiped at her tears. “Tag, Declan. You’re it.”
“When I catch you this time, I’m not letting go.”
“I know.”
He smiled, desire spiraling through his eyes. “You get an hour head start.” Turning away, he strode back to his car.
Zoey watched him, grinning. With her heart full of hope that she’d soon have the best of both worlds, killing Cambions by day and lying naked with her soul-mate by night, she felt for the first time that she’d found the home and life she’d always hoped existed.
“I love you, Declan,” she whispered.
Tonight is the beginning of a new us. Start running, kitten.
She laughed, thrilled, and obeyed, darting to the van where her friends waited.
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Black Moon Draw
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Excerpt from “Black Moon Draw”
Oh, god. My head!
I’m afraid to move, knowing once I do, the world’s worst hangover will kick my ass. The dull, brain deep throb is already there, waiting to explode when I try to stand. Instead, I listen for the familiar sounds of my apartment in the morning: the neighbor’s annoying alarm, the honking of traffic, shuffling of people down the hallway as they leave for work . . .
. . . the gurgle of a stream?
I smell flowers that aren’t anything like the vanilla plugins in my bedroom, and something is tickling the sensitive inside of my forearm.
Spiders!
Only such an irrational fear could make me snap up into a sitting position without considering my head.
I groan, gripping it.
I blink, trying to focus, to see my bedroom wall instead of the dead forest where the wall should be. Squeezing my eyes closed, I open them again. My hands drop to my sides and I stare.
The trees are still present, their bare, sagging branches rattling in a cool morning breeze that makes me shiver. Wildflowers litter the grassy area around me, dancing in the wind. Fog clings to the branches of trees and covers the sky.
I slap my cheek lightly to make sure I’m not stuck in a dream. This . . . place certainly seems real. The source of the gurgling is a wide stream whose banks are connected by a graceful, arching stone and wooden bridge. It feels like morning, but is gray out, like the period of graininess between sunset and night.
Where the hell am I? I could have drunk myself to death and maybe the bridge leads to heaven.
Do people in heaven get hangovers?
My head hurts too badly for me to freak out. It’s definitely a fitting ending to my week. I’m wearing my pretty purple dress, my feet bare, and dark hair hanging around my shoulders. At least I left the earth dressed decently.
“Oh, my poor mom!” Deep sorrow is building within me at the thought of not saying farewell to my mother and I shift onto my knees. Branches snap from somewhere across the bridge. I concentrate on controlling the headache. My stomach hurts and body aches, like I spent the night in some awkward position sprawled across the couch watching my favorite movies.
“Are you the witch?” The male voice makes me jerk.
I face him – and scream. Crouched ten feet from me is a creature with a man’s body and a panther’s head whose golden eyes are watching me like he’s hungry. The unholy combination of man and beast is terrifying.
“Stay away from me!” I shout.
Maybe this isn’t heaven. I stagger to my feet, smash to my knees, and then stumble up again.
I fling my arms out to either side to help me balance. The ground isn’t moving, but it feels like it is. When my head stops spinning, and I’m fairly confident I won’t fall, I look again at the half-man . . . thing. He’s dressed in brown leather leggings and a long shirt cinched at his waist by a thick belt. A sword dangles from the belt.
From the neck down, he’s a man in every way I can see, from his very human hands and fingers to normal shaped feet in boots.
But his head . . .
“What are you?” I ask.
He’s watching me closely with his round panther eyes, his jaw open in a noiseless pant. He hasn’t moved out of his crouch, as if he’s trying to figure me out the way I am him. “You are from the edge of the world?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not from here.” I gaze around in confusion. “This isn’t heaven, is it?”
He laughs, a strange, half-growl, half-guffaw.
I take a step back.
“Black Moon Draw has never been mistaken for heaven,” he replies.
Black Moon Draw?
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