by Michele Hauf
“I know they’re real. I narrowly dodged one!”
She sighed and tilted her head against the back of the seat. A self-awareness assessment checked her heartbeats had slowed. And her skin felt cool when she thought she should be sweating from the jaunt through the woods. Perhaps she was in shock.
“I’ve searched for proof of the paranormal all my life,” she said. “For some reason I thought my first encounter would be less...”
“Harrowing?”
“Yeah,” she said on a nervous sigh. Though why should she have expected a friendly “how do you do” instead of an attack? The creatures she believed in were deadly and dangerous, and, hell, yes, they flew and had claws and went after people.
But still, the surprise of suddenly knowing was exciting. Things she’d always wanted to believe in did exist. How cool was that?
Suddenly the truck swerved, and they turned right. Toward town.
“Wait? What are you doing?”
“They’re veering toward town. I can’t let them out of my sight.”
* * *
There were two of them. They soared toward the small town and circled back like vultures eyeing the kill. Harpies had minds like birds yet also like men. The human side of them was calculating; the animal side ruthless. Bron knew they had identified his truck. But were they aware the woman was still with him? Why had they gone after her? Because it hadn’t been him they were after. Harpies generally avoided his sort.
He turned the vehicle sharply into an alley. It was strange to find himself back in this town. He knew this area. Had been here about fifty years earlier on a mission. He’d met a witch... Lots of memories—both good and bad—he didn’t have time to resurrect now.
Here in the tight confines of the town, night darkened the narrow tarmac; there were no streetlights, so he pulled over to park and turned off the vehicle’s headlights. Leaning across the seat, he opened the glove compartment. Half a dozen arrows tumbled forward, and he grasped them all. The hand-sized crossbow he utilized was a sweet little weapon designed by the Acquisition’s Armoury. It had biothermal-GPS tracking to lock in a target and pinpoint accuracy. Also, the fletch-less arrows were tipped with silver, and the hollow core was filled with rowan wood. Useful against werewolves, vampires and, fortunately, harpies.
He got out of the truck and the woman followed. Standing in the narrow alleyway, he didn’t worry for her safety. He’d have her back if the creatures swooped down toward her. The trouble was, she was fascinated. Not scared enough to look out for herself.
No matter where his journeys took him or what creatures he encountered while on a mission, Bron always strove to keep that which shouldn’t be known from humans. Having the “it’s real” talk with them never went over well. And if it did feel necessary, it was always easier to walk away and pretend they were the crazy ones. A vampire? Eh, you’re nuts.
But this woman? In the heat of the moment when she should have been cowering and screaming, instead she’d taken pictures. And one of the Retrievers’ unwritten rules was to never provide proof. He had to get those digital files. Or destroy her camera.
As well, he had a moral obligation to make sure she was safe before bringing her home. He couldn’t drop her off in the middle of this small town. She’d be a target. Why the harpies had pursued her was beyond him. Perhaps they’d been following the tracker’s vibrations, and when he’d gotten too close to her they had picked up her scent and gone with it. Harpies were flesh eaters. Though, if hungry, why hadn’t they simply gone for the children on the swings?
Why were they even in the mortal realm? Their habitat was Faery.
A bone-twanging screech alerted his attention to the left. Crossbow at the ready, he tracked the creature soaring overhead. The other was out of sight. Until he heard the screech behind him.
And the woman’s scream.
Releasing the trigger, the arrow caught the first bird in the heart. It faltered into a death spin and dropped out of sight behind a wood fence. Bron quickly reloaded. A whoosh of wings moved his hair. He ducked, landing on one knee, and twisted to see the harpie’s claw extend toward the woman’s head. She plunged to the tarmac. His arrow found its target.
He lunged to grab her arm and pull her forward to avoid the heavy drop of the creature’s body. She clung to him, her body heaving, breaths gasping. Moonlight caught in a glint on the tiny gold cross she wore on a delicate chain about her neck. But before he could begin to consider the sensual curves hugging his torso and the warm, fresh scent of her, she pushed away and shuffled backward.
Her shoulders hugged the brick building. “So not a cool first date,” she said.
“Date?”
Ah. She was joking. More points for bravery on her part.
The harpie’s body glowed and burned without flame. The embers quickly dissipated, leaving behind a scatter of black feathers.
“But that was cool,” she said. She patted her chest, then snapped her fingers. She’d left the camera in the truck.
And Bron had veered madly off course.
“Get in,” he said. “More could follow.”
She quickly got into the vehicle.
He tugged the crystal tracker out of his pocket and turned it over. Around the edges it glowed a soft blue.
“What is that?” she asked. “Is that what you were looking at when I first saw you in the park?”
“This?” He leaned back and flipped it between his fingers, but then it suddenly shot out of his hand.
And landed right on the woman’s chest.
“What the hell?” He reached for it, but she slapped his hand away. “Sorry.”
“What is it?” She didn’t try to touch it but was clearly afraid of whatever it was attached to her T-shirt. It had landed right above her breast, which Bron couldn’t help but notice was nicely shaped and—ah hell, no, it stuck to her.
“Are you wearing metal? Something magnetic under your shirt? Maybe a bra with a metal ring in the strap?”
“I, uh... No bra today.”
Yep, he noticed that now. Her nipples were pert and erect.
“What is it? Why is it stuck to me?” She pried gently at it, and the tracker came away briefly but then snapped back to nestle on top of her breast. “Get it off me!”
Why did it stick to her? Made from crystal and infused with Light magic, it wasn’t even magnetic. It shouldn’t be reacting this way. On the other hand, he had no idea what its properties were.
Bron reached for the tracker, more than willing to pry it from her breast, but then he paused. A realization hit him hard. “Blessed Herne. Really?”
The director hadn’t specified the heart he sought would be live and beating inside someone’s chest.
Chapter 3
Kizzy peeled the weird little piece of glass from her shirt and handed it to Bron. He clasped his fingers over it, closed his eyes and shook his head. As if regretfully? She didn’t know what the thing was, but everything associated with the man was out there and strange. And if he was up on all things paranormal, then the glass piece could be magical.
That didn’t mean she wanted it stuck to her chest.
All of a sudden he shifted the truck into gear and drove onward. “We need to fill up with gas. I saw a station at the edge of town.”
“Fill? Where are you going? Because I’m not going along. I’m staying in town. That way.” She pointed out the back window. “Just drop me off anywhere, and I can walk. Really. It’s not that far. Pull over here, and I can make it on my own.”
“They are after you—what is your name?”
“Kizzy. Who are after me? Harpies?”
“What kind of name is Kizzy?”
“It’s short for Kisanthra. Kisanthra Lewis.” She offered her hand to shake, which he ignored as he swerved t
oward the gas station. “Photographer. Blogger. World traveler. Soon to be getting the hell out of your life.”
“Blogger?”
“Yes, I’ve a blog called Other Wonders. All about—oy.” She sighed heavily. “Is this for real? I mean, really? Am I being punked?” She peered out the side window. “Where’s Ashton Kutcher?”
Bron pulled up before a gas tank and shut off the engine. When he turned, he held the piece of glass before him. “Kisanthra, I’m a Retriever. I work for an organization that retrieves lost artifacts, items of magical nature and various other things that I’m sure you’d understand if I took the time to explain, because your acceptance of the harpie was easy enough.”
“I believe in a lot of things. But this is the first time I’ve ever been given tangible proof. I sure hope those photos turn out.” She snapped the small, square piece of glass with a fingernail. “You retrieve things? Does it have to do with harpies?”
“It shouldn’t. It’s to do with this.”
She took the piece of glass when he offered it, and again, it slipped out of her grip and affixed to the front of her shirt.
“Hell,” he muttered. “This mission was supposed to be find and seize. There’s no way—” He beat the steering wheel with a fist.
His anger had come on so suddenly and felt palpable to Kizzy. The thought to flee resurfaced. But it was already dark outside. Not as easy to spy a raven-winged bird man flying overhead.
“I don’t get it.” She tore away the square piece from her chest, which looked innocuous enough. Maybe it wasn’t glass? It wasn’t clear but was smooth and had a good weight to it like some kind of stone. “What is this thing?”
“It’s a tracking device. Sometimes the items I’m sent to retrieve are in an unknown location. Acquisitions had a tracker bespelled, and, apparently, it led me straight to the item.”
“Acquisitions?”
He nodded. “That’s the name of the organization I work for.”
“Generically nonspecific. And you are a Retriever. That’s kind of cool. You get more points for the Indiana Jones vibe you’re putting off. And you had me right up until you said bespelled.”
“Right.” He snatched the tracking device from her and opened the truck door. “The item I’m looking for is the Purgatory Heart. And—” he stepped out and leaned his head in “—apparently it’s inside you.”
Door closing behind him, he turned and shoved the gas nozzle into the tank at the back of the truck.
Kizzy sat frozen, her jaws agape as she watched him stride inside the station. Long sure strides. Peripherally aware as he glanced side to side. His hands flexed at his sides, where she noted a holster strapped to one thigh, but she couldn’t determine what was in it. He was some kind of Indiana Jones Wild West gunslinger. No one would mess with that man. He knew how to take down harpies.
“Purgatory heart? What the...? He’s not making sense. That tracking device landed on me. Right over my heart.”
And if she gave it any amount of thought, putting the words retriever and find and seize together...
“Oh, hell, no. No one is seizing my heart. I think we’ve shared enough adventure for one day, Mr. Jones.”
Checking through the gas station windows, she couldn’t see his tall, dark-haired figure. Must have wandered toward the back of the store.
Grabbing her camera bag, Kizzy slid out of the truck, and, with careful glances toward the red-brick-walled station’s front doors, she ran around beside the building and down an alley hedged on both sides by glossy-leaved forsythia that had long ago shed its bright yellow flowers.
She wasn’t afraid of walking through the town so late. It wasn’t people she had to worry about. She had to hope there had only been five harpies. Of which, Bron had slain them all. She was no longer in the mood to take pictures of vicious flying bird men.
A stretch of garage bays where the gas station mechanics worked on vehicles grew up behind the hedges to her right. The sounds of tools clanking and a hydraulic lift disguised her stumble over a mess of tangled plastic shopping bags and weeds.
Her rental was at the city center. It was a small town, population around eight thousand. When she’d resided here before the accident, she’d lived in a quaint neighborhood, but a handful of blocks’ walk from her elementary and middle schools; it had been her home since birth. Small town. Small, safe upbringing.
Wildly expansive imagination.
Oh, yeah, she had always been the weird girl.
Striding quickly, she guessed it was a couple miles’ walk to her rental apartment. She dodged left and let out a yelp when a growl alerted her to a dark, man-shaped shadow looming beneath a willow tree.
“Bron?”
“Sorry, sweetie, your dog of a boyfriend isn’t here to save you.”
“My dog...?” She didn’t understand that. Bron was actually very handsome.
A man stepped from the shadows. Thin, blond and clad in enough black to give a goth a run for his money. Goths had never been big in Thief River Falls. But they did have a few token outliers that represented all sorts. He grinned at her, revealing fangs that jutted downward from his upper row of teeth.
“Seriously?” Kizzy knew to her bones those were not the fake dental acrylic fangs some goths sported. She clutched her camera bag, then thought better of taking advantage of a photographic moment at a time like this. “Vampires exist, too?”
“Surprise,” he offered with a splay of hands and no humor whatsoever. “You want a bite?”
“Uh...” Did she?
Was she considering the offer? No, she was not. He’d taken her by surprise and... It was just so cool to learn about yet another paranormal creature.
And then her brain did the right thing and switched to survival mode. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
She took a few cautious steps backward and gripped the gold cross on the chain around her neck. She wasn’t deeply religious, but when faced with a vampire—oh, yeah, she believed.
“Not going to help,” the vampire said and laughed. “Not baptized, bitch!”
She didn’t know what that meant—the man lunged for her and managed to grip her wrist. Kizzy shrieked. She was three blocks away from the gas station and didn’t think Bron would hear her over the sounds echoing out from the garage. For all those times she had mused over whether or not carrying a wooden stake would be a wise decision, she now regretted not going with her instincts.
The vampire was strong. Even as she struggled and planted her feet, he managed to drag her under the long, spindly branches of the willow tree. It was darker under there, and they weren’t in a residential area. Most businesses had closed for the evening. Would anyone hear her scream?
He twisted her wrist, yanking her closer. Kizzy went for the scream again.
“Quiet! Just a quick bite, and then I’ll take that heart of yours.”
“My heart? H-how do you know about that?”
“Followed the vibes, baby.” He grinned a bloody smile. One of his fangs must have cut into his lower lip.
Vibes? What was he talking about? He sounded more like a stoned sixties hippie than a bloodthirsty creature of the night.
This was not happening.
But, yes, it was. And if she wanted to escape unbitten—and, apparently, with her heart intact—Kizzy needed to get smart. Fast.
She grabbed at the willow branches with her free hand. The long, slender branches were remarkably strong. Pulling up with that hand, and using the elastic-like give of the branches for propulsion, she was able to kick up toward the vampire and landed him on the chest. He released her with a grunt—but then a vicious growl preceded his lunge for her. Arms opening to clutch, he wasn’t able to grab her again because something slammed him against the tree trunk.
Someone, that was.
“Bron.” She gasped and stumbled backward, then answered the call of the adrenaline rush and fell to her knees, clutching her chest and, in the process, her camera bag.
Beneath the concealing umbrella of the willow’s slender fall of branches, the vampire howled. Bron stepped back, a wooden stake clutched in hand. He replaced the stake in the holster strapped to his thigh.
“Crap,” Kizzy muttered in awe.
She crawled to the side to get a better view. The creature who had threatened her diffused into a cloud of ash, which then settled in a heavy heap before Bron’s feet.
“Ohmygosh.” She leaned forward, clutching her stomach. She could get sick, but she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and just... “Ohmygosh.”
“Come with me,” Bron said as he strolled past her. “Unless you want to take your chances on your own again?”
Against bloodthirsty vampires? She shook her head and forced herself up to her feet. “I’m right behind you. Could you walk a little slower? On second thought, I’d like to be beside you just in case something comes for me from behind.”
He thrust back his hand, and she grasped it. It was a sure, warm clutch. Making a fast pace toward the gas station, she couldn’t for the life of her figure why she’d so stupidly fled from him in the first place. With her hand in his, everything felt right. Like he would protect her.
Until he tried to seize her heart.
“Wait.” Kizzy tugged him to a stop in the middle of the hedge-lined alleyway. “Are you going to protect me?”
He bowed his head and propped his hands at his hips, looking up at her with a rueful sort of admonishing stare. She’d had enough of dominant males who liked to tell a woman what to do. And her relationship with Keith had ended horribly. And left her scarred. So she wasn’t about to give this guy the benefit of his alpha take-charge attitude.
“Answer me!”
“I don’t know.” He splayed out his hands. “I honestly don’t know what the hell is going on right now. I will protect you from whatever comes after you, but—”
“But what about when you come after me? You said you were here to retrieve my heart. That’s just...so not cool.” Her fingers shook, and she shivered as if the wicked Minnesota winter had suddenly swept in on an icy wind. “I don’t know what’s going on. You’re freaking me out. Creatures are coming after me. I can’t trust you, but I think I need to because I’m not prepared to stake vampires or dodge harpies. But you apparently are.”