There were worse things than the government and witches.
Chapter 3
Bailey enjoyed catching the trains, and not just because he became lost in the crowd. He sat next to Matt, his best friend since he’d started school, watching people get on and off at each station.
They were busy going places. Some were heading to work, and Bailey envied them. He wanted a legit job. As much as he hated the construction vocation training, Gran’s friends had forced him to do, it had given him a taste of the outside world.
He’d get the damn certificate, and he’d be able to find a job anywhere.
Only a few exams and he was done.
The idea thrilled and terrified him. He was running out of time to get enough money together that he could escape. He should’ve saved every dollar from his first nightclub card run the day after he’d turned seventeen. But it had been the first time in his life that he’d had money to spend on himself.
Matt elbowed him. “You’re quiet…extra quiet today.”
“Yeah. Thinking. You still applying for the navy?”
“I think so. If I get in, it’s a guaranteed job. Have you changed your mind? Want to come with me?” Matt grinned.
They’d had this conversation more than once. Matt hadn’t wanted to stay in school, but his dad had insisted, wanting his son to have a better education and chance than he’d had. Bailey liked Matt’s dad and there’d been a few times when he’d been tempted to say something about his situation, but the fear of punishment kept him silent.
“Maybe.” Would the military keep him safe from Gran’s men? Or would they take it out on Gran until he caved?
He doubted the defense force would even take people like him. He needed space to shift every so often, and he shed if he did it inside—though sometimes he didn’t have a choice, and neither did Gran. His magic wasn’t neat like a witch’s.
“I thought you’d got something lined up for next year.”
Bailey gazed out the window, the suburbs flicking by. Working in the construction business that formed the legitimate part of the men’s business wasn’t a plan, it was an order even though it had been made with smiles and the promise of taking care of him and Gran for a few favors.
“It’s the fallback.” He didn’t know what he wanted to do.
He should know. All his other friends knew. They were going to university or getting apprenticeships. A restlessness burned in his blood, and he kept feeling for the bond, half hoping, half fearing that it was gone. The bond vibrated and hummed in his bones. Kass only a thought away.
The trained stopped and Bailey’s cheeks pulled tight. If he’d been in his snow leopard form his whiskers would’ve been twitching. A woman stepped onto the train; backpack slung over one shoulder.
The other reason he liked trains and heading into the city was that sometimes he smelled other shifters. And they smelled him, and he knew he and Gran weren’t the only ones. There were others out there and he was willing to bet they lived proper lives like regular people.
The woman tilted her head, and then turned slightly to glance at him.
Bailey lifted his chin then let his gaze slide away even though he wanted to walkover and ask her a hundred questions. Who protected her from the government? What animal was she? A lion? There was something about the way she stood—or did he know that because some part of him recognized a fellow shifter?
Matt leaned in. “Do you know her?”
“Don’t think so.” He turned his back on her, wishing he was alone so he could talk to her. There were no shifters where he lived except for snow leopards, and they were all in the same situation. He didn’t dare ask them anything.
“She’s checking you out.”
Bailey rolled his eyes. “Not my type.”
She was only looking because of what he was. Had Kass searched for a shifter hoping to drain his life? To turn his bones into charms and make his pelt into a coat to become invisible? Maybe if they’d been living in Russia. Maybe when Gran had been a child witches had done that. But in Sydney? He’d never heard of any suspicious kill on the news. But maybe there were witches that made all of that disappear.
The train stopped, and he stood.
Matt shoulder checked him as they exited the train. “And what is your type?”
He’d told no one he wanted a boyfriend, not a girlfriend.
“Pretty and totally out of my league.” He’d never even had a boyfriend, and now he had a mate.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
Matt laughed. “Lower your standards and you might get a date.”
“I’m not that desperate.” He blinked and was in the club, pressed up against Kass. He should’ve dragged him out the back instead of running. He would’ve gotten more than his number. And then what?
That didn’t change what they were. And every time he closed his eyes, he felt that otherness. The thing that wasn’t him, but a piece of Kass. It was a scab he couldn’t stop picking. When would it go? What if it didn’t?
For half a second, he let himself imagine Kass turning up at his door and sweeping him away from his life like some kind of fairy tale.
But shit like that didn’t happen to people like him. If Kass showed up at his door, he’d most likely end up dead.
Bailey got home from school and dropped his bag on the floor by his bedroom door. He flopped onto the bed then got up straight away, unable to relax and lie still. His stomach grumbled as he paced. He’d shifted not that long ago, two weeks, yet the small apartment closed in around him. He was trapped and needed to run. It was too early in the day to shift, that had to be done after dark, but he could go out for a bit.
He pulled Kass’s wallet out of his school bag and checked how much was in there. Only five. He needed to spend less if he was going to have enough to leave, but he liked being able to buy extra food and clothes that he didn’t have to ask Gran for. He liked that he could give the men the finger and do what he wanted, even if it was in a limited fashion.
His stomach growled. There wouldn’t be enough dinner. There never was.
He hesitated, then reached under his bedside table to grab a fifty so he could buy a pre-dinner meal. This weekend he’d top up his stash, and he’d set himself a budget. He ran his fingers against the wood, expecting to feel the envelope, but there was nothing there. His heart stopped, and cold sweat beaded on his back.
No. It had to be there. He had close to three hundred.
He ran his palm over the carpet, in case the envelope had fallen off. Finally, he put his head on the floor to inspect the gap. Nothing.
A growl formed and anger burned through his veins, scouring them clean with its acid. He stood up with a snap, grabbed his phone and made it as far as the front door, knowing where the money had gone and unable to put the anger into words.
“Where are you going?” Gran came down the corridor from her room at the back of the house.
“Out.” He reached for the door.
“You can’t. There're men coming to see you.”
His lips curved in something too close to a snarl. “They can wait.”
“That’s not how it works.”
He spun to face her, his voice a low rumble. “Where’s my money?”
Her face was a photo of innocence. “Your money?”
“The cash, under my bedside table.” He took a step toward her, fingers curling. Ten years ago she’d been bigger and stronger and had knocked him on his ass for stepping out of line. That wasn’t true anymore. She’d become frail while he’d grown strong.
Her lips drew back, and she stalked toward him. “It’s not yours. It’s theirs. I knew you were hiding something.”
The money was the least of what he was hiding.
“So, you waited until I was at school to toss my room? Then you invited your friends over to shake me down and teach me a lesson?” His nails hurt, desperate to shift and have claws to defend himself.
“It’s not like that.”
She sighed and forced her mouth into something closer to a soft smile. “Bailey, you don’t understand. We need their protection to stay hidden.” The pleading note wove through her words. Once he’d have caved. But his friends were getting jobs and learning to drive, and he wasn’t. All because of her dumb fear. He was turning into a loser. He gritted his teeth. “This isn’t Russia. We aren’t being hunted.”
“We are always hunted.”
“Give me the money back.”
“No.”
“Fine.” He yanked open the door and left, not bothering to close it after himself.
She called after him, but he didn’t turn. He kept walking until he reached the thin strip of scrub that passed for the local bushland nature reserve. No dogs or cats allowed. The sign said nothing about snow leopards. He stalked along the trail, the temperature dropping as the sun set. He found his favorite place to sit and waited for night to settle. The chill embraced him but didn’t calm the anger. It boiled his heart.
He seethed, wishing he’d left home at the start of the school year…but he needed to finish year twelve or he’d have nothing. And if he left, he was scared school and surviving would become too hard and he’d drop out. A few more months was all he needed. He’d stick it out and start a new stash.
And then what? He’d leave his eighty-year-old grandmother alone and at the mercy of the men?
Bailey hung his head.
She couldn’t help it. She’d watched her family die, killed by soldiers for being born shifters. She never talked about his mother and what had happened to her. He used to think it was too painful, now he wondered if she’d dobbed in her daughter and let the men kill her. Was she really capable of that?
He knew nothing about Gran’s past, besides what had happened to her in Russia. There were decades unaccounted for.
He lifted his chin. Was she even his grandmother?
The sky darkened and a few brave stars appeared. He stared up at them and stripped so he stood naked and scrawny in the moonlight. Tension hummed in his body, the need to shift and something more. He reached out with the magic, felt along the bond, and let the dizziness consume him. Then there was dust on his tongue, tiredness, a feeling of being lost.
He drew back, hating what the witch had done to him, even as he wanted to do it again and more. Kass might have seen the human, but all he’d wanted was shifter magic. Not for the first time, he wished he’d been born human.
Kass stared up at the stars as they appeared in the sky. They were all unfamiliar. The smells, the skyline, even the dust was different, like landing on the moon. And just as inhospitable and difficult to leave.
He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. If he’d had a few more days in Sydney…
“Please, let it fade. It will be better for both of us.” Without the bond, he was sure he’d stop dreaming of Bailey. Twinky blonds were not his thing, yet he should’ve known from the way he hadn’t been able to look away. From the way he’d needed to touch. But he’d been so desperate to pick up and have a good time he hadn’t thought about the danger. He’d been ready to drop for a hotel room and make the most of it. He shook his head and smothered a laugh.
He took a last glance up at the sky and for a moment he tasted anger and sadness as surely as if it were his own. Then heat rippled through his body. He shivered as though cold, and then it was over. He drew in a breath, and then another, not sure what had just happened, but he was consumed with the need to do more than stand under the stars.
After lolling in the moonlight, rolling in the dirt and scratching up a tree, Bailey thought he had enough control to shift back to human form—though he totally understood why some shifters went ‘fuck it all’ and slinked off to be wild so they never had to deal with humans again. However, this patch of suburb bound scrub was too small and too close to home.
With the pinch and snap of tendons as his body rearranged itself as he shifted. He remained crouching, hands in the dirt for a few heartbeats to catch his breath and orientate himself to two legs. He hated that bit; it was easier to go human to cat than cat to human.
He dressed, then checked the time on his phone. Well after midnight.
He considered staying out all night, but the men wouldn’t leave. They’d wait. Unless they were already out looking. Gran should’ve never told them about the cash, they could’ve kept it. He trudged home, knowing what was waiting.
A few more months was all he needed. Could he convince Gran to leave? They could start over somewhere else, beyond the reach of the men who protected them. But she hadn’t left when she was pregnant, or when her daughter was killed. Gran would never leave as she believed whatever lies the men told her and feared the government with every cell in her body. She craved safety, not freedom.
Freedom was all he thought about.
He shoved his dirty hands into his pockets as he turned the corner to his street. At this end there were some houses. A car without wheels in one front yard, a swing set in another. He smiled as he walked past the always green and always well-kept yard. But the smile faded as he got closer to the complex he lived in.
There was one car parked on the street. A white sedan, completely and utterly boring in most places, but too new around here. It stood out and people would wonder… no, they wouldn’t. The smart ones knew who ran the neighborhood. The real clever ones looked away and saw nothing. His steps slowed.
He only had what he was wearing, five dollars, and his phone.
If he didn’t show up tonight, they’d come to school and that would be worse.
If he were a leopard, he didn’t need school.
He should’ve stayed in the witch’s arms. Surely whatever magic Kass wanted from him couldn’t be worse than this. He swallowed.
The men would talk. Warn him. Remind him what he owed them. They’d make threats. Last time he’d been fifteen, and the cops had almost caught him. The men hadn’t just talked. They’d left Gran with a black eye, while he’d been untouched. He’d promised to do better so they wouldn’t hurt her again. What would they do tonight? He shouldn’t have taken off, but it was too late for regrets.
His jaw worked as he tried to figure out what he should say. Then he started up the concrete path to the front door.
The door was unlocked. Gran and two men sat at the kitchen table. Both men were the kind that could be passed in the street without a second glance, but they had on expensive watches and shoes. Yeah, he’d steal their wallets.
“Bailey Fisher, you’ve decided to join us.” The older of the men indicated to a seat. Had Bailey’s father been one of the protection men?
“I had things to do.” He didn’t need to tell them anything.
Gran shot him a glare and got up. “They have decided that you’re old enough to sit at the table on your own.”
Bailey’s heart bounced hard and high in his throat.
She brushed past him and locked the front door, then as she came back, she put her hand on his shoulder. “I can’t protect you anymore.”
Had she ever?
“Sit,” said the older man with the gold watch and the scarred knuckles.
Bailey drew the chair out. The younger man stood with a gleam in his eyes and a sneer beneath his crooked nose.
He didn’t bother sitting.
Chapter 4
Kass jolted awake as a sharp pain ricocheted through his chest and lodged in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He coughed, disturbing the other men in the room, and reached for his water bottle. The pain hit again, blooming bright and sharp under his arm.
Was he having a heart attack?
The third chased along his lower rib and made him want to puke. He inhaled slowly, fully awake now. It wasn’t his pain—it was an echo of a fight. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to take. He lay down, kept quiet, and flinched with ea
ch hit. He’d been in enough fights to know what was happening to Bailey.
The tenuous bond between them trembled with pain and fear. As much as he wanted to ignore it, draw back, so he didn’t feel every strike, he couldn’t. He’d thought he’d be the one putting Bailey in danger; he hadn’t imagined Bailey getting into trouble. He reached out along the bond, pushing his energy through.
He didn’t know if he gave too much magic, or if Bailey had been knocked out—taking him out too—but the next thing he knew it was morning and he felt like he’d been run over. Nothing was broken, but it hurt all the same.
He wanted to be pissed off at Bailey for letting this happen, but he couldn’t raise any anger. He should’ve been there to help his mate. His mate, who’d probably stolen from the wrong person and gotten more than he bargained for.
He fisted his hand in the bedsheets, aware he needed to get moving but unable to get up. He was tired and sore and shouldn’t have pushed magic into the bond, because now when he reached for it, it was more than a strand of spider silk.
Through the bond came a sullen ache. At least Bailey was still alive, but that didn’t mean he was out of trouble. What if the next time it happened, Kass was on patrol or engaging the enemy? It was bad enough that every time Bailey was horny, he sprung a hardon and was aware of every stroke Bailey made. Mostly he wanted to join in.
That his life was tied to a thief’s really didn’t sit well. But there was nothing he could do. Not from here anyway.
Fucking Fates and their messed-up games. What was he supposed to do?
He couldn’t call the Coven for help or locate the nearest branch in the middle of a war zone. He hoped he wasn’t the only paranormal there, because he was ass deep in trouble, and he hadn’t even left the base.
Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology Page 69