Spectrum of Magic Complete Series - Spell Breaker - Fate Shifter - Cursed Stone - Magic Unborn - Libra

by D. N. Leo

  He swallowed hard, looking up at the roofs of the temples, seeing the statues of the deities guarding the gates between Heaven and Hell looking down at him. He shook his head, staring down at the ground for a short moment, and then made his way into the temple.

  Inside the temple, rows and rows of remains sat in jars, marked by shiny golden plaques. Mori rolled her eyes. How could they tell if this is the right temple where they would find the baby fox? All the shaman said was ‘the temple’ before he died.

  It was way too dark inside the temple. An eerie kind of darkness. A shadow flew at Mori as she heard something like a growl.

  “Careful,” Roy yelled and darted at Mori. At the same time, a shadow flew through the air and landed a kick which had been intended for Mori, but hit Roy instead. He stumbled and pulled his gun.

  It was too dark for him to see the target. Mori snarled and leaped at the shadow. The shadow turned quickly and gave Mori a roundhouse kick, connecting with her middle and sending her reeling backwards, rolling outside of the temple.

  Mori stood up, wheezing. Roy went after her. Once outdoors, he could see things clearer.

  The shadow followed them to the courtyard.

  “Irish!” Mori gasped. “I didn’t know you could fight like that?”

  Irish shrugged. “I used to work in the Army Reserve … until my boss figured out I can shift into an Irish Setter.”

  “Sorry, it was too dark in there to see anything. Where’s the baby?” Mori asked.

  Irish narrowed her eyes. “How did you know to come here?”

  “We have connections. That’s all you need to know,” Roy said.

  “Who are you?”

  “This is my husband, Roy.”

  Irish glanced at Roy up and down. “Somewhere safe.”

  “Not in that black hole?” Roy pointed at the temple.

  “It’s guarded by the Gods,” Irish said.

  “Yeah right.” Roy sneered. “Let’s get the baby to a real safe place.” He headed toward the dark temple.

  “No one gets my baby,” Irish growled. “I don’t know you.”

  “Lady, we have lots of things to do, and getting the baby to the right temple where he can get the power and protect himself is one of those things.” Roy proceeded toward the temple.

  Irish darted after him. Mori lunged at Irish, tackling her around the waist and throwing her to the ground. Irish landed in the grass with Mori on top of her.

  Irish pulled a knife and was arcing it toward Mori’s chest. Mori let out a squeal and threw her arm down at an angle, forcing the blade and its wielding arm to go in an entirely different direction. Irish dropped the knife, and it skittered across the worn cobblestones until it came to rest at Roy’s feet.

  He picked it up and pocketed it quickly, but kept walking into the temple. “Cat fight,” he muttered and shook his head.

  Roy took the basket from its hiding place behind the altar and got out of the temple as Irish and Mori continued to fight.

  “Come on, you two!” he said. “Settle down!”

  The baby wriggled and was about to cry. He patted down the blanket to calm the baby down while keeping an eye on Mori and Irish fighting. Suddenly, a searing pain shot to his brain. He looked down. The baby had shifted into a small fox and had bitten his hand.

  This wasn’t an ordinary bite. He staggered and looked at the marks on his hand where its teeth sank into his flesh. He leaned against a tree, holding on to it to keep his balance. He felt as if the ground under his feet was moving.

  Irish stopped fighting. “That’s what will happen when you try to get my baby!”

  Roy couldn’t say anything as his world started to spin. As Mori darted to him, Irish snatched the basket and ran away.

  Roy slumped to the ground. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t force any sound past his lips. He tried, but he wasn’t able to move. He hated to see the tears welling in Mori’s eyes, but that was the last thing he remembered.

  Chapter 7

  Mori wasn’t at all happy with the prospect that they were at Irish’s diner. But the most dangerous place would be the safest place for them. She couldn’t be demanding right now because Roy’s life hung in Irish’s hands.

  The woman hadn’t run away with the baby. She’d hidden around a corner. When seeing that Roy hadn’t died from the poison, she somehow believed Roy didn’t mean the baby any harm.

  Stupid superstition! Mori scolded on the inside. She knew Roy needed time to recover. He had the supernatural silver blood in him, but it would only perform best if he was in control. He wasn’t when he was bitten.

  Roy had always been in control of almost everything. But no one could anticipate being bitten by a baby in a basket.

  Being taken by surprise, his silver blood wasn’t on. He had to heal himself naturally until his consciousness kicked in and he could control the process.

  Mori was still royally pissed. They shouldn’t have fought. She shouldn’t just jump on any chance to kick and punch to let out her frustration.

  She heard a noise in the bedroom, so she scrambled in. On the bed, Roy was staring at the low ceiling, the neon light from the outside sneaked into a small window creating strange flickering shapes. She all but jumped on the bed. “Hey, welcome back soldier.”

  He snorted. “Soldier! Lying in bed after being bitten by a baby.”

  She clucked her tongue. “Remember, he’s not an ordinary baby.” She tucked away a stray hair on his face. His hair must be longer than hers now. She touched her thumb on his lips. He was sinfully handsome.

  There had been countless time she wondered why he was hers at all. Her mixed blood prince — now a commander of a large district in one of the most exclusive universes in the cosmos. Yet, he tagged along with her whenever he could, wherever she went.

  She bent down and kissed him.

  He took her signals. He always did. Before she could blink, her top was somewhere on the floor. Along with the rest of her clothes. She’d lost track of where his hands were, but she was sure they were on her body, and at places that would give her inexplicable pleasure.

  She return the pleasure, her hands sliding up his torso. Her palms pressed to his divine muscles. At the right moment, she applied slight pressure to his sensitive spots; where only she knew. He groaned. As tough of a warrior as he was, in this private space, at this moment, they shared the intimate pleasure and he was totally hers.

  Something crashed in the room.

  Roy jerked his head up.

  “Damn!” Whatever she was thinking about might have to wait until they returned to Eudaiz.

  The crash wasn’t in this room. It was downstairs. She sat bolt upright. Sitting in the dark, listening to the noises becoming steadily louder, a sheen of sweat beaded on her forehead. Roy wiped up her sweat and kissed her cheek. “I’ll check that out,” he whispered. It appeared he had totally recovered.

  She quickly dressed and the two of them slid out of the room, inching along the corridor to a landing. They managed to get downstairs and crept into the kitchen. The diner had closed. They didn’t know where Irish had slept for the night because they were in Irish’s only bed room in this premises.

  They could see the soft moonlight shining down on a figure climbing in through the little window. They stood in the shadows, one on either side of the doorway, waiting for him to come close enough for the first blow.

  She stepped forward and dealt the man a quick blow to the nose, sending him reeling back. He grabbed the cutting board and swung at her. Roy grabbed the man’s hand and landed a punch on his face, sending him crashing into the dried food racks.

  Irish came into the kitchen from the outside and heard the commotion. She raced into the room and turned on the lights.

  The lights revealed four gun muzzles, two from Roy and the other two from the intruder.

  Chapter 8

  Bartley walked back and forth in the dusty room, waiting for his victim to regain consciousness. He didn’t t
hink he’d been that rough. Problem was, he didn’t have much time and the guy wasn’t cooperating. Bradley kicked at the chair that he had tied the man to.

  Bartley walked toward another man — a werewolf he’d caught lurking around Irish’s diner. He tied the naked man to a pillar, his hands above his head. The man was half dead. Useless. He couldn’t talk now.

  Bartley paced, back and forth and around. He never lost his cool. But with this current client, he had no room for error. Pressure.

  Make it or break it was his train of thought when he accepted the job. Hoyt Flanagan had never given anyone a second chance. That was what he had heard.

  The money was tempting. This was a dangerous gig, but if he could pull it off, he could buy half a planet with the money.

  All he had to do was to get a key from the temple, how hard could it be? Yes, he had no idea where the temple was and what the key looked like. But neither did Hoyt’s rep. The description was vague and mysterious.

  The only thing that was real was the deposit in his bank account.

  He’d bluffed about his connection with the Yakuz and that he could get to the temple easily. But he would find the temple before the day ended. If there were any breathing creatures in the temple, and if it was real, he would find it.

  He snapped his fingers. A small group of his goons darted to the next room. They waited just for that. They got paid to please him. So lurking around in the same room with him while he experienced mood swings must be excruciatingly scary for them.

  In a short moment, a platform balanced on the shoulders of the goons coming back into the room. They set the platform down and took the dirty blanket off of the misshapen form wriggling underneath.

  Bartley grinned.

  “Sam, I apologize. My guys can be quite rough, especially when people don’t cooperate.”

  Sam’s hands were tied behind his back and he had a heavy manacle around his neck with four chains coming down to attach to four iron rings on the platform. He was kneeling, and he had what looked to be a dirty bandana in his mouth as a gag.

  Bartley pulled the gag off.

  “Fuck you, Bartley,” Sam said, glaring at him, breathing hard with the exertion to free himself.

  Bartley grinned. “You’re welcome. I’ve got to admit, your girl is very hot, even if she has a kid. Thing is, nobody has ever seen her pregnant…”

  Sam glared. “You touch my girl and my kid, I swear to you I’ll kill three generations of your kind.”

  Bartley clucked his tongue. “First, you don’t know what my kind is. Second, I’ll never touch your girl, but you have to give up the kid. I know it’s not yours. It’s the Zanxi fox she has now. Don’t bother bluffing, Sam.”

  “You call my kid a dog?”

  “Not a dog, a fox. I believe these two animals are fundamentally different.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  Bartley punched Sam in the face so hard that he almost passed out.

  He raised his hands in mock apology. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rough.” He crouched down so he could be face to face with his current victim. “Let me tell you something; I need the baby fox, and something in the temple that the fox will lead me to. Very simple. No one can stop me from doing that. Not you. And definitely not your girl.”

  Sam spit and wiped his mouth on his arm. “You owe me a favor and this is how you pay me back? You can make a lot of money out of this. But imagine what this bad karma is going to do to your life?”

  Bartley landed another punch to Sam’s face.

  “You’ve been with the werefoxes for too long,” Bartley sighed and stood back up. “You believe in their myth and legend. You forgot who you are. That’s pathetic, Sam. We and the paranormal world don’t mix. You don’t mix with the werefoxes. So, it’s irrelevant that you keep the baby safe.”

  “Remember where you came from, Bartley. I helped you.”

  Bartley didn’t seem impressed. “I passed you some good gigs before. Consider the favor returned. But the Zanxi baby is too big of a gig for you, Sam. Don’t bite off more than you can chew. The price you’re going to have to pay won’t be cheap.”

  “I told you I don’t know anything.”

  Bartley grabbed Sam by the chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. “So why did you call your cousin for help? Why did you arrange an overseas escape for your girl? Who are you working with? What’s your game?”

  Sam yanked his chin from the other man’s grasp. “My games are beyond your level of comprehension, Bartley. You don’t know my people. But I know whose pocket you are living in. I’ll talk to your boss. If I lose one hair, your body will end up in a ditch.”

  Bartley’s lips pulled back, bearing his teeth. He landed another punch on the side of Sam’s head. And this time, his eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

  Chapter 9

  “Irish?” The intruder holding two guns pointing at everyone asked when he saw Irish appear through the doorway. He looked relieved and tucked his guns away and pulled out his wallet. “I’m Peter. Sam’s cousin.”

  Irish gasped. “Oh, no,” she exclaimed and grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter. “I’ve seen Peter and he turned into a lizard. He died in front of me.”

  Roy thrust his guns forward, alert, waiting for any hint of danger.

  “What?” Peter asked, looking truly confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  “I was on the run. I called you and you set the trap for us,” Irish growled.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Peter repeated. “Sam called me. He said he needed help. He wouldn’t talk on the phone so we met. Then we were attacked. Some thugs got him. He wanted me to take care of you. He said you need protection…” he glanced at Mori and Roy. “It looks like you got it sorted—”

  “How do we know you are who you say you are?” Irish asked, interrupting him.

  Peter raised his hands. “Easy, I’m going to take a picture out of my wallet, okay. Not pulling any stunt here.”

  Roy nodded, but leveled the gun at the other man’s chest.

  Peter pulled out a picture of Irish and Sam. “Sam gave me the address. He said if anything happened to him, I’ve got to take you out of town.”

  Irish’s hand flew to her mouth and teared up.

  “So you just let some thugs take your cousin?” Mori raised an eyebrow.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said, his nostrils flaring, insulted. “It took me a couple of days to track, but I’ve got them. I know where they are.”

  Mori looked at Roy. He nodded.

  “Please help me get Sam back,” Irish cried. “He just wanted to do the right thing.”

  “What did he try to do?” Peter asked? “He hasn’t told me anything specific. Is it something illegal?”

  Irish was about to answer, but Mori cut in, “If you want us to help rescue Sam, we have to do it now. We have many other things to see to.”

  Irish nodded.

  “Let’s go,” Peter muttered and led the way.

  A few hours later, the four of them stood outside a rusty abandoned warehouse. Roy peeked through a still-cracked door. “I’m going in,” he said.

  “I’m going in with you,” Irish added. “Sam is in there. I have to get him out.”

  Roy shook his head. “You are not to engage in combat with the baby on your back. I couldn’t leave you at the house by yourself. But I didn’t bring you here to get you captured.”

  “I’ll stay here with her,” Mori said.

  Peter stepped up. “I’ll go in with you. There is a handful of them. A couple extra guns would help.”

  “I don’t want to have to babysit you,” Roy said.

  Peter’s eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed. “I’m a two hand top-grade shot. I was in the special force. I am now a private investigator. So I have both brains and tactical skills. Can you top that?”

  Roy glanced at Peter up and down. “All right. But again, I won’t babysit you.”
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  Peter snorted then turned toward Mori. “Are you sure you can take care of Irish and little Sam?”

  Mori planted her hands on her hips. “Sure. We women are more capable than you think.”

  Peter nodded respectfully and turned back to his task. Roy had approached the warehouse from the side. Peter scurried in the shadow to follow.

  “Little Sam? Peter didn’t seem to know the kid isn’t yours.” Mori raised an eyebrow, looking at Irish curiously.

  Irish nodded. “Sam must have been telling people that to avoid the attention to the real identity of the baby.” Irish took the baby off her back and cradled him in her arms. “Are you hungry, little Zanxi? You wouldn’t like being called little Sam, would you?” she cooed.

  Mori looked at the way Irish carried the baby. She looked as natural as a mother. “Are you going to have a real little Sam later?” Mori asked.

  Irish shook her head, looking into the distance. “Sam’s human. I’m not sure it would work.”

  “It would. I’m sure of it. Many people in my werefox clan married humans. They were fine … and happy.”

  Irish smiled, but the smile faded quickly. “We’ll see. And you?”

  “I what? Having a baby with Roy? We just got married. I’m not sure we are ready for that. Plus, I don’t think I can do diapers.”

  Irish chuckled. Then she blinked, looking at the warehouse. “Holy shit!” Irish gasped.

  In the dark, several mooks crept toward the warehouse, weapons in hand. Irish hissed.

  “Calm down. Let me see what I can do,” Mori said.

  Irish hissed again.

  “Stop hissing, let me think …”

  “It’s not me who is hissing …” Irish said. Mori looked at the baby, he had shifted into a little fox and was hissing, growling and making grumbling noise while he looked toward the warehouse.

  “Quiet baby fox. I’ll take care of this. Don’t look. This scene contains some violence,” Mori smiled at the fox and pulled out her sword. She stepped out from the shadow behind the line of men.