by Kim Schubert
When his sight no longer held sunspots, he moved with careful scrutiny to the edge. He looked down until he found the courthouse and changed his viewpoint, carefully watching the ground and the edging for any clues.
He and Mark were halfway through their first walk when Mercer and the other officer arrived.
“Find anything?” Mercer asked.
“No,” Logan growled, taking another walk around the perimeter.
Still finding nothing, he looked to Mark, who shook his head.
“Let’s go to the next one,” Logan demanded.
On the stairs down, Mercer asked, “Logan, do you think the shots were meant for Olivia?”
The question caught him off guard. Logan stopped mid-step, Mark bumping into him from behind.
“What?” he asked, his mind already replaying the question back to him.
Logan turned to Mark, searching his face.
“Olivia laughed, she hugged Sophie…“ Logan’s voice faded.
Mark picked up, “She jumped towards you.”
“That’s when she was shot,” Logan stated, shaking his head before continuing down the stairs.
That vision would forever haunt him. The pure look of panic and pain in her sea green eyes. Her throat trying to work. The pain flooding their mate bond, the confusion at her body not responding. They were all images that would torment him, awake and asleep.
Logan answered Mercer’s question, “No, I don’t think those shots were meant for Olivia. They were for me.”
Guilt rode him hard, even though logically he knew there was nothing he could have done. Nothing he could have sensed to prevent it. His lion knew only that he had failed his mate. Logan listened to his sorrowful cry.
“Do you have anyone who wants to kill you?” Mercer asked.
Logan turned toward him, calling the elevator with one rough push. “Yes, I have shifters who are upset at me mating a succubus. I have vampires pissed at me for mating a succubus. I also have humans pissed at me for taking Lorraine’s child from her. Not to mention Grams.” He hissed her name.
Mercer cleared his throat, looking away before picking a spot on the plaster behind Logan’s head.
“We’re not — things aren’t—” Mercer ran a hand through his short hair. “I’m not happy with what she did to Olivia anymore than you are. I love that girl. She saved my granddaughter’s life. She continues to save it everyday she teaches Mindy to cope or shares a terrible story from her own past.” His voice broke. “We all need her, Logan.”
Logan’s heart constricted. He reached out, his large hand resting heavily on Mercer’s shoulder. “She will wake up.”
Mercer looked down, drawing a long breath.
“What’s a succubus?” the uniformed officer asked.
The elevator announced its arrival and Logan moved inside, turning, his thick arms across his chest, to watch the rest follow him in.
“In human lore, they are the devil who takes the soul of men and women during sex,” Logan began. The officer gulped. “In reality, they are similar to humans, except they are sensitive to emotions. If you are feeling angry, they can take the anger. If you want to feel happy, they can help. Not to mention the sex is fantastic,” he added.
He thought back to the night Olivia had been his date to some formal function or another. She was beautiful in her navy blue dress, every curve on her body highlighted in the formfitting fabric. He had been too angry with Lorraine that night to compliment her on it.
Truthfully, Logan had been angry a lot back then. It was that night with Olie that brought the constant frustration to his attention. His relationship with Lorraine had eaten away at him, a slow moving cancer. He never recognized the changes in himself or the packs until one ruby haired vixen showed him the errors of his ways.
With each slight touch, Logan had felt the heavy burden of his life lifting. The gentle brush of her fingers against the back of his hand had sent heat directly to a place he hadn’t thought of in conjunction with Olivia before.
In the soft glow, as a lock of red hair fell over her eyes and a soft smile parted her lips, he was now thinking dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that awakened the dormant lion within him.
Mine, his lion had thought, the first time he peered through Logan’s eyes at Olie.
That response alone had Logan careful and guarded around her. In all his long life, he had never experienced such a powerful reaction to a female from his lion.
Olie had picked at his plate, maneuvering her fork around the bacon in the mashed potatoes, and Logan had watched the fork grace her lips, entranced by the movement.
Truth to be told, Logan was grateful when Lorraine showed up that night. At least his lion didn’t demand to claim her as he had Olivia.
The elevator doors opened and it took Logan a minute to realize everyone was waiting on him to lead the way out. Pushing off the elevator wall, he heard the glass shift beneath his heavy weight.
“Next?” Logan asked.
Mercer nodded, “Follow me.”
…
My footprints didn’t leave an impression as I walked. I imagine I looked silly, stepping, jumping and looking back to check it. Nor did I leave a shadow, and I wasn’t warm. I felt I should have been from the sun on my back.
The vague outline formed itself into a large building. It reminded me of a palace, straight out of Aladdin. I was holding out hope for a flying carpet. I’d absolutely had enough to do with the djinn. Unless of course this one wanted to grant me three wishes and then not kill me for freeing him.
As I approached, I noticed that a large picture window was broken. I steered myself toward it. It was probably a good idea not to hit the front door, considering I had no idea where I was. I have to say, I didn’t remember any glass in Aladdin. I shrugged, maybe this place had embraced technology?
I used the broken shards to haul myself in, finding my hands and dress again unscathed. I needed clothing like this in the real world.
Huffing, I stood straight, brushing imagined dust off my hands onto the dress. I took in the red glow of the unused nursery room. Dust had settled heavily against the wooden crib and matching rocking chair. I crossed the room, looking down on the chair. Gently, I pushed it, a vague sense of déja vu settling over me as it moved.
“He won’t like you in here,” a deep voice muttered from the shadows.
“Who is he?” I asked, impressed I didn’t scream first. I’ll admit, I jumped.
“The Magician,” said the voice, coming into the light. A giant greeted me, heads taller than my own 5’9” height. Dark hair interlaced with silver covered his entire face and body. Two large horns curled upward and a dark green tunic covered his body, with thick black leather crossing his chest. He snorted.
“What are you?” I whispered, taking a step closer to him.
He tilted his enormous face. “I am Doyle, the minotaur.”
“Impressive,” I breathed out. “I wish we had your kind at home. You must make excellent security.”
He huffed, “We do.” He extended a hand that ended in thick, dark claws, swiping through my middle.
I didn’t move; my brain felt foggy and slow as his hand moved through my torso.
“What the hell?” I whispered, looking down. Pressing my own hands against my stomach, I found my body firm to the touch.
“So that’s what he meant,” Doyle the large Minotaur stated. “Follow me,” he ordered.
Did I have a choice?
Down dark stone hallways we traveled, with everything cast in a red glow. The high ceilings and stairs had more shades of red than I could have dreamed possible.
We arrived at an arched door Doyle pushed open. More stone greeted us as cream light from the candles gave a reprieve from all the red.
“I don’t remember asking for trespassers to be brought to me, Doyle,” a hunched figure spoke. I couldn’t see more than his back, his attention drawn to whatever was in front of him.
“She isn’t really here,�
� Doyle answered. Minotaurs, taking cryptic to a whole new level.
The Magician dropped whatever he had been so carefully attending to with a metallic thud. “What did you say?” he asked, turning. He ripped off the magnifying glasses that were secured over his head with a leather strap, tossing them onto the wooden workbench.
“I tried to remove her and my arm passed right through her,” Doyle said. I wondered if he was smiling under all that fur; his tone certainly sounded smug.
Stepping closer, The Magician analyzed me. I returned the favor, his black hair streaked with silver reminding me of Doyle. He was dressed in a Victorian style black jacket with the tails hitting below his knees. The suspenders and button up white shirt were clean and dated.
“What?” I demanded. I was used to being appraised and inspected, but his perusal of my body unnerved me.
“What’s your name, girl?” The Magician questioned.
I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest and pushing out a hip. “Olivia, who the hell are you?”
“Watch your mouth,” The Magician scolded, his eyes snapping up to my own. I blinked, surprised by the similarity of color.
“Who are you to give me orders?” I asked, moving my hands to my hips.
The man smiled, sea green eyes looking into my own, and I fought the urge to shift uncomfortably.
“I am your father,” he announced proudly, holding his arms wide, chest puffed out. My brow furrowed.
“Bullshit. I don’t have parents.” Denial seemed to be my safest answer, even though what Bob the Fae had said kicked around in my head.
Your father has great expectations for you.
A cold chill took up residence in my spine and I fought the urge to give into its shutters. What the fuck had the small Fae known about me that I didn’t? I had dismissed his words, finding no use in speculating about whether I truly was lab created as Selena claimed.
But if I wasn’t, and I’m not saying I believed him, but if for a second I entertained the thought that I actually had parents, why the fuck had Selena ended up raising me?
He took another step closer to me, his arms still out, and I backed up. He was looking for a hug, a warm embrace between kin. My face closed down.
He dropped his hands and I could see the hurt in the unshed tears glistening in his eyes. He moved on from the emotion quickly, though, rubbing his hands together.
“So daughter, what brings you here?”
“If I am your daughter, why didn’t you raise me?”
His face fell, his valiant attempt at normalcy dwindling.
“You were born here,” he began. I was waiting for, In a galaxy far, far away, and the music to start playing. He turned from me, picking up his discarded items on the workbench, placing them gently on shelves above the space.
He sat down, turning back to me, his eyes cool and calculating.
“You were born here, in the land where the succubi have been trapped for almost two centuries. I sent you through the portal with Selena in the hope that someday, some way, you would find your way back to us.”
“Selena,” her name came hissing off my lips with venom. “You willingly gave an infant to Selena?”
He looked at me, clearly uncertainly.
“Yes,” he answered. Well fuck, at least the asshole was honest. Fuck. Did I believe him? My gut said yes.
I took a step closer to him. “Did you know what she had planned for me?”
“No.”
“Well, let me tell you. The bitch had me raped, beaten, and tortured until I was her perfect fucking solider.”
His entire body stilled, his eyes widening.
“And you gave me to her,” I scoffed, turning away from him, hurt and betrayal lacing through my heart in ways I’d never dreamed of. Not believing I had parents was better than this pain.
I rubbed my forehead, pushing down the tears and the pain.
I turned back to him. “Well, I’m fucking here now, how do I leave?” My voice rose in an attempt to mask my pain.
Apparently, my abrupt change in topic caught him off guard. His mouth opened and shut, sealing into a thin line.
Finally, he came out with, “Do you know what happened before you woke up here?”
“Yeah, I was shot. Pretty sure I was or am dying.” I rubbed the back of my neck. I needed to get back to Logan. He was stable and he loved me. He hadn’t abandoned me.
I was holding out hope The Magician’s story wouldn’t hold up. Maybe this was all a clever hallucination. My subconscious was fucked up more than I’d previously thought if I was dreaming of such betrayal.
“Shot with an arrow?” Doyle asked.
“No, with a gun, a really big gun, three times,” I answered, turning to look at him. His deep set eyes were glowing with red.
“Doyle is your guardian,” The Magician stated.
“I don’t need a guardian. I’ve managed just fine on my own,” I retorted. Doyle growled. “Not to mention that you tried to slice me up when we first met.”
“I could never hurt my true charge. It was a test,” he replied with a shrug, like attempted murder was no big deal.
“Alright, back to the topic at hand, how do I get back?” I turned to The Magician.
He stood, running a hand absentmindedly over his workbench before looking at me.
“We have to create a portal. Your soul went back to the place of your birth under extreme stress; since we can’t recreate those conditions with just your soul, we will have to utilize other methods,” The Magician answered.
Doyle grunted next to me, “That is dangerous.”
The Magician shrugged, “She wants to get back to Earth.”
“As do you,” Doyle stated.
My hackles rose. “Will opening the portal allow you to travel back to Earth as well?” I asked.
The Magician shifted slightly. “Yes, it will.”
“Who trapped you here?” I wasn’t dumb.
“The witches.” He spat the species with venom and it was hard to deny the family resemblance, although I was still trying, or perhaps still undecided.
“The witches aren’t powerful enough to trap an entire race in another dimension,” I countered.
“Really?” That tidbit of information interested him.
“They can’t even open a portal to the Fae without a blood sacrifice.”
“It must have been powerful blood,” Doyle commented.
I rubbed my chest. “It was.”
“It was your blood?” The Magician questioned.
“It was.”
“What happened?”
I sighed, really not wanting to get back into it. “They loaded me down with their magic and bled me out.”
“I’m surprised it didn’t work,” The Magician commented.
“It did.” I avoided their eyes, choosing to look out a narrow, tall window toward the back of the room.
“Who came through?” The Magician asked.
I turned my gaze to him, debating if I needed to tell him anything else.
“Luharposn and Bob.” I tried to keep my voice neutral. I’m fairly certain I failed.
The Magician caught it. “You don’t care for them?”
“Bob has always been kind in his own way to me, but Luharposn and I have a history. It isn’t a pretty one,” I admitted, not willing to divulge any more painful details.
The Magician nodded, deep in thought.
I wanted a topic change. “Alright, what do we need to get the portal open?”
Chapter 3
It was the third building that finally yielded results. Logan stood on the rooftop, looking down where Olivia’s blood on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse looked so small, so minor.
“Whoever it was must have left in a hurry, not to pick up the shell casings,” Mercer commented, taking in the rooftop scene.
Logan nodded silently in agreement.
“There are no smells up here,” Mark commented, inhaling deeply. “The wind sh
ould be leaving a trace of something.”
“Wolfsbane,” Logan stated, his thick arms crossed over his chest.
Mark looked at him. “Why would a sniper leave wolfsbane?”
“Because he or she knew Logan would find this spot, and whatever his heightened senses picked up would be a vital clue,” Mercer supplied.
Logan nodded, watching the sun drop lower on the horizon.
“Let’s get the shells to Blue,” Logan commanded, turning away. The scene held no additional clues and his beast needed action.
Mark nodded, taking the thick plastic bag from Mercer and using the end of a pen to drop in the, hopefully, helpful clues.
They turned as one unit, heading back to ground level and to the SUV.
…
The uniformed police were gone when they got back to the front of the courthouse. Mercer paused for a moment as Logan opened the passenger door of the vehicle. He had too much on his mind to safely drive anywhere.
“I’ll call you if I hear anything from the uniforms that canvassed the area,” Mercer said.
Logan nodded. “I’ll let you know if anything changes with Olivia.”
Mercer nodded, emotions thick in his throat. “I’d appreciate that.”
Closing the door, Mark looked over at Logan. “Where do you want to go?”
“To the hospital.”
They made the drive in silence, parking this time in an actual spot before making the short walk to the automatic doors.
Logan and Mark both began breathing shallowly. Hospitals wreaked havoc upon their sensitive shifter noses. They didn’t bother asking for directions, they could smell Olivia in the massive building and swiftly took the twisting turns.
Everyone watched them carefully. Nurses stopped their conversations and doctors whispered for security. Neither Mark nor Logan acknowledged any of it.
“It’s the blood,” Mark whispered to him. “And my lack of clothing, not to mention shoes.”
Logan reached down, touching the now dried blood Olivia had spilled out onto him.
“I had forgotten,” he admitted.
Mark nodded. Turning the corner, they both saw Jerry seated outside what could only be Olivia’s room.