And Claudius had been arguing for discretion. Ha. At least his fellow Upper Council member was too smart to bother with that.
It was simple to pick out which of the three new satyrs was the Council member and which others were either assistants or bodyguards. For starters, only one of those satyrs gave off the telltale sign that she was wicked powerful.
In general, I was immune to pred magic unless the pred was touching me, but Claudius had proven to be an exception. The female satyr in the middle of the arrivals was too. I could sense her power before the group crossed the first lane of traffic, a scent I couldn’t name but which made me think of warm spices, cool silks and sand between my toes. As did her tan skin and waist-length black hair. Her suit was impeccably white and form-fitting, her heels high and her face flawless in spite of the six-hour flight from Los Angeles.
I couldn’t help but be jealous. Sure, while I didn’t have to worry about hiding horns if I wanted to blend in, I wouldn’t have minded inheriting half of whatever appearance-related mojo seemed to come naturally to all normal satyrs.
“Raia.” Claudius stepped toward the crosswalk, for the first time smiling in such a genuine way that it didn’t inspire fantasies of me decking him.
Given the constant background rumble of the airport traffic, I didn’t know how she could have heard him say her name, but the female satyr smiled back. Intrigued by this almost friendly interaction, I didn’t realize at first that the Gryphons’ nervousness was on the rise.
Before I had a chance to figure out what was going on with Tom and the others, tires squealed and a large SUV raced around the corner. Eating its exhaust came five giant Harleys. The roar of their engines echoing off the terminal lot was deafening, and the curses their riders wielded—that was blinding. I saw the group of visiting satyrs scramble to get out of the lane of the speeding bikes, saw the Gryphons and Dezzi’s satyr bodyguards rush forward with weapons drawn. Then the parking lot vanished.
Several people shouted, and I cursed. Instinctively, I dropped to a crouch and whipped out the special gun the Gryphons had given me. Even as I did, Tom was on top of the situation. I heard a pop among the noise, and a bright light flooded the area. Some kind of magical flare visibly pushed the unnatural darkness aside.
What I saw almost made me wish I were blind again. The furies on the bikes had apparently been protected against the temporary darkness, and they circled the new satyrs and their addicts, trying to keep them contained. In their upraised hands, they carried long, salamander fire-forged swords, and they swung them wildly but with obvious purpose, herding the group into a tighter formation. Meanwhile, the two non-Council satyrs and the addict guards had dropped their luggage and were starting to fight back with their own deadly blades and firepower.
A noose of fear wrapped around me. I wasn’t sure where to aim or whether I should. I only had eight of the Gryphons’ special, pred-killing rounds. Eight shots, and my aim was not the best. Plus, while Claudius and Dezzi held back, Lucen had run to join the fighting. I couldn’t risk hitting him.
The Gryphons, naturally, didn’t share my concern. Nor did the guards who were trapped by the furies. They were taking aim at the riders, and the shots were going everywhere.
Shit. I darted closer to the nearest car as the air filled with bullets, and not a moment too soon. The SUV’s doors burst open, and four more furies poured out. I had a second to notice that one of them was Raj before they too began shooting at us.
Tom skidded next to me under a hail of fire. “Protect the package at all costs.”
I knew he was right, knew that was our priority, but I feared for what that cost might be. I also didn’t know where the Vessel of Making was. Presumably someone had stuffed it into one of the suitcases, but it was far too dangerous to dash into the melee when I had no idea which piece of luggage I needed to grab.
Through the haze of smoke, I saw that one of the furies had been knocked off his bike, and one of the addicts was down too. But beyond that, it was too dangerous to stick my head up for long. The noise bouncing off the walls and the stench of the gunpowder alone were almost incapacitating.
Bracing myself, I poked my head around the car’s trunk long enough to fire in Raj’s general direction, and I ducked back to safety as a couple bullets lodged themselves in the nearest taillight, shattering it. Sweat rolled down my back and made keeping my grip on the gun challenging. Something about this whole situation struck me as wrong. All this gunfire was unusual for preds.
While I coughed from the smoke, a shriek pierced the commotion and someone shouted, “Go!” Tom sprinted around the car. Adjusting my grip, I stood on shaky legs, ready to take another shot.
But as I searched for an opening so I wouldn’t hit any of my allies, Raj caught my eye. At well over six feet, with red-and-black glyphs tattooed on his face, he was kind of attention-grabbing in a way that could give small children nightmares. But it wasn’t his appearance that drew my awareness. He held my gaze with something far stronger.
The tightened sensation in my gut intensified until the chaos of the fighting drained from my consciousness. There was nothing else in the airport terminal but the two of us. Nothing in me except my rage. Just like I’d been craving Claudius’s blood moments ago, bloodlust for a certain fury narrowed my world to a single thought.
Kill.
Whereas my reaction to Claudius had been irrational, this was not. More to the point, deep inside, I now understood the reason why I’d attacked Claudius. My temper had been set off by Raj being so close. He was in my head still.
I didn’t understand how it was possible because I wasn’t an addict. Thanks to Claudius, I knew what it felt like to be one, and besides, my company would have noticed if I was. But there was also no denying that the feeling I got when I looked at Raj was the same feeling I had when I created an addict-like bond between myself and a human.
Something was wrong here. Very, very wrong, and there was only one way to handle it.
I was going to kill Raj.
A niggling voice in the back of my mind reminded me that wasn’t my goal. I was supposed to be protecting something. But what that something was had vanished, and I bade the voice to go away. It had no ability to influence me. My focus was all-consuming. Anger was all I knew.
Blood. Kill. Fury.
I screamed, letting the emotion erupt from my chest, but in the confusion I doubted anyone noticed. From the corner of my eye, I could tell there was commotion among the Gryphons and satyrs. Could tell the furies were gaining the upper hand.
Raj barked some kind of order to his people and grabbed one of the Harleys. He was going to get away. The evil bastard thought he was leaving. Like hell he was.
I’d ridden to this party myself, not wanting to be crammed into a vehicle with the Gryphons, or worse, trapped in a car with Claudius or any other Upper Council members on the drive home. My precious Dragon’sWing was parked several spots away, luckily out of the direction of the fighting. Taking a deep breath, I sprinted toward it.
For a moment, my back was exposed to the hailstorm of lead, and I could sense a bullet flying near my skull. Then I swung my legs around the motorcycle’s familiar seat and started the engine.
The guttural thunder of the furies’ bikes grew louder. Raj wasn’t the only one making a getaway, but he was the only one who mattered. Even now, my sight homed in on him as I scanned the terminal. The magical rope that bound us was in place, yet if it functioned like my bond with humans, it would grow weaker the farther away he got. Eventually, it would snap.
I couldn’t allow that. I might not get another chance. Besides, whatever that something was that I was supposed to be worried about, the same voice in the back of my head was convinced Raj would have it. Raj was the furies’ Boston Dom, just as Raj was one of the ringleaders who’d set the demons free. Every direction led back to him.
Lucen shouted
my name as I stuck my helmet on, but I ignored his voice. To my left, Raj was disappearing down the long terminal, and the magic connecting us was stretching. I couldn’t see it, but feeling it was enough. I imagined it attaching me to him like some evil umbilical cord as I gunned my engine and took off.
Whoever designed airports had a cruel sense of humor. The lanes twisted and turned, sometimes sharply. Off ramps and on ramps circled the terminal buildings in a maze, and when combined with the usual airport traffic, staying on Raj’s tail would have been damned near impossible if I had to rely on sight to keep up. The bond, however, didn’t care if I had to stop abruptly for an airport shuttle or take a corner blindly. I could tell where he turned even if I couldn’t always tell where I was going.
Raj’s bike had the more powerful engine, but my Dragon’sWing was built for speed and maneuverability. Between my legs, the bike thrummed with my tension, urging me to go faster than the traffic would allow. If only Raj would pull onto a highway. I wanted to leave behind the humid, exhaust-choked air.
But more than that, I wanted to kill Raj. The chase would be fun, but catching him would be satisfying. Determination pulsed in my veins with my heartbeat. My vision rendered the world as red as the sky above.
I followed him until he plowed through a cheap metal fence that blocked off a closed parking lot. As the contraption went flying, skittering across the uneven and damaged asphalt, Raj spun his bike around.
Got you, I thought, but then I realized he was reaching for something. A gun. And I was aiming straight toward him with no cover.
The next few seconds were a blur. Not even adrenaline could save me from the pain. Raj fired, I tried to duck, and in doing so, I couldn’t avoid the patch of broken blacktop in front of me. My bike went careening out from beneath my legs. In the split second before I crashed into the pavement, amazement washed over me. So this would be how I died. Flayed and broken at the fucking airport.
So much for that magi prophecy of how I was supposed to save the world.
Chapter Three
Fragile bones and delicate skin slammed into the gritty ground, not to mention the effect that impact had on my poor internal organs. Shoulders then legs, hands and head—I didn’t know how the asphalt and I met. I just knew it fucking hurt.
My bike had vanished, and I was surprised my conscious awareness hadn’t too. Honestly, I wish it had because every part of me felt broken. My tongue tasted blood. How could I not be dead? How could I be thinking semi-clearly?
I shifted my legs, and though my muscles shrieked, they moved. Whimpering to control the pain, I pulled my arms toward my chest, trying to maneuver into a position so I could sit. My head swam and so did the parking lot, and I managed to remove my helmet though I almost vomited from the intensity of the pain.
Yet through it all, my heart continued to beat. My lungs continued to fill. And the magic connecting me to Raj continued to override every other concern. The ground vibrated with the hum of his bike’s engine, confirming he was as close as I sensed him. Bastard. I might be bleeding to death internally, but as long as I could move, I could take him with me.
I tossed my helmet aside and discovered my hands were covered in blood. No matter. If I could twitch a finger, I could press a trigger. But the gun turned out to be far more uncomfortable to hold than my helmet, requiring a far greater range of motion to grip. I inhaled sharply, causing additional searing pain in my rib cage.
Raj approached, a pair of kickass boots in my peripheral vision. My arm shook as I attempted to raise the gun, but I had no chance of shooting anything except his ankles. Even as I tried, I realized he must have been watching me struggle for a while. To confirm it, he snatched the gun from my hand, and I couldn’t stop from screaming as the action further abraded my palm.
Raj kneeled next to me, and I hissed as he used the gun barrel to push hair out of my face. “You are something, soul swapper. Just look at you. Still fighting. Someone obviously covered you in some impressive charms for you to be moving and breathing, but being able to move is not half as fascinating as willing yourself to do it. There’s so much anger in you that it must power you nearly as strongly as it does me.” He made his point by inhaling deeply with an expression of disturbingly erotic satisfaction.
“Go to hell.” My words were mushy. Shit. How many teeth had I lost?
Raj chuckled. “No need for that. We’ve brought hell to us. With your assistance, of course.” He sighed theatrically. “I did warn you back in France that if you came with me, you’d be well treated, but if you refused, we’d get you one way or another and not as friendly-like. It’s simply unfortunate that I can’t take you with me this time. In your condition, throwing you over the back of my bike might kill you regardless of the charms holding you together, and if I wait for assistance, your friends might get here first. I have more important things to deal with than them.”
Raj tossed my gun aside and to my surprise, pulled a handkerchief from his inner jacket pocket. While I tried scooting away unsuccessfully, he wiped blood from my face. It was almost gentle, but I understood why he did it, and it wasn’t out of concern for me. The only reason Raj wanted to take me with him was for the unique magical properties I contained, some of which were in my blood.
He stuffed the handkerchief away and stood. “It’ll be interesting to analyze this and see what it’s useful for. Heal well, soul swapper. I know there are two others biologically similar to you, but there’s no one half as fun. It’d be a shame if you died.”
I considered cursing him again, but it took far too much energy to form words. All I could do was sit there, trembling with rage and sweating in agony, and let him walk away. Watch him climb on his damn Harley and listen to the engine roar before he disappeared.
A swarm of imps that had been dancing around a nearby streetlamp flew my way, attracted by the magic in my blood. Just what I needed on top of everything else—an imp attack. But the anti-imp charms I had, courtesy of Lucen, forced them to keep their distance. Finally, one small positive for the night. And yet as they hovered in an effervescent cloud above me, I couldn’t help but think they looked like vultures guarding their carrion.
Praying my phone hadn’t been damaged in the crash, I felt for it in my jeans. Thank dragons it was on the side of me that hadn’t hit the ground at full force. Clenching my jaw against more pain, I reached into my pocket with my shredded fingers and retrieved it.
Lucen picked up on the second ring. “Are you okay?”
“Um, no.” I expected to hear gunfire in the background, but his side of the line was quiet.
“Are you wearing your pendant? I’m coming for you.”
I groped at my neck and touched the silver fox. The pendant he’d given me was both pretty and functional—a tracking charm. Although I’d resented the idea of being tagged, this was the second time Lucen’s gift was coming in handy.
“Bring a doctor,” I managed to say before my hand gave out and the phone slipped through my blood-slicked fingers.
* * * * *
Lucen wouldn’t share anything about what happened at the terminal after I left. He simply fussed over me and told me not to worry. For possibly the first time in my life, I was feeling crappy enough to take his suggestion, at least for a short while.
When the EMTs arrived, all anyone wanted to tell me was how lucky I was to be alive, and since no one else rode in the ambulance with me, I was further deprived of news. The Gryphons were too busy, though I had no idea with what, and Lucen didn’t want to stay in such close proximity to the EMTs while they were treating me in case his power distracted them. I supposed that made sense, but it irked.
Worse than that, it meant I had to wait longer to get information about what happened with the satyrs and the furies. By the time I reached the hospital, the pain medications I’d been given had kicked in enough that I was no longer able to not worry.
A
dditionally, without Raj so close to me, my irrational anger faded until I could think straight. Now, however, I could detect him in my head, and I suspected he’d been in there the whole time. I simply hadn’t been aware of the thin bond connecting us. With effort, I might even be able to follow it again. It was a hopeful thought, although that sort of concentration was currently beyond me.
I flopped against the sturdy hospital pillow as the ER doctor finished reviewing my injuries. “So when you say ‘miraculous’, does this mean I can go?”
The doctor frowned. “Under the circumstances, it might be wise for you to stay for more tests. We don’t know yet whether—”
“She’ll be fine.” Lucen appeared around the sheet that separated my narrow section of the room. “You said nothing’s broken.”
The doctor took a step back. Lucen had his horns disguised, but she must have detected something was off about him. Most likely, she was feeling flustered by an intense arousal that would have seemed to come from nowhere. “Nothing appears broken, but with the extent of bruising—”
“She’ll be fine,” Lucen said more firmly. He smiled, and I understood he was purposely working his mojo on the doctor to gain her compliance. “Why don’t you draw up the release paperwork or whatever you need to do so she can leave?”
“If that’s what you want?” The doctor turned her concerned face toward me.
It was what I wanted. Since Raj was no longer distracting me from our plans, I needed to get back to them. To find out what happened after I lost it and went chasing him and to see what I could do to help if what happened was bad.
On the other hand, I sure didn’t feel up to walking out of here yet, and what if there was internal bleeding? Trust Lucen, I told myself. If my normally overly protective satyr was pushing for my release, my condition couldn’t be that bad.
Misery Happens Page 2