Vengeance Served Hot: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (Rewriting Justice Book 2)

by Martha Carr

“What? He needs a GPS installed?”

  “No.” Correk chuckled. “At first. I missed Oriceran, but then I thought about how you were down here waiting for me. I realized I would give up a million nights under that two-moon sky just to be here in this unfinished house, talking about our crazy Earth lives and getting ready for bed.”

  Leira smiled and closed her eyes as he kissed her lips. “I think it’s the Funyuns.”

  Correk chuckled. “Maybe just a little bit, but it’s mostly you.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her on the head, letting out a deep sigh. She ran her hand across his stomach and kissed him on the cheek.

  “I think we have better things to do than talk about work, don’t you?”

  Correk raised an eyebrow and swished his hand through the air to turn off the lights. “I can think of a few things.”

  The light shone brightly on Washington, DC, when morning came. The city was abuzz with everyone hurrying through the streets on their way to another day of work. The cars honked loudly as they traveled through the roundabouts, no one really paying much attention to the lines on the roads. People from all walks of life were out and about, some in suits carrying briefcases, others in the newest fashion trends, all dodging around the early-morning Greenpeace reps who were trying to get signatures for the latest green initiative.

  The Starbucks on K street was busy. Between the magicals using it to get to the train station and the regular coffee fiends, there was barely any room to walk through. Evan Howard stepped from the chocolate-scented hallway, his suit perfectly pressed, his shoes shined, and his three-hundred-dollar blue paisley tie in a perfect Windsor knot. He was looking down at a sheet of paper, his briefcase in his other hand as he left the Starbucks and headed toward his office.

  Evan was a lobbyist for the Dairy Industry and had a meeting with some of the higher-ups to discuss his next stint on Capitol Hill. They wanted to hear his latest plan to keep the dairy industry in play with all the health warnings about drinking too much milk being released. With the rise of plant-based eating, soy milk was flying off the shelf, and milk sales had taken a dive. They needed the government to squash some of these studies, even throw some deal to the dairy farmers to keep the milk pumping and the cheese fermenting. As he walked toward his meeting he practiced his speech, wanting to get it perfect. He needed them to keep him on this deal. It was a huge money-maker and could push him to the forefront of his team.

  “Dairy has been at the forefront of the American diet for hundreds of years. We have supplied it to our troops, we have defeated those who would point fingers at the government, and we are responsible for thousands of families who make their meager living as dairy farmers.”

  He stopped at the intersection and waited for the masses to cross the street, repeating his opening over and over in his head. He reached the cement courtyard of his building and, not paying much attention to where he was walking, he bumped into someone. He mumbled an ‘I’m sorry’ and kept moving. The man had a scruffy beard and wore jeans and a t-shirt—someone very few people in that area would pay attention to. The man carefully rubbed a gummy liquid across the back of Evan’s hand.

  The liquid bubbled and seeped into his skin before Evan could scratch. He had no idea what had happened, but he was about to.

  Evan walked through the front doors and raised his hand for them to hold the elevator, jogging over and climbing inside. He pressed the eighth-floor button and gave a tight-lipped smile to the woman next to him. He continued to read his paper, shifting as others exited and entered. When he reached his floor, he put down his paper and nodded at the receptionist.

  “Morning, Mr. Howard.”

  “Morning.” He looked to his left as one of his team poured a cup of coffee. “Morning, Roberts.”

  “Morning. You ready for that presentation?”

  “Never been readier.”

  He chuckled, adjusting his tie with a slight lump in his throat. He headed down the hall to his office, closed the door and stopped dead in his tracks. He knew this feeling all too well—he was shifting into his wolf in broad daylight in the middle of a crowded office complex. He shook his head, dropping his briefcase, and looked at the hair sprouting on the back of his hands.

  “No, no, no! This can’t be happening! I can’t...stop it. What the hell is going on?”

  Evan rushed out of the office with his head down and burst into the men’s room. When he looked in the mirror the hair on his face was now long and shaggy, and his teeth were starting to lengthen and sharpen. He had to get out of there. He couldn’t take the elevator because there were too many people, and being stuck with a fanged werewolf wasn’t going to put anyone at ease. He groaned, holding his stomach as he pushed out of the bathroom, and ran down the hall, knocking the papers out of a secretary’s arms. He burst through the door to the stairwell, still changing into his wolf, and pulled out his phone. He called his wife, unsure of who else to tell.

  “Evan? You all right?” His wife could hear his labored breathing.

  “I’m changing, and I can’t stop it.”

  “What? That’s impossible! It’s broad daylight. Where are you?”

  “There is hair all over my face and hands, and I can feel it in my bones. I’m in the stairwell at work, and I’m going to try to get out of here as fast as possible. I’ll meet you at the house.”

  He hung up and stopped at the trash can on the second floor, hiding his wallet and badge in the lid. He pulled his tie off and began to undress as he made his way toward the lobby door. He tossed his suit to the floor piece by piece until he had completely stripped. By the time he reached the first floor the change was complete.

  Evan ran out into the lobby as his wolf, his claws slipping on the marble floors. The guard jumped up and pulled his weapon, watching in bewilderment as the wolf stopped and turned toward him. His hands shook as he stared into Evan’s eyes and he squinted in recognition. He knew he had seen those eyes before, but where?

  Evan saw his hesitation and raced from the building. The screams began as he tore through the front doors and down the street, taking the alleys as much as possible. He needed to get home to safety before anyone caught him.

  6

  Correk whistled as he flipped a pancake, pleased by how well he had learned how to cook. He had gotten up before the sun to make Yumfuck and Leira breakfast. The coffee was brewing, the bacon was sizzling, and the syrup was on the table. His stomach growled, and he grabbed a piece of bacon and shoved it into his mouth, groaning with delight as he chewed.

  “Finally get to eat a real breakfast for a change,” he whispered to himself.

  When he turned with the plate of pancakes in his hand, he jumped at the sight of Turner standing in the doorway of his kitchen. He swallowed hard, shook his head, and set the plate on the table. He looked at Turner, as he wiped his hands on the apron tied around his waist.

  “That is the second time in like twelve hours,” Correk barked. “What are you doing here? Joining us for breakfast.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Turner replied.

  “There’s been an incident with a shifter and I need you to shield him. Find out what the hell is going on, and let me know.”

  “But...but...”

  “I’ll buy you breakfast afterward.”

  Yumfuck walked up to Turner and looked at him for a moment before sniffing the air. Turner ruffled the troll’s fur, chuckling as Yumfuck licked his lips at the smell of bacon.

  “Well, Yumfuck, it’s all yours. Just leave some for Leira.”

  “You got it, dude.”

  Correk raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly at Turner.

  “It’s from some Earth show from the nineties. Don’t ask me.”

  “Full house,” Yumfuck chirped, sitting down at the table. “Thanks, motherfucker!”

  Correk followed Turner into the living room, glancing into the bedroom at Leira, who was still sound asleep. Turner opened a portal, whispering the coordinates under his
breath. Correk looked through it at the neighborhood and a large white house with a perfect yard.

  “Wait there on the porch. He’ll know you.”

  “Got it,” Correk replied, stepping through.

  The portal closed behind him, taking the scent of bacon with it. He looked up and down the street to make sure no one saw. He climbed up onto the porch and sat down in one of the chairs, realizing he was still wearing the green apron with flying pigs on it. He set it down next to him, waiting and watching as several cars drove up and down the road. He heard a loud growl and stood quickly as a werewolf tore down the street to the house. He snarled for a moment as he eyed Correk but quickly relaxed when he realized who it was.

  “I’m here to help.”

  Correk pulled the light and created a swirling orb of magic, which he carried over to Evan. The Fixer pushed the light down through his fur, and when he was done there was a bubble of protection around the wolf, making him invisible to the non-magical eye. Evan just whimpered, his yellow eyes flashing wildly.

  “Take a deep breath,” Correk whispered, “and reach inside yourself. You can control this. You know you can.”

  The wolf nodded at Correk and closed his eyes, centering himself. He breathed deeply and felt the control start to return. Slowly the hair began to disappear, and finally his body morphed to his naked human form. He laid there a moment before standing, putting his hands down to cover himself. He nodded to a plant by the top of the porch steps.

  “There’s an extra key underneath.”

  Correk nodded and opened the door. Evan’s wife hadn’t gotten back yet, so the house was quiet. Evan stepped inside, and Correk shut the front door before releasing the shield of protection. Correk followed Evan into the downstairs bedroom and waited while Evan dressed in the bathroom. When he walked out, he looked exhausted and worried. He didn’t understand how that had happened.

  “I’ve been a shifter for decades. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Where did it start?” Correk asked.

  “I started to feel the change when I got into my office, then it just rolled from there. I couldn’t control it, and I couldn’t stop it. It just kept coming. I bolted to the stairs and by the time I was in the lobby I had fully changed.”

  Correk shook his head. “How?”

  “I don’t know. It just came over me. It was like a wave, worse than when it’s time to change. I did everything I could to at least slow it down, but it was like my control over my wolf had somehow been blocked. He is me and I am him, so I don’t even know how that is possible. Things are not okay. It’s bad enough that all those people saw the wolf, but it could have been so much worse.”

  “I’m sure the Griffins are already on top of that, but I am concerned. I think you need to tell Lucius right away.”

  Evan’s wife burst through the door, giving Correk a strange look before hugging Evan. Correk stepped back and blew out a deep breath, unsure what else he could do for them. Someone had set this up. Someone had done something to him to force the change. He had known many shifters in his time, and the thing they valued most was the ability to control the change—not let it take them or control them.

  Leira groaned as she set down the last two tires. She tilted her head and eyed the obstacle course she had created. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. She’d woken up right after Correk had left and smelled the pancakes and bacon. She wanted nothing more than to drown herself in maple syrup, but she needed to get in shape again if she wanted to avoid exhaustion after her jobs.

  So she ignored Yumfuck’s happy munching and grumpily chowed down on a granola bar, and headed to the gym at Turner’s mansion. She always tried to pick times when no one else would be around, not wanting to have to talk about why she had left—or anything else for that matter. She just wanted to be left alone to work out. Luckily, late morning was great because everyone was working. There might be a few people meandering in for a lunchtime spin on the treadmill, but the rest of everyone would be out in the field.

  All right Leira, no magic. Just brute strength. She walked to the front of the course and put her leg back while holding onto her ankle. She stretched her tired muscles and her hands. She focused on the first part—the fast-rope that dangled from the ceiling. She looked down at her watch and took a deep breath, pressing the button and taking off at a sprint. She leapt and grabbed the rope as high as she could, taking a moment to steady herself while it swung her back and forth.

  Hand over hand Leira climbed higher, and her arms began to burn as she passed the halfway point. She paused to center herself and continued to pull her body toward the top. She slapped the iron beam and made her way back down, jumping from about four feet up to land in a crouch. She raced to the dumbbells, grabbed two, and lunged forward, moving across the floor mat in large strides, synchronizing the deep puffs of air she released through her mouth. She reached the line, set down the weights, and took off at a sprint around the perimeter of the room. She pushed herself hard, feeling the burn down her thighs and through her calves.

  As she crossed to where the sprints had started she didn’t slow, racing toward the seven rows of tires she’d laid out. She brought her knees to her chest as she moved through them. Right, left, right, left. Knees up, Leira, knees up.

  She managed to finish without tripping, which impressed her. She sprinted across the course to the pull-up bar, struggling to get her tired arms to pull her chin to the bar and lower her gently back down again. She had set her beginning goal at five, knowing full well that she needed to get herself up to twenty relatively soon. By the fifth one, though she tried not to, she just dropped off the bar. She raced toward the finish line, stopping one last time for seven burpees.

  She pushed herself to the designated seven and took off for the finish line. She grunted as she crossed it, stopping her watch and raising her arms over her head. She paced the floor to catch her breath and took a sip from her water bottle.

  It wasn’t the best time she had ever recorded, but it wasn’t the worst either. That was the only downfall of being an independent—she had to force herself to train because there was no one there breathing down her neck. She wanted to grow stronger and become more agile again, since her ability to do her job successfully depended on it. Just the thought of getting winded chasing a perp made her want to push herself harder, so she started the whole course again.

  By the time she had finished the third run, she was done for the day. The lunchtime workers would be coming in for training, and she still had the jog back to her apartment complex. Leira cleaned up the course before wiping her face with her towel and putting her stuff back into her bag. When she opened the side door of the gym, she glanced back. Turner was standing in the doorway. He nodded at her, and she nodded back and walked out.

  As she jogged toward her home, her mind was filled with thoughts about her future, the future of her magic, and how she could keep getting stronger every day. She had to be just as dedicated to her workouts as she was to her job, even if eating bacon sounded a hell of a lot better than more burpees. She pushed herself faster, clearing Turner’s driveway and heading toward K street.

  Turner watched out the window as she disappeared. He gripped his cane and smiled, knowing Leira had always been her best and worst critic.

  7

  Senator Jason Trumbull stood in front of the mirror, straightening his tie. He missed the days he had worn his military uniform everywhere he went, but his time in the Army had gotten him voted into the Senate. He had been highly regarded in the Army, and that respect had only increased through the twenty years he had spent as a Senator.

  The respect had been well earned. Trumbull was a good man who always looked out for his constituents regardless of party lines. He did what was right for the people. Lately, however, things had begun to shift, and he was beginning to listen to the darker side of his mind more often then he wanted to admit.

  The world was changing. America was no longer just a melting p
ot of human beings. He was now dealing with people who had emigrated from other worlds. It wasn’t like he had just learned about Oriceran or the magical people who lived on Earth. He had acquired knowledge of magicals and Oriceran throughout his time in the service. It had only become a regular topic of conversation in recent years, though. The opening of the portals, the prophecy, and the rise of dark magic had hit the government hard, and his seat on the Committee on Foreign Nations had become the center of almost everything he did.

  The door behind him creaked open, and one of his aides stuck her head in. “Are you ready, Senator? They are waiting for you.”

  “Yes, of course,” he replied, grabbing his briefcase and looking in the mirror one last time.

  This next committee meeting was bound to be fraught with concern over the growing panic increasingly visible magic use was sparking. Oriceran and everything that went with it fell under their purview, which meant more work for Trumbull since they looked to him for expert advice.

  Trumbull handed his briefcase to his aide and fiddled with his tie. “My wife gave me this tie. I think it’s a bit flashy.”

  “Not at all, sir. I think it makes you look younger.”

  “Ah, so thirty instead of thirty-five? My true age, of course.”

  The aide chuckled and stopped at the door to hand him back his bag. “Of course, sir.”

  Trumbull smiled and, took a deep breath before opening the door. He was immediately hit with the loud chatter of the four men sitting around the table drinking coffee and talking off the record about some of the happenings around the country. He could see the nervousness on their faces as they discussed the recent event in New York.

  “The man was a drug dealer and a wizard and had stolen one of those magical things... A...what do they call them?”

  “An artifact,” Senator Brushwood said. “They are random objects endowed with magical abilities.”