by Erin Hayes
She saw him nod passively from behind her, her mind’s eye picking up every subtle motion and auric source as it swept back and forth like a radar. “Go right on ahead,” he said, “but, fair warning: it ain’t a pretty sight.”
“It never is,” Zoey muttered, knowing the therions’ sensitive ears would hear her all the same. There was no doubt that the subject in those reports, this Ezra hybrid, was exactly who they were dealing with, and she was certain that he hadn’t changed his methods since his last attack. She sensed Isaac approaching her from behind while Dick and Delilah stood their ground, doubt swirling around them like a stink. “Don't worry,” she called out louder this time as she parted the curtain with her aura and strolled past the divide, “I’ve seen my fair share of death.”
The five bodies, if the remains could be called that anymore, had each been placed on their own gurney and laid out in a semicircle that formed a hungry-looking opening that Zoey found herself standing in the center of. As the smell of death closed around her, she felt as though the mock-mouth she occupied was preparing to bite down on her and it took all her control to maintain the composure she’d worked so hard to build in the past few minutes. Though none of the therions could read her mind, she held to the belief that they’d be able to smell her rising disgust and see it as weakness. Weakness that they could exploit. Weakness that would make her prey. Sucking in a stink-filled breath, Zoey resolved, if for nobody else’s sake but Isaac’s, to not be prey.
Not like them.
“My god…” Isaac muttered behind her as he caught sight of the “bodies.”
“I know,” Zoey nodded, starting to the closest of the five—the gurney to her immediate left—and started her examination.
The pieces laid out in front of her had been arranged in a twisted mockery of a complete body, offering enough to discern that it had once been a blonde woman in her mid-to-late thirties, but between the parts that hadn’t been found—most of the left forearm, all of the left breast and an uneven portion of the right nipple, a large portion of the right hip, and almost all of the right leg in this case—there were large gaps that gave the impression of an old jigsaw puzzle that was missing pieces. Between these and the multitude of lacerations, however, there was no sign that the wounds had been left to bleed for very long; the portions of torn, jagged muscles and ligaments seeming unnaturally dry and pink rather than stained in the victim’s last moments of life. Moments, Zoey was sure, when their heart would have been beating hard enough to have the blood racing. Glancing about to make sure the other bodies showed similar signs of trauma—they did—she came to the only conclusion that presented itself: their blood had been drained before they’d been torn apart.
“Two of them…” she mused out loud as she leaned in to study the bite marks that littered the victim’s flesh, noticing that there was, indeed, a difference between both the circumference and arrangement in teeth between them. “There was more than enough blood between these five to sate even two full-sized sangsuigas, but they fed on all of them regardless.”
Isaac nodded, examining a missing chunk of thigh that had been taken from another body, a male with curly brown hair who wore only half of his face. “Same with all the meat,” he offered. “A single one of these bodies would’ve been enough for two therions if they were looking for food. Two at the most if they’d been starving.”
“Then it wasn’t about feeding at all,” Zoey grimaced. “They were sending a message.”
The two of them wordlessly gave each of the bodies a quick once over to confirm their suspicions. Sure enough, each one, somewhere amidst the missing bits and bite marks, wore at least one jagged swastika, carved into the surface of their flesh with what Zoey could only guess was a claw. Closing her eyes to focus her mind’s eye, she honed on the residual energies from the attackers and shuddered, nearly falling back.
Isaac’s hand came to rest on the small of her back, steadying her as she continued to shake, less from shock and more from growing anger…
At herself.
“How could I have been so stupid?” she hissed inwardly, pulling away from Isaac and turning away from the bodies.
“What?” concern blossomed from her lover’s aura as he turned after her. “What is it?”
Zoey’s memories were a blur as pieces fell into place:
Hybrids?
A rapidly shifting hand embedding newly sprouted claws into a bar’s surface.
… two sets of fangs—upper and lower jaws.
(POSSIBLE SCARRING ON/AROUND UPPER TORSO)
The scar…
Y-shaped and pale as the moon.
… during his time in captivity within a
Nazi research facility
Swastikas…
SOMETIMES DOCUMENTED AS TWO ASSAILANTS,
THOUGH THESE REPORTS ARE INFREQUENT
AND QUESTIONABLE.
The mythos from the bar! She’d been too flustered by everything going on—all the tension and stress and Delilah’s damned dancing!—that she hadn’t been considering the possibilities from the get-go. When the scarred mythos—the scarred hybrid!—had caught them off guard, startling everyone, every focus had gone to appeasing the intimidating newcomer and getting him as far away from them as possible! Their mission, the entire purpose for them being there, had been chased away by panic and stress and…
Zoey glanced back at the gurneys and their contents.
… and it had cost those people their lives!
“The mythos from the bar,” Zoey was certain her voice was about to break and that weakness she’d fought so hard to hide would come pouring out. “He was one of them. One of the ones that did this…”
“Fuck,” Isaac frowned. “You mean there’s two guys like that? Should we call for backup? I’m sure Serena and Zane would be willing to help.”
“I’m sure they would, too. But”—Zoey was already shaking her head—“it’d be a few days before they could get here—even with how Serena drives,” she recalled all the times she’d feared for her life from the passenger seat of a vehicle piloted by a blonde in the throes of hysterical laughter. “We either have to make do with what we have or accept further loss.” Her head dipped just as Delilah and the therion detective stepped in.
“Did I hear that right?” Delilah snarled, her sleek feminine features beginning to distort as her rage started to drag her into a transformation.
“Dee, don’t!” Isaac bared his teeth at her in a warning.
Delilah didn’t listen.
The slap echoed through the room and with stinging resonance in Zoey’s ears. Before she fully came to grips with her own actions, she saw Isaac, already in mid-transformation and mid-leap, claws and teeth poised to tear into Delilah’s throat, snap back in midair. Her aura held him at the waist, keeping him from the killing blow he’d been less than a second from landing. The room was awash in confusion, everybody staring in bewilderment at the hovering therion. And while Zoey was the only one there capable of seeing auras—of seeing the blue tendril of energy that snaked out from her chest and held her lover—she was certain that none of them were more confused at that moment than her.
But, at that moment, she had to trust the subconscious instinct.
Lowering Isaac to his now-human feet, which hid within the shredded remains of his boots, she cast him a cold look and, not about to embarrass him any further, kept her words to herself as she said, Wait. At. The. Door.
Isaac didn’t offer any argument—didn’t try to convince her that she might need help with Delilah or Dick or try to convince her that he could provide some comfort to the situation—and bowed his head like a scolded dog as he slipped past the dividing curtain. Zoey hated to send him away like that, but she had to acknowledge that, though the act came from a good place, he’d almost escalated the situation to a place it hadn’t had to go. Delilah had just overheard that the deaths they were there to investigate could have been prevented; that one of the rogues who were out to terrorize her to
wn and slaughter her pack had been within their grasp—walking around and even stealing from her club—and had walked away without a second glance. In many ways, Zoey supposed, the slap was well-deserved, and in all fairness a great deal less than what Delilah could have done at that moment. That her palm had found its mark was proof enough that it could have just as easily been her claws passing through Zoey’s throat. Reminding herself of this, Zoey kept her pity for Isaac buried as she shot a cold glare at Delilah, who turned back to her after watching Isaac sulk away.
“I’m not apologizing for hitting you,” was the first thing out of her mouth.
Zoey shrugged. “I’m not expecting you to, though it may be in your better interest to thank me for not letting Isaac kill you.”
Delilah’s eyes wandered past her and drifted toward Dick, who hadn’t said anything since the explosive response.
“You think I owe her anything?” she asked.
Zoey held up a hand to keep the therion detective from answering, but it was her sudden auric bind on him that kept him silent and still. “I think it’d be in his best interest to not answer that. I’m sure he’s aware of his situation. You worry about your own.”
Delilah growled and took a step forward. “Who do you think you—” she began, but stopped when she felt Zoey’s aura grip lift her enough to leave only her toes on the floor.
“I think I’m the one keeping you alive,” Zoey said calmly, adding “in more ways than one” before releasing her.
Delilah scowled at that but said nothing as she absently rubbed under her breast at her ribs.
After another moment of silence, Zoey gave a single nod back towards the bodies. “I’ve gotten all I need from this investigation. We know who they are, what they are, and what they’re after. And I found enough of their auric traces to ensure they won’t be hiding from us for long.”
“One of them was in my club!” Delilah growled. “In my club!”
Zoey nodded, not slowing as she walked past her. “Yes, he was,” she answered flatly, “and it’s a shame we didn’t identify him then and there. However, if we’d tried to apprehend him there would have been a strong likelihood that things would have gotten out of hand. We didn’t know what he was then—didn’t know what he’d be capable of—or that he was working with another. In many ways the situation could have been much worse, and the loss of life could have been far greater and far closer to you and your pack.” She glanced back to make sure that Delilah was following. “Then it could have been some of your packmates on those gurneys,” she added, “or even you.”
Delilah scoffed at that. “Like hell! I could’ve fought—”
“If you’re about to tell me that, stark naked and eyeballing Isaac, you would’ve been able to not only defend yourself from but also take on a hybrid that’s been making examples of people like you since the late-forties I suggest you hold your breath,” Zoey shot. “You were in no position to fight for yourself, your pack, or your customers last night, nor are you likely ever going to be in a position to fight against the likes of them. They’re hybrids! Every strength you rely on they’ve got and more! They’re blood-feeders, which means all the agility and speed of a sang vampire is at their disposal, and given how freely they feed I’m willing to bet they’d be unlike anything you’ve ever faced.”
“Don’t tell me what I can or cannot fight!” Delilah spat after her.
“I don’t need to tell you anything you don’t already know, Dee,” Zoey said, starting up the stairs. “I was just in your head. I’m well aware of your history, all of it, and I know, just as you know, that you’ve not only never faced anything like them, you’re not versed enough in combat to defend yourself against one of your own kind.” She reached out with her aura to yank the door between them open before they reached it. In the same instant she retracted the auric tendril still holding the therion detective, taking a small bit of satisfaction from the pained grunt that echoed up the staircase behind them as he stumbled and fell. “Or need I remind you how close Isaac was to ripping out your throat before I separated you two just now?”
Everything okay?
Isaac was thinking the same two words over and over by the time Zoey and Delilah reached the street. Declan, who was standing a short distance away and looking more than a little concerned, had the same question burning on his mind, but for Delilah’s sake. Not caring what she told her brother, Zoey let her walk past as she stopped beside Isaac and gave him a reassuring nod.
She doesn’t look too badly beaten, he thought to her.
Zoey gave a shrug so slight that only he’d notice and avoided glancing after Delilah as she began talking to Declan. Whatever she was confiding in him, Zoey figured it was fair and opted to avoid using her abilities to eavesdrop, though she was certain Delilah would suspect her of doing that anyway.
Only her pride, I’m sure, she finally said.
Isaac frowned at that and gently touched the side of his index finger against Zoey’s aching jaw. You shouldn’t have just let that go.
Another slight shrug. The pain’s fleeting, she answered. And with how sloppy I got it’s better than what could have happened.
We got sloppy, Isaac corrected her. This isn’t all on you to fix.
No, she admitted, but it should certainly easier for me to spot a target. I should’ve seen it in his thoughts before he even reached the bar.
Isaac audibly scoffed, and Zoey caught Delilah glancing their way a moment before turning back to Declan. You aurics… he shook his head, Y’know, every other mythos out there has their arrogance, sure, but only an auric vampire could reach so far as to think that not reading every mind they come across makes them responsible for every act that follows. What were the rest of the club goers thinking at that moment? Or what about me or Trey? Don’t suppose you got a detailed list of everything we were thinking at that exact moment, too, did you? Or how ‘bout Delilah? He paused at that and shook his head, Nevermind, I don’t even need to be psychic to know what she was thinking at that moment.
Zoey had to fight not to laugh at that.
See? Isaac went on, A guy showed up acting like a jerk and that was that. Yea, he turned out to be the jerk we’re here to take down, but if we stopped for every jerk we came across just ‘cause they could be the jerk we’d never have time enough to actually do our job. Hell, I was ready to knock his ass out just for what he called you, but I didn’t, did I?
Zoey dipped her head, ashamed. Because I told you not to.
And rightfully so, Isaac hooked his index finger under her chin to raise it back up. Because he turned out to be a lot more than just an everyday jerk, didn’t he? He sighed and shook his head, saying “A goddam hybrid!” out loud and rubbing the back of his neck.
Zoey nodded, biting the corner of her lip. “Two of them,” she corrected.
Isaac visibly winced at that. “This is worse than we thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. “How are we supposed to—”
“We”—Delilah interrupted him, stepping up with Declan at her side—“are going to have to come up with a better plan.”
Zoey looked over at that, seeing fresh resolve in the female therion’s posture and aura.
Isaac raised an eyebrow at her. “Then you’re going to help us?” he asked.
Delilah nodded, shooting a toothy smirk towards Declan, who looked suddenly nervous around Zoey. “We all are. From this moment on, my entire pack is at your disposal.”
Zoey blinked, stunned. “They… they are?”
Delilah nodded. “Mm-hm,” she hummed proudly, “you just deputized all of us.”
“You did?” Isaac looked back at her.
Zoey stared. “I… I did?”
“Yup,” Delilah smirked and turned, starting back up the road towards the apartment. “You don’t just bring this much trouble into my town and not offer up something in return.”
Zoey stared after her a moment longer and then looked back at Isaac, shrugging.
“I guess I
just deputized them,” she resigned.
After the nightmare of what she’d been through—all that they’d confirmed and discovered and the tension that Zoey had barely been able to relieve—it would’ve taken a miracle to distract her from her thoughts or offer even an ounce of happiness.
But working miracles was something Isaac did best.
They’d walked back to the apartments alone. The newly deputized others, still bitter themselves, neither wanted nor offered to wait on them, which Zoey figured was for the best. Delilah would no doubt want to inform the rest of her pack that she’d muscled her way into earning them all the temporary title of Council appointed warriors without having either of them there to spoil whatever embellishments she chose to highlight her story with. And, though watching her and her brother storm off without them offered one final stone to Zoey’s already sizable weight of guilt, she couldn’t say she wasn’t glad for the alone time with Isaac. As it turned out, in fact, that alone time was exactly what she needed.
By the time they’d gotten back she couldn’t remember a single word of what they’d talked about. The journey had become a distant and unimportant haze against the bold and demanding outcome of whatever had been said and done to get them to that point. The result was clear: Isaac had worked a miracle. There wasn’t a thought left to be distracted from or a glimmer of any emotion outside of Zoey’s burning need for him. Everything that had been and everything that would be was never and nowhere. The only thing that mattered was the now.
And the only concern in the now was whether they could get through the door to their room before they lost all patience and got started right there in the hall.
With Isaac’s powerful arms around her waist, Zoey couldn’t have felt worried about anything else even if she’d wanted to. His lips found hers once more as she finally disregarded the key and its slippery lock and used her aura to unlock and open the door, letting them fall through as a writhing mass of clamoring limbs and rejected clothing. Even after the many kisses they had shared prior, Zoey still felt the scorching heat his touch elicited; she doubted that she’d ever grow used to it or numb to it. Numb to everything else, perhaps, but never it.