by Kim Schubert
A peal of laugher bubbled up my throat as he slowed the spin down, pinning my knees behind his back. I took his offered hand before he released my knees and I landed on my feet, kicking to the beat that I swear had increased in pace.
Garrick smiled and moved gracefully, thanks to perfect reflexes and years of honing his dance skills. I kept up easily, although I was sporting a thin sheen of sweat from my exertion, to his cool complexion.
He used an impressive, one-handed move, swinging me over his shoulder. We had the entire dance floor to work with. We were acquiring a growing audience, since no one had yet ventured onto the floor with us. Garrick slowed the dance down, and I looked to him for a clue as to what had caused the change.
His dark brow furrowed and I followed his gaze. I could no longer see Grams or Logan through the crowd of people. Without a word, I released his hand, changing directions and tunneling through the crowd.
I didn’t make it very far. Those I had assumed to be idle spectators were actually thugs for hire. Strong arms swooped around my waist before I snapped both bones with a crisp sound. He went down, harder than a shifter should. His skin was warm where my hands gripped his wrist.
I inhaled deeply. “Fucking djinn,” I hissed, before throwing my weight into getting to Grams.
Garrick wouldn’t help me. I was on my own. I didn’t fault him for not lending a hand. In that public place, it would be seen as siding with me, and my enemies would be his, his would become mine. I appreciated his staying out of it.
He had slowed the dance to allow me to realize something was amiss. Even that might be enough to throw his lot in with me. Neutrality was important at the Conferences; picking sides with a group made you as vulnerable as them to attacks.
Let’s face it, folks, I have quite a few enemies. Another djinn, a clone of the first, landed a blocky fist against my head. I staggered into a third body. They closed in on me, their fallen companion at my feet, writhing in pain. I kicked him for good measure.
My right hand slid to my hidden daggers. I fisted two and sliced through their business suits and into the gray flesh of their bodies. More grayish substances oozed from the wounds, forcing me to grip my blades tighter. Given how closely they were gathered around me, I wouldn’t be given the opportunity to draw new blades now that my hidden gems had been revealed.
One flunky landed an impressive jab to my kidney and I sliced the offending hand off, not cleanly. It dangled as he yelled in pain. The last djinn standing bear hugged me from behind, lifting me off my feet and spinning toward the exit.
I finally had a clear view of Logan and Grams. She was fine, protected by Jerry, who had constructed an impressive shield around the group. How did he do that?
My brief glance at Logan had me smiling. Hudson was holding him back, sweating profusely at trying to out alpha the Alpha. I used the upward momentum, flipping myself over the djinn’s head onto his back. He reached back a clumsy hand, trying to get me off, succeeding in grabbing my hair. Gripping both blades hard, I slammed them through the flesh of his back. His hand in my hair jerked and I felt chunks of my scalp trying to break free.
I really liked that haircut. I was not going to lose pieces of it to that piece of shit.
I pressed the blades in farther, my hands going through the gray flesh with a sick sliding. The smell had me gagging, my face too close to the wounds. I continued to carve, though, with the asshole still pulling on my hair.
I dropped my left blade and shoved my hand through the muscle I had just damaged, searching for his heart. Realizing what I was after, he let go of my hair, stumbling to the nearest gold and chestnut post and slamming my body into the metal and wood construction. I tightened my grip on my right blade, pointing the tip downward as he tried again.
Everyone was watching now. Some had stood up, others still relaxed in their chairs, enjoying the show.
The djinn twisted and I saw Garrick surrounded by his entourage, watching my fight intently. My searching fingers finally clenched down on the throbbing heart muscle I was searching for.
With the djinn still under my touch, I gave a final yank and pulled my left hand and forearm out of his back, using my teeth to rip the gray flesh of his heart open, watching the red blood inside surrender to gray mush.
I landed on my knees in a pile of gray goo that all three bodies had left behind.
Spitting, I leaned heavily on my knees, pulling my spine straight, not giving away how badly my side or head hurt. I turned to Garrick, shaking off my blades. “Thanks for the dance, but it appears my dance card is full for the night. Unless you’d like it dirty.”
Garrick inclined his head slightly. “Always a pleasure, Executioner.”
I nodded my head, turning to Grams. She stood up gracefully and our table stood with her. Logan finally relaxed enough that Hudson didn’t have to physically restrain him. I smiled and winked at him before heading to the exit.
I was going to drop gray goop everywhere and it didn’t seem right to make the humans clean up our mess. They were already going to have a hell of a time getting the giant gray blob cleaned up.
At the trash can at our private elevator, I stopped. “Mercer, can I have your jacket?”
“Of course.” He slipped the garment off quickly, removing his arm from Grams’s shoulders.
“Goodbye, beautiful dress,” I said sorrowfully, peeling the material and shoes off before depositing them into the trash, using the material to try and scrape off the large chunks of goop.
Slipped over my shoulders, the jacket hid the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Sorry about the dress, Jerry,” I lamented.
He smiled, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder, wrinkling his nose. “I’m glad you are okay. The dress is replaceable.”
Mercer kept touching his gun nervously, now that it was revealed with my taking his jacket. “What the fuck were those?” he asked, doing a good job of handling the unknown.
“Djinn,” Jerry answered, his arms crossed in front of him. I could guess he was missing Mark about now, but as a shifter Mark had to stay with his pack.
“Gin? Like the alcohol?” Mercer asked, adjusting his tie.
“It’s pronounced the same, but spelled differently,” Jerry agreed, undoing his own tie.
“What are they?” Grams asked me.
I groaned, gingerly touching my bruised kidney. “In human lore they are the genie in a bottle. The truth is they are very rare, very powerful, and very expensive. The three I killed weren’t the actual djinn, but short term clones, for lack of a better word.”
“You are telling me this djinn is able to clone himself with enough intelligence to attack you?” Mercer asked, pulling on his shit tie again, then giving up on the damn thing and loosening it entirely.
“Yes, but they are exceptionally weak. The more clones they create, the weaker each one is,” Jerry offered.
“So how did you know to eat the heart?” Ali asked in the corner. I had forgotten about her and Grant.
That was a gross visual. I needed to spit. “I wasn’t trying to eat it. I just didn’t have a free hand to slice it. The heart of a clone contains the blood of the djinn. Spilling it kills all the clones created with that blood source.”
“What happens if they give each clone its own blood source, and how did you know that one had the blood in it?” Grant asked.
“I didn’t, it was a lucky guess. As to the other, I don’t know. I’ve never met a djinn that powerful,” I answered, grateful when the doors to the elevator opened.
Grams swiped her finger over the print reader and I headed to the shower. As I closed the door behind me, I spied my phone blinking at me. I swiped it off the nightstand before going to stand next to the tub, turning on the faucet to warm the water up.
Are you okay? Logan asked.
I’m good, just a little sore, I replied.
We are leaving, came the instant reply.
NO! I sent back quickly, before drafting another mess
age. You already showed how important I am to you by needing to have Hudson restrain you.
He did NOT restrain me, he replied.
I laughed. By having him talk sense into you? Better, Alpha?
Mildly.
I rolled my eyes at him. The water was warm on my feet. I flipped the lever to start the shower, resting my phone on the top of the toilet.
Who had I pissed off badly enough that they would find and make a deal with the djinn?
My stomach dropped away. Zachariah. Shit. I slammed my fist against the tile. Of course, he did tell me he was coming after me and mine for killing his vampire, Gabrielle. He deserved it for kidnapping Tommy, and I would make the same decision again if I had to.
I had to admire Zachariah’s timing. Attacking me at the Conferences was smart. Violence was expected, and if I was weak enough to be killed or allow members under my protection to be killed, then I didn’t deserve my post and should be replaced.
There would be no retribution by my allies, and they couldn’t help me here.
I sighed. Zachariah was just one in a long list of Supernaturals I had pissed off. It might be him, it might not. Either way, someone was after my ass, and not in a fun, let’s-play-all-night kind of way.
I massaged my head, wincing as my fingers brushed over the goose egg forming there. The gray goop ruined the washcloth and was in danger of clogging the drain when I finally stepped out to dry off. Wrapping myself in a towel, with another in my hair, I padded into my room and threw on clean yoga pants and a pink tank top.
Making my way out of the room, I collapsed into the navy chair, closing my eyes. “Jerry, any chance you have that healing potion for head injuries?”
“I do. But are you sure you want a witch’s potion?”
I smiled, keeping my eyes closed, leaning my head against the high arms, “You’re a mage, Jerry, and my friend. That makes you far superior to the fucking witches.”
He laughed, “Don’t let them hear you say that.”
“Ugh, I guess that’s one benefit of being attacked so soon. All my mingling time got canceled.”
Jerry pressed the mixture into my hand and I gulped it down, cringing at the taste.
“Thanks,” I muttered, before heading back to my room. I needed sleep for my body to heal, especially given there was a very high probability that tomorrow I’d be fighting for my life or the lives I was responsible for.
…
I was being shoved over in the soft cocoon of blankets. I huffed, blinking up at Logan, surprised I hadn’t woken up instantly when my door opened. Either I had misjudged my injuries, or the potion Jerry gave me was more powerful than I realized.
“What are you doing?” I grunted.
“Checking to be sure you are alive,” Mark announced.
“Mark, what are you doing here?” I asked, refusing to open my eyes, letting Logan check the bump on my head.
“I think I gave you the wrong potion,” Jerry admitted.
“Fuck, how many of you are in here?” I hissed, pulling away from Logan’s hands.
“You’ve been asleep for 14 hours, Olie. It’s time for the first meetings,” Logan informed me, running a hand through my hair.
I groaned, “My head still hurts. Fucking hell, Jerry.”
I fought for control to open my eyes, feeling pretty sure sand should be pouring out given how dry they felt.
“Sorry,” he offered meekly.
I huffed, “What did you give me, anyway?” I sat up with help from Logan.
“A heavy relaxation aid. I made it for myself in case I was too stressed.” He shrugged.
I huffed, “I feel confident in saying it works.”
He smiled before putting his hands in his black pants pockets.
“Fuck, you all are dressed? How much time do I have?”
“Twenty minutes,” Grams announced at the open doorway. “Breakfast is waiting until you smell better.”
I pulled my hair down, giving it a sniff. “Fucking Dijnn,” I muttered, before heading to the shower again.
Fifteen minutes later I was inhaling a cream filled donut while Jerry tried to blow dry my hair into something presentable. Grams had laid out a pinstriped pant suit for me with a silk shirt. Apparently I was no longer dressing myself, either. Whatever, there was food.
“Look up, Olie,” Jerry instructed, coating my lashes with mascara. “There, that’s all the time we have.”
I nodded. “So help me if you wipe your hands on your pants!” he scolded me, throwing several napkins at me. I smiled, carefully cleaning my hands. “Gah!” He complained.
Mark smiled in the corner. “What’s on the agenda today?” I asked, checking the clock. It was approaching noon, but since most Supernaturals were more active at night, this was our morning.
“Meet and greet,” Logan announced.
I groaned, “Didn’t I miss that last night?”
Logan laughed, “No one stayed around last night. The smell was hard to handle for many.”
“You’ll get to say hello to the witches, Olie,” Jerry informed me with glee.
“Fucking hell,” I groaned.
…
The ride down the elevator was a silent one. I was still half asleep, as evidenced by my head lolling on Logan’s shoulder. The sudden jerk at the lobby had me wiping my drool away. I wasn’t even looking at the asshole for a comment.
Jerry led the way, winding past the restaurant from last night, which still had a very distinctive odor coming from it, past the lobby, down another hallway, until we finally arrived at a massive conference room. Tables had been set up similar to last night and there was a breakfast buffet.
“Mmm, come to mama sugar goodness,” I crooned, making a beeline for the food.
Logan laughed, corralling me easily against his body and leading me to a seat. The tables were larger than last night and our entire group was able to sit together, shifters and council members.
We had just made it. The speaker in the middle of the room watched us settle with a disapproving gaze. I lifted my arm to flip him off, but Logan covered my hand, smoothing a laugh under a cough. The speaker raised an eyebrow and I glared at him, trying to pull away from Logan.
The speaker cleared his throat, averting his gaze as he began to speak.
“Thank you everyone for attending this year’s Conferences. We are pleased to announce this year the human government has decided to send an ambassador. Governor Hash, will you please stand?”
Ice ran through my veins as I turned sharply, staring holes into Grams. Son of a bitch! Is this what the no good, twisted asshole had been doing in her office when I arrived with Mindy, Mercer’s granddaughter?
Logan’s fingers clamped down around my hand, currently gripping my dinner knife in a chokehold. I cut a glance to him. I didn’t appreciate the slight shake of his head telling me to calm the fuck down. Grams had lied, monumentally, and I wasn’t sure our relationship could be repaired. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be.
Hash stood, raising a hand, buttoning his jacket as he gave a princess waive.
The speaker continued, “Governor Hash has been sent here to assist the government in drafting their legislation regarding our rights in the human realm as Supernaturals.”
Several individuals shifted uncomfortably in their seats, watching Hash closely. He was off limits and any death matches would have to be conducted behind closed doors. I wondered where he was last night.
I let my gaze wander from Hash, anger pressing against my shields, wanting an outlet, wanting to destroy Grams. Pain was a close second. She knew he was going to be here and said nothing—hell, she might even be the reason he was here in the first place. It was another strike against her and while I was willing to forgive a lot, it had to stop. We had to be on the same page.
When my brain started registering what my eyes were seeing, I almost laughed at the protection he had gathered. From my vantage point I counted ten humans packing heat and high tech earpieces, watching
the group of killers surrounding them.
I blew out a breath. At least while in Hash’s company I was safe. Too bad I wouldn’t be staying there.
The speaker was still going on when I tuned back in, “…please enjoy breakfast and continue the meet and greet that last night’s unfortunate sewage leak called a stop to early.”
I laughed. “Sewage leak?” I asked Logan.
He shrugged. My gaze cut to Grams, seated three seats down from me. She met my gaze this time, her steel gray eyes against my own sea green ones.
I wanted to ask her what she had done, what she had used my organization to do, but there were far too many ears listening.
Jerry broke the tension at our table. “Let’s eat before the witches take all the good food.”
I nodded, following him and Logan to the already growing line. The vampires had little use for food, and the drink being served to them was undoubtedly warm blood. I touched my neck absently, thinking back to Blake.
Hudson slung an arm over my shoulders, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “Now that you’re cleaned up, my dear, I’d be happy to help you over those anger issues.”
I watched Logan’s shoulders stiffen, but he didn’t turn around.
I moved forward with the crowd, picking up a warm plate with gold trim. “You watch the video again?”
He had the decency to pretend to be slightly ashamed, and I do mean ever so slightly with that wide-mouthed grin. “Let’s just say it’s not every day one gets to try out the succubus who ruined a vampire.”
I piled donuts, waffles, maple syrup and a giant glob of butter before I answered him. I gave thought to being an asshole and denying once again the claim that Blake needed my blood to sleep with Angelina, but I was done carrying around that shame and that pain.
Instead, I smiled. “I’m thinking of making my own web series. ‘How to Fuck Like a Succubus.’”
Hudson roared laughing, throwing his head back and almost upsetting his precarious stack of bacon and sausage. He unapologetically bumped into the witch behind him. She sent him a murderous glare before clearing her throat and turning to me.