by Trisha Telep
He crashed into her before her wings could completely unfurl, sending them both rolling along the cracked sidewalk. Pain skittered along her nerves as something snapped in her left wing. Shock raced through her. It wasn’t the male banaranjan attacking her, but the human, Cade. What in the Abyss . . . ?
Sharper pain exploded in her left shoulder. She ignored it, concentrating all her energy on landing blows on her attacker, wishing she had super-hybrid or even super-human strength. They rolled into a deserted darkened lot, Cade wrapping his hands around her neck.
She got her legs between their bodies then pushed, jettisoning him. He landed with a hard, satisfying crunch.
Stumbling to her feet, she clawed at her shoulder, pulling a syringe free. He’d stabbed her! “What the hell is this, you bastard?”
He spat out a wad of blood and a tooth, then rolled to his feet. “Call it an equalizer.”
“For what?”
“Told you I was into extreme sports. Hunting demons is about as extreme a sport as you can get.”
She’d fallen into a trap. She’d been warned that something like this could happen, but she’d chalked it up to another wild story about dangerous humans. Now she knew better. “You’re a monster!”
He laughed. “And you’re a demon. Told you we were compatible.”
“Why you—!” Her vision swam, then shimmered yellow as her body fluctuated between her human and natural form. Shaking with rage and the drug he’d injected her with, she threw the syringe at Cade, hitting him square in the stomach.
He pulled the needle free with a pained grunt. “You’re gonna pay for that!”
He reached for something. She didn’t take the time to determine what. Instead, she launched herself at him, struggling with her disabled wing, every instinct screaming that she wrap her hand around his throat and mine his fight or flight response for very ounce of adrenaline his heart could pump out before it stopped.
A thick arm caught her about the waist in mid-strike. She howled in outrage, only to clam up swiftly as she caught the clove scent of male banaranjan.
“You play a most dangerous game, banring,” the male said, arms locked about her.
“Let me go!” she snarled. “I am not new from the crèche!”
“Could have fooled me,” another voice said. A female.
Rinna stared. The female was human, but the most unusual human she’d ever seen. Black braids hung past her shoulders. In the darkness Rinna couldn’t tell what shade the woman’s skin was, only that it was lighter than the dark vest she wore without benefit of a shirt beneath. Sinewy arms, lightly muscled, and grey cargo pants. The woman looked breakable, as if she was a dancer. But she held the human male on his knees with just one hand clamped to his forehead. A pale blue glow emanated from the woman, brightest at her hands, brighter still on the blade in her right hand. Even with her vision swimming in and out of focus, Rinna had no doubt as to the woman’s identity.
Shadozuchaser.
Cade groaned, then slumped over face-first. The Shadowchaser released him, shaking her hand as if to flick away grime, then turned to Rinna. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Since when is a Shadowchaser concerned with the health of her enemies?” Rinna blurted out. The male banaranjan squeezed her ribs in warning.
“I’m not,” the Chaser noted. The light surrounding her dagger slowly faded. She shoved it back into its sheath. “Trust me, if you were my enemy, you would know it.”
The male holding her spoke. “Is that him?”
“Yeah.” The Chaser shook like a dog dislodging water from its coat. “You don’t want to know what sort of sport he had in mind for this little one.”
“And she walked right into it.” The disapproval in the male’s voice was palpable. If Rinna weren’t injured, she would have struggled against his superior strength.
The Shadowchaser pulled gloves out of her back pocket, slipped them on. “Thanks for the head’s up, Bale.”
Bale? Banaranjans rarely gave their names, simply because clan offences ran deep and fights could break out over centuries’ old slights.
She twisted around to the other banaranjan. He dipped his head. “I call myself Bale,” he said, deliberately leaving off his clan name. “What do you call yourself?”
“Rinna.” She, too, left off her clan name.
“Rinna, that is Kira Solomon, the Shadowchaser for this area,” Bale said. “Your date calls himself Cade, and he’s been linked to the disappearances of quite a few hybrids in and around this town.”
Rinna stared at the unconscious human male. Her body was using quite a bit of the harvested adrenaline to fight her injuries and the drug, leaving her brain sluggish. “He hunts hybrids . . . for sport?”
“He tends to prey on solo hybrids, female ones, because he thinks they’re weaker,” the Chaser said, nudging the human male with one booted foot. “He uses his physical assets in an effort to have some sort of liaison and if that doesn’t work, he’ll resort to drugs.”
Rinna felt the Chaser’s gaze, cool and assessing, quite like her crèche mother determining which of the banrings were weakest and should be put out to die of exposure. Since a banring didn’t have wings, death was usually quick if they were eaten or slow if left to the elements. “He injected me in the shoulder,” she told them. “And I think something’s wrong with my wing.”
“You have a tear, and one joint is dislocated,” Bale explained. “The syringe probably contained something that could drop an elephant. You will need a couple of days of down time to work the tranquillizers out of your system and to heal your wing. I can take care of it for you, and give you a place to stay.”
Rinna stared up at him. Their people were territorial to the point of obsession. Tribes didn’t intermingle without deadly consequences. Accepting his offer might be the same as leaping out of the crèche and into the fire. “I – I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Your judgment isn’t worth much right now,” the Chaser said bluntly. “Besides, quite a few people saw you leave the club with this guy. Laying low isn’t a bad thing. Go with Bale. He can tend to your wing, and teach you a thing or two about living here.”
Rinna lifted her chin. “What if I refuse?”
The Shadowchaser didn’t so much as curl her lips. “You have two choices. One: you go with Bale and allow him to help you.”
“What’s the second?”
“I put you into a Gilead holding tank. The problem with that is that those who go in usually don’t come out.”
“Rinna,” Bale’s warning voice was a low hiss. “Did your crèche mother teach you nothing? Do not antagonize a Shadowchaser. Especially that Shadowchaser. Let me offer you my hospitality.”
The Chaser squatted until she was at eye level with Rinna. “Why did you come here, banaranjan?”
“Because back home it was time to join the feud, and fight,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. She wanted to lean against Bale, appreciate his warmth and inhale the reassuring scent of cloves. But she couldn’t be vulnerable, not yet, not more than she already was. “I didn’t want to fight.”
The Shadowchaser looked to the male. “And you, Bale. Want to tell her why you came here?”
“Fighting without good reason is a waste of time and energy. ‘Just because’ isn’t reason enough.” His voice was a low rumble against Rinna’s back.
Rinna flinched when the Chaser trained her gaze Rinna’s way. “Seems to me like you’ve got more in common with Bale than you may think.”
Kira straightened. “Bale does a lot of work in the hybrid community, particularly for those without other affiliations for one reason or another. If you want to be a successful part of this community, Bale will help you. Of course, if you don’t want to be a successful part of this community, you then become my problem.”
The Chaser split her gaze between Rinna and the male as Bale helped Rinna to her feet. Rinna held her ground, but just barely. This Shadowchaser was younger th
an her. But the Chaser’s heart beat a normal rhythm; no adrenaline pumped through her veins. Kira frightened Rinna more than facing her clan’s wrath, and the Chaser hadn’t so much as threatened her.
“I came here to live my life as far from banaranjan politics and intrigue as I can get. But I’m a hybrid, and I obviously have a lot to learn. I think I’ve experienced enough stupidity for one night. I gladly accept your offer.”
Bale helped her to her feet. Rinna gritted her teeth but her wings refused to retract. It was Bale who gently folded her wings back snug against her shoulder blades, but the pain was still intense. Somehow she bore it, using the agony to drill clarity into her adrenaline- and drug-soaked skull.
“I guess I won’t be driving tonight.”
“I’ll get you some place safe,” Bale assured her, “then return for your car. On my word, you will be safe in my care. I’ve promised the Shadowchaser.”
She looked at the Chaser. Without the blue glow suffusing her skin and the small smile curving her lips, the Chaser looked almost normal.
Rinna turned her attention to the human male. “What are you going to do with him?”
The Chaser’s smile faded. “I don’t take well to rogues running loose in my town. I don’t care what side they’re on. Your friend will be made to see the Light.”
Rinna shivered. The way the Chaser said it, Rinna didn’t think she meant a pleasant conversation leading to reason and understanding. She was glad she wasn’t on the woman’s Chase list.
“Thank you, thank you both for your help.” With danger averted, her body wanted rest, despite her mind’s will to the contrary. “I will find some way to repay my debt to you. I will—”
Her next words were lost to the Abyss as she slipped headlong into unconsciousness.
Rinna spent days in Bale’s care, healing her wing, learning about her adoptive city, listening to Bale talk about the need for communication and understanding among the disparate hybrid communities in Atlanta, especially with a Shadowchaser and Gilead Commission watching and waiting.
She spent nights face down on a thick featherbed, her face cradled by a down pillow, careful not to disturb her healing wing. Not that much could disturb her in sleeping quarters like this. The bed linens felt soft and luxurious against her skin, quite unlike the nettles lining the banring crèche she’d called home for her first decade of life. Even her bed in her apartment didn’t feel half as wonderful, and she’d made sure nothing about it reminded her of her old life.
Bale’s place was a two-bedroom condo with floor-to-ceiling windows giving an unobscured view of the Midtown Atlanta skyline. When he wasn’t helping hybrids, he worked as a sports agent and talent scout, a gig that enabled the male banaranjan to get his adrenaline fix and make a living.
The more she listened to Bale, the more star-struck she became. He was unlike any banaranjan she’d ever known, male or female. It was easy to give her imagination free rein, to envision founding a new clan with him, a clan that didn’t make a habit of pursuing conflict just because storm clouds filled the air.
Even without the thought of establishing a new clan here in Atlanta, Rinna wanted to experience Bale in all his glory. Banaranjans coupled with the strongest or the fastest partner during a mating flight in order to produce offspring with the greatest chance of survival. Love and other tender emotions were aberrations, and not necessary to producing healthy young.
Rinna had left her clan and in doing so, had left old beliefs and ways behind. She was free to explore her tender feelings. Free to act on them.
Unfortunately, Bale didn’t seem to share her sentiment. He was a male in his prime, strong, fierce, well-formed. He could have his pick of female banaranjans if he wanted. Perhaps he already did, even without sharing his clan affiliation.
“Did you hear me, Rinna?”
She shook herself out of her reverie. She had perched atop one of the red leather barstools that lined the kitchen counter while Bale examined her wing. “I’m sorry. Too busy thinking. What did you say?”
She could feel him manipulate the wing, testing the spread, the membranes, each joint, the touch of his fingers sure and warm. “I said it looks like your wing has healed up nicely. Can you fold it down?”
Rinna concentrated, calling her magic to fold her wings snug, then curl them in to her shoulder blades, hiding them beneath her human glamour. She spun on the barstool until she faced him. “It didn’t hurt. Thank you!” Impulsively, she threw her arms about his shoulders.
He stepped into the embrace, meaning her thighs flanked his own. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice gravelly. “You’ll be night flying in no time.”
She drew back enough so that she could whisper in his ear. “I haven’t been night flying before. Don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking me?”
He drew back further, to stare into her eyes. “Surely you’ve been . . . ?”
“With human males, yes,” she answered. “Never night flying with a banaranjan male, though.”
Thunder chose that moment to rumble over the building, sending the expansive windows vibrating as rain began to pelt the glass. “It’s going to be a hell of a storm,” he told her, yellow eyes sparking. “Care to fly with me?”
Flying in the midst of a storm was to banaranjans like catnip to cats. With Bale, it would be more than just flying. It would be much more. She saw the clear intent in his eyes and thrilled at the prospect.
But if her wings couldn’t support her, couldn’t take the force of diving and banking, she’d be all but useless. “Do you think my wing will be all right?”
“Don’t worry.” He held out a hand to her. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”
He led her over to the balcony. Fifteen storeys up gave a decent view of Midtown Atlanta, the Fox Theatre south of them with its marquee like a beacon in the storm. This time of night, in a storm like this, few humans would be about. Few hybrids would venture into the rain, lightning and potential hail. It was a perfect time to be a banaranjan, a perfect night to go flying.
Grinning with the joy of being alive, she quickly stripped, her skin tingling as electricity gathered in the blue-black clouds. She dropped her glamour next, magic running over her like raindrops, changing her skin from peach to copper satin. Her wings unfurled, supple leather, filling the balcony. “Why don’t you try and catch me now, Bale?” she dared him, then leapt out into the night.
His laughter rang out behind her, trilling along her nerves as she reached for the sky. Her wings obeyed the involuntary command, beating huge gusts of air to thrust her skyward. Blue-white lightning arced overhead, fat drops of rain biting into her skin. Adrenaline flooded her system, giving her body a slight glow. Bale was out there somewhere, stalking her, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
As soon as she thought it, he was there, magnificently elemental and male. Her breath caught as he banked in front of her, courting her with his flying prowess. She appreciated the effort, but she’d wanted him for days. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to make him work for it.
She climbed higher, up into the storm clouds. He followed, she could sense it, feel it, see the adrenaline glow of his body through the clouds and rain and lightning.
Her heart thumped as he caught her, arms tightening about her. Instinctively she thrust her arms around his neck and folded her wings. His eyes burned brilliant yellow, power radiating from him. She wrapped her legs around his waist.
She threw back her head as he entered her, sensations pummelling her as lightning rolled through them and around them; wild, driving, a tumult of power and pleasure as Bale drove them higher and higher. Suddenly they broke through the storm, to a place where everything slowed. They hovered there at the edge of the earth for a couple of wingbeats, hearts pounding, pleasure peaking, souls bonding. She touched his cheek, wonder and something more fragile blossoming.
Then Bale folded his wings and dived down, back down, back into the chaos, the frenzy. Wind screamed past them as they fell, causin
g them to spin with the force and speed of their dive. Rinna shrieked as pleasure exploded through her body, launching spikes of lightning. Bale joined her a moment later, thunder booming with their ecstasy.
The snap of Bale’s wings opening was louder than a thunderclap. They jerked upright, his wings beating fiercely in a fight against gravity. She realized then how far they’d fallen in their pursuit of pleasure as Bale flew up to reach his balcony.
She slid away from him, and then missed him immediately, still shaking and lightheaded from the experience. He folded his wings away, then wrapped a large palm around the back of her neck and pulled her closer for a kiss, their first kiss. They stood there, kissing, steam rising from their bodies as the ferocity of the storm and their passion subsided.
They broke apart, fighting to regain their breath. “That was wonderful,” Rinna whispered. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you, Rinna.” He squeezed her, then turned to slide open the balcony door. “By the wings of Keterach, that was an amazing flight!” He headed into the darkness of the main room.
Rinna froze in shock. Keterach. Her clan’s most-hated enemy. Banaranjans preferred war to peace on the best of occasions. With Shadowchasers and the Gilead Commission now policing the preternatural community, her race had long ago turned the love of battle into the art of grudge-holding, taking to thunderous skies to settle disputes under cover of storms.
Sweet Darkness, she had taken to the skies with her mortal enemy! Worse, she had mated with him. If her clan found out, she would be worse than dead.
Did he know her clan affiliation? Surely not, or he wouldn’t have stepped in to save her. Then again, he had been careful to not give his clan name when they first met. Maybe he already knew. Maybe healing her and taking her out into the night was all part of some sort of plot to gain leverage over her, or make sure she could never rejoin her clan again.
“Rinna?” Bale came back for her. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” she lied. “I’m just worn out. I could really use some sleep.”
He scooped her up. “Sleep, yes. Then we’ll reenact our flight without the pyrotechnics. Then talk.”