Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

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Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels Page 371

by Jasmine Walt


  "Oh cool, we’re going to do a Blue's Brothers thing," Christopher smiled at me. "Got a pair for the fairy?"

  "As a matter of fact-" I pulled out the small pair of sunglasses I'd ripped off a Barbie doll in Wal-Mart.

  Mom got out of the car as I handed out sunglasses. "Okay, I'll play along since we accomplished our mission and things are looking good. It might even get a smile out of Dorius."

  I handed out the sunglasses.

  Marcus and Dorius strutted out the front doors, flanked by JoAnn and Jeni. We all stood at attention, hands saluting, glasses on, dressed in our Critter-Control jumpsuits.

  "Dorius, come on out and congratulate your team!" Christopher yelled.

  Dorius smiled, walked down the steps, and looked up. A helicopter circled behind the compound. He swaggered toward us, a big nasty grin plastered across his face.

  Remember the episode of WKRP in Cincinnati when Carlson thought dumping live turkeys from a helicopter into the parking lot of a shopping center on Thanksgiving was a good publicity stunt? As the heads hit the ground around Dorius, slamming him into a kneeling position, I imagined shoppers running for their lives as turkeys plummeted to their death.

  Les Nessman yelling 'Oh, the humanity!', over and over in my head, created a burble of laughter.

  Resi giggled all the way to the back of the van, shaking her head as she pulled the raccoon cage out. We all walked toward Dorius, who was lying in a bloody mess of smelly, dead vamp-animals.

  Marcus stood on the steps grinning at me. JoAnn was giving me nasty eyebrows, but Jeni hid a smile behind her hand.

  Dorius' chest rumbled, eyes shooting daggers at all of us as his cell phone started singing, 'Wild Thing, you make my hear sing…' He dug into his messy jeans, pulled out the cell phone and hit the speaker button. "Yesss.."

  "Hello, this is Darth at the Leesburg Animal control office. This Dorius?"

  "Yesss," he answered with eyebrows warring on his forehead. A big blob of animal matter clung to the side of his chin.

  "I need you to dispatch a van over to Gatorland in Kissimmee. We have another animal problem. This one's gonna hit the news if we don't get right on it, Dorius."

  Dorius grinned at us and wiped the slime from his face. "No problem, Darth. My team is on its way."

  "We just got here!" I whined.

  Marcus didn't look happy. JoAnn did.

  "Well, at least we don't have to suit up." Mom poked me in the ribs and headed for the van. "Move it! We got us a gator to catch."

  THE END

  The story continues with Gator Baitin’

  Read Gator Baitin’ now

  Thanks so much for reading me!

  Come by and visit Susan’s website:

  http://thegratefulundead.blogspot.com/

  About the Author

  I love laughing with my daughters, class B scary movies, fine cuisine and hamburgers from Wendy's. I'm addicted to electronics, dark chocolate, vintage eyeglass frames, and fuzzy warm socks.

  There isn't just one thing I'm passionate about. I'm married to a wonderful man, have two adult daughters, three grandsons, and three dogs. I live on fifty acres, and hunt and fish. I will get up in the middle of the night to listen to the coyote sing. I sculpt stained glass, paint watercolors, make jewelry, but most of all I write. I write because I have to and because it amuses me to live vicariously through my characters.

  For more information on Susan Stec:

  @Suesan0814

  GratefulUndead

  www.thegratefulundead.blogspot.com

  Read more from Susan Stec

  http://www.amazon.com/Susan-Stec/e/B004H6YF7M

  Chameleon

  Inkubus, Book III

  K. De Long

  Chameleon © copyright 2016 Katie de Long

  Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Created with Vellum

  About the Book

  Chameleon

  Shapeshifter. Fugitive. Pet.

  There's a demonic war heating up, and Reza's right in the middle of it. When an assassination attempt wounds Reza and he's forced to hide by transforming into a dog, he knows the woman who rescued him will be on the hit list, too.

  As the animal Alisa's tending heals, weird phenomena keep popping up. Along with a handsome stranger, who seems to think she's in danger. But Alisa's fought tooth and nail for the life she's built for herself and isn't going to leave it because of a handful of creeps.

  Reza will do anything to ensure the debt he owes her doesn't become a blood debt with her death. But he's ready to go home…with Alisa as his hostage, if he must.

  1

  Reza

  “Don't you know what neutral means?” I ask, not appreciating my demonic guests and appreciating them cornering me in the real world so much less. Just the sight of them puts my hackles up. My twin, Eren, has a much smoother touch with these pricks. Or at least he enjoys it more when he has to bludgeon an errant demon back into toeing the line. I could chase them away, but it would require revealing more power than I like to show.

  “Never let others know what kind of enemy you are,” my mother always said. “Be the enemy they make you, no more, no less, unless it suits your purposes.”

  I can't let them know that Eren and I bear our grandfather's mantel. If they knew the full range of skills imparted by it, they'd murder us in a heartbeat.

  It's a cutthroat world. Ordinarily, I'd say that's the way I like it. But I also normally like to get my morning coffee unmolested.

  Morena, the Reapers' head bitch herself, raises an eyebrow. It's taking her companion everything he has to block her appearance from registering to the crowd around us. Scale-covered women are rare out in the human world. It's one of the reasons I like it.

  Her companion glares at me, flexing his biceps. Obviously wondering when they step this thing up. “Want me to remind him to be polite?”

  I can't help but challenge him; give my unwelcome companions an inch, they'll drag you along for the full marathon. “And that's a great way to win allies. I thought you fucktoys were good at making special friends.”

  That nearly makes him go for my throat. His reaction's worth laughing at. Incubi don't take kindly to being reminded that they're basically living blow-up dolls. Especially the ones who work as Hounds with the Reapers under Morena…those guys are very sensitive to the implication that they're useless but for sex. Makes it easy to rile them. As a bonus, it keeps them from seeming too imposing, despite the amount of blood that even the least senior of them has on their hands. Time was, the Reapers were simply enforcers, bludgeoning the worst of us back into line. They seem to have grown some ambition recently, however.

  “Easy, boys,” Morena says, leveling a glare at her trained Hound. “It's a simple question to answer, Reza. Will the Hemlock clan canus be standing with the incubi, or with the Alliance?”

  “The Hemlock stand with themselves. We have no interest in power-mongering.”

  “When the incubi attract hunters' attention, we'll see how your neutrality serves you then.”

  “So you're gonna strike at them preemptively, in case they might attract too much power for the truce? No. I won't be a party to it. It's a flimsy excuse fo
r genocide.”

  “So you choose their side then. What would your grandfather—”

  “My grandfather's not here. And I choose no side. I simply refuse to cast any blows. And if you push it further, don't be surprised to see it backfire on you. Free choice is one of our most guiding principles. Do you think your own allies would stand for you coming here with your lapdog, leveling threats?”

  “I haven't threatened you yet—”

  “You being here is a threat, instead of coming to the Well to talk it out with Eren, too. You came here looking to splinter us. With a demonic assassin who specializes in hunting demons down. What part of that isn't a threat?”

  Morena leans forward, her reptilian eyes narrowed with agitation. “Trust me, canus. If I were threatening you, you'd know.”

  “Then tell your ankle-biter his lipstick's showing.”

  “My name's Barrett, asshole—”

  “And I give precisely no fucks, gigolo. Why don't you shake your wares somewhere else?”

  Barrett reddens, his green eyes shadowed with fury and a desire to attack. But he can't. If they touch me, there'll be an army of wolves flanking them to tear their throats out.

  Eren said I was too attached to my walks outside the Well. Maybe he was right. I can't believe the Reapers are becoming so brazen. Who else have they pressured into allegiance this way?

  I've got to get away, tell Eren that we've gotta beef up our security. This isn't gonna end well.

  “Well, it's been a great talk. But I've got more important things to get back to.”

  She looks at me with a tilted smile, not phased in the least. “It's always a pleasure, Reza. You take care, now.”

  “Places to go, butts to sniff?” Barrett jokes, and I flatten him with a left hook. Several people at the neighboring tables look up in surprise. Morena's disguise flickers as he loses concentration.

  “Put a goddamn leash on your animal, Morena. Otherwise, I'm gonna neuter him.”

  I leave the chaos behind me and blink at Morena as people flutter around Barrett. Her disguise is back in place; that means there's another bodyguard here who is taking over for Barrett. And as I walk through the sunlit streets, I don't need to look behind me to know Barrett's following me. That confirms the hunch; Morena wouldn't give up her bodyguard unless she knew she had another.

  That I noticed Barrett isn't a good sign. Either he's damn bad at what he does, or he figures I'm not going to live to tell. His substance flickers as he swaps one host for another, jumping himself around to keep close to me. The little split-second glimpses of nothing between glances at him are more than a little nauseating.

  I should probably get back to the gate, approach the center of my—and Eren's—power, the sanctuary we've built together. The best thing to do is hide with Eren as we decide how to react to this affront. But I don't know that I'll make it that far. The incubi are fierce hunters, and if Barrett wants a fight, he'll get one. If he was an ordinary incubus, I might assume inexperience. But he’s a Reaper. I have to assume that Barrett doesn't give a shit if I know he's on my trail.

  Suddenly, I transform, pulling on the memory of a thousand smells and memories to warp my body. My jawline lengthens, and my body hair thickens. Smells become sharper, sights dimmer and less full of color. My clothes drop free of me, torn in some places and too big in others.

  I throw myself into Barrett's nearest host, knocking the man down, and Barrett with him. Barrett yells, and there's a splash of something fluid, bubbling, burning. My back and arm ache, sending spasms and shocks into my paw, and I try to seize the moment of surprise to run, taking advantage of my new body's speed. It's hard to put weight on my paw, but I can stomach the pain. It helps that I now have a tail for better balance.

  It's been a long time since I ran like this, but it feels good. Somehow, wearing a dire wolf's skin has always felt more natural to me. The world's simpler, and I know my place in it. Less of the confusion and constant paranoia of seeing the world's true threats. A true wolf would make things simpler yet, but I need at least some of my mental faculties intact.

  The run would almost be pleasurable were it not for that pain. Were it not for the awareness of Barrett barreling after me. I've gotta get to a more secluded gate, one with no people around for him to piggyback. The incubi exist symbiotically in this realm, relying on the energy of the humans around them to give them presence. Alone, he'll be crippled, unable to follow. It's one of the reasons Eren and I placed the entries so far from civilization, to make it more difficult for others to stake them out and harass our guests.

  If I can just lose him long enough to make it to the woods.

  There's no point to hiding—the incubi have more senses than the usual six. Their parasitic nature draws them toward other spirits. Were I to hide, he'd simply suss out the weight of my mind.

  That gives me an idea. I let the change alter the synapses and neurons of my brain and rewrite my body to be simpler yet. My sleek, lupine form gives way to something bulkier, slower, and softer: a Saint Bernard.

  Please, let the idiot feel the simpler mental presence and assume it's nothing.

  His steps slow as he surveys the street. I amble by as nonchalantly as I can. Once I'm further away from him, where I won't draw his attention, I'll run. So far so good.

  Eren's gonna have a shit fit when he hears about this. He said it was too dangerous for me to be taking these walkabouts. I can't wait to hear his “told you so”. If I can make it back to hear it.

  Barrett looks toward me; the jig is up. I break into a full run, dodging more of that fucking acid. At least there's few people around for him to pull from in a residential neighborhood like this. Soon, I can't see or smell him. That doesn't necessarily mean I've lost him, but it's a good sign since there's no one else in eyesight. I let my steps slow, saving my strength for the long trek ahead. I only have a small advantage now.

  Lights flare, blinding me. And then there's brakes squealing, a burned smell, and metal impacting with me, shoulder to haunch. I should run, should keep moving…but I can't. Pain tears through me, making it impossible to move my limbs.

  A car door clicks open, and all though I can't see them past the headlights, I'm awash in a light vanilla perfume—a woman—and a heavier, masculine cologne.

  At this point, the dog form is the only advantage I have left—Barrett may know what he's looking for, but it's harder to sense animals, so I'll still be harder to track.

  I need to move. I start to struggle to my feet, despite the voices around me.

  “Oh my God, he looks awful.”

  “You're worried about the dog? Worry about my car, Lis!”

  “Oh, fuck your car. You've been itching to buy the new model anyway. You're happy to have the excuse to get the upgrade.”

  “But my insurance will—”

  “Stop whining and give me a hand. There's gotta be a vet or something who'll see him.” The woman sounds calm, for the circumstances. Tense and excitable, but calm.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Help me get him in the car. We'll get him some help, and then—”

  “You were the one who wanted this fucking date night, and now you're tapping out to care for someone's mutt?” The man, on the other hand, sounds like he's spasming around the stick up his ass.

  “Stop being a boob-punch and help.”

  “Oh, Christ, look at my grill. Fucking asshole.” A booted foot comes dangerously close to my ribs, its owner taking out his displeasure on me. A smaller foot in delicate heels kicks it away before it can get to me. I can hardly make out either; the world blurs in my vision, and in the absence of colors, I'm at a significant disadvantage.

  “Jesus, are you really this much of an asshole? I thought you were an animal lover.”

  “Mine, not fucking strays. I don't see a collar, do you? Who's gonna pay his medical expenses if he doesn't have an owner?”

  The heels' owner comes into view as she crouches down and puts a hand out toward
me hesitantly. “You okay, big guy? I'm not gonna hurt you…you're okay, you're okay—”

  She smells delightful, and under other circumstances, I'd enjoy the moment savoring it. But she's brisk and businesslike, once she's assured I'm not pain-crazy to the point of biting her. She slips her shoes off and hooks them on her wrist by their ankle straps. “Help me get him in the car.”

  “Fucking Christ, you were serious.”

  “Damn right. Now, come on. He's huge. No way in hell I can handle him without a hand.”

  “Fine.”

  The boots' owner reeks, his smell almost drowning out hers. And if it were up to him, I'd stay here, potentially dying. And they say demons are soulless. I don't want to be close to him. He tries to slide his hands under my shoulders, and I can't resist growling at him.

  “You're okay, you're okay, big guy,” the woman repeats, and elbows him. “Come take his hips and let me handle his shoulders.”

  He sighs but obeys. Between the two of them, they manage to heft me, carrying me the short distance to the car. The jolting, halting steps cause the pain to balloon to a roar. I can hardly keep the spots out of my vision. I shouldn't snap at her, though my every instinct demands I try. They're both heaving by the time I'm laid across the back seat.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Lis? You don't have the money for the vet. Where do you think you're gonna get it? How? You're so impulsive. He's probably not gonna make it through the night anyway—”

 

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