Only Lycans Need Apply

by Michele Bardsley

  “You’re avoiding. You blocked the memories of my mother’s death. My grandfather knew you. He was on a lot of digs in the Sudan looking for your Ancients. And you knew about that whole unicorn thing.”

  He watched me shuck off the hiking boots and sit down to pull the black combat boots on. “We had to protect you, Moira. Your secret needed to stay a secret. You truly are the last of your kind.”

  I tied the boot strings into tight loops. “So my mother died because she was a unicorn? And my father was a raving lunatic, apparently.”

  “Unicorns were shape-shifters, Moira. They were unique even among the unique. Beautiful creatures.”

  “I heard they were hunted to extinction because their blood and their horns were so awesome.”

  “That’s true as well. People and paranormals can be real bastards.” He watched as I tightened the loops on the other boot. “Your mother was the last unicorn, Moira. And before her, your grandmother, Camille.”

  “And my father?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my tone.

  “Your mother didn’t know her heritage, either. She loved unicorn mythology, though. When she was a little girl, she saw your grandmother in her unicorn form, and that sparked something inside her.”

  “Why wouldn’t my grandparents just tell her?”

  “They wanted to protect her. Only pure-bloods can shift, and your grandfather was a human. Regina had the blood, yes, but not the abilities. And neither do you. But you were asking about your father. Regina went to China to join a famous professor, Dr. Cecil Brannigan. He was the foremost authority about the Ki-lin. Chinese unicorns—long extinct. But he knew about your mother . . . about her unicorn blood.”

  “How? If it was such a big secret, how did he know that?”

  “That answer I do not have. After he seduced your mother, he managed to keep up the ruse of love for a while. Then she discovered the truth about his intentions. They fought, and she left. He fell off a cliff, and she thought him dead.” He smiled at me. “My mother and I helped deliver you into the world. You could say I’m your godfather.”

  “You delivered me?”

  “Regina insisted. She knew about the paranormal world, but not her own heritage . . . until her grandparents revealed it. After she came back from China pregnant and scared. Your grandmother used her magic to place a powerful protection spell around you two. In case . . . well, she thought Dr. Brannigan was dead. And after your grandmother passed away, her magic did, too.”

  Ruadan, the Father of all vampires, considered himself my godfather. He’d delivered me into the world, and five years later, he’d wiped my memory of my mother’s murder. And nearly thirty years after that, he made sure, somehow, that I would find and unlock the pyramid. “I’m a unicorn.”

  “Yes.” Ruadan smiled at me. “You’re not crazy. When you hit puberty, your body was trying to shift. Trying to become unicorn. Your mind couldn’t grasp what your body was trying to do. It appears that neither you nor Regina has the shape-shifting ability.”

  “My grandmother could, though.”

  “Yes.”

  I was silent, and Ruadan stood there watching and waiting, while I absorbed all this information about my family, about my so-called destiny, about my sanity.

  I was in a rage. The world had gone dark inside my mind, and I was . . . I tore up my room. I destroyed it all, and my grandparents were there. They couldn’t reach me. Not even her, the one like me. Ax was there, too. He lived with us while he was attending college, and I liked him. He was big and strong and he let me cuss in front of him. And he gave me a beer once. I thought he was so cool.

  “I tried to kill myself,” I said softly. “I slashed my wrists, and I ran toward the window. I was bleeding and wailing and I had every intention of throwing myself out of my bedroom window. I was on the third story. Ax stopped me. He grabbed me and held on. He just . . . held on.”

  “I’m sorry, love,” said Ruadan. “You’ve had a terrible time of it, I know. At least you don’t have to worry about someone cutting off your horn. But your blood . . . well, that’s plenty magical.”

  “You knew that,” I said. “And you used Drake’s parents to send me a message. You knew I wouldn’t die.”

  “Not everything can be done straight on,” he said. “No one can know you’re a unicorn.”

  “And why did you send Drake in with me? Did you know about the . . . um, last part, too?”

  “I may have,” he said.

  Incorrigible bastard. “Well, Shamhat and Amahté know. And Drake knows, too.”

  “Ah. Well, don’t worry about that now,” said Ruadan. “Just don’t confide in anyone else. It’s the only way to protect you.”

  “I’m not going to take out an announcement in the Post or anything.” I thought about Doriana, who’d seen that I was in trouble and intervened. And I thought about my grandfather knowing about parakind. “So, there are all kinds of people, or whatever, watching over me . . . but they don’t know I’m a fabled creature?”

  “They’re honoring the debt of service owed to your grandparents. They have no idea they’re keeping an eye on the world’s very last unicorn.”

  “How will I ever go back to that life?” I asked him. “I’ll never stop looking over my shoulder. Not ever.”

  “You never know where you’ll find your destiny.” He gathered me into his arms and gave me a hug. I hadn’t expected this move at all. It was so fatherly of him. It made me miss my grandfather, and because of that, I hugged him back. Even though I kinda wanted to punch him, too. “Go, Moira. Get the ambrosia. Save your darlin’ Dove. Everything else will work out.” He winked at me, but the friendly gesture wasn’t enough to wipe the sadness from his gaze. “Did you ever look over your shoulder before?”

  “No, not really. There’s something to be said for blissful ignorance.”

  “Well, then. Maybe if you had, you would’ve seen a certain werewolf watching out for your lovely ass.”

  “You really do like talking in circles, don’t you?”

  “I’m Irish,” he said. “Getting to the point isn’t our style.”

  “Try this time.”

  “Drake,” he said. “He’s been watching out for you since the Sudan.”

  “Did you forget the part where I was kidnapped by Karn?”

  “Drake had been tossed into a sewer and left for dead. He’s been pissed at himself ever since for letting you down.”

  I thought back to the night of the gala, which seemed like eight thousand years ago, when I’d been so disturbed by something in the parking lot. One of Karn’s goons had been tracking me, and Drake had gotten hurt trying to protect me. He seemed to do that a lot.

  “Drake was yours even then, Moira. Love always find its way. Be worthy.”

  Exactly the words I’d heard when I opened the pyramid. My jaw dropped. “Was that you?”

  He laughed, and then he disappeared, gold sparkles trailing in his wake. Ruadan was wily. I had no doubt he was harboring information, secrets, and God knew what else. Keeping it all from me. From everyone.

  “Moira?”

  Drake’s voice filtered through the trees.

  I stuffed my clothes into the duffel bag, and zipped it up. “Yeah?” I called back.

  He stepped between two trees, his gaze traversing the area. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  His gaze swept over me. Then he suddenly grabbed my arm, yanked me into his embrace, and kissed me. It was ravenous, this kiss. He plundered my hair with his hands as his tongue stroked mine.

  He pulled away just as suddenly, his eyes dilated, his lips swollen from mating with mine.

  “We are not over,” he said.

  “No,” I said just as fiercely, “we are not.”

  He gave me one of his wicked grins. “Glad that’s settled, Liebling.” He gave me a quick kiss. “Let’s go to the Underworld.”

  Chapter 26

  We stood in the field, and Amahté placed his thumb
on our foreheads: mine, Drake’s, Ax’s, and Larsa’s. As soon as we all had the all-important pass to the Underworld, Amahté strode a few feet away, lifted his arms in a wide arc, and shouted some words in his ancient language.

  A slit of darkness formed, the wink of a god’s eye, and then it slowly opened into an oval. We joined Amahté, and I looked into the portal and sighed. Nothing but darkness. No discernible shapes, no hint of sound, and certainly no yellow brick road. Going into the black of supposedly nothingness was turning into the theme of my life.

  Ax saluted us, gave us a give-’em-hell grin, and stepped inside. Larsa gave her mom and Amahté a quick hug, and then she stepped into the portal without hesitation. Drake kissed me, winked, and said in that luscious German-tinted voice, “After you, my beauty.”

  I grinned at him. Then, I, too, stepped into the breach of the beyond.

  As soon as I had entered, the Underworld formed around me.

  It was a dance club.

  I shit you not.

  The Underworld, or at least this part of it, was a get-your-groove-on, booming-beat, neon-splattered, crammed-bodies-undulating par-tay.

  Wow. Anyone who’d ever written about the Underworld had gotten it way, way wrong.

  Larsa and Ax stood less than a foot away, pushing at the jostling dancers, trying to maintain a perimeter. I felt Drake’s arm snake around my waist, and pull me close.

  “Where do we go?” I shouted.

  “Anywhere you want, sweet cheeks.”

  The chocolate-smooth male voice did not belong to Drake. Eep! I pushed out of the embrace and whirled around. The . . . um, demon, I supposed, shot me a sex-me-up smile. His skin looked like it was made from red leather, and his eyes were completely, totally black. His head was free of hair, which really made me focus on the two black horns curving out of his forehead. He was dressed in shiny, tight black pants, black cowboy boots, and a bone white shirt open to the belly button. He left the shirt open to show off a multitude of gold chains.

  He grabbed his horns and stroked them. “You like what you see, babe?”

  “Sorry,” I said, caught somewhere between a laugh and a scream, “I’m with someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Him,” I said, pointing behind his shoulder.

  He turned to look, just in time to get a fist full of werewolf fury. The demon, or whatever, went down like a pile of whipped cream, which kinda surprised me. I’d thought demons were more bad-ass. But no, red guy slid to the floor and lay there like a sad Mob reject. Drake stepped over him and said, “You are mine.”

  “So long as I’m not his,” I said, ignoring the thrill caused by Drake’s words. I know, I know. The feminist in me should probably protest the male-ownership angle, blah, blah, blah. But instead, I decided to like it. Because you know what? Drake was mine, too.

  “If you’re done flirting, Moira,” said Ax from behind us, “we should probably go.”

  Ax took the lead. Larsa followed him, and I followed her. Drake stayed behind me. Ax was an expert at making a path through the gyrating crowd of supernatural beings. He had no problem shoving the creatures aside, and they didn’t seem to take offense.

  I wasn’t sure if Ax knew where he was going or if he was just trying to get to a place where we could have conversation to decide the next course of action.

  The place seemed endless. The farther we went, the more frenzied the dancers, the louder the music, and the more dizzying the multicolored strobe lights.

  “There!” shouted Ax. He pointed to a large metal door. Above it was an EXIT sign.

  Amahté told us to stay on the path, that it would be revealed to us when we entered the Underworld, and we would be safe so long as we didn’t veer off it. Well, safe-ish. So was the club somehow the path? Or would going through the EXIT door take us to the path? And where was the ambrosia?

  Ax pushed the long metal bar, and the door opened outward.

  “Fuck!” Ax jumped back, and the door slammed shut. He looked at us over his shoulder. “Everything’s on fire out there,” he said. “That’s definitely not the way.”

  We all gathered into a tight little circle.

  “We should look for another exit,” said Ax. “There are probably several. My guess is that only one of them leads to the ambrosia.” He grimaced. “Splitting up isn’t an option. Even if one of us found the right door, there’d be no way to tell the others.”

  “This is going to take forever,” said Larsa. “It’s good that time is not the same here as it is on the earthly plane.”

  “What are we talking about, gang?” Red leather arms slinked around mine and Larsa’s necks. The demon with the horns and the terrible taste in clothing poked his head into our huddle. “You didn’t try going out that door, did you? Because you don’t have on enough sunscreen.” He snort-laughed, and then gave me a come-hither look. “Stick with me, kitten. I’ll show you what you want.”

  Larsa and I shoved him off at the same time, and he stumbled backward, smacking into the backside of a huge green-skinned dude wearing a fur kilt and red boots. It was at least eight feet tall. The creature turned around, grabbed the demon by the throat, and tossed him. The demon sailed over the dancers, and plopped like a big red rock into their midst.

  The creature looked at us, and snarled.

  “We don’t even know that guy,” said Ax. “We’re leaving, all right?”

  Once again Ax led the way, and Larsa followed. Drake snagged my hand, and this time he followed Larsa, keeping a tight grip on me as we once again wound through the crowd. We got bumped on all sides, but managed to stay together.

  Ax led us to another door. This one was a plain wooden door. A sign above it said, RESTROOMS.

  Ax was slightly more circumspect when opening this door. He took one quick look and backed away, gagging. “No. Fuck, no.”

  I didn’t even want to know what he’d seen, and neither did anyone else. Frustration burned through me. Damn it. It wasn’t like I’d had any idea what the Underworld would be like, not really, but trying to navigate through a paranormal rave hadn’t even been on the list of expectations.

  Ax wheeled around and started another push through the boogying Boogey Men. We reached another wall, another door—this one had peeling paint and what looked like bullet holes in it. Above it was the sign OFFICE.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go in there,” said a familiar voice. Red arms slipped around my waist and pulled me close. “The manager doesn’t like unexpected visitors.” I looked up into the face of the really persistent and idiotic demon. “Hi, there,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  The growl made us look at Drake. He curved his lips in a feral smile. “Take your hands off her, or I will remove your arms. Permanently.”

  The demon let me go, stepped back and lifted his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Drake grasped my hand and pulled me behind him.

  “You need a Xanax, my friend.” The demon reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a prescription bottle. “You want?” He looked Drake over. “Oh, right. Medicine doesn’t work on werewolves.” His gaze moved over Larsa. “And the undead are stress-free enough.” He grinned at me. “How about you, kitten? You look like you could use a chill pill.”

  “Will you go away?” I was supremely irritated with this asshole. What was his deal? Everyone else in the place was ignoring us.

  The demon actually looked hurt. “Amahté didn’t mention you were all such party poopers.” He sighed. “Look, I know I owe him for that whole Thira thing. Now, those Minoans, they know how to party.” He looked at us and tsked. “Unlike you.”

  “Wait,” I said, fascinated despite everything. “You’re responsible for the volcanic explosion on Santorini?”

  His expression turned sheepish. “My little shindig got a weensy bit out of hand . . . and well, we blew up the island. It happens, you know.”

  We all stared at him, and he stared back.

  “What?” he asked. “Do I have brimstone on my face?”
/>   “Who the fuck are you?” asked Drake, sounding exasperated and pissed off.

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I should’ve introduced myself.” He offered his hand. “My name is Path.”

  Chapter 27

  “Amahté could’ve mentioned that we should be looking for someone instead of something,” said Ax.

  “Oh, don’t blame him. He never knows what form I’m going to take,” said Path. Since no one had taken him up on the handshake offer, he withdrew his hand. “So, gang! Let’s go get us some ambrosia!” He rubbed his hands together. “Ready?”

  I said, “For wh—”

  Blink. Blink. Boom!

  “—at?” I finished.

  We stood on a hillside. All around us were verdant, rolling hills. Above us was a light purple sky dotted with fluffy silver clouds. And on top of the hill in front of us was a single golden tree, its branches curving up to the sky like a dozen prayerful hands. It had no leaves at all. On a single limb about midway up was a single golden fruit about the same size and shape as a plum.

  The ground around the tree’s base was blackened, as though it had been scorched, though the tree itself looked untouched.

  Path saw the direction of my gaze and nodded. “You would not believe how many have tried to get that last piece of ambrosia.” He rolled his eyes. “Such a kerfuffle!”

  “And why can’t they get it?” asked Larsa.

  “Oh, the tree won’t allow it. You see, Anubis gifted one of the fruits to Amahté for his service—right before that whole thing with Shamhat. But once a god has gifted ambrosia, it’s an unbreakable promise. He couldn’t take it back. Of course, the tree had more fruit on it three millennia ago. Anyhoodles! When Amahté gave it to you, his claim on the ambrosia ended.” He glanced up at the tree. “You’re the only who can touch it now.”

  “And by touch it,” I said, “you mean I have to climb up there and pluck it.”

  “That’s what she said.” Path snort-laughed. He slapped his thigh. “Oh, I kill myself.”

  “If only you would,” muttered Larsa.