RYLEN (The Tangled Web Book 1)

by Morgan Wylie

  “Well, what do we have here? A street rat looking for a free handout?” A tall man with a fiercely intimidating expression studied her then peered down the alley. You shouldn’t have been able to find our door,” the rough, deep masculine voice said.

  She looked into his eyes and noted his black and white hair. “You’re not him… they’re going to kill me… but you’ll save me… Gracie… Oracle,” was all she could breathe out before she slumped into the arms of the stranger, literally holding her life in his hands.

  He stiffened at her admission. “Oracle, huh? We’ll see,” he said frowning deeply as he took in her fragile state. He picked her up into his arms and carried her into warmth.

  She relaxed in his arms before it all went dark.

  CHAPTER ONE

  5 years later…

  In the heart of downtown Seattle, underneath one of its beloved historical hotels, resided the Lair for the Pacific Northwest’s arm of the Web—an underground network for supernatural organized crime. The Lair was also home to its leader, Rylen Duncan and his team. With the appearance of a twenty-three year old, Rylen was much older than that though untouched by time. He was a warlock, born with latent magic in his blood… strong magic. When he was six years old, a wolf bit him. The infection from the bite almost killed him, and it not only awakened his magic but also gave him the ability to shift into an animal. The wolf that had bitten him was a shifter, a human that could turn into an animal at will—not to be confused with a werewolf. Instead of changing into a wolf every full moon, Rylen turned into something else, something he was afraid to release from captivity, something he kept to himself and his inner circle.

  “We have an ordered mission,” he said as he stabbed his knife through the map and into the old wood table it was spread out upon. The large table sat eight people, even though only four of them attended at this point. The boys normally liked to have their strategy meetings in the “Den,” where it was comfortable. But today began in the Throne room for their debriefing and a meeting with Tom. Rylen’s crew leaned in to see the exact spot the tip of the blade had pierced.

  Enock, Rylen’s second in command, looked up from his relaxed seated position. Long dark blonde dreadlocks were tied back behind his head. He had a complimentary scruffy beard and twinkling blue eyes, adding to his laid back persona. Beautiful jade ear gauges decorated his ears and enhanced the blue of his eyes while simultaneously adding an air of intimidation. Enock had been on enough of these “jobs” to no longer feel the pulse of anticipation, the rush of pre-amped adrenaline. It had become second nature to him. Enock was huge—tall and muscular—and had no fear; it also helped that he was a vampire. In his teens, he was bitten and turned. Shunned by his family and community, he and Rylen had run into each other. The vampire could be a brute one moment then a comedian the next, but they’d stuck together ever since. Rylen figured if Enock could put up with him, then he could stay as long as he wanted.

  “What are we lifting?” Enock inquired.

  “A gem. A very rare stone, to be exact. Rylen laid out a separate sheet of paper overlapping part of the map with a picture of a large red diamond-like stone cut at odd misshapen angles, creating a myriad of facets. “I don’t know what it is, but apparently it’s valuable and Widow wants it. So we get it. Simple as that.” Standard heist, should be straight forward. However, it’s in a seedier part of town, one we don’t usually like to frequent.” Rylen sighed and stared down each of his men. “It’s secured in a facility within the local vampire seethe’s territory.” Groans erupted around the table.

  “Where, Rylen?” Enock hesitated to inquire.

  “Inside Triumph.” He tapped his finger on the butt of the knife that pointed to the location of the lowlife establishment and waited for the next wave of groans to finish. “It’s not like we haven’t had dealings with them before. Piece of cake,” Rylen voiced confidently.

  “Of course it’s a piece of cake, that seethe is a joke albeit a dangerous joke, but that is why they are a classless group of thugs that terrorize and destroy the city and are not a part of our PAC,” Mather complained. “At least the jobs we pull have class and purpose.” The local vamps were a pain in the ass, unruly, and a generally vile bunch, but they stayed out of the PAC’s business and the PAC stayed out of theirs—they also tended to be on the losing side of any encounters had with the Pacific Northwest crew from the Web.

  “Nevertheless, that is where we will find this stone Black Widow requires,” Rylen continued as if their whining hadn’t derailed his train of thought. “Simple.”

  “Nothing is ever simple when Widow wants something,” Mather grumbled from Rylen’s other side. Mather and his brother Lucius—aka the Jefferson twins—were part of Rylen’s guard and inner circle but they, along with Enock, were his family. The brothers were an unusual pair but as close as they could be. Born shifters—one a wolf, the other a gyrfalcon—they were complete opposites physically. Mather had jet-black hair, a full beard, and sharp green eyes. Luc had white-blonde hair shaved on the sides with a black longer strip on top, a finely manicured black beard, and piercing gold eyes. They often got teased about being one “bad brother” and one “good brother,” but if anyone knew them at all, they’d know that if anyone was the “bad one,” it was angelic-looking Lucius. He had a streak about him that you did not want to encounter if you were on what he considered to be the “wrong” side. But Luc was loyal to Rylen, both brothers were. It didn’t hurt having big, brawny, muscle guys next to him either. Some might say Rylen was compensating for something and truth be told… he was. He wasn’t small, but he wasn’t as big as the guys he surrounded himself with either. Rylen had strengths, but he also had weaknesses, and they filled those gaps for him when it came to running the Northwest end of the Web.

  Rylen shot Mather a look out of the corner of his eye. When it was the inner circle together, as it was now, they spoke more freely than when the larger group of the clan was together. When they were all assembled, as they would be after the initial meeting, they represented a united front with Rylen at the lead. But when they were alone, they were brothers.

  Rylen sighed and threw his head back. “I know. But until she gets off my back about my five years being up, my hands are tied. You know if I don’t take out the higher-ups of the Fairfax Human Rights Alliance, then I… I’m not willing to lose you… this clan.”

  “You know we’d follow you wherever you went, bro,” Enock interjected.

  “But the clan… this is our family, our home, and I will fight to keep it together.” Rylen clenched his fists. The more he thought about it, the angrier it made him. It was an old discussion—one that had no answer until Rylen completed his test and could find a way to get Widow off his back. Mather nodded his agreement and went back to studying the stone.

  “So what’s the plan?” Enock asked. He leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the table, crossing them at his ankles. He folded his arms, accentuating the bulk of his arm muscles across his chest.

  Rylen pushed Enock’s feet off the table, causing him to fall forward, and his chair landed with a thud on the ground. Enock glared at Rylen but didn’t say anything.

  “This is the plan,” Rylen began as he pulled his knife from the table and returned it to the holster on his belt. He leaned over the table and unrolled a large roll of paper—blueprints of the building where the jewel would be. “We get in to Triumph, past the guard, break into the vault, lift the stone then we’re home free.” He went on to explain who would be positioned where and what their job would be. Enock and Mather nodded in agreement, but Lucius stood above the table examining everything. Lucius wore black cargo pants tucked into tall black boots barely tied and a tight black T-shirt. Lucius’ entire face was a scowl, which was nothing new, but something in his golden eyes caught Rylen’s.

  “What, Luc?”

  Lucius shook his head. “Something’s off.”

  “With the plan?” Rylen asked. He had learned over the y
ears not to question Lucius. No one knew what it was, but Lucius had a way of just knowing things.

  “Not sure. Something just feels off. So watch out,” and that was all Lucius had to say. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, people listened.

  “Noted,” Rylen nodded and looked to the others who also nodded. They sat around and continued to discuss the plan.

  Rylen looked at his cell phone for the time. “We’ll meet the others in the Den soon for a rundown of the plan. Everyone understand? Any further questions?” he stood once more as he asked.

  Enock, Mather, and Lucius shook their heads. Just then, there was a knock at the doors.

  “Enter,” Mather’s voice boomed.

  The doors opened inward and Tom peeked his head inside. “Are you ready for me?”

  “Come on in, Tom,” Enock invited. “Tell Rylen what you were telling me about the clan from Vegas.” Tom began to discuss the matter at hand.

  Rylen went to sit on the opulent chair the boys had had made for him a few years back. After the PAC had secured this building and Rylen had gotten his arm of the Web out of some sticky situations, the boys began joking with him and calling him “highness.” One day, he came into what he had called the conference room; it was the largest room in the Lair that they could hold meetings in and meet with liaisons from the other factions. They had had a “throne” made for him. It was gaudy and ornate and he hated it, but he also loved it. Rylen wasn’t so egotistical that he thought he should have a throne. He wasn’t the king, after all… at least not yet, but it made him feel important and appreciated amidst his clan. Unfortunately, it was also one of the most uncomfortable chairs he had ever sat in, and therefore, used it on seldom occasions. Shifting from one side of his ass to the other was not the leader of the Lair’s idea of comfort. He appeared distracted and unconcerned with the words the fidgety man standing in front of him was saying. He needed to be listening, but he couldn’t seem to focus. Rylen jumped up out of his throne, irritated.

  “Whoever designed this chair should be gutted then lynched,” Rylen growled out. He heard snickers from his boys off to the side.

  “Excuse me, sir?” the poor soul’s eyes were wide with shock, then fearful as they darted from the large guardians beside the throne back to Rylen himself.

  “That was not for you.” Apparently, he had said that thought out loud, interrupting his head tech guy. “My apologies, Tom, what were you saying? But summarize this time, please.” Rylen felt Enock’s stare burrow a hole in his head. Rylen glanced back him with an unconcerned shrug.

  “As I was saying, Sir, we have been receiving messages from the Vegas vein of the Web. They have concerns regarding the increasing recon work done by the Fairfax Human Rights Alliance. They believe the Fairfax group is getting closer to finding their station of operations.” Tom took a breath while wringing his hands. He was a nervous sort of fellow. “Vegas is asking for confirmation of our assistance should they need us. Can we confirm?”

  Rylen looked at the man before him. Tom was young, maybe late teens, with stick-straight sandy blond hair and nice, honest eyes. As the head IT guy, he was extremely gifted, more so than the average human, with computers and electronics.

  “Yes, send them a message in return that the Northwest corner of the Web will support them.” The Fairfax Human Rights Alliance—FHRA, the Fairfax group, or simply the alliance—was a private extremist group led by none other than pretty boy, Eli Fairfax, the face of the operation, a recently graduated ivy-leaguer, with daddy’s money to back his very public “good Samaritan” endeavor. Their mission statement was simple: they were dedicated to the equality and prosperity of all peoples, around the world. How they actually did that was somewhat vague. However, the Web’s experience with them had been quite different. They were a regular thorn in their sides. When they said “all peoples” they really meant non-magic users, non-supernaturals… only humans—or who they deemed to be “humans.”

  Tom nodded eagerly and took a step back signaling his business was finished. Rylen waved him away and rubbed a spot on his forehead that seemed to be bothering him. Sighing deeply, Rylen turned to Enock. He could feel his second in command and closest friend wanted to say something but was holding back.

  “What?”

  “Ry, man what’s up with you today? You seem all agitated and antsy,” Enock squirmed. “Is the chair really that uncomfortable? You’ve never said anything before. Maybe you’ve got something stuck up your ass,” he laughed, unconcerned with the evil glare he was getting.

  Mather snapped his fingers in front of Rylen’s face, which made him irate, which was undoubtedly why he did it. Rylen’s head snapped around to glare at Mather, but he was met with was a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Their fearless leader took a deep breath and let it out.

  “Seriously, what’s got your panties all in a bunch?” Mather asked.

  “I think I’m being followed.”

  “That’s not unusual,” Enock pointed out.

  “I know. It was strange though. It was a girl.” Rylen should’ve known better. As soon as he said it was a girl, the laughs and hoots and hollers started.

  “Enough. There was something different about her. Almost like I could sense some magic on her, but it was faint and it carried a sense of something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s something I’ve crossed before,” Rylen explained, which didn’t say much since he had been alive for over a few centuries.

  “You think she has a motive? Or just following a handsome devil home?” Mather winked.

  “Motive? Yes. Devil? Yes. Not sure about the handsome part,” their leader dryly replied. Rylen was no saint by any stretch of the word.

  “I’ve caught her at several places for the last couple days. She’s either not very good at sleuthing or unconcerned about me seeing her.”

  “Why don’t you just ask her then?” Enock asked, pointing out the obvious.

  “At first, I didn’t want to scare her away, but she doesn’t seem to be easily scared off. She even followed me into the Pit last night. She didn’t stay long, once Candy started dancing, but still,” Rylen shrugged.

  “That’s pretty ballsy,” Mather commented with his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Set up a sting. You know, after the job. We could take Luc,” Enock said with a snicker.

  “Nah. We don’t want to scare her into a comatose state,” Rylen laughed as Lucius simply shrugged a shoulder. “Come on,” Rylen waved for them to follow him to the Den with a renewed energy surging through his system.

  “I’ll call for the team,” Lucius called out as he headed to the door. But just as he opened it, he stepped back in rare shock. Standing in the doorway with a bright smile on her face was their resident Oracle, Gracie. She could see things into the future, and her appearance meant she most likely had something to tell them about the job they were about to go on since she didn’t participate in the physical missions.

  Lucius cleared his throat and bowed his head. “My apologies, I did not hear your knock.”

  “No, you didn’t. I thought it would be more fun to see if I could surprise you.” Gracie smiled up at him and bounced her way into the room. She was now eighteen, but her innocence and frailty gave her the appearance of someone younger. She was pale and thin, but she had grown over the last five years she had been hiding within the Web. She never explained who was hunting her those years ago, and perhaps she didn’t know, but they kept her presence a secret even from other factions of the Web. There was no way to know how another group would take advantage of someone like Gracie especially as young and naive she had been when she arrived literally on their doorstep. Gracie no longer had the face of a child, but one of a growing and blossoming young woman. They all treated her with utmost respect and reverence. Her gift had helped them on more than one occasion over the years, and they protected her. She was one of their own.

  “Come in, Gracie,” Rylen waved her over. “I’m assuming you are n
ot here simply to torture Luc.”

  Gracie stared at Rylen’s face for a moment and cocked her head. Her eyes started changing colors. Over the years, they came to realize her eyes did that when she was seeing something. Rylen watched her curiously, waiting patiently for her words.

  “No, I came to tell you to keep your eyes open tonight. Something different is about to happen.” She smiled up at him.

  “Could you be more specific? Good different? Or bad different?” Rylen chuckled at her. She simply shook her head.

  “Nope, but you need to pay attention.” That was all she said, but she winked at him and turned with a girly flourish and skipped out of the room.

  “What in the world could that be about?” Mather asked.

  “I have no idea. I really hope her visions get more detailed soon,” Rylen replied.

  CHAPTER TWO

  They headed to the Den to debrief the entire team. They called it the Den because even though it was similar to a den in a house, it was much bigger and it was the heart of the Lair, where their pack—their family—congregated. Relaxation and recreation were the primary functions, with games, movies, and a large flat-screen TV installed in a media center at the front of the room. The room was fairly large with walls painted a dark brown and deep purple curtains hung on the walls though there were no windows. Various purple and brown cushions adorned the squishy black L-shaped couch positioned in front of the media center. On small tables scattered about the room were lamps of a vintage long past. Shelves and shelves of books, creating a library of sorts, lined the back walls. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, and it gave them a space to feel at home.