Fate's Edge: A SkinWalker Novel #6: A DarkWorld Series (DarkWorld: SkinWalker)

by T. G. Ayer

  I had to wonder who this person was that I’d suddenly become, capable of so impartially instilling terror in another person. “Hey, wait. No. I don’t want to fall.”

  I smirked. I would not have dropped him either way, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. The plan was to scare him into talking, not kill him. “Who are you and your team? And why are you after me?”

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down sharply, then shook his head. “They’ll kill me.” His tone was filled with hopelessness, and I believed him. Some of these mercenary types were ruthless.

  I laughed, and the sound echoed through the trees. “I will kill you.”

  He gave me a hesitant glance, then stared down at the branches below.

  “It’s a long way down. You’ll hit maybe thirty, forty branches as you fall. Probably break twice as many bones before you hit the ground. Most likely shatter your skull and its contents all over the branches too.” I wrinkled my nose. “I’d hate to be the crime scene peeps who have to pick your skull fragments out of your brain matter and your vomit.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, holding on tightly as he began to slip.

  I reached out and grabbed him by the belt around his waist and pulled until he was securely centered on the branch again.

  “Talk.”

  “It’s top secret, so we only know certain things. All the team members are ex-military, but now soldiers for hire.”

  “You mean mercenaries,” I said dryly.

  He grunted. “We’re told where to go, the vehicles are all there, ready with weapons and gas. We got our instructions via the blonde.”

  “Who was she?”

  “No clue. All we knew was she had some kind of power. That electric shit in her hands scared the crap out of most of the men. We steered clear of her. As for the team, I’ve worked with a few of them before. We run in the same circles, but it isn’t as if we’re friends or anything. We don’t share numbers and go to each other’s kids’ birthday parties.”

  “Go on,” I said, my tone hard. I was beginning to tire of this conversation that seemed to be going nowhere fast.

  “This time the brief was a feline shifter, capture without fatal injury. We were supposed to drop you off at a specific location and then leave.”

  “Can you take me to that location?”

  He shook his head, slipped, yelped, then grabbed on and scrambled back to a safer position. “No point. The drop-off was a public toilet at a rest stop along the highway just south of the city. We were supposed to put you in a blue vat marked toxic and stick you behind the building. That was plan A. Plan B was calling in the backup team. Their arrival meant they would take you away themselves. So, you could go to the restrooms, but they won’t come because Plan A was scrubbed.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I got that,” I grated the words out. “Who were you working for and what did they want with me?”

  “I don’t know anything specific, but they appeared to be science and military types. And it wasn’t just you. This is the sixth pick-up we’d been sent to do. At least you didn’t give us that much trouble, the last two were tough to catch, tougher to hold. Good thing we delivered them alive, or we’d have not been paid.”

  I reached out with an extended panther claw and pressed it hard into his neck. “Hey, douchebag. You’re talking about people. People with lives, families, responsibilities. People who value their own lives and who have respected and even protected your pathetic human lives for longer than you can imagine.”

  He nodded. “Right. Right. Sorry.” I retrieved my claw, and he continued, “On delivery, we get paid and leave. So, the most we knew was that we were picking up people with shifter abilities. The military guys assured us that the shifters were government experiments gone wrong and that they posed a danger to the general public which is why they needed the mutations off the streets. We were given the impression that the shifters were extremely dangerous, bred for battle.”

  “Interesting. So, you all thought you were doing a good deed?”

  He grunted. “Didn’t matter. As long as the team got paid and the money was split, we were happy.”

  “Look, Gerry, I need to know where they are taking the shifters they catch. You must know. I don’t believe you all didn’t have a way to ensure you didn’t lose out on the payday. Your team leader? Did he leave someone behind to watch when you left the shifters in the barrels? Didn’t he follow the people who came to pick the shifters up?”

  A few long seconds passed, and he didn’t answer. When I reached a claw out again, he shrieked and said, “Okay, okay. Yeah, you’re right. Harry—he’s the team leader—he did exactly what you said. Made Des and me case the place. We followed the military guys to an abandoned chemical plant outside the city.”

  I knew the one he was talking about. There was only one abandoned plant nearby, and that was McLaren. The plant had closed down due to system malfunctions that threatened to decimate the entire city. After the demon magic had seeped through the veil, companies had to ensure they had a manual fallback on all their systems. But the McLaren plant had no such systems and had decided it would have been too expensive to create and implement. Hundreds had lost their jobs, and the place had been abandoned for decades.

  “So you know everything. You can let me go now.”

  I smiled and got to my feet in one smooth motion. I pursed my lips. “Your team will come looking for you soon enough. I’m sure you have a tracker on you or something. To ensure you can’t double-cross them or to be able to track you in case you’re in trouble.”

  “What makes you think that?” he asked, his tone a little too high, confirming my suspicions.

  “I’m of the military persuasion myself. I know how you types think.”

  “So you are what they said you were?”

  I shook my head. “No. They lied to you. You and your team? You’re hunting innocent people who have been living peacefully for all these years. They lied to you, and you’re lying to yourself if you keep working with them.”

  “And what about that electric woman?”

  “Sorry. Probably not a ‘mutant’ either, but I can’t be sure. If she’s on their side, there is a good chance that she’s an experiment of some kind. This shit’s getting weirder and weirder every day.”

  Gerry made an unimpressed sound.

  I jumped off the branch and landed lightly on a clean branch a level down. The move brought me eye-level with Gerry, who stared at me partly terrified partly fascinated. I’d allowed my panther eyes to come to the fore, not caring any longer that he saw me as I truly was. He’d seen me in panther form already so anything else I revealed wouldn't be detrimental to our status as a race in invisible existence.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’d stop working with the government on this. All they want is to persecute a peaceful people.” Then I shrugged and descended another level. “Still, I suppose if you can live with yourself the way the Nazi soldiers did and excuse your actions as orders, then you won’t heed my warning.”

  “Hey, don’t leave me here,” he yelled as I jumped using my panther strength and landed lightly on each branch.

  “You’ll be fine. Your buddies will be here soon anyway. Of course, you can come down yourself you know. The branch below you is not far, and will hold your weight easily.”

  I surged into a run then, racing through the forest to get as far from him as possible. At the edge of the trees, I shifted back to human and made my way back to Logan’s bike which still lay on its side in the middle of the street.

  Thank Ailuros for abandoned towns.

  I hopped on and drove back to O’Hagan’s, what I’d learned from Gerry burning a hole in my brain. The US government was actively hunting supernaturals down. And there was a good chance that they were experimenting on us too.

  Even worse, there was a strong possibility that some of the supernatural species were colluding with them, the Shadowmen being the best example. The blonde had seemed
to have no qualms using her electric power on me. Plus, she had certainly appeared in charge of the team, or at least superior to even the team leader.

  I had to let Dad and Iain know as soon as possible, but there was one other issue I needed to resolve.

  The residue around my wrist still glowed with an intensity that hadn’t seemed to have faded despite the fighting, the handcuffs and hefting Gerry around.

  Hence the return trip to O’Hagan’s.

  I had to know who this demon was who’d left the residue on me. Was he some sort of different species? Or had my power returned suddenly, and stronger than ever before.

  I had to remind myself that technically my ability to see demon tracks had not gone away. I’d just not been in contact with too many of them in recent weeks.

  Perhaps now was the time to dig deeper, both into the way the ability worked and into why I had such a power.

  Chapter 17

  I drew to a stop and glanced at the entrance to O’Hagan’s. It was time to ask Fynn a few serious questions.

  Sliding off the seat, I hurried back inside, tapping into my panther sight to make up for my temporary blindness from moving from bright sunlight to darkened bar.

  Fynn looked up from the beer tap as he just finished pouring a draught. A strong peppery odor drifted toward me. “What is that? Smells like chorizo beer.” I wrinkled my nose.

  Fynn snorted. “You’re not too wrong about the flavor profile.” He grinned and placed the drink on the bar. “That’s shlesinvin, a specialty beer made from the shlesinberry.”

  I lifted a brow. A waitress came up to grab the beer and deliver it to its owner, and I slid into the vacant seat beside me. “And where exactly does this shlesinberry grow?”

  Fynn smiled. “Only in Mithras.”

  My heart jumped. “Oh? Have you had contact with Mithras recently?”

  Fynn nodded and then shook his head. “Yes. I have a contact that sends me my shipments, but they come once every four months, and I’m not scheduled to receive another batch for another month yet.”

  “Your contact…does he ever tell you anything about Mithras itself?”

  “You mean like news and gossip?” Fynn leaned forward, bringing his face closer to mine. I nodded, heart thudding now. Was it possible I’d hear something that could give me a reason to believe that Saleem was okay? Fynn shrugged. “Nothing of any consequence. The queen is still on her pilgrimage, her elder son is still missing, and the younger son is ruling in his stead. There is a power struggle from what I last heard, a few viziers believe the prince is unfit to rule and have laid claim to the throne and the rule in order to look after things until either the Queen or the rightful heir return.”

  Fynn gave me an odd look, and I began to suspect he knew exactly who Saleem was. But it wasn’t my place to reveal my knowledge, so I nodded sagely. “I take it they failed in their attempt?”

  Fynn shrugged. “No clue. That info was from three months ago remember.”

  I sighed, disappointed.

  “So you couldn’t have missed me that much that you returned so quickly.” The bartender eyed me, a curious expression filling his gaze.

  I shrugged and leaned closer. “You know the guy who bumped into me,” I tilted my head in the direction of the booth where I knew Dreadlocks had gone.

  “Yeah?” Fynn asked carefully.

  “What exactly is he?”

  Fynn straightened. “Kai, you know that’s one of my biggest rules here. Everyone has a right to be here no matter what they are.”

  “I’m not challenging that, and I have no intention of causing any trouble. I promise.”

  “Then why do you need to know?”

  “Research. I just want to know what sub-species of demon he is.”

  Fynn’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and I was glad I’d taken the gamble of admitting I knew that he was a demon at all. “He’s a high-level demon, and a rare one to boot.”

  “Yeah. Dreadlocked albino demons aren’t common.” I was so tempted to look over my shoulder and get a second look, but I satisfied myself with studying the demon’s reflection in the polished steel on the wall behind the bar.

  Fynn snorted. “Yeah. I think he’s demon royalty. Some kind of overlord or something. Important guy down under.” When all I did was sigh in response, Fynn leaned toward me. “You not sweet on him or anything?”

  I let out a soft chortle. “Fynn. Nobody says ’sweet on’ anymore. And no. I’m not. I just needed to know what type of demon he was.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “Not really. Overlord, doesn’t tell me much, neither do dreadlocks or albinism.” Then I frowned. “That’s unusual, right? Albinism in demons?”

  Fynn smirked. “Why would that be unusual? Every species has their own genetic quirks. And it stands to reason the same variants and anomalies within each species DNA would surface at any point in time, just manifesting with a varying degree of intensity.”

  I laughed again. “Thanks, Professor.”

  Fynn’s eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “So, you’re not going to tell me why you want to know?”

  I paused and looked down at my hand. Then I straightened. “I’m not sure myself, and I don’t want to put you in any kind of danger.”

  Fynn shook his head. “Danger from that guy? I don’t think so. I’ve known him for years, and he’s dangerous yes, but not in an arbitrary fashion. He’s a powerful player, but he’s as far from evil-spirited as you can get.”

  “What? Are you in his fan club or something?” I teased.

  Fynn shook his head, apparently having had enough of me. “He’s a good guy. If he’s in trouble, I’d like to know.”

  I sighed and rested my head in my hands. “No. He’s not in trouble, and he’s done nothing wrong. It’s just something I needed to know so I can figure something else out. Believe me, it’s got zero to do with him and who he is.”

  Fynn smiled. “Well, that’s a damned relief.” Out of nowhere, he placed a bottle on the bar in front of me. The narrow-necked flask seemed to be made of wood, and was corked with what looked like a gleaming amethyst.

  “What’s that?”

  “This is what we call unicorn tears. Its real name is unpronounceable when using a human tongue.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  “Not ominous. This drink will throw a panther flat on her ass. It’s the most expensive drink in the bar only because its alcohol content affects walkers as much as vodka or tequila shots would affect humans.”

  “What? You’ve had this here all this time? And you’ve been serving me milkshakes?”

  Fynn smirked. “I wish I could say yes I have, and that you didn’t deserve it until now, but honestly I only managed to procure it last week. It’s exclusively for my walker clientele.”

  I pursed my lips and stared at the flask. “How do I know I won’t drink it and expire on the spot?”

  Fynn let out a low guffaw. “Seen your brother lately?” he asked.

  “Yep, just a few hou—” I paused, mouth open as his implication sank in. “Iain’s imbibed?”

  “Yep?”

  “How bad?” I asked, fascinated.

  “Had to be carried out of here.” Fynn’s grin was enough to light up the entire bar.

  I slapped the gleaming surface on the bar and leaned toward Fynn.

  “I’ll take it neat. And make it a double.”

  Chapter 18

  So this is what a hangover feels like.

  If the pounding in my head was any indication, I was suffering from the worst hangover of all time. Whatever unicorn tears was made from, it sure was freaking potent. And it definitely was now on my ‘ingest with care’ and ‘indulge at your peril’ lists.

  I wasn’t totally sure how I’d ended up at Grams’ apartment, and I hoped that Fynn had had something to do with that. I had vague images of falling asleep on the bar, and the sense that someone had helped me to my feet.

  Other than that, I had no clue what had h
appened after my fourth shot. Four shots? That was all it had taken for me to fall flat on my face.

  The vein in my temple throbbed harder the longer I thought about it. How totally, utterly irresponsible could I have been.

  What the fuck had I been thinking?

  It wasn’t even as if I’d imbibed and gotten shit-faced in the privacy of my own home. No, Alpha Kailin Odel had to get spectacularly drunk in public.

  I lay back and groaned out loud. “What a fucking idiot.”

  “You can say that again,” said a voice from the doorway.

  I squinted against the light from the living room beyond the broad shoulders of a man that constituted far too much trouble for his looks.

  “Justin? What the heck are you doing here?” I sank back onto the pillows then groaned as the movement sent my head pounding and my stomach roiling.

  Something cool and wet touched my forehead, and I sighed as Justin repositioned the washcloth, so it covered almost the entire top half of my face.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t throw up.” Justin smirked as he sank down onto the mattress beside me. Then he shrugged. “Well, I guess it is also a bad thing depending on how you look at it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I mumbled, eyes still closed.

  “Well, if you threw up I’d have been duty bound to help get you cleaned up. Which of course would have entailed undressing, showering and—” Justin let out a low squawk as the wet washcloth hit him in the face.

  His laughter rang around the room, and I put my hands to my ears. “If you’re going to be so damned noisy maybe you should leave,” I grumbled and dragged a pillow over my face.

  The sun was low on the horizon, morning arriving and promising a bright sunshiny day, and I was disgusted to note that I’d slept most of yesterday evening and night away without even realizing it.