Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Ayn!” Closer toward the ring Emery shouted my name.

  Twenty minutes must have flown by quicker than I thought, and as he cut through the crowd on a manhunt for me, I panicked. I couldn’t fight, not yet. I had to do something. I lurched forward, injecting myself directly before Cassia.

  Her blue eyes had always reminded me of cornflower blooms, both vibrant and deep in color. Now, they looked dim and blanched, as if the damn warlock had drained the color from her life. Her gaze drifted upward, connecting with mine as my heart rate shot up. The smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and the small mote of discoloration in her left eye, left me with no doubts.

  Yet, that was where the recognition ended.

  Cassia looked at me as if I was no one, with no acknowledgment or remembrance. She stared through me, and every bit of hope I’d piled up on myself cracked into an empty pit of despair.

  All the while, Mithran’s unusual honey-yellow eyes drifted up and down the length of my form, drinking me in against my will.

  “You’ve quite the reputation for yourself, Ayn,” he purred, making my name sound more like foreplay than a mere designation.

  “I could say the same for you. Though I’m pretty sure you’re aware of it.” It was meant as an insult.

  But from the way his eyes lit up in a smile that never reached the rest of his face, it seemed he took it the wrong way. “Come to join my harem, have you?” Through Cassia’s hair his finger twirled, the gesture no more than his way of marking her as his pet. “There’s always room for more.”

  My hands clenched tightly at my sides, nearly cutting off the circulation to my fingers. The last line of defense I had from popping him in the mouth. “Don’t think so,” I spat. “So, why don’t we just talk about what I’m really here for?”

  He knew. He’d known it from the moment I’d stepped up.

  My eyes narrowed dangerously.

  Irritatingly enough, he laughed. “Then, let us make a deal, dear Ayn.”

  “Don’t call me dear,” I warned, my voice now hitting a low growl rivaling the shifters.

  He seemed far less than disturbed by my display. “I will trade you your dearest friend’s soul,” which he emphasized with a tick of his finger beneath her chin, “in exchange for yours.”

  A horrendous deal but I still considered it.

  “There is always a need for better fighters on my side,” he added. “And perhaps, later . . . my bed.”

  There was no stopping the choke of a laugh that slipped my lips. I’d warm his bed all right. I’d burn it to the ground.

  “How about instead, you let me fight for her soul?” I’d fought for far less, but in this case, the stakes would be entirely worth it.

  He tapped a finger to his lips for seconds that seemed like hours before finally giving a single nod of his head.

  “It’s a deal.” His lips curled into the most devilish grin I’d ever seen. “You win, she’s free. You lose, you’re mine.”

  4

  Even a daft idiot could see the exhilaration fueling Mithran as he considered my deal.

  “Tomorrow, then. Right here, in the ring.”

  Finally, his lips curled far beyond their usual reach as he held his hand out to seal our agreement.

  Regular handshakes were one thing. They solidified bargains but relied on honor and trust. Shaking hands with a warlock whose palm glowed with an overt show of binding magic was another thing entirely. I took his hand, surprised at the lack of jolting energy as we shook and secured my fate.

  “Ayn.” Emery nearly shoved me over with how fast he ran in, his hands grasping at my arm to yank me free of the warlock.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed, much to Mithran’s glee.

  Again, the warlock laughed as Emery dragged me through the crowd.

  “Seriously, Ayn. What were you thinking? You know you can’t trust a man like that.”

  Emery’s hand gripped around my wrist as he pulled me about like a child. His orange tinged skin made my tan arms appear ghostly by comparison.

  “Emery,” I shook my head “it’s too late.”

  He glanced back and frowned, causing a half-dozen wrinkles to appear on his forehead. “I know, and now you’re a dead woman.”

  I rolled my eyes at his overdramatic antics, but they brought up a valid question. Who would I be fighting? I hadn’t thought to ask, since the answer wouldn’t have deterred me anyway.

  Emery pulled me to a swift stop. He crossed one beefy arm over the other and stared at me with an ire I’d never seen from him before. “That warlock,” he spat as if the word was venom on his tongue, “employs a particularly crafty and speedy shifter. So, on the morrow, you better be in top shape or you’ll be leaving here in a body bag.”

  Much as I wanted to believe Emery actually cared, I think he was more worried about potentially losing his cash cow. I wasn’t the best fighter, and I wasn’t afraid to admit that, but I did possess numerous wins in brawls where most thought I had no chance. Still, there was no denying I really loathed fighting shifters and sometimes had a difficult time making it out of the ring without a handful of painful injuries.

  “Whatever. It’ll be fine, Emery.”

  “He’s undefeated, Ayn. Now, go.” He waved me off. “Finish this fight so you can figure out how the hell you’re going to survive tomorrow.”

  It was the worst pep talk I’d ever received and did me no favors as I ran into the ring where today’s opponent already waited.

  Would I have been better off facing the shifter? That day’s match was supposed to be an easy one. Emery had told me so. But I wasn’t getting that vibe from the huge ogre who stood in front of me.

  My neck ached from how high up I had to look to see his jagged, crooked smile. I always found it funny, how the cartoon versions of ogres were usually cute and colored in bright green, like a Granny Smith apple. In reality, they were hideous, with wrinkled, ashen skin.

  His fists were already clenched before the bell struck, sending me ducking under his first forceful swing. The wind that burst past with his push ruffled my hair and left me worried that a single blow could seriously impede my day.

  Cheers erupted into a mix so thick, making it impossible to tell who they were all rooting for. I had too much to focus on as I dropped to the ground and rolled swiftly away from the ogre’s knuckles plummeting downward.

  Throwing fists and having immense strength weren’t my strongest assets, but I imagine he never saw my swift response. Having just made it up to my knees, I slammed my palms flat to the cracked floor and cried out with all the strength I possessed.

  The ogre’s fist crashed into the floor, leaving the ground beneath our feet trembling. Yet, half of the trembling was my own doing. I had no massive muscles or sharpened claws, but I did have a connection to the elements, earth my main focus.

  With a curl of my hand, the rock and dirt beneath his fist flew upward, sending his own fist pummeling back at his own surprised face. Clearly no one had told him what to expect in the ring against a small, unassuming woman.

  Forward he charged, fueled by his anger.

  Cocky by nature and certain I had plenty of speed on him, I stood waiting as I fueled the warmth of my second attachment in the palm of my hand. Just as his fist swung out, I ducked and flung a wash of flame at his torso.

  Unfortunately, I never saw the lift of his knee hurtling toward me.

  Through the air I flew, the air knocked from my lungs not once, but twice, after I’d hit the ground and skidded to a quick stop. My arm felt warm and damp, and as I jumped back onto now shaky legs, I realized it was my own blood. The floor in this place was beyond foul, and now my left forearm bled profusely from a gash so deep I knew it would need stitches.

  A lucky hit for the ogre. At least, that’s what I told myself as I ran back in for more.

  I dodged several more swings, much more cautious this time as I ignored the burning sting of my arm. The flame hadn’t seemed to hurt the og
re except for burning a few hairs from his dotted chest.

  A brute, too powerful, but with one major flaw. His swings and hits, while he had a few of them, were always the same. He was repetitive, and though exhaustion filled my every dodge, I saw them clearly.

  The next time he swung and his feet shifted, I was ready. I dropped back to the ground, my palms ramming down with utter urgency. Not a necessity, but the connection fed me more strength as the floor itself exploded up from beneath the ogre’s feet. Teetering off balance, he plunged backward, never seeing the second punch of earth that collided into the back of his falling head.

  The audience went silent as the ogre lay unmoving, and quite possibly unbreathing. It was good enough for me, and as I aimed to catch my breath and pushed myself back to my feet, now covered in sweat, dirt, and blood which dripped all over the floor, I did not entirely care. The crowd’s eruptive cheers were all that mattered, and from the side, Emery happily waved our winnings in his grubby little hands.

  5

  It hadn’t taken me long to shove my way through the crowd. They were not excited for me, but for the winnings my victory had earned them. Apparently, plenty had, given the excitement in the room, but I had worse things to worry about.

  My arm ached, far more than I wished to admit, and I worried the dizziness simmering on the edge of my consciousness wasn’t entirely from fight fatigue. When I’d reached far enough into the maze of tunnels to hear myself think, I yanked my phone from my pocket and hurriedly called a friend. It didn’t take long at all for her to answer punctually, unlike my usual style.

  “Hello?”

  “Mia, I need your help.”

  “Ayn.” She scolded me. “Wha—what is that noise? Are you fighting again? You told me you were going to stop.”

  I used my good hand to wipe the sweat piling on my brow. “I needed the money. And I’m hurt. I think I need some stitches.”

  She didn’t answer for a good minute and I almost thought she’d hung up on me. “Mia?”

  “Go to a doctor, Ayn.”

  I inhaled trying to keep my focus. “I found Cassia.”

  Silence.

  “Cassia is gone.” She answered, her voice a fraction above a whisper.

  “No—look, I’ll explain when I get there, okay?”

  “Fine.” Mia sighed. “Come over, but if I find you’re lying about any of this, I’ll kill you myself.”

  “I’ll be there in ten,” I said, and ended the call. In a hurry, I slipped free of the sewers, climbing out of a manhole ladder in an old abandoned factory. It was one of the main entrances and exits and had somehow yet to be discovered by cops or the property owners. And, lucky for me, Mia didn’t live that far away.

  It hadn’t taken me long to power walk hurriedly down the street with my hand clenched over the open wound in an effort to slow the bleeding. Even in a city covered in smog, filth, and crime, I drew plenty of odd looks as I hurried to Mia’s front door and found myself swiftly pulled inside.

  Mia had never been an overtly friendly kind of person, but lately it seemed as though she frowned more often than she smiled. She looked me over, her bright emerald green eyes and thin lips chiding me for my disheveled appearance. “You’ve got to stop making a habit of this.” She nudged her head toward the hall. “Follow me.”

  Mia’s house always smelled like worn leather and tea. It made sense considering that the entire lower level of her place was filled with more books than the city library.

  Her long chocolate braid swung like an elephant’s trunk with each step. She glanced to me from over her shoulder. “Who in the hell did you fight this time?”

  “Some ogre. I’ve never seen him before.”

  We stopped in the downstairs bathroom. She let me go in first, not even giving me a chance to remove my boots before she shoved me into the claw-foot tub. No doubt to contain the mess.

  “An ogre? You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “It’s not luck, Mia it’s . . .” I shouldn’t fight with her, not if I wanted my arm patched up.

  She wiped the crud and grime free of the wound with a rough touch. I seethed with every grasping pull of the cloth that felt like sandpaper set to open skin.

  “You mentioned Cassia,” Mia said quietly. Though the pair of them had never been particularly close with one another, they had been friends, in some regard of the word. Somehow, I had been the glue that kept the group together, and when I’d lost Cassia, Mia had worried just how much I would fall apart. As it turned out, it was quite a lot, as my fighting addiction only got worse.

  “I saw her.”

  Mia stilled. “She’s dead, Ayn.”

  “No.” I shook my head and hissed as she dug further in, extracting small chunks of rock from deep within my arm. “She was never found, and I saw her, I swear on . . . on whatever it is that’s most holy. I saw her, and she needs my help.”

  Mia sighed deeply, leaving me to wonder if she believed me at all.

  “She’s the thrall of Mithran, the warlock.”

  Stunned, she stopped and looked into my eyes. “She . . . what?”

  “She’s being controlled by him. He owns her soul. I’m fighting tomorrow for her. I can’t be inhibited by this . . . this cut.”

  “It’s more than a cut, Ayn. I’ll do what I can, but I’m not making you any promises.”

  “Thank you.” The mere thanks was the least I could do given how much she’d done for me over the years. Especially when it came to patching me up after a particularly rough night.

  Her healing magic didn’t require these mundane steps. I think she just liked to torture me before diving in with what really worked. However, I wouldn’t complain.

  “And I’m going to need you to promise me one more thing, Ayn.” This time, she stared at me with far more certainty and determination than I was used to.

  “What’s that?”

  “After this, after you get Cassia back, promise me you’ll quit fighting for good.”

  I hadn’t even parted my lips yet and the words already felt like soup on my tongue. “I promise I’ll stop after I’ve got Cassia back.”

  Unfortunately, as she set back to work, I knew I’d given her nothing but an empty vow.

  6

  Several times more, Mia voiced her concerns to me before letting me out her door. She’d done all she could, but even as I trudged along the dirty sidewalk, every minor jolt of my arm caused agony. It wouldn’t be long, I imagined, before my whole arm and torso bruised up in deep shades of purple and blue. I’d wear it like a badge of honor, as long as I made it through tomorrow’s fight.

  Turning the corner to my place, a rundown townhome on the edge of the industrial block, I froze. In the shadows of the overgrown shrubs by the front door stood a shadowy figure, waiting for me. Or they had the wrong door.

  Maybe it was tomorrow’s fighter, wanting to hedge his own bets, or maybe the obnoxious warlock had come to shake me up. Either way, I held the point of my keys between my fingers like a blade and made my way for the door.

  “Ayn.”

  The feminine voice wasn’t one I’d expected at all. Just short of the door, I stopped, my heart hammering at my chest as Cassia stepped from the shadows. This time, recognition brimmed in her eyes as she looked at me. Still, they seemed cold and hardened with time.

  “Cassia, oh my God, I—”

  “Ayn, stop.” Her sharp tone cut deeper than a knife as her eyes dropped to my chin. She refused to look at me any longer, which made me angry and hopeful.

  “Just let me help you,” I begged. I took a single step toward her.

  She took two steps back, as if years of an almost sisterly bond meant nothing to her. “I’m with Mithran of my own choice, Ayn.”

  Though she sounded solid in her conviction, I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. “Is he controlling you still? Making you say these things?”

  “Seriously, stop. Just back off.”

  Her words stung like fire, and if that’s how she
wanted to play, I’d join right in. “Do you remember that time we went camping?”

  She did. I saw it in the flutter of her lashes. “Ayn, don’t . . .”

  “We were convinced it was going to be the best trip of our lives. And, I mean, it was, sort of. We climbed mountains and flirted with hot cowboys and oh, right . . . river tubing. I wonder how many times you could have just admitted everything wasn’t okay.”

  “That isn’t like this!”

  “How many times when I saw the worry on your face and asked you about it, you just said, ‘No, Ayn, I’m fine.’ I wonder how differently things would have gone had you just told me from the start.”

  I folded my arms over my chest and held them tight even though it pained me to do so. Unfortunately, even magic-assisted healing took time. “You nearly drowned, Cassia. No, you did drown.”

  “It was an accident!”

  “No. No, it wasn’t.” I hadn’t planned to raise my voice so much, but I could think of no other way to get through to her, my desperation winning out. “It was stupidity. You for ignoring that you couldn’t swim, and me for letting you go when I saw how terrified you were.”

  She trembled before me, with either fear or anger. Either way, I hoped it would be enough to crack through to her.

  “Well you’re the one making stupid moves now,” she said back, confirming it hadn’t worked.

  My chest twisted at the sight of her defying my every attempt to help her.

  “If you care for me at all, you’ll back off and won’t come near me again.”

  Away from me she spun, her boots heavy and clunky on the sidewalk beneath her every hurried step. It was like mourning her all over again, even though she still breathed. She had to know I was too stubborn to give up.

  Always had been, and always would be.

  My voice echoed down the vacant street as I called after her. “I’m not giving up on you, Cassia. Just like you never gave up on me!”

  7

  Morning came and went swifter than I had time to notice. I’d spent the night tossing and turning, unable to rest on my left side because of my arm, and unable to sleep with Cassia’s sunken eyes haunting me in my dreams. All these years, I’d thought she’d been dead, but somehow, she’d been right under my nose. I blamed myself, even though I knew that was unreasonable.