Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  I’d started my trek back into the sewers long before I needed to be there. I wanted to get a glimpse of Cassia, to see for myself she hadn’t fallen into further disarray. When I arrived and drifted through the growing masses, she was nowhere to be found.

  “I hope you’re ready for this.”

  I hadn’t expected Emery to sneak up behind me. Both of us jumped. Things would not bode well if I couldn’t get a better handle on myself.

  “Right.” Emery frowned. “I’m going to go place my bets.”

  “On me, right?”

  His lack of a response told me enough as he drifted away, head shaking, toward the bookies. He pulled out enough cash from his pocket to pay my rent for half a year and handed it over.

  I gave his back my middle finger.

  Someone drew close, the familiar scent of rotten fruit and stale cigarettes overwhelming. “Already placed your bets?”

  I sighed and turned fully to the peddler whose eyes widened in a moment’s recognition.

  “Ah, the fighter, and not interested. I’ve got it,” he said, already turning away from me.

  I couldn’t blame him really, but something made me stop him with a gentle tug of his arm. Maybe my desperation really was rising. “Got anything to ease pain?”

  He glanced to my arm, clearly aware of what had happened. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if those who hadn’t even been present heard of what went down.

  “Or . . .” I drew a few blanks, “something for luck? Or courage? Protection, maybe?”

  I really didn’t have any faith in the trinkets he rummaged through within the depths of his coat, but for some reason, as he pulled a single one free, I smiled, if only slightly.

  “Here,” he said as he pressed the small wooden object into my palm, “it’s a one-of-a-kind.”

  There wasn’t much to the circular talisman, save for a twist of the branch it had been carved from and a few jagged pieces of scrollwork throughout.

  “How much?”

  His head shook. “It’s yours.”

  Shock shown not only in my eyes, but in my laugh of a response. “What? Why?”

  Warily, he looked about the space to be certain no one lurked close enough to eavesdrop. His voice dropped, leaving me to strain as he whispered in my ear, “I know what you’re fighting for. I just want to see the look of shock on Mithran’s face when you win.”

  It was the only bit of positivity I’d had all day. I smiled warmly and tried for a moment to simply forget how many odds were stacked against me.

  “Thank you. Really.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He stepped away, cheerfully calling out, “And later, you can tell people just how much my charm helped you.”

  I laughed, but the moment he stepped off into the crowd, I felt more alone. Dank, humid air drenched the sewers, and wild cheers for the ongoing fight in the ring echoed noisily. Even among all the bodies and familiar buzzing, I found little ease.

  My fight, the next fight, had everyone rushing to the bookies with bets. I was fairly certain the high majority were not betting on me.

  I waited far from the ring. I stretched my legs and arms the best I could, except my left arm. Even the smallest movement left me wincing in pain, and my abs hurt more than I had expected after the blow from the ogre’s knee.

  Soon, I would be facing a shifter—a quick one at that—and I had no idea how I was going to survive. Hearing my name, I shuffled toward the ring, my attention grabbed briefly by the deep auburn of Cassia’s hair. She’d come, and as I stepped into the ring, I hoped I wouldn’t fail her.

  8

  We stood within the ring, staring each other down like two adversaries in an old western. My opponent began in his humanoid form, an odd choice, but one I imagined was made in the spirit of showing off. He didn’t look like much, not with his basketball shorts and his hairy chest bare to the world. He seemed more of a bookworm, fit to spend his hours indoors rather than outside or in a ring fighting for his life. The moment the bell chimed and he rushed toward me with a thrown punch, my entire viewpoint changed.

  The side of my jaw took the first hit, spraying spit and blood across the crowd as I shoved back and regained enough ground to be out of his reach. Hands behind me nudged at me, pushing me back into the fight. The break was barely enough as I dodged a barrage of punches leaving me breathless and fearing I would never gain a moment to make a counterattack. At this rate, the damn man would beat me before he’d even shifted.

  The crowd had other ideas. “Shift! Shift! Shift!” Their voices lifted in unison, bringing a curved grin to the man’s face. Across the ring from me, he prepared for the change.

  The blood-hungry audience had just secured my doom.

  Deep within him, bones cracked, their shifting and reshaping agonizing to watch. I imagined it was even more agonizing to endure. Unfortunately, I’d seen it done a hundred times before, and I knew it wouldn’t end in him collapsing. His chest hair thickened and spread until every inch of him was covered in fur, and down to his widened paws he fell as he took on the full form of a genuine, spotted jaguar.

  I’d already taken the moment of inaction to gather up chunks of rock and dirt in my hands, and the moment his head swiveled toward me I thrust my palms forward. From the ground at my feet to the height of my hands a wall of earth lifted, the crumbling, churning sound nothing compared to the jagged holes left in the floor. The blunt attack flew toward the shifter, leaving him only enough time to let out a roar of his own as he swiped helplessly at the flying stones.

  Dust and dirt flew, the haphazard wall shattering into nothing more than a rainstorm of debris. It made seeing my opponent difficult, and, if I was being honest with myself, it didn’t seem like it did him any damage.

  He jumped toward me, far quicker than I had time to react, and back I slammed.

  My head bounced hard off the floor, sending a cry slipping from my lips as I threw punch after punch at the shifter’s head. Up from the ground, the earth shaped to my swings, badgering the animal with hit after solid hit that couldn’t be denied. They’d hurt him, fatigued him as he pulled back, but not before a single swipe of his hefty paw left me crying out in pain.

  His claws had raked across the thick bandages, digging up stitches and flesh and freeing me of what work had been done to shield my wound from infection. It was enough to have tears dotting my eyes and leaving me writhing, but then the beast threw insult to injury and made it all worse. Across the ground at my side he swiped, sending a spray of the same dust I’d used against him into my very open wound.

  I lay on the ground, wailing like a child in desperation. Never, in all my years of fighting had I experienced such tortuous pain that sifted like a burning flame deeper into my torn flesh.

  I had to change strategies. He’d seen me fight the day before. He had to. How else how would he have known to so expertly attack my one massive weak spot? Forcing myself to ignore the pain, I dragged myself back to my feet, knowing what I had to do.

  He charged, the moment suspended for me in slow motion as I fell back toward the floor, palms outstretched. I saw the look of glee in his eyes as he expected a mere attack of rock and stone, but that wouldn’t be what assaulted him. No, but I needed him to come in close.

  I held my power back, all my strength waiting behind a wall until the moment was right.

  He seemed to hover, just above me for a moment in time as I kicked myself off and rather than hit the floor, swung straight for him.

  We hit one another, simultaneously, my torso taking the brunt of his power in a massive blow that had blood coming up in heaving coughs. He hadn’t seen it coming, though; the thrust of my mundane punch connected with a blast of heated flames. The fur on the beast’s neck and upper shoulders ignited in a wash of fire his cries couldn’t extinguish. He thrashed on the floor as the scent of burnt hair and cooking flesh assaulted my nostrils.

  I shoved myself to my feet, the scoop of rocks already in my hands forming into a hit he could never
sustain. High overhead, I lifted the heavy, shaped stone and aimed for his head.

  He had shifted, his anguish too much to bear as he turned back into the wiry man not belonging in a fighting ring. Fear filled his widened eyes as he saw the stone come down for him, and nothing but silence remained as it cracked so fiercely against his skull he never took a breath again.

  9

  Cheers erupted all around me, sickening me to the core and leaving me grateful that maybe I could keep my promise now to Mia. I may have saved a life, Cassia’s life, but I had to end one to do it. They carted off the shifter’s body, leaving the ring caked in our blood.

  The fights would go on.

  “Ayn! Ayn, my doll.” Never had I seen Emery look so happy before in all of our tumultuous relationship. Into my hand, the one on my good arm, he thrust a wad of cash thick enough to take care of me for a while. “You’re moving up, kid. Take a week off. You’re going to need it. And, get yourself a good healer while you’re at it.”

  I grimaced a smile and happily let him tie a makeshift bandage around my arm. Every tug of the fabric burned and sealed the dirt inside. However, it did slow the bleeding, at least enough to prevent me from dying by the wound alone.

  “Now, where’s that asshole?” I asked.

  “The warlock?” Emery snorted rather smugly. “Right over there.”

  I followed the line of his jabbed thumb and hobbled past plenty who offered congratulations and patted my shoulder, causing me additional pain. I saw the angered twitch of Mithran’s lips as he saw me approach.

  “Happy with yourself, little fighter?” he teased, sarcastically.

  “For saving Cassia from your grubby little hands?” I happily took her arm and pulled her toward me. “Yes.”

  I wasn’t smug often, but in that moment, I gave him a look so full of it I made the warlock scoff.

  “You may have won this time, Ayn, but it won’t be so easy next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time, asshole.”

  “Oh.” His lips curled back into their usually wry pull. “I swear to you that one day I will own your soul, my raven-haired friend. You would look so very striking at my side . . .” His voice dropped to a purr. “And in my bed.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Never.”

  I needed to get Cassia as far away from him as possible. I turned and pulled her beside me.

  “Never say never.” Mithran warned. “One never knows what the future brings.”

  Even I’ll admit, I had no courage in that moment. I ran from those sewers, yanking the silent Cassia along at my side without rest until we’d reached Mia’s front door. Gasping for breath and aching along every inch of my body, I slammed my fist against her door over and over again. Finally, she opened the door and with a gasp of shock, ushered us inside.

  “Cassia?” Mia barely contained herself as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Is that really you?” Into a tight embrace she pulled her, but the affection was not returned.

  Cassia looked entirely lost, like a mere dinghy adrift in a tempest sea. She said not a word as Mia stepped back, careful to hide her look of discouragement as she turned her attentions on me.

  “In the kitchen, now. Where I can more easily clean up your messes.” She sighed heavily and forced Cassia to follow us along.

  When I’d last come to Mia’s, I’d been in pain, but it was nothing compared to the depth in which she had to clean and work on my arm this time. The only thing that pushed me through was the sight of Cassia, standing there in the flesh.

  “Cassia,” I murmured, hesitant to scare her or jolt her in any way. “We’re going to get through this, okay?”

  She nodded and looked away, her attention trained on the floor farthest from me. Her avoidance hurt, but I hoped it would just be a part of her healing process. She’d been a victim of that asshole for so long, I worried she wouldn’t remember how to simply be herself.

  “All right, are you ready?” Mia asked, her question already making my muscles tense in anticipation.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I clearly wasn’t when she set in and screams tore from my lips. Through much of the night, the three of us remained in Mia’s apartment as she worked on my arm, checked the rest of me out thoroughly for internal damages, and inspected Cassia for anything nefarious.

  The bit of hope I saw in Mia’s eyes as Cassia and I left for my place was enough to keep me going.

  10

  It was difficult getting Cassia down the street and up my front steps. She acted hollow and empty, and the strength of her body was no exception. The moment we made it inside we both collapsed on the couch, slaves to our fatigue. Sleep came quickly, claiming the both of us until well into the morning after the sun had already come up.

  Disoriented by my position in the living room and not upstairs in my dark and cramped bed, confusion swarmed me when I first awoke. The moment I saw Cassia slumbering peacefully at my side, I smiled. I may never have been a perfect person, or even a good one, but finally I felt like I’d done something worthwhile.

  It didn’t take her long to stir, and I was there offering a warm smile when she did.

  “Morning,” I said.

  “Morning.” She seemed antsy already, her eyes darting about the now unfamiliar space as if she searched for her next hit. She looked like a drug addict.

  “Do you . . . want me to call your family? Let them know you’re okay?”

  She shook her head. “No, no, not yet. I’m not ready.”

  Her fingernails dug into her palms and she gnawed on her bottom lip like a rabid wolf. Everything about her demeanor screamed that she was on the verge of a panic attack.

  “Okay. I won’t push you.”

  “I just can’t . . .” Sobs permeated her words. “I can’t let them see me like this.”

  “I know.” I edged a bit closer, cautiously, as I took her hand and held it. It brought back a flood of memories, of times we’d shared clinging to one another at densely crowded concerts and consoling one another when we were kids, thinking we’d experienced the worst of heartaches.

  “I know,” I repeated once more. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. Whatever you need.”

  Her sobs only heightened as tears streamed down her face. “I don’t know how I’ll get through this, Ayn. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

  The admission was enough to shatter my heart, and I clung tightly to her hand. I had never been the best with words, or the best one to offer consolation. No, that badge of honor had always been worn by Cassia, and now our roles had swapped.

  I hesitated, my lips parting several times as I faltered for the right words. “Maybe that means this time around you get to be whoever you want to be. You get to reinvent yourself, Cassia. Maybe . . . maybe take that as your silver lining.”

  She squeezed my hand, the simple acknowledgement making my heart soar, although she was weak. Mia had explained the warlock’s magic had kept Cassia afloat in an abyss of solitude. She’d lost much of herself, and now all of her strength without the magic to fuel her along.

  Out of my grip she slipped, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet. “I want to step outside for some fresh air.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I offered, but the moment I stood she turned a gentle smile toward me.

  “Could I have a moment alone?”

  “Yeah . . . sure.” I could offer her at least that much, as I imagined she hadn’t had a moment to bask in the sun and her own thoughts since the night she disappeared.

  Out the door she traipsed, leaving me in the silence of my living room. I’d once had an old-fashioned clock on the wall but had torn it down when the incessant ticking had driven me mad. Now I wondered where life could possibly go from here. I wished I had it back. It would have filled the void that left my thoughts running wild.

  Through the veil of my shoddy curtains I saw a figure move, and immediately I ran for the door.

  “Cassia!” I ran down the vacant fr
ont steps as my heart hammered in my chest. She charged down the street with what little strength she had left, back toward the dirty sewers.

  Every muscle in my body ached as I raced after her, the jolting motions precisely what Mia had told me to avoid. I didn’t care, though, not when Cassia needed me so badly. I caught up to her in no time, her hurt and fatigue worse than my own. Giving her no choice in the matter I threw my arms around her and pulled her into an embrace so tight she couldn’t escape.

  “No!” she screamed. “I have to go back. I can’t live without him.”

  “It’s not him, Cassia. It’s the damn magic. You can do this. We’re going to get through this.”

  She shoved at my hands, but I held onto her, my arms wrapped around her in a death-grip. Desperation laced with fear swarmed my chest. I couldn’t let her go. This moment, right here, was vital to the future. To my future.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice dropping with every iteration, “I can’t. I can’t.”

  “Yes. Yes, you can, Cassia. With me and Mia and your family at your back. We’re going to help you through this.”

  “You don’t understand, Ayn. You can’t understand.”

  She was right. I didn’t understand.

  I didn’t have any easy answers or ideas to save Cassia. Together we cried, tears running down our cheeks as she finally relented and hugged me back with a ferocity I hadn’t expected from her fatigued form.

  “I’m so sorry.” She shuddered through sobs.

  “Don’t be,” I murmured. “It’ll all be okay, Cass. It will.”

  She continued to cling to me and cry upon my shoulder. Finally, her red-laced eyes turned up to me like a child to a mother. “Do you promise?”