“What the hell?” Wraith asked, “What are you talking about?”
“She’s a vamp,” one of the werewolves said, “But she beat your ass twice. Means we need a new alpha. Until we pick one, we’ll work for her.”
Until we pick one would have to do.
“That’s it then,” Murdock said. “Now you two better get out of here.”
Pixi nodded. Lionel came up beside her, and she started to walk out of the bar.
“If you think I’m just going to let this happen,” Wraith started to say, but Murdock grabbed him by the shoulders and sat him down on a stool.
Pixi didn’t look back. Instead she walked, with Lionel by her side, and didn’t stop walking until they reached the porch. She realized then she’d kept the keys to Wraith’s car. Before leaving, she dumped the keys on the floor and made her way across the street and back toward the Heights—toward home.
“That was stupid, what you did back there,” Pixi said to Lionel.
“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Lionel said.
“You really think funding them is a good idea?”
“It’ll keep them on good terms with us, won’t it? I don’t see how it couldn’t be a good idea.”
Pixi shook her head. “Werewolves are volatile. You don’t know how they’re gonna swing from one night to the next.”
“No, but if I can keep them placated for a while with a gesture of goodwill, it can’t hurt our cause.”
“I didn’t think we had a cause.”
“I guess we do now, don’t we? Fix the Heights.”
“You really think you can fix this place?”
“Not on my own. Luckily I now have you firmly on my team.”
“I’ll be on your team. But you have to do something for me first.”
“Oh?”
“There’s a homeless shelter in the Heights. It closed down a couple of days ago. I want you to subsidize it. Permanently.”
Lionel thought about it. “And what do I get?”
“Besides feeling like a decent person? A gift from me… back at my shop.”
“A gift?” he asked, his voice suddenly turning low and suggestive. “I’d like a gift from you. But why at your shop?”
“Because werewolves get scars when they fight. We don’t scar, so we get tattoos.”
The End
Dive back into Ashwood with “Dark Siren” – book 1 in the bestselling “Half-Lich” series, available right here.
http://hyperurl.co/darksiren
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About the Author
Katerina Martinez is the pen name of an up and coming author duo who write supernatural fiction with a creepy, thrilling, and romantic bent. Though they have been writing for a couple of years, their success recently exploded with the release of “Dark Siren”, the first book in the breakout “Half-Lich” Trilogy which became an instant bestseller in 2016.
She follows the “Half-Lich” series with “Magick Reborn”, book one in the “Blood and Magick” series—a story about a young writer who, in the aftermath of a brutal breakup, moves to a magickal new city in the hopes of rediscovering herself. You can find links to both series below, but be sure to sign up to the author’s mailing list if you want to read more about Pixi Poison and the vampires and werewolves of Ashwood.
Read More from Lee and Katerina:
www.katerinamartinez.com
https://www.amazon.com/Lee-Dignam/e/B01IDWSIPA
https://www.amazon.com/Katerina-Martinez/e/B00MILOVT0
Silencing the Siren
The Paradox Files Book One
J.E. Taylor
JET-Fueled Fiction
Silencing the Siren © February 2017 J.E. Taylor
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All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Silencing the Siren
A protector. A lost soul. A siren looking for salvation.
Kylee Paradox never expected to be a protector of humankind, but when hell’s portals open and let loose the creatures of the underworld, she can’t see any other way.
Armed with an ultimatum, Kylee has no choice but to embrace her new position as bounty hunter of the damned. Sending these monsters back to purgatory becomes her life’s mission.
The only glitches in an otherwise noble pursuit are those who hold her fate in their hands. They forbid her from using her deadly siren song to lure the beasts back to the pit.
If she harms even a single innocent soul in her quest, Kylee herself will become one of the hunted.
Chapter One
The sign over my office door read Kylee Paradox, Paranormal Investigator, but I was really a bounty hunter of unnatural creatures. Honestly, I never expected to be a protector of humankind, but when hell’s portals opened and let loose the creatures from the underworld, I didn’t have a choice.
It was hunt, or be hunted. You can guess which choice I made.
Unfortunately, the perils of being a siren royally screwed up that plan. You see, if I employed my voice to snare these monsters—which, for the record, would be by far the easiest way to send them back to hell—it would drive any nearby humans beyond the edge of reason.
I was told there was no acceptable amount of collateral damage, especially if I was ever going to achieve my own salvation. So, I had to curtail my greatest weapon, and fall back on the warrior skills I had honed over the millennia.
I was kind of a badass.
This era was possibly the easiest to navigate compared to some of the umpteen centuries I’d walked the earth. It was so much easier to blend in and go unnoticed these days. But then again, everyone was preoccupied with their damn electronics. Unfortunately, I had fallen victim to the same technology pitfalls.
My computer buzzed, and I swiveled the chair around, dismissing the view of the Pacific for my oversized cherry desk. I glanced at the instructions that flashed on the screen, clenching my teeth in response.
I hated Fate. She was a bitch of epic proportion, and this latest order wasn’t welcomed in the least. I hadn’t been home in nearly a millennium for a reason. Now, she wanted me to go back and hunt one of my own. A siren had taken hold of the waters south of Crete and was making everyone within range of its voice go on murderous rampages. The latest nautical victim was big enough to make international news. A cruise ship had been exposed to the siren’s song, and everyone on board was slaughtered.
I wondered if I knew the monster luring those poor souls to their death. As if Fate heard my musings, a name flashed on the screen. My stomach dropped as I stared at the display.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I said.
A swirl of smoke bloomed in the middle of the room. As it dissipated, the blonde bitch stood glaring at me from the center of the damned cloud. Standing in her signature ruby dress that flowed as if she also commanded the wind, Fate crossed her arms, looking down her aristocratic nose at me.
“I do not kid,” she said. Her voice was about as icy as the Alaskan tundra.
&n
bsp; “You really expect me to take down my brother?” I said, pointing at the screen.
A truly evil smile flashed, and I just wanted to smash that beautiful face in. She leaned on the desk, narrowing her eyes. “You will do as I order,” she snarled.
“And if I refuse?” I crossed my arms. Two could play the snark game.
“I will personally escort you to your dungeon in hell.” Her lips twitched from a thin line of anger to that of amusement. I never doubted this bitch enjoyed watching me squirm. “I know the devil has plans for punishing you for your insubordination. After all, weren’t you once his prize possession?”
Against my will, I shivered and a rash of gooseflesh crossed every inch of exposed skin. The devil had kept me as his personal pet, his personal whore. When I didn’t comply with his wishes, he kept me away from any form of water just for the giggles my suffering brought him. When I was nearly gone, he abused me and then threw me into a fish tank in his bedroom until I revived and bore aquatic demons for his amusement.
I couldn’t imagine what the punishment for escaping his hellhole would be. I was sure it was far worse than my original stay in his dungeon. But was killing my own flesh and blood worth avoiding an eternity at the devil’s hands?
“Would you kill your brother?” I asked, stalling, but the tilt of Fate’s head as she studied me left me cold.
“What do you think?”
I thought she’d eat her own children, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud. The choice tore at my insides but I finally gave a nod. I had what was necessary to kill a siren. Neptune’s trident was stored in one of my many hidden safes in my home on the San Diego shoreline. But the thought of sticking those spikes through my kin didn’t sit well.
Maybe I could talk him out of continuing this insane plight. Convince him to hide, to lay low for a while, and maybe Fate would lose interest in bringing him in. I helped him escape when I had fled from hell, and made him promise to keep under the radar.
He had kept that promise... until now.
Chapter Two
I crossed the threshold into my sanctuary. My shoreline home faced due west over the Pacific. This property had been mine for nearly a hundred years, and the house that stood now was more modern art deco than the turn of the century mansion that I’d once built. It had been destroyed by one of those cleansing fires that sometimes overtakes the California landscape.
The sunset tonight did not elevate my spirits. In fact, it did just the opposite. It made me yearn for the shores of Greece and the sight of broken wood planks drifting alongside blood, staining the pristine blue waters. I shut my eyes against the memories, as well as the molasses-colored Pacific.
Trudging up the stairs, I crossed the long hallway that opened to the living room below and stopped in front of the farthest bedroom door. I pressed my finger to the center of the doorknob and waited for the fingerprint to register. A panel slid open, and I stepped in front of it, allowing a scan of my eyes as well as the rest of my face.
The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open. The bedroom looked like any other middle-class bedroom. A four-poster bed rested against the far wall, along with a pair of nightstands. At the foot of the bed sat a large trunk extending the full width of the mattress. Along the wall to the right hung a picture window that had a built-in bench and shelving on either side, stocked with books and various knickknacks. The left wall behind the door had a long dresser that extended almost the full length of the room.
While everything looked like a normal bedroom, every piece hid some precious antique weapon, and only my prints, along with a surefire code, could open the treasure chests.
I stepped in front of the dresser and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. As forms go, the one I was cursed with turned heads no matter what I put over it. The less I covered, the more leers I got. My honey-colored hair fell in long loose curls, and I got questions about it at least once a week. I always got a cross expression when I said it was natural, like I’d somehow cheated the questioner out of some coveted hair secret. My eyes were the color of the Mediterranean Sea. I avoided mirrors just because one glance in my eyes triggered the sheer reminder of everything I left behind.
Fate transplanted me here in Southern California the moment I signed the paperwork. Of course, way back then, this was wild country. It wasn’t known as the United States then. It was a tribal community of Aztecs and Indians, and I was a strange fit with my alabaster skin, blonde hair, and strange eyes. I think Fate did it on purpose. She wanted to see if I could withstand the scrutiny. I think she secretly hoped I’d fail and she could bring me back to the hell I escaped.
She certainly didn’t expect them to worship me. I became known as Teo, goddess of sun and light, and that pissed Fate off. It was possibly the happiest time of my existence, and for a while, I forgot I was a fugitive from hell. It also gave me an appreciation of how special humans were. Their capacity to love and cherish exceeded my expectations, and it was then that I realized I wasn’t put on this earth to destroy—I was destined to protect. It wasn’t until a plague wiped out the natives that I truly understood just how fragile human life was.
I shook the thought out of my head and refocused, laying my hands on the fine cherry, pushing down on the wood grains. Warmth spread from my palms to my fingertips and back, then the lock clicked. I pulled my hands away and tipped the top of the cabinet to reveal an array of weapons. In the center sat the ornate trident, and I wrapped my hand around the cool metal. I lifted the heavy spear, careful not to let the tips touch me. While Poseidon’s trident wouldn’t kill me unless it pierced my heart, the tips of the fork would burn if they hit my skin while the weapon was in full form.
I closed the top of the bureau and laid the trident on the wood. Closing my eyes, I recited an old spell while splaying my fingers over the handle. “Neptunus maris deus, fac mihi cessuros trident.”
Light bled through my eyelids, encompassing the space in front of me like a bright ball of fire. When it faded, I opened my eyes and picked up the small charm-sized trident, clasping it onto my charm bracelet with some of my other deadly weapons. Since the advent of air travel, I’ve had to hide my weapons in plain sight. I just hoped they would allow this on the plane. Since the terror attacks in 2001, air travel had been more difficult to navigate with any sort of weapon. I only had one close call with my bracelet, but I got out of it by gushing over the trinkets and the exotic places where I retrieved the charms. Luckily, I only had to throw away one of the charms, and luckily it was only a charm and not one of my true weapons.
Without lingering, I turned and walked out, re-engaging the security system as I shut the door behind me. I stalled in my bedroom doorway. Normally, I was packed and ready to go on a hunting trip before the sun dipped below the horizon, but this time was different. I really didn’t want to go.
I hadn’t seen my brother since the last time I was in the Mediterranean, and that was right around the fall of the Roman Empire. Our goodbye had been bittersweet, and now the memory of that final hug we shared tugged at my heartstrings.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered.
Pictures fluttered from nowhere, littering the floor of my bedroom with death and destruction. I scanned the massacre, and when my gaze fell on a dead child, I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. Fate’s message slammed home.
My brother was responsible for all this.
I stepped over the discarded photos and grabbed my suitcase from the closet. When I turned, all the photographs but the one that got me moving disappeared.
I stared at the terror frozen in the child’s wide, dead eyes, the scream forever cast into her skin. I picked up the gruesome picture and sighed. My chest hurt with the weight of it. Children, while enamored with the siren song, were not affected the way adults were. This poor soul had not understood why she was being beaten to death; she only knew mind-numbing horror in those last moments, and that fear was showcased in her death.
This was what my brother did
.
This was what I had to stop from happening again.
I put the photo into my suitcase for a reminder, because I knew I would need it when the time came to go into action. Otherwise, I might fall prey to the hurt in my heart or the screams in my head telling me this was as wrong as it got. My brain went into automatic, and I grabbed a handful of underwear, not bothering to count out the number. The same went for shorts and tank tops. I didn’t even match up outfits like I usually did when I packed for a trip. There was no rhyme or reason in my packing. The only thing I made a mental note of were the two bathing suits I put in as almost an afterthought.
With a mishmash of clothes thrown into the suitcase, I zipped it up without a second look. I really didn’t care if I had everything I needed. I slung the strap over my shoulder and grabbed my passport and travel purse on my way out of the bedroom.
After dropping the bag at the entrance to my kitchen, I put my pocketbook on the table and continued to the refrigerator. Nothing looked good. In fact, my appetite had all but fled since I received Fate’s directive. But I also knew a twenty-plus hour plane ride would leave me famished if I didn’t force food down my throat.
Instead of looking in the refrigerator again, I crossed to the pantry and pulled out a box of toasted oats cereal and a bowl. I settled at the counter with the milk and cereal within arm’s reach and opened my laptop. Scanning the prices for last minute flights, my best option was twenty-one hours for three grand. That wasn’t bad considering the other flights on the list were pricier and added anywhere from four to eighteen hours to the trip. I wanted to get in and get out as quickly as possible, so I gave myself a week to do the job.
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 77