by D. D. Miers
Orson loved I was a hybrid. He said it made clients feel more comfortable, knowing I was more of an outcast for existing than they were for breaking the law. My Fae-ness was probably the same reason I still had a job. If the witches had something to do with my arrest, or if the Fae did, every action against me would be choosing a side.
“Where to, Mo?” Pen asked as she peeled out of the lot.
“Back to my place for my car. I need to hit the gym, and I’ve got my gym bag in my trunk.”
“Going to beat up a bag and pretend it’s the person who screwed with you?”
“Something like that.” I watched the buildings go by, “Hey Pen, you remember the guy I was talking to last night?”
“Yeah, he said his name was like, Trust or something.”
Well, if his name wasn’t a big ol’ red flag, I wouldn’t know what was. “Lovely. Do you remember what he said he did? Like real estate?”
“Um, broker. He’s a broker.”
That was it, he was a broker of some kind, but it wasn’t real estate or investments. “Pen, if you get bored you’re welcome to do some digging on the broker while I go work off my frustration? Leaving the alpha in my bed feels like a witch trick, but it’s just so…”
“So crude and lacking ritual?”
“Exactly. Aunt Portia would have signed in it a way no one would understand or believe, just to remind me she hates me. This was too impersonal. Too professional.”
“You’d think the police would catch on, but I guess it’s up to us, right?”
I didn’t want to put Orson, Pen, or the guys in the middle of my crap. But if I couldn’t figure out who was screwing with my life, I knew I wouldn’t have any other choice. “That’s exactly what I think is going to have to happen, Penelope, and it pisses me right the fuck off."
Four
As always, Will was waiting for me in the ring when I arrived. “Hurry up and change, and you can tell me all about it while I kick your ass.”
“Sure thing, boss-man,” I answered.
When I first started, his premonitions about me had seemed stalker-level creepy. But one-day I saw his inner office, one wall lined with several LED screens showing live feed from cameras positioned outside the gym from multiple angles.
Underneath the screens was his display shelf, filled with the honors he’d earned as a Marine and then Navy SEAL. If there was anyone I could have hand-picked to train me I couldn’t have done better than the luck I had wandering into his gym one day, looking to learn some self-defense.
“Hey, master of paranoia, got anything for me to beat up today?”
He scoffed and held up his hands, already encased in punch mitts. “Come at me, squirt.”
Initially, I’d thought it supremely unfair I was stuck sparring with a six-foot-four ex-Marine. With some of the bad asses who used Orson’s services, I was glad he’d taught me how to use my size to my advantage. Still, he always reminded me, pound for pound, if I was fighting someone of equal skill, I’d still get my ass handed to me.
So, I made sure there wasn’t anyone around as skilled as me. Will had started with Judo, then moved to karate, then kickboxing, and lately, it was Krav Maga, a martial art form he’d learned while serving next to the Israeli Special Forces.
“You going to tell me why you’re here seven hours late for your morning workout?” He asked as I landed a roundhouse kick, before his leg swept under me, knocking me to the mat.
“You don’t want to know, Will.”
He tugged the mitt off one hand and helped me to my feet. “Yeah, squirt, I think I do. I telegraphed the hell out of that move and you still ended up on your ass.”
I leaned against the turnbuckle in the corner, my arms draped over the top rope. “I woke up with a body in my bed, Will. Not some guy I’d taken home, and no clue as to why he wasn’t breathing when I turned on the light.”
His mouth made a round "O" of surprise and he dropped the mitts and pushed himself up with both hands, so he was sitting on the corner opposite me. Any other day I’d have been thrilled to have shocked the unflappable vet, but "dead body in my bed", was too horrible to joke about.
“Damn lady, who hates you?”
He already knew the answer, of course. Will had his own relationship with the magical world. He was dragonkin, but his own family had been cursed to lose their ability to shift or use magic so many generations before, he didn’t even know what magic felt like growing up.
I glanced at the tattoos on his face and arms as he stared at me. “Hey, you think the warlock you’ve got making you all magical is part of the three covens?”
“Why? You think a lich is interested in a little half-breed like you?” I threw my balled-up tape at him and kicked my gloves out of the ring.
“Well, somebody wanted the alpha dead, ‘cause he is, Will.” I scuffed the mat with the toe of my shoe as I formulated my idea. “What if it wasn’t about me?”
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Not about you, just your bed?” he snorted.
“I’m serious. I mean, you’re right, it is a little coincidental for my taste, but what if making it about me is making it harder to know what happened? You’re the one with the ties to the higher powers, is there anything weird going on with the shifters?"
He dropped down from his perch and wiggled his finger for me to follow him over to the punching bag. “Say you’re right, and you were just a second thought. What kind of scuttlebutt are you looking for?”
“Well, I’ve always steered clear of the shifters because of the issues with them and witches.” I picked up the tape and rewrapped my hands. I kicked off my shoes and wrapped my feet and ankles. Without shoes hurt more, but it toughened my feet up, and I needed every advantage in a fight.
He nodded and leaned into the bag, waiting for me to strike. “I’d stick with that for a bit. Especially considering the alpha and his mate split up about a month ago.”
“Shit.”
“You could say that. I mean, they’re separated, divorce almost finalized, he’s been making the rounds.”
“Am I going to have to start watching out for a werewolf to attack me from behind?”
He laughed and braced as I spun, kicking the bag as hard as I could. “Probably. Not just wolves, though. Gideon Masters was a werebear, as is his widow.”
“That’s right. I remember reading an article about shifters in the Bay Area and how diverse it is here.” I folded my arms and stared at him until he stopped holding the bag and stood in front of me, his hands folded behind his back.
“What do you want?”
“I like your new tattoo.” He glanced at his shoulder, where the fresh ink still glowed softly. I’d learned the ink would go dark, and only glow when he used the power, but for a few days, each new magical symbol would glow blue against his tan skin.
“And?”
“Well, It means you’re still connected to the three covens, as of at least yesterday. Has there been any talk about what happened to me?” I was curious about all his tattoos, what power he gained from them, what each had cost him, but lich magic was dangerous, and flat out asking was at best, rude, and at worst, could get him killed by the warlock he was indebted to. Besides, our rule was we both had secrets, and neither of us asked what those were. His shoulders dropped, and he shook his head. “No, squirt, they’ve actually been really quiet lately.” He gripped my shoulder in one big hand. “But if the elders had held a meeting on how to ruin your life, you know I’d have told you.”
“Yeah, I know. I was just thinking maybe they had a fresh beef with the shifters.”
“Not this week,” he said, “but just you wait. That kind of quiet doesn’t stick around for long.”
Something moved behind me, catching his eye, and Will nodded at the newcomer. “Yeah, just go up to my office, I’ll be there in a second.” I glanced behind me, but the evening crowd was trickling in, guys with shift jobs that ended in the afternoon, college kids trying to get in a workout before hitt
ing the bars, all the regulars.
“Thanks for giving me some one-on-one, Will,” I said as a guy I hadn’t seen before looked me over and licked his lips. “I think I’ll take care of my itch while you go take a meeting.” Will glanced at the guy and shook his head.
“Don’t kill him, he’s a got a promoter who thinks he’s got ‘Ali’ potential.”
“Gee, Will, I don’t think I’ve ever had the itch to murder someone before, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” My lips curled up in my sweetest, "I’m just a cute little girl" smile and I tipped my head to one side. “Since this guy,” I gestured to Will, “has to take a meeting, would you spar with me?”
He grinned and popped his chest out. “Sure thing, baby. I can train you.” I turned so blondie couldn’t see my face and rolled my eyes at Will before he walked off, laughing like he’d just heard the funniest thing ever.
“I’m pretty tough, man,” I warned him, fully aware he didn’t believe me. “I have some Fae in me, so I’m stronger than I look.”
“You’re gonna have something in you, all right,” he said, flexing as he led the way to the closest empty practice ring.
I had to jog to catch up to him, but I’d been shorter than most the people in my life, so it didn’t bug me nearly as much as he probably intended. I caught him by the arm and forced him to look at me.
“We’ll spar because if I walk away now, you’ll try to tell everyone here I was afraid to fight you. But I’m not your baby, I think you’re an idiot, and there is no power on earth to force me to let you near me, so keep your lame-ass lines to yourself, Bud.”
Then he pouted…pouted at me and huffed. “My name’s Dirk. You don’t have to be a bitch.”
“Actually, guys like you are exactly why I’m a bitch, and your mother’s unfortunate taste in names isn’t going to make me go easy on you. Get in the ring…Dirk, let’s do this.” It was overkill, and I knew it. But I was all out of patience and a sense of humor, and almost out of time to hide from what had happened to me.
He feinted, still unsure of what to do with a small opponent with breasts, and I danced back and spun out, sweeping his leg the way Will had done to me. I pulled back at the last second, so he didn’t get the full force of the kick and he stayed on his feet. But the leg I swept bent, and I stepped up on it, delivering a knee to his face as his hands spread out to help him regain his balance.
I jumped back and bounced on the balls of my feet, shifting my weight, but holding my gravity at center. Pissed now, he dove at me, both fists swinging. I ducked his left and rolled off his right to limit the damage done by the blow, then bent my knees and drove my fist into his thigh, just missing his groin. It was a courtesy and a warning at the same time, and he got the picture, dancing back.
He stomped, aiming for my foot and a danced back, only to have my feet suddenly stop working. I fell on my ass, looking up at him as he sneered down at me. “Do you really want to bring magic into this?” I asked, rolling back and pushing myself up onto my feet with a handspring.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirked, and I rolled again, catching sight of a thin blue scrawl under his tank top before he spun around to face me.
“Asshole, I’m giving you one last chance.” I hissed, barely aware of the crowd which had gathered around us. “Play it clean, or I get to use magic too. You do not want to fuck with that kind of shit in Will’s place.”
“Sounds like you don’t know Will all that well, after all,” he growled, feinting left then coming in so hard from the right I flew across the ring.
It took less than a thought to grow the ivy which caught me and tangled him when he tried to rush me. The vines wrapped around his waist and limbs, lifting him and constricting at the same time. “Just because he hooked you up with some power, doesn’t mean you get to abuse it in his gym, dick.”
“Morgan, what the hell?” Will’s voice floated down from the balcony outside his office before he leaped to the floor.
“This asshole used magic in the ring, Will. I gave him a warning, and he did it again. He was really trying to take me out, weren’t you, Dirky?” Like flexing a muscle, I cut off the flow of Fae magic to the vines and my opponent fell to the mat.
“Did anyone see this?” Will asked, and I bristled. In the hundreds of hours we’d spent together, he’d never doubted my word before. For a long moment, no one spoke, and he leveled a scowl at me. “Damnit, kid. You can’t afford to be screwing up like this,” he hissed as I gaped at him.
Gopher stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder before I could unleash my hurt on his boss. “Yeah man, ‘lil bit was doing her thang, same as always, and suddenly there were lights under his shirt and she went flying.” Gopher was Will’s boxing promoter and kept the books. I’d always assumed he cooked them for his boss, but for the moment, he could’ve been selling his soul to the shadow man piece by piece and I wouldn’t have cared.
As soon as Gopher spoke up, several others voiced their agreement. “Man, Morgan didn’t even break his dick when she could’ve,” one kid said. Of course, possible genital Injury was the move the teen boys respected. I bit my lip to stifle the smile threatening to bloom at his aghast tone.
“Then you know the rules.” He turned and walked away as Dirk’s face went so pale, I thought he’d fall over.
“Wait,” I blurted, my heart racing as fast as it had the second after I had awakened to the nightmare of my day. “I don’t think I know the rules. What are we talking about?”
“Don’t you worry, Miss Mo,” Gopher reassured me as he patted my shoulder. “This is human business and doesn’t concern you.”
“And yet, I find myself very, very concerned.” Several guys had taken hold of Dirk, sigils lighting up on their arms or glowing faintly through their clothes. “Whoa. No dice, guys. I don’t like the way this feels, and it isn’t going to happen unless you make me feel a hell of a lot better about it.”
Will stopped on the stairs and glared down at me. “There are rules for engagement, you know that. If you don’t let us take care of it, you get to be responsible for him, because we don’t allow misuse of magic in here. It’s too dangerous to make exceptions to the rules.”
“Will, you know I respect you. I just want to know what kind of consequence we’re talking about.” He shook his head and disappeared into his office, leaving Dirk and I surrounded by fighters ranging from pissed off to eager. It was those faces worrying me the most, the kind of expression I would’ve expected to see on rabid, hateful humans as they hanged or burned my kind just a couple hundred years before.
Aunt Portia called it a public execution high, and her level of revulsion for it made me hate her a little less because it had always reminded me she still held a piece of her soul, somewhere.
“C’mon, little one. He made a deal, and broke it,” Gopher said quietly. “He has to give it back.”
“Wait, how is it possible,” I gasped. “If someone took my magic, it would kill me.” Gopher didn’t say anything in reply. I glanced at the men and boys surrounding me, wishing even one of the female fighters had been in to provide some back up. “But it doesn’t kill you guys, right?”
“It could,” the kid who had spoken up before was the one to answer. “That’s why they don’t let us make any deals until we’re legally adults.”
“Gopher. No.” I stepped up to Dirk and shoved at the men who held him, to no avail. They clung tight to his arms, and he looked too sick with terror to even stand on his own. “Fuck this, you guys. I said no.” I called my ivy again, but when they wrapped around Dirk they cradled him, instead of squeezing the life out of him. The guys holding his arms had no choice but to let go and fall away from the Fae magic flooding into the gym from the earth beneath it.
I flicked my hand toward the door and the plants grew more, carrying him out and dropping him on the sidewalk outside. “Y’all are lucky there was flora to call under the concrete and I didn’t have to use anything bigger.” The
vines were biggest magic I’d ever tried to call spontaneously, but with the disappointment on some of those faces, I preferred letting them think I had access to all the power of the universe as I turned my back on them.
Five
“Hey, get the hell away from him,” I called out to the curious kids who had started to gather by the time I got outside. The kids scattered, their curiosity no match for the need to avoid authority at all costs. I might be little, but I knew how to sound mean. You’ve got to when your entire client-base is criminals, some of whom are scary as hell by their own rights.
I picked Dirk the jerk up off the sidewalk and glared at him for a minute. Just as I was about to ask him if he was okay, he blurted, “Why’d you stop them?”
“Could you have died?”
He nodded yes and cleared his throat. “Thank you.” Jesus Christ, he knows nothing. He’s letting them tattoo his body and steal his future, but he knows nothing of magic or how to talk to fae and be safe.
“Uh huh.” I thought for a moment, praying Dana revealed a better option than what I was thinking. If I let him go, ignorant and magically juiced, he’d end up dead before he had a chance to figure out the world he’d rationed off his soul to join.
“Okay. Well, sorry for screwing with you, and thanks again.” He turned to leave, and I coaxed a dandelion up from a crack in the concrete, the cool, green life beneath the sidewalk calling to me—like all plants do. It grew taller than anything possible in the world of humans, until the golden blossom towered over him, stopping him in his tracks.
I fed it more of my energy and it slithered up to the height of the lamp post, silently, barely causing the ground to quiver as it split the stone it was growing from. “Hold on there, boxer-boy. You’ve joined the magical realm. Now you have to obey the rules of my people.”
He stood so he could see me and my dandelion creation at the same time, backing toward the building behind him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you thanked me, a clear admission you owe me. Not only that, but you repeated it. I own you, for as long as I see fit.”