Dancing with the Devil (Wild Beasts Series)

by Birmingham, T.

  Dancing with the Devil

  T. Birmingham

  Dancing with the Devil Copyright © 2017 by T. Birmingham

  First Edition: 5 April 2017

  Wild Beasts Series Copyright © 2016 by T. Birmingham http://www.tbirmingham.com

  Original Cover Design by Wicked Women Designs

  Proofread by Cat’s Eye Proofing

  Paperback and Electronic Book versions formatted by Irish Ink

  Editing by Underline This Editing

  Contents

  Glossary of Terms

  Do not go gentle into that good night

  1. Keys to the Kingdom

  2. Numb

  3. Castle of Glass

  4. Wake

  5. My December

  6. No Roads Left

  7. The Little Things You Give Away

  8. Lost in the Echo

  9. Roads Untraveled

  10. Somewhere I Belong

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Glossary of Terms

  Clans: Said to have been created by the gods and goddesses to defeat the Others. Five Clans including the Skröm, the Vuković, the Luna, the Taryn, and the Azima.

  Dormant: An individual with the ‘dormant’ DNA of a Clan member, either because a family of Clan members chose long ago to not change during puberty or because the individual is a Hybrid.

  Hybrid: A Clan member born from the parents of two different Clans. Considered unclean to some.

  Skröm: A Clan that, thousands of years ago, is said to have once had orange eyes. Their eyes bled to red when they started feeding on the blood of humans, and Clan see this as evil. And so, although still Clan, they are treated as Other. Their red eyes, red hair, frail looks, unnatural strength, ability to tether and ground but not to use light energy, and a hypnotic voice, set them apart from the other Clans as well.

  Luna: A Light Clan that has the ability to shift into, and take on, the characteristics of their animal. They can only turn into one animal, and when they turn, their body mass does not change. The animal each member chooses always has a strong significance for the Luna. Almost like a Spirit animal.

  Taryn: A Light Clan that has the ability to ground and tether. In this case, they are also able to push light energy out and defeat the Shadows as well as use their light as a cleansing power when fighting the Others and the Skröm. The Taryn Clan only produce offspring once, and they are always mirror twins. These twins have a strong connection and are able to connect to each other’s minds without grounding and tethering; however, grounding and tethering greatly increase their connection to one another.

  Azima: A Light Clan that uses the five elements of power: Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. This Clan believes themselves to be separate from the other four. They believe their leaders are chosen by the gods, and their Council seats are not inherited.

  Vuković: A Light Clan that transforms into wolves. Powerful and large, these are the strongest of all the Clans. This Clan can also sense Dormants, Clan members, and the powers of other creatures – not just by scent, but an innate gift.

  Others: Dark creatures that are not Clan. Said to have been created by the Darkness and not the gods and goddesses. This group includes banshees, mermaids, dragons, the Fae, and many other creatures of legend.

  Council: Formed by the gods, the counsel oversees all facets of Clan life, but only intervenes when death has occurred or the law that Clan is not allowed to harm Clan is broken. They are the mediators. They also have extra gifts as Councilors.

  Councilors: Five Clans each have one seat. All but the Azima inherit their seat and the power that comes with that seat.

  The Veil: The plane of existence for a multitude of creatures, mostly the Lao, the Shadows, the Shades, and others ghostly forms.

  Afterworld: A plane of existence where the Light go after death.

  Underworld: A plane of existence where the Dark go after death.

  change: The initiation of the Clan DNA. When a Dormant or a born Clan member become full Clan. Usually takes place during adolescence, but can occur later on in life for Dormants and Hybrids.

  tether: The process of connecting to another Clan member mentally. Fated mates, the Skröm, the Taryn, and some Hybrids can do this.

  ground: The process of connecting to the Earth to draw power. This is also a stabilizing action. The Skröm, the Taryn, the Azima, and some Hybrids can do this.

  transform: Also referred to as shifting, this is when the Luna, the Vuković, or Others turn into their animal or creature and shed their traditional human form.

  shift: see transform

  light energy: Once power has been gathered from grounding and tethering, the gifted Clan member can push this at the evil. Shadows are obliterated entirely by the power; however, those who have Darkness in them are also hindered by the light energy.

  cleanse: The process of cleaning an area of evil. When the light energy has removed the Shadows or the taint of evil.

  fated mates: These mates are chosen by the gods and goddesses. Thought to be very rare. Special gifts and connections result from these pairings.

  bonded mates: Any mating pair, whether fated or not, that has bonded their souls together.

  Dedication

  For my cousin, Jess. You didn’t survive this world for long, little one, but your memory lives on in so many. Here’s to knowing that you’re living it up in the heavens, watching over the insanity down below and praising all of the good that happens in the shadows of the bad.

  Also to my Wanderlust Team. You have challenged me and trusted me and stood by me. Thank you for your faith and your honor and your courage. Let’s follow our hearts and lead on where our compass points.

  Do not go gentle into that good night

  By Dylan Thomas

  Do not go gentle into that good night,

  Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

  Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

  Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

  Because their words had forked no lightning they

  Do not go gentle into that good night.

  Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

  Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

  Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

  Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

  And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,

  Do not go gentle into that good night.

  Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

  Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

  Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

  And you, my father, there on the sad height,

  Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

  Do not go gentle into that good night.

  Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

  One

  Keys to the Kingdom

  Gemini Harrington was a hot fucking mess.

  Another man.

  Another break up.

  Only this time, the breakup had driven her here, to this boarded up travel agency in the middle of nowhere New York, a canvas bag strapped to her back.

  “So, this is where the fates have led me, huh, bitches?”

  She smiled slightly at the outburst and looked at her reflection in the boarded up window and huffed out a breath, her smile dipping from her face. Four day old curly hair tied up in a messy bun, bloodshot brown eyes, sallow skin even though it still held the normal light brown shades of her mixed heritage, and a dried nose from the cold she’d recently caught. She pulled a tissue from her bag and blew
her nose, hating that the dryness had caused so many bloody noses on her recent trip. No one liked sitting next to a sick, bloody-nosed woman. She was also scraggly and worn, because her trip from L.A. had been fucking hell on heels awful. Two trains, one plane, and a bus later, with $328.12 to her name, and she was standing in front of the only thing that could save her now.

  Her inheritance.

  A travel agency and the funds that sat in a trust to do what she wanted with the place.

  Not that she’d earned it.

  It was Marilyn Anderson’s death that had given her the rights to the run down storefront. Marilyn, the woman who had saved her, and who also just happened to be the half sister of her late step father, George Harrington. Gem might carry old George’s surname, but she carried little else for the man who had raised her.

  Well, except a smattering of emotional and psychological scars that every psychologist she’d ever been to would have had a field day with…if she’d stayed longer than two sessions. Hell, if she’d stayed longer than a few months in one place.

  Thirty-two.

  She was thirty-two years old, and she was still a wanderer. This fact hadn’t bothered her much before. She’d traveled to places most people only dreamed about.

  Hell, no. Gemini needed the action, the adventure, the movement, the plans, the goddamned anywhere but here goals to keep her sane.

  Always moving.

  Never settling.

  Except, she’d wanted to settle recently.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Her heart squeezed at the thought of Daryl’s broken promises. Walking in on the man you’d kind of, sort of decided to stay with forever banging a woman on your favorite handmade table, was a total buzzkill for the settling down vibe.

  But she’d left everything with him.

  Their joint bank account, which she’d never had with a man.

  Her favorite handmade wood table that had been unnaturally violated.

  Her purple couch. She didn’t care that it was ratty and second hand. She’d loved that fucking purple couch. Which is why she’d left it. They’d probably fucked on that too.

  Her skin crawled at the thought.

  Just went to show that always moving was the best way to go.

  So, why the fuck was she standing in front of this travel agency, which had been left in disarray, considering tying herself down yet again?

  Because Marilyn, for all of her brother’s mistakes, had been good to her. She’d visited the summer Gem was ten and had just gotten home from another hospital visit. Gem had spent a good decade ill and in and out of hospitals, her mother acting like it was her fault. Worse still was that her mother had never once stood by her, even when George used his words like barbed wire, never missing an opportunity to play the, “Well, I paid for that shit,” card.

  But Marilyn’s visit had changed things. Gem had never really had friends or support, but when Marilyn walked into their sprawling too big to live in, too small to breathe in Orange County mansion, she’d taken one look at the ever sick Gem’s face, turned to her parents, and said, “Fuck it!”

  Every summer after, Gem had spent with the Anderson’s. She’d been there when the girls were born, been there as they’d grown up, and had laughed with Margarite over her recent obsession with boys. But she’d missed this past summer because the family who had been her only family was dead.

  Cold in the ground, after being tortured.

  Dead.

  Jesus, but that word just put everything into perspective.

  She’d be lying if she said that their deaths hadn’t made her want to settle more. She’d lost her only family. The only people who’d ever given a shit about her drawn out existence.

  “What are you doing?”

  She jumped at the sound of the masculine voice, and then she jumped again when she saw the man in front of her.

  Tattoos covering him from head to toe, black eyes with hints of gold flecks, dark hair, and a dangerous vibe that Gem liked more than most women.

  Except, she planned on living a little bit longer, so she’d given up dangerous guys, right? Then again, Daryl had been all good ol’ boy, and look where that had gotten her.

  Instead of shying away, she lifted her chin, gave the man a wink that was made way less attractive by her goddamn cold and piss poor looks, and held out her hand.

  “The name’s Gemini Lynn Harrington,” she said. She might hate her stepfather and her mother, but she kind of dug her name. “This is my place-”

  “You shouldn’t share your whole name with strangers,” the man said, finally taking her hand. She felt a buzz from his touch, not unpleasant, just unnatural. Sadly, not at all sexual either. Damn it. “And what the fuck do you mean, ‘this is my place’?” He asked the question casually, but alarms were ringing inside her head and very much unlike her normally free spirit self, she took a step back.

  The man looked towards a bar right down the road, and moved his chin in that direction. “That’s Trappe’s Bar. It’s mine. I’m Garrison Damon Trappe,” he said, running his hand through his dark hair, “but everyone calls me Damon. No one has ever used Garrison, actually.”

  “You shouldn’t share your whole name with strangers,” she replied, cheekily, a little extra sugar in her voice.

  “We’re balanced now.” His face was grim and serious, like the use of her whole name was a terrible faux pas. “My culture,” he said, emphasizing the word culture like that wasn’t the word he truly wanted to use. “Well, they don’t share full names. It’s superstitious, but names have power. Now, you don’t owe me and I don’t owe you.”

  This dude was wack. “Okay, then,” she said, drawing the statement out. “So, we’re going to be business neighbors… Anything I should know?”

  “Like business secrets?” he asked squinting in the sunlight.

  “Sure,” she said, and then, hoping her face didn’t show her thoughts… Or, you know, how to handle weirdos who showed up on her doorstep. All right, the travel agency wasn’t technically her doorstep, but the rule still applied.

  He quirked a smile like he’d guessed at her thoughts, and she shivered at the intense look he threw her way. Predatory. Animalistic. Like the wolves she’d captured on film when she’d been on hiatus in the vast open fields of Chad and the Sudan or the tigers she’d watched prowl through the higher mountains of Bangladesh. She watched his gaze, never dropping her own, daring him to attack, and then his smile grew and he laughed.

  “You live on the edge, Ms. Harrington, don’t you?”

  “It’s Gem,” she said. Ms. Harrington sounded odd. Her name fit as a whole, but she was not her stepfather’s progeny. She had no desire to be.

  “Gem,” he repeated thoughtfully. He took a step forward, getting into her personal space, but she didn’t feel threatened. Had she lost all of her wits when Daryl had ruined her plans? Shit, she wasn’t even sexually attracted to this man, even though he ticked all of her boxes, but here he was, tatted up bad boy bar owner with mystery and sass, and nothing. Not even a spark.

  “The Fates are a bitch,” she said out loud and he smiled.

  “That they are, Gemini Lynn Harrington.” He seemed almost disappointed, like their encounter had raised his hopes and then squashed that unknown. Maybe he was a serial killer and he’d just realized she wasn’t his type. It was something to consider.

  “Damon, what the fuck?” A fiery red head came up behind him, an apron around her waist, kicking up dust as she moved across the dirt parking lot. When she stopped in front of them, though, Gem couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

  “Shit, girl,” Gem said, moving away from Damon and facing the newcomer. “You’ve got the best eyes ever! Contacts?”

  The woman gave her a strange look, moving her gaze from Gem’s head to her toes then back up again.

  “I’m not gay,” Gem said quickly. She’d tried once. The kiss was nice. But no sparks. Kind of like with the beautiful enigma that was Damon still standing incr
edibly close to her.

  The redhead burst out laughing and held out her hand.

  “Alexia,” she said, gripping Gem’s hand tightly, “and the eyes are real.”

  Gem pulled back, giving her hand a shake behind her back. She knew she hadn’t managed to hide the cringing of her face when the woman started apologizing profusely.

  “It’s honestly okay, Alexia.” Gem smiled at her. “The name’s Gemini Ly-” She stopped and looked over at Damon. “Gemini Harrington,” she finished, “but you can call me Gem.” She’d said she was okay, but shit. Gem kept her hand behind her back, as the pain radiated along her nerve endings. What the fuck? Maybe Alexia was like a CrossFit chick or something.

  “Gem here was just telling me that she’s the new owner of the travel agency Marilyn Anderson used to own.” The redhead shot a look her way, and Gem imagined her wolves again. She moved her fingers against the thigh of her jeans, in a movement she liked to call nervous piano keys. These people were one minute comforting, and the next a reminder of her favorite predators.

  “Marilyn was my stepfather’s half sister.” Gem looked back at the travel agency, and her mind started flowing with ideas. Ideas, not for a travel agency, but for a café. “She was like a mother to me,” she added absentmindedly, not looking back at the two who had intruded on her thoughts. The building was a bit run down from the disuse of the last eight months, but the bones of the building were beautiful. She could already see the small storefront with its brick exterior and large, lighter-toned brick patio being brought back to life with cooling greens and blues and the occasional shade of yellow. A pure joy came over her at the thought of the paintings she’d pick up at Marilyn’s storage unit, paintings she’d sent from Spain, Thailand, Malaysia and Germany, paintings she’d expected her almost mother to have forever, but that would instead fall to her.