by Lucy Auburn
A figure moved inside the stall, and I realized that Fira wasn’t alone. Leon stretched up to his full height, peering out towards the stall door. His blue eyes sent a thrill up and down my spine, Elah’s words echoing in my head.
“Hey there,” he murmured, voice soft and low. “I was just brushing her—not that Elah doesn’t already do that enough. He said if I gain her trust, I might be able to get her used to fighting alongside the beast in battle.”
“Oh.” I scratched the hair between Fira’s ears, and she huffed warm breath at me encouragingly. “I was just coming to check on her. If something had happened to her, I don’t know what Elah would do.”
“They’re pretty close,” Leon agreed. He reached out to push the stall door open, holding Fira’s bridle to keep her from going anywhere. “C’mon in—there’s plenty of room. They build these stalls for things a lot bigger than horses. You can borrow my brush.”
“Thanks.”
I ducked beneath Fira’s shiny black head, sliding in alongside Leon to stand beside her. I kept a hand on her neck the whole time so she’d know I was there and moving, but she didn’t twitch even once, sure and steady. Pulling the stall door shut, I marveled at the strength of her fluid, equine form, Leon’s heat beside me a welcome distraction.
As I took the brush from him and began to move it in small strokes along Fira’s neck, I wondered what I should say about my conversation with Elah. It seemed likely Leon knew at least some of what he’d planned to say to me—the two had a growing friendship now, it was plain to see. I felt like I’d missed so much in my time in the Underworld.
“We don’t have to talk,” Leon said, surprising me. He moved around to Fira’s front, taking a comb with him to run through her mane. “I know you have a lot to think about. And you just got home, plus so much has changed. We can just be here.” His eyes met mine across the curve of the mare’s long neck. “Together.”
“Okay.”
I looked down from his intense blue gaze, moving the brush further down Fira’s side. She made approving little sounds every time I hit a spot on her coat that needed attention, tiny black hairs flying into the air. I tried to ignore the beating of my heart as Leon worked on her mane to my left, the smell of him, hay, and Fira’s hide filling my nostrils. But my mind kept going back to that moment when he pulled the lid off my impromptu hiding place, grabbed me, and kissed me so thoroughly that I saw stars.
Briefly, I worried about Damen, afraid that he might not have been what escaped, or that he did and now was lost or injured. I felt a lump of grief in my throat, and pushed it down by concentrating on the black fur right in front of me, flying up with every stroke of my brush. If Damen was alive, I would find him, even if it meant using the symbol in the book to return to the Underworld and bring him home.
I owed him that much.
With that set in my mind, I let the grief for him go and concentrated on what was in front of me. I’d worked my way down to Fira’s hind leg, while Leon seemed almost done with her mane. He’d kept his promise, not trying to start a conversation, letting a comfortable silence grow between us instead. I was grateful for it; after everything that had happened since my return, I felt overwhelmed.
But with Leon there was no pressure, no attempts at seduction, no presenting of knives or questions about a pending engagement. So when I’d reached the end of the task I’d set before myself, the brush limp in my hands, I turned to him without any heaviness in my heart.
He looked over at me slowly, inquisitiveness in his eyes. “Yes?”
I licked my lips, then set the brush in my hand down on the ledge in the corner of the stall. Reaching out, I took the comb from his fingers and set it down too, ignoring the question in his eyes.
Hands empty, I looked up into his face. “Yes,” I said, feeling it with all the conviction in my chest. “I don’t know where my life is going, but—I know I want you. Let’s do this thing. Let’s see where it can go.”
Voice a deep rumble, Leon asked, “Elah talked to you?”
“He did. And I know what’s on the table, just like you.” I resisted the urge to ask him about their friendship; it seemed to have come out of nowhere. “I want to get to know you, Leon. Not as—not as a cop, or a mentor, or even a friend. As something else.”
“I’m all of the above, Selena,” he said, hand reaching out to squeeze my waist and draw me close to him. “I’m always going to be a detective. I won’t ever stop teaching you how to use your powers, as long as you need that from me. And I plan on being your friend no matter what happens here.”
I grumbled at him, pressing my hips forward until I felt the heat stirring in his groin. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
And he pushed me back against the wall behind us so suddenly that all the breath left my body in a surprised gasp. Bending his head down, he pressed his mouth against mine, tongue pushing between my lips to insistently open me to him. I moaned as his hands on my waist pushed up beneath my shirt to touch my bare skin, the stubble of his mouth rubbing against me as he moved his mouth against mine. I responded to his kiss with desire of my own, tasting the deep well of his extraordinary power, clear and uncomplicated on my tongue. Leon was like a cool drink of water from a fresh spring after a long day.
I felt the wood of the stall press against my head, felt his hand come around to the back of my waist and splay there, strong and smooth. I nibbled insistently at his plump bottom lip. He growled in response, bestial and insistent, and the sound of it went straight through me.
Wanting him, needing him, it was all I could do not to climb up him right then and there. But before I could there was a thump behind me, and the wall vibrated. I broke away from Leon, pushing up from the wall to stare with wide eyes at the face looking down at me from above. Black eyes, shiny silver scales, and reptilian pupils.
Leon coughed in veiled amusement. “I don’t think our neighbor approves of our activities.”
“It’s probably for the best,” I said, pulling my shirt down and reaching back to straighten my hair. “I meant that I want to get to know you, after all, not... you know, it’s just a little—”
“Complicated?” he offered, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and I swallowed at the sight of a thin strip of skin showing between his button-up shirt and the waistband of his blue jeans. “I get it. You’re a succubus fresh out of Hell, I’m a shapeshifting fae cop with a double, and half our friends want to fuck you. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure Fira wouldn’t appreciate it if we had sex right here, right now.”
I coughed at his plainly-spoken words, wondering if this was the version of Leon I was going to see all the time now that we were getting involved. “Something like that, yeah.” I didn’t mention that the estimation of half our friends was probably a little low, given that I knew our social circle mostly encompassed people I’d kissed today and people who were technically my family. “I need to figure a few things out about myself before I get too involved with anyone. And we have a—well, a friendship.”
He reached up to pat down my hair, brushing tangles from it with gentle fingers. “Yes, we have a friendship,” he confirmed with a twitch of his lips. “Also, we’ll have to figure out if your apprenticeship at the precinct can even continue now that you’re technically a college dropout.”
“Right,” I said, thinking of Talia with a stab of guilt. “Maggie and I are probably going to have to figure out what to do about that tonight, when I get home.”
“Well, when you do figure it out, let me know.” His hand dropped away, eyes looking at my lips briefly and back up again. “And just in case it bears repeating, I don’t mind sharing you. In fact, it’s kind of a plus.”
The curious question fell from my mouth before I could stop it. “Why?”
He smirked, heat in his eyes. “Well, with my skills, let’s just say it’s always nice to find a woman who doesn’t mind two men in the bedr
oom at the same time. Even better if she thinks of it as a plus. Leo always hates it when I leave him out of the best parts of my life.”
The heat I felt grow across my skin had to be enough to turn me scarlet. “Right,” I said, voice high-pitched and breathy. “Of course, right. Well...” He coughed into his hand, obviously covering up amusement at my reaction. “I should probably go. Maggie will be coming to pick me up any minute now, and... so many decisions to make.”
“Of course.”
Leon stepped back smoothly, and I slipped past him, patting Fira one more time before I went. As I left, though, all I could think of were his words, and the obvious implication they came with: two Leons, all to myself, whenever I wanted.
Thinking about it was enough to make me burn so bright with lust—and embarrassment—that I was surprised when I got back to my room without catching on fire.
I was closing the door behind me when I felt a distinctive lump against my hip. Frowning, I reached into the pocket of the gym shorts, not sure what I’d find.
When I pulled out Vincent’s amulet I nearly dropped it in shock.
Somehow, the thing followed me back from the Shadow Realm without me even noticing.
20
Tae Min
Everything about this patient worried me.
Pulling my surgical mask onto my face, I pushed through the air-locked doors into the quarantine zone. It was mostly just extra precaution; I’d been exposed to the five sick patients inside more than once before this room was set up, and I was immune. I insisted on wearing the protective suit, goggles, mask, and gloves mostly to set an example for my intern.
This was where the formerly possessed were kept while we tried to get them better. I checked on these patients at least once a day, sometimes twice. Four of them were currently getting better; the fifth, who I worried about the most, seemed to neither get better nor worse. She lived in a strange half-state, spending most of her time asleep. When she woke it was a gamble which version of her we’d get; sometimes she was full of rage and madness, while other times she cried and begged to be taken home to her family.
Those moments of lucidity were the worst for me, because they tested my convictions. We didn’t have any signs that the sickness was contagious, but most of the humans brought here weren’t completely safe to bring home to their families and friends. One of the recent ones, dragged here by the now-deceased Crane, was currently babbling in what sounded like Sumerian while fighting his restraints. I stopped by his bed to dose him with a sedative, watching his red-rimmed eyes as he slipped back into something like peace.
I heard a shouted, garbled voice from the end of the row of beds and knew instantly it was her. Tamping down on my ever-present trepidation, I walked down to the last patient’s bed, which was placed far away from the others. She was restrained, her arms, legs, and ankles held down by thickly padded restraints.
As I neared her bed she quieted, eyes flicking back and forth rapidly as if she looked at things none of us could see. There were heavy bags under her eyes, which were bloodshot and rimmed with reddened skin.
She’d lost more than one tooth grinding her jaw with rage and madness. Her body was thin and frail beneath the gown we’d put her in; the hair on her head had been cut short when it became obvious she’d be staying for a while, and none of us could get close enough to wash her scalp.
“Hello, Melanie,” I said, using the name she’d been given at birth even though she never responded to it. “It’s been almost four months since you were brought to us. Maybe we should have a celebration—with cake, even.”
Though I tried talking to her like she was a person, the only response I got today was a guttural growl and baring of teeth. In a way, that was a relief; I much preferred this version of her to the one that screamed and sobbed for mercy.
A week ago, she’d spoken so coherently, begged for her freedom with such cognizance, that I’d released the restraint on her right arm and given her a glass of water to drink from.
But the brief window of clarity hadn’t lasted, and my arm bore the bite mark to prove it. I wouldn’t be fooled again; this time, if I considered releasing her, it would be only after twenty-four uninterrupted hours of lucidity. I just couldn’t risk anyone else’s safety like I’d foolishly risked mine.
Glancing back to make sure I was alone—Sarah was mostly attending to our non-contagious patients right now—I pushed up my right sleeve to reveal the scar she’d somehow left. Melanie—if she still was Melanie—glanced right at it, something hungry in her feverish gaze.
“I don’t normally scar, you know,” I said, making sure I was standing well away from her limited range of motion. “The fae part of my genetic makeup ensures that. So how did this happen? What did you do to me?”
I didn’t expect an answer; the only one I got was a hiss. With a sigh, I pushed my sleeve back down, the bite mark an ever-present worry in the back of my mind. Then I went over to the cabinets set against the far wall, pulled open a drawer, and got out today’s cocktail of experimental cure.
The drugs I gave the four other patients were a proven boost to the human immune system, toxic to demonic cells and capable of helping the body return to normal. Two of the three patients showed improvement in the redness around the eyes almost immediately; the third stopped muttering ancient languages in her sleep, and the fourth slipped down into a deep, even REM cycle. I hoped to be able to bring at least one of them home this week, maybe even two or three.
I gave Melanie a different set of drugs; her body hadn’t responded well to the cocktail that cured the others. Sometimes I wondered if it was because she was the first; when Naomi brought her to me, I hadn’t yet perfected the treatment regimen. Maybe if I’d been able to treat her faster, she wouldn’t have devolved.
For her, I used drugs to suppress the demonic immune system taking over her own. This had worked once, on another long-term case we brought in, when Elah and Leon found a man chained in a demon summoner’s former house, his body little more than a vessel for demons. I had hope that it would work on Melanie too, weakening the demon whose spirit had changed her flesh.
As I depressed the plunger on the needle and the drugs began to work their way into her system through the IV, her eyes snapped open. She looked straight at me, and for a moment I thought she would speak as herself again.
I hadn’t yet decided how I’d react when the first words came out of her mouth—in Korean. “Kumiho.” Her lips parted, baring her teeth in a distant cousin to a smile. “Soon you will eat flesh, as I do.”
Suppressing the shudder that rolled through me at her words, I did my best to ignore them. “I didn’t know you spoke Korean,” I said to Melanie in English, refusing to give into the urge to respond to her with the same round vowels and soft consonants. “Have you ever been to Busan? I was born there.”
In response she snarled, then just as suddenly arched her back and began to spasm. This was the demonic part of her weakening and punishing her body for its inhospitality. Though I dosed her with anti-seizure medication, there was little else I could do. I stood there and watched until the fit passed, leaving her forehead with a sheen of sweat.
This time, she was too tired to speak, which I was thankful for.
I left the quarantine wing with the memory of her voice in my head, speaking a language that awakened buried parts of my life.
As I headed back to my lab, I felt the urge to visit Selena draw me past her room. She was out; when I checked her charts I saw Sarah’s scribbled notes, and was glad that she seemed to be doing much better.
At least I wasn’t a complete failure to all my patients.
There were things I wanted to be alone for, so I locked the door to my lab, texting Sarah to let her know I was conducting an “unsafe” experiment. The chirp of my phone let me know she’d received my text and sent an “okay” back. Thankfully, she’d gotten used to my experiments by now; they were part of what made my unique fae biology such an asset. While o
ther humans might die inhaling poisonous gases or testing an antivenom, I merely awakened my inner nine-tailed fox and let my body heal itself.
Using my powers was different now. It was getting easier than it used to be. I felt the fox in the back of my mind more often, its sly eyes staring at me, licking its lips from time to time. I was supposed to be mostly human; the fox wasn’t supposed to do much more than slumber unless I woke it up, and even then it was normally a subtle, quiet presence, lending me its powers and then falling back to sleep.
Things had changed since Melanie bit me. I had changed, in ways that worried me—and, I admitted to myself, excited me.
Pushing back my sleeve, I scraped a skin sample from the area with the scar and put it on a slide. I then took DNA from inside my cheek, plucked a piece of my hair, and drew a small vial of blood from my veins. With all the samples collected, I spent the next hour studying them.
And telling myself I had nothing to worry about, even as each and every test confirmed what I’d discovered a few days ago.
The fae DNA inside me was taking over, leaving little room for the human to survive. Soon, there would be nothing left of the Tae Min Lee I’d once been, and all of me would be fae.
If I even was me anymore once the fox took over.
Inside me, I felt it smirk, its eyes narrowed with dark amusement. When it chuckled I heard the sound of waves rolling in from a wild sea, gentle hands picking my broken body up to heal me—and change me. I’d thought that day was a blessing, a gift from the closest thing I’d ever known to God.
Now I wondered if it was a curse all along, fooling me into passivity until the day the trickster won. Closing my eyes, I took off my glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to quiet the fox’s voice in my head.