by Hati Bell
Kellsey would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about keeping Leroy as a willing love slave for a hundred years. For just a wee moment, of course. Sometimes, it felt bad to be good. The only thing stopping her was her Callahan pride. She wanted Leroy to genuinely love her, not because a magic arrow shot hearts through his body. “Are you absolutely sure?” she asked. The Blood Games lasted two days. They were held at the open field behind the Asylum where there was a crowd all day long. Leroy never stayed longer than he had to, so he would be gone by the second day. Twenty-four hours didn’t give her a big window of opportunity to hit Leroy with the arrow.
Vicky cast her eyes down. “Yes. If you want the warranty of a trained witch, you’ll have to hire a white witch.”
“No, I trust you,” Kellsey assured her quickly. She could hardly blame Vicky that she wasn’t properly trained in black magic. Her race had been massacred by the white witches. The white witches now ruled over Avalon. So, the odds of Vicky being trained there were about as high as those of Shay wearing a cardigan.
The arrow, now transformed, was pink. “It should work now,” Vicky said, and she gave it to Kellsey.
“That’s more like it.” Kellsey jumped from the kitchen table with the arrow in her fist.
She left the kitchen for the gym where she usually trained with her brothers. The armory was situated by the gym. She took a short crossbow and went outside. She stepped in the middle of a crowd. The back yard was packed with clans and supporters who came to take part in the Blood Games.
Shay sauntered by in her miniskirt and corset. “I love this time of the year when the crème de la crème of sexy testosterone passes over our doorstep. You know what turns men on? Fighting. And blood.” She suddenly frowned. “Where are the Buchanan werewolves?”
The befriended werewolf clan was absent indeed. Shay had a friends-with-benefits relationship with Conn, their alpha. She’d admitted that she wasn’t sure if it could lead to anything more than a fling between them since an alpha werewolf, unlike the betas and omegas, could one day meet his true mate.
Kellsey knew Shay feared that the werewolf would then cast her aside like an old pair of shoes. “You’re playing again this year?” she asked, avoiding the sensitive issue of the Buchanan alpha.
“If your brothers would just enter the Games I could form my own kick-ass team instead of having to join the Buchanan team,” Shay complained.
“At least you get to play,” Kellsey grumbled back. It was a recurring discussion point between them. Shay complained because she lacked five clan members to form her own team. Kellsey complained because she couldn’t play at all.
“You really shouldn’t complain, chicky. It wouldn’t be fair if you played. You know what happened last time.”
Kellsey rolled her eyes. She was just as good at breaking bones as her brothers. Unfortunately, no one on the other team dared to attack her, which just ruined the game. And all that, just because Kuno had gone berserk when someone smashed his fist in her face.
2
LEROY
Being summoned by Riz Callahan was never a good sign.
Leroy stared at the iron gates of the Callahan house with a heavy feeling in his heart. In the middle of the former asylum’s gate, the well-known “C” was etched. The bars to the left of the monogram were scorched and dented. He’d been there when Riz had lit a frost giant on fire and had pushed him, in pieces, through the bars. It was a silent reminder of the Callahans’ brutality when their family was threatened. The beast in him appreciated the ability to protect your own. He wished that he could’ve done the same for his family. Unfortunately, his own flesh and blood was reduced to one person, his nephew Liam. They had spent the past decade in Oban, a small town on Scotland’s west coast. He had never stayed in the same place for this long since he’d left Nemea. He usually ended up at odds with local clans, because nobody really liked or trusted a nomad.
In Oban it was Riz Callahan who was on top of the food chain. You either paid for his protection or took care of yourself. Leroy had had his own reasons to recently join the Callahans.
He parked his car and got out. The Callahans loved their Harleys and they weren’t the only ones. The parking lot of the former asylum was filled with row after row of bikes and cars. Groups of mythos walked toward the field at the back of the house. Some of them were wearing the same color paint on their cheeks and walked in a group of six.
Of course, the annual Blood Games. It was the one time of year that mythos who had sworn their allegiance to Riz could hash out their differences like in the old days.
Shit. Leroy usually avoided this event, but it seemed like this year was also his year. Since he hadn’t joined a team, that could only mean one thing: someone had challenged him. Through the gravel, he walked on the path of broken columns. Each column had a marble statue placed on it that looked like a scarecrow. Every now and then a suicidal idiot popped up who wanted to become a legend, and therefore challenged Ronin Callahan. There was a special place reserved for those candidates. Some turned-to-marble mythos were still alive and sinister eyes followed him as he walked inside. Even before he’d passed the door he smelled two Callahans and a vampire.
Riz stood next to the fireplace, his massive arms crossed in front of his chest. Levi was sitting on the couch with a deck of playing cards in his hand. As usual, the dhampir was dressed in a custom-made suit and differed as night and day from his brother. Levi was the most slender of the six brothers, but possibly the most dangerous. Riz, on the other hand, was built like a Mack truck. He wore his usual black kilt and tee. Although it was unusual to see a vampire under his biker boots.
Riz gave Leroy a short nod. “Take a seat, Leandros. This won’t take long.” He looked down at the vampire under his boot. “It’s the first of the month, and your master hasn’t paid me yet. Instead, he sent a minion. It’s not like your master to be so disrespectful. Where’s my money, blood bag?”
Leroy plopped down on the chair across Levi.
“Spike,” the vampire under the boot groaned. “The name’s Spike, not ‘blood bag.’”
“Do I look like I give a flying fuck about your name?” Riz asked.
“Of course that’s your name,” Levi sneered. “The day I meet a vampire with an original name is the day I lose at poker.”
Leroy knew what he meant. In a blood house, you tripped over the Spikes and Lestats. The first thing a vampire did after he was turned was to discover that he was a blood slave, created with the sole purpose of providing his dhampir master with blood. The second was to take a new name. Usually one from a romanticized Hollywood production. Though he had yet to meet the first Blade.
Riz pulled Spike up and pushed his head in the fire. The vampire began to scream, and his limbs shook wildly.
“Oh, well; at least it’s not another Edward,” Levi sighed.
“Someone should teach baby vampires to take a proper name,” Riz growled. “Like Nicolas Cage did.” He tossed the vampire to the other side of the room.
The leech rolled until he slammed against a cabinet and came to a halt. He moaned as he got back to his feet. His head, a bloody, sticky mess, was still smoldering.
Then, Spike did something really stupid. He showed his fangs and hissed. It was the ultimate form of disrespect.
In a flash, Riz stood for the vampire, his fist around Spike’s throat. A second later he held two fangs in his hands. Spike fell down screaming while he held his bleeding mouth.
Leroy viewed Riz with renewed respect. He’d thought of a punishment far worse than death for Spike. A vampire without fangs was like a frost giant without an icicle.
Riz threw the fangs on the ground. “Tell your master he has twenty-four hours to pay or his fangs are the next I’m going to collect. Oh, and don’t forget to mention the hundred percent interest he now owes me. We’re not a fucking charity. Our protection doesn’t come free.”
Spike scrambled to his feet and wiped the blood from his mouth. “I ask
for a postponement of payment. The earnings this month were down and….”
“Do I look like a damn bank?” Riz roared.
“They were the same as usual.” Levi joined the conversation. He shuffled the cards in his hands as if he were sitting in his casino. “You should sniff less euphoria and work more.”
The vampire turned ashen. He nodded miserably and rushed off like a shadow.
Leroy wasn’t surprised that Levi knew about Spike’s euphoria addiction. The dhampir had eyes everywhere. He had to if he wanted to keep his clan safe. The Callahans had settled in Oban over twenty years ago. They surfaced out of nowhere during the chaos that was created by the war between the gods. In the beginning, the odd family which consisted of a motley bunch of mythos wasn’t considered a serious clan. Two decades later, they ruled the Highlands.
“It will happen again,” Levi predicted. “According to rumors, Spike’s master is killed. Most vampires from his nest have already found a new master. However, a few are stupid enough to believe that Spike can lead them.”
Riz cocked an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you should lead them, brother. It’s time for your own bloodline.”
If Leroy hadn’t seen Levi’s fingers tighten around his whiskey glass, he’d have thought Riz’s words had had no effect on him. Levi could hardly bear it when someone touched him, up to the point of going batshit crazy. A bad trait for a dhampir, who had to provide his vampire with his own blood.
“It wouldn’t matter in the long run,” Levi said. “Dhampirs are a dying species.” He didn’t sound particularly sad at the prospect.
Riz frowned, but he let the matter go. He wiped his hands on his kilt and turned to Leroy. “I have a personal request for you.”
A request sounded good. Leroy relaxed a fraction. “What kind of request?”
“I want you to find the helmet of Hades.”
“That’s it? Why don’t you just ask for Pegasus or the sword of Onuris?”
“I don’t need a flying horse and to get that sword you’d have to descend into the Egyptian underworld. No one returns unscathed from Duat.”
Once again, Leroy wondered how old Riz actually was. The Callahan patriarch was an enigma. “You want the Helm of Darkness which makes Hades invisible for gods and mythos?” he asked when Riz kept looking at him dead serious. “That thing is just a myth.”
During the past millennia, he’d encountered many mythical objects, but never something of Hades. The Greek god of the underworld was in a league of his own. He was known as a loner and didn’t reveal himself to humans or mythos.
“Interesting that you mention both aspects of the helmet,” Riz said sharply. “Most mythos don’t know it also makes you invisible to the gods.”
Unfortunately, he’d found that out the hard way. In a time when he’d thought that invisibility could protect him against his curse. He knew better by now. “The helmet was probably lost during the war of the gods. If it ever even existed.”
“I can assure you that it exists,” Riz said. “According to my source, it will be auctioned in two days by Satiros. The satyr has his ways to get his hands on rare objects.”
“Satiros the satyr?” he said skeptically. “Then it’s probably a fake. And why exactly are you asking me to get it?”
“You’re the only one currently available whom I can trust.”
Just then Qasim Callahan walked in. With his tousled blue hair, Star Wars tee, and sneakers, he looked more like a student than a professor. He’d heard that Qasim had six master’s degrees and a PhD.
“Hey, Leroy. Has Riz already told you how I found the helmet?” He tapped on his iPad. “Through TCNN, The Callahan Nomads Network.” He sounded smug.
Riz let out an exasperated sigh and slumped on a couch. “I miss the good old days when you barely spoke.”
“You mean when Erin the siren had stolen my voice?”
“No, I meant when you were busy tracing your ass away from that harpy and had no time to talk.”
Qasim shot him a dirty look. “It wasn’t just a harpy, but an entire fucking nest. I couldn’t speak for a month because they were attracted to my voice. If Kartal hadn’t taken my place and distracted those angry birdies, I’d probably still be chased by them. It would’ve been nice if you’d also helped me out instead of laughing your asses off.”
“Yep, those were the golden days,” Riz sighed.
“It was fucking hilarious,” Levi agreed.
Qasim turned his back on his brothers. “Jangan kuatir, saudara,” he said.
Leroy looked at him questioningly. The djinn probably spoke as many languages as studies he’d done. Sometimes, he forgot that the rest of the world wasn’t super-smart.
“Riz told me this morning that I have to trace you to Lombok tomorrow so I’ve started to learn Indonesian,” Qasim explained. “I said, ‘don’t worry, brother.’ Unlike them, I won’t leave you hanging when you’re attacked by a harpy. Though, statistically, that’s unlikely to happen since Asia isn’t their usual habitat.”
“When do you need the helmet?” Leroy asked.
“You have about a month,” Riz said. “I need it before Kellsey’s birthday.”
Leroy shook his head. “I’m not taking on new jobs right now. I can’t leave Liam unprotected.” Not while they were being hunted. He felt that the dark cloud of anger and revenge that had pursued him for millennia was near.
“The Spartan,” Riz said understandingly.
Leroy wondered if there was anything Riz didn’t know. “The Spartan,” he agreed.
“I need the helmet for Kellsey,” Riz said.
A cold feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean?”
Riz looked grim. “Someone has threatened her.”
He felt his beast clawing inside, wanting out. “Who?”
“Can’t tell you that. You know the danger a name can carry. All you need to know is that it’s a Hades and She With the Icy Name situation.”
Shit, it was a Hades and Hel situation. “You could send Shay.” He didn’t want to end up in the position where Riz was leading him.
“I don’t want Kellsey to start worrying. Shay couldn’t keep this a secret. They have some kind of rock chicks pact in which they tell each other everything. Also, she doesn’t have your knowledge. She wouldn’t know the difference between the real and a fake helmet.”
“You’re asking me to choose between my nephew and Kellsey.” Fucker. He knew that Leroy would do anything for Kellsey. It looked like Riz was more aware of his feelings for her than he’d thought.
“You don’t have to choose,” Riz said. “Bring Liam here. We’ll keep him safe. He just became eighteen and can choose his own clan. This is a good opportunity for him to get to know the rest.”
Leroy was surprised by the offer. As his underage family member, Liam had automatically fallen under the protection of the clan. It had been the reason why he’d joined the Callahan clan in the first place. Riz, however, was extremely picky with who he allowed into his circle and there were certain trials before one could join. “You’re offering Liam a place in the clan?” he asked to be sure, not planning to decline the offer. Should anything happen to him, he couldn’t think of a better protector for Liam than the Callahans.
“If he passes the trials, he’s welcome,” Riz said. “Kellsey would love to meet him. We both know how she feels about you.”
They both also knew why it could never work out between them. “I’ve never given her any reason to.”
“I know. There isn’t much about Kellsey that I don’t know, like how she wanted to celebrate her seventeenth birthday.” Riz grimaced.
“Good thing you turned her down,” Levi said darkly.
It hadn’t been easy to reject a butt-naked Kellsey. It was the first time that he’d seen her as a woman instead of the girl who rushed at him when he came back from one of his trips. He had felt uncomfortable when his body had responded to her. He was older than dirt. She was just a baby compared
to him. She thought he was the one, but he’d always thought it was just a crush. It didn’t stop him from wanting her, though. It also meant that he’d search for the helmet.
“I want Liam protected day and night. I don’t want him to be alone for a single moment, not without one of you guys. Also, his mythos form must stay hidden.”
Riz nodded. “He will remain here till you return.”
“The helmet won’t be cheap. Someone could also outbid me.”
“You won’t have to bid. Satiros owes me a blood debt,” Levi said.
Leroy was surprised to hear that. Satiros was known as a cunning satyr. Apparently not cunning enough if he owed Levi “Lucky” Callahan a blood marker. Levi never lost a game. Some believed he was touched by the goddess Fortuna. “I can’t leave until after the Heraia.”
Riz laughed without humor. “I forgot about that cow’s festival. Looks like you’ll leave in three days.”
Leroy reached his arm out to the dhampir. Levi loosened a cufflink and rolled his sleeve up to his elbow. Leroy wasn’t surprised when he saw the collection of red tattoos on Levi’s arm. The dhampir was one of the most famous loan sharks in their world.
Levi touched a red tattoo in the form of a shell, which liquefied. The dhampir pulled the blood marker loose and held it over Leroy’s arm. The shell whirled on his wrist and turned back into a tattoo.
The payment was done.
3
KELLSEY
Kellsey stepped into the crowded courtyard. She waved to a befriended werewolf on a motorcycle. He was followed by five other bikes. Right behind them, six amazons ran in their distinctive leather pants and high-necked corsets. At the head marched Areto the centaur slayer. Didn’t have the same nice ring to it as vampire slayer, but then again Areto wasn’t as cool as Buffy.
Like every year, there was a green smudge over Areto’s eyes to indicate that she was the captain of her team.