Mortality Bites - The COMPLETE Boxed Set (Books 1 - 10): An Urban Fantasy Epic Adventure

by Ramy Vance

  Damn, Justin wasn’t only faster and stronger—he was smoother, too.

  “Ahh, OK,” I said in my own smooth-like-silk way. Of course, drunk and befuddled, I doubted I sounded anything other than what I was … a smitten, lovelorn, confused ex-girlfriend.

  “Good. See you tomorrow.” And before I could say anything else, he walked away.

  As soon as she was gone, Deirdre rushed to my side. “Milady,” she said, her voice full of unbridled excitement. “Before, when you bedded the human—I was confused. He was weak and wilting. But now he is not. When did Justin get so powerful and attractive?”

  “Yeah, when indeed,” I muttered.

  HANGOVERS AND HANG-UPS

  M y head throbbed like the drummer to Metallica had taken up residence in there. I swear to the GoneGods I wished for death.

  Death or Tylenol—whichever was easier. I groaned as I turned over in my bed. There on the floor, covered with a quilt made of leaves, lay Deirdre. The poor changeling must have also been hungover, because she rubbed two rotting banana peels on her temples.

  Fae home remedies.

  “Milady,” she groaned, “why does my head hurt so?”

  “It’s called a hangover, Deirdre,” I said, the effort of speaking almost unbearable. “You just need water.”

  “I need a new head.”

  “You and me too,” I said, trying to get up as my hand fumbled through my purse for a painkiller.

  I found some ibuprofen. “Take two of these.” Then, remembering a changeling’s constitution, added, “Better make it three and call me in the morning.”

  “It is the morning.”

  “It was … You know what, you’re right.” I popped two pills, swallowed them dry and rolled over.

  “I do not understand this pain. Before the gods left, I could will away such discomfort. But now … perhaps I should burn some time to make this go away.”

  “No,” I said, the effort causing the Metallica drummer to rage into a drum solo. “No … don’t. This is part of being mortal. You have to get used to it.”

  “You do indeed,” said a cackling voice. “But it does get better, I promise.”

  Egya entered carrying with him the only true remedy for a hangover—greasy food and coffee.

  I sat up, ripping the double bacon and sausage roll out of its paper bag with greedy hands and biting in like it was my last meal. “Oh wow,” I said, chewing, “I think I love you.”

  Egya’s eyes darted away and he sat down on the ground next to Deirdre, handing her a heaping dish of poutine. The fae Other looked at the plate of French fries, gravy and melted curd cheese with utter confusion. “What monstrous hell is this?”

  “The ultimate hangover cure,” I muttered, leaning over and stealing a fry. “I’ll eat it if you don’t.”

  Deirdre held the dish out of my reach before taking a bite. Her face lit up. She took another. Then a third, and before you could say, “Changeling, warrior and fae,” she was munching away and making cooing sounds that gave me real insight into her lovemaking soundtrack.

  “I think we have a winner,” Egya said.

  “We do indeed.”

  We ate the rest of our meal in silence before I finally had the strength to speak. “Egya—how is it that you have so much energy? I can barely move.”

  “The healing power of the hyena,” he said.

  “You didn’t drink that much.”

  He lifted two fingers.

  “And me?”

  “I don’t have enough fingers, girl.”

  “Ahh, I see.”

  “Is there more?” Deirdre asked as she licked her plate.

  Egya chuckled. “I figured a changeling’s appetite would be great.” And he pulled out another dish from the bag.

  “Oh thank you, great spotted dog.” Deirdre ripped open the takeaway packaging’s lid and dug in.

  “You?” Egya asked me. “I have a sausage roll and another poutine.”

  “Thanks, but that was perfect.” I crumpled up the paper bag and threw it at the bin. It hit the side and fell on the floor with an unceremonious thud.

  “Good,” Egya said, munching away at his own greasy monstrosity. Whatever he might have been going through yesterday with all the weirdness seemed to have vanished with this impromptu breakfast.

  I sipped at my coffee, letting the ibuprofen goodness mix with the caffeine. Slowly, I was becoming human again. Which was funny, because when I actually did become human again, it was instant and painless. If the gods saw fit to suddenly make us half-breeds human again, you’d think they’d extend the courtesy to hangovers, too.

  “So girl, will you go tonight?”

  “Huh?” I said, my muddled brain trying to connect his words. “Oh … you mean Justin’s party? Not sure yet.” I tried to sound casual, but the thought of it made me want to re-assume the fetal position.

  He rolled his eyes. “Why do you always fight who you are, girl? First you deny your past, and now this.”

  Here goes Egya again. Always wanting me to embrace who I was, like doing so would complete me or something. And this was becoming our pattern. He’d bait me into talking about something I hated talking about, and we’d get into a fight like some old married couple, which would inevitably end with him cracking a joke and resetting the whole thing.

  “You’re really about me accepting my past. Only thing is, I think I have.”

  He tilted his head down and gave me a look that clearly said he didn’t agree.

  “What? I have.” I pointed to where my Cherub mask was hidden. “You know, the whole masked crusader saving the word to make up for the evil I’ve done … yadda, yadda, yadda.” I took another bite.

  “That’s not accepting your past. That’s apologizing for it.”

  “And?”

  “And, girl, that is not good, either. You will never find—”

  “If you say, ‘peace,’ I swear to the GoneGods I think I’ll puke.”

  Egya shook his head, his face solemn. “No, girl. One like you will never find peace. I was going to say, ‘purpose.’ ”

  “And what would that ‘purpose’ be?” A bit of grease dribbled down my hand and I licked it up … in a very lady-like fashion. “Let me guess. Wear the mask and yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  Deirdre narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What’s this yadda, yadda, yadda you speak of?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said, currently lacking the patience to explain conversation shortcuts to the changeling. “And you, Hyena Boy—what’s my purpose?”

  Egya shook his head. “Yes, your purpose would be to still adorn the mask.”

  “Ah-ha!”

  “But”—he lifted a silencing hand—“right now your actions are apologies. Not purpose.”

  “And the difference being?”

  “One is eating junk food for instant gratification. The other is akin to nourishing your soul.”

  Dang, Egya made a good point. But we were in old-married-couple mode, which meant I couldn’t actually acknowledge as much. That’s what marriage is all about, right? Tit for tat and keeping score?

  So I bit down hard on my terrible-for-your-soul sandwich. “I don’t know. This food is pretty good.”

  “If I had more eyes to roll, I would. But mark my words, girl … one day you will understand the difference. Until then”—he took a sip from his coffee—“we have a party to attend.”

  “Party?” I muttered, feigning like I’d forgotten. “Oh, that. I’m not going.”

  “Yes, you are going, and you are going to want us with you.”

  “I … will … be … by … your … side,” Deirdre said between munches. “Always.”

  “Thanks, Deirdre. And as for you, how can you be so sure I’ll go?”

  “Three reasons.” He lifted a finger. “One, you just broke up with him and it is part of the post-breakup game to prove to one another that you are fine. Second”—he raised another one—“something is different about Justin. Unnatural. I know
you suspect magic. As do I.”

  “And I,” Deirdre chimed in.

  “You’re going to want to sniff around to prove your theory right. And lastly”—he lifted one more, final finger—“you’re a cat, and we all know what’s going to kill you in the end.”

  “Curiosity?” I sneered.

  “No, girl. Your need to be right,” he cackled, sending all kinds of fresh pain through my head. “You’re going to find magic at play, and it will probably kill you.”

  “Fine,” I said, thinking about what Seth warned me about. Bad luck and all. He’d basically begged me to stay away. I wouldn’t, and that would probably get me killed … just like Egya said. “You got me. I’m going, and so are you two.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “How can you be so sure we’ll go?”

  Now it was my turn to lift up fingers. But unlike Egya, I only lifted my middle one and held it up to him. “Deirdre will go because Deirdre will always go.”

  Deirdre pounded her chest and let out a burp. “I am nourished and ready, milady.”

  “See? And as for you … you’re a dog. And dogs are nothing if they aren’t loyal.”

  “Bow-wow,” he snickered.

  ↔

  GETTING ready for the party was harder than it seemed, because I needed to balance being the right level of hot while not coming off as trying too hard. So after about a dozen outfits, I eventually settled on Levi’s with a pink Mango, V-neck blouse.

  And to balance it all out, I put on the pin that my father had used to hold his kilt, well, closed—an old silver dagger about three inches long, encased in a ring shaped like a thistle. I pinned it on my sweater’s neck so that its weight pulled down the fabric just enough to reveal another centimeter of my bosom.

  Hey, all’s fair in love and war. Cleavage drives guys crazy, and I wasn’t about to not use one of my best assets (and I think I deserve points for not using the obvious pun here, ahem).

  I’d need the strength of my ancestors to get through this night. Egya came down in jeans and a t-shirt, and Deirdre wore a simple green dress that she simplified by meticulously lacing in pine needles all over her. She looked like a porcupine and smelled like a car freshener. She also wore the biggest smile that fended off any comments Egya and I might have made.

  You do you, changeling. You do you.

  By the time we got to the frat house, the party was well underway. Good, I was late enough that Justin would be doubting if I’d show up at all. I had him exactly where I wanted him.

  But as soon as I stepped inside, I saw him standing next to that girl, their hands interlaced. She was wearing a cute little number from Mango, and she was obviously employing the same cleavage attack I was. And I swear to the GoneGods, her boobs were bigger than when I last saw her.

  Figures—shapeshifter. For sure she’s inflating them. Game on, encantado. Come on!

  Justin’s back was turned, so he didn’t notice me, but she did. And as soon as our eyes locked, she let go of Justin’s hand, said something to him and walked away.

  Justin turned around. Seeing us, he grabbed a tray of plastic cups and walked over. “Hey guys, want a drink?”

  Egya grabbed a cup with his usual enthusiasm. “Thank you, man. You look good. Been working out?”

  Justin smirked. “You could say that.”

  Deirdre, being fae and a stickler for protocol and loyalty, didn’t move, waiting for me to signal my OK to take a drink, which I did by grabbing my own cup. As soon as I had a cup in my hand, she took one, too.

  “So glad you guys could make it.” Justin looked at me. “I’ve got a couple hosting duties I need to do, and then I’ll come over to, you know, have our casual conversation.” He gave me a wink, walking away before I could think of anything witty to say.

  GoneGodDamn it, any upper hand I had just vanished with that wink.

  ↔

  JUSTIN’S HOSTING duties took longer than expected, because I was standing around pretending to enjoy this party for an hour before anyone came up to me. At first I thought he was just making me wait. But then I’d see him walking through the party with a concerned look in his eyes. And when I saw him with a couple guys talking to a guy who was clearly freaking out, I knew that he actually had a real problem on his hands.

  The freaking-out guy—who was larger than the other three combined—had a look of panic, and even though he was on the other side of the room, I noticed the whites of his eyes. Or rather, the lack of … They had more of a blue tinge to them, and my first thought was, What are these kids up to these days?

  Two girls gave me a weird look before giggling and whispering to themselves as they walked away.

  God, I’m old.

  Sometimes I wished I looked my age. Then again, looking my age probably meant I’d be a dust bunny under the bed, as I’m pretty sure three hundred years was long enough for my body to fully decompose.

  Eventually Justin and the others disappeared, probably to take the guy home. Which meant Justin would be back soon, right? I tried to dance away the night with Deirdre and Egya … Well, with Egya at least—Deirdre was doing her wild arm-flailing dance again, and I need to give her space lest I risk a black eye.

  After about an hour of that, Justin returned. Finally. I made my way to the drinks counter, lingering there as long as I could, waiting for him to come back for a refill while pretending to pour myself a glass of punch. Harder than it seems. Luckily, I was a three-hundred-year-old ex-vampire who was an expert at sleight of hand.

  A gentle hand touched my shoulder. Finally. I turned, expecting to see Justin’s smile, but instead I was greeted by the last face I wanted to see—Isabella.

  “Ahh, hi,” I said, unable to hide my confusion.

  She looked around sheepishly before sighing before blurting out, “You inspire me.” Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, and she had a thousand-yard stare to her.

  “OK …” I said, drawing out the word.

  She covered her mouth with embarrassment before letting out a giggle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m very stoned.”

  “So I’ve gathered.”

  “You see, I’m a biologist and I’ve grown my own strain. It’s a bit different. You get all the fun without the munchies. But it does have this weird side effect. It tends to make you more honest and talkative.” She held out a hand with two fountain pen-sized blunts in them.

  “But the world needs more honesty, doesn’t it?” she said. “And Justin told me all about your thinking-out-loud thing. This kind of does the same thing. Only you have to be stoned for it to work—unlike with you, where it seems to happen all the time.”

  “Again … ok.” She was talking so fast that I was finding it hard to keep up. To borrow a phrase from the 1970s, we weren’t on the same wavelength.

  “But all that is to say, I do admire you. I told you that already. But what I didn’t get to say was that I’m sorry for what I did. I should have never pretended to be you. You were gone for so long, and he was so sad, so I thought I’d help. But I only meant to chat with him to see what was going on. I didn’t mean for all of this to happen. Well, I did. He’s hot. But what I meant to say was that I was trying to be good. But I’m an encantado, and this is kind of our thing. And then El Lobizon attacked and we were flush with adrenaline and that does stuff to you. I should know—I’m a biologist. Did I mention that I’m a biologist? Anyway … I am so, so, so sorry.”

  So she’d pretended to be me, and that’s how she got to know Justin. I knew I should have been furious, but I wasn’t. Somehow, knowing that Justin didn’t know he was cheating on me and that he found out only afterward actually helped.

  Then again, it wasn’t like him knowing he was tricked stopped him from staying with her. She was gorgeous, obviously in love with Justin and sweet. I could see the appeal. And being the monster-in-the-night that I was, I couldn’t justifiably cast stones. I’d done far worse than this encantado.

  Far, far worse.

  A
nd then there was the whole her-imitating-me instead of simply seducing him by turning into some big-boob bottle blonde. I’d been around enough shapeshifters to know that they only assume the form of someone else when they admire them on some level. You know what they say: imitation is the highest form of flattery.

  I was in a strange mood, which made sense. The last few weeks were hard. Hell, the last few years were hard. And Isabella, like me, was just trying to make sense of it all.

  I grabbed one of the joints out of her hand. “Got a lighter?”

  THREE’S COMPANY

  We stepped outside and Isabella lit the joint, took in one short drag before handing it over. I look at the red cherry, thinking about how it really had been about forty years since I last toked, or smoked, or took a puff of anything. Back then, I didn’t feel anything. I figured it was my vampire constitution.

  I took a deep pull and held it, summoning every ounce of my will not to cough. I might have not felt anything before, but now … now was different. My head started to swim as a lightheaded feeling overcame me. Everything started to slow down. That wasn’t quite right—it was more like I had more time to process everything. Like the world was operating at half speed, but my brain was working at full speed to digest it all.

  “So,” I said. “You and Justin.”

  Isabella shrugged. “For now.” She said it in a way that made me think she was hoping to add ‘and forever’ to the end of that sentence.

  “You really like him?”

  “I do,” she said. “He’s different than most humans. He looks at me different than they do, but he talks to me the same as he does everyone else.”

  I got what she meant. Justin didn’t care what color, religion or species you were. He was just one of those guys who liked everyone. But as for looking as you different, I got that, too. When he looked at you—really looked at you—you felt like you were the only thing he saw in the whole world. The only thing that mattered.

  Remembering that about him was hard. It made me miss him even more.

  “But, his heart is elsewhere.”

  “There you go again,” I said, “with that brutal honesty. Most girls would be trying to play some game to scare me off or something, but you’re all like, ‘You still got a shot. Don’t give up.’ What’s your deal?”