Shadow Soldier

by Kali Argent

  “A lot of people say it’s the Others.”

  Roux tilted her head to the side and snorted. “The who? What the fuck is an ‘Other?’”

  Even Abby couldn’t keep her composure and began to giggle. “They’re like boogeymen in the Gemini world, cautionary tales to keep little brats in line. It’s just a story. Nobody has actually seen one, but a lot of them still believe the Others exist.”

  Roux wasn’t smiling any longer. Not so long ago, she’d believed vampires and shapeshifters were just myths. “And they’re supposed to be worse than Ravagers?”

  “Supposedly, they have magic.” Abby wiggled her eyebrows and fluttered her fingers. “Scary.”

  “If these assholes actually exist, they can use their magic to fix some shit around here. I promise I won’t complain.” A myth hadn’t taken Bethany or any of the other residents of the town. “They’re all women?”

  “The Others? No. The story goes that only two exist at a time, one male and one female.”

  Roux rolled her eyes. “The missing people, Abby.”

  “No.” The blonde glared at her. “Mostly, but a few men have been taken as well.”

  “All merchants?”

  Dropping her hands to her sides, Abby huffed. “No. A few merchants in the Square, a couple of store employees, handymen, a delivery truck driver…”

  “Delivery truck?”

  “Well, how did you think we stock the businesses? With Other magic?”

  Roux sighed and gave her friend a half-hearted shrug. “I guess I never really thought about it. So, life still goes on pretty much how it always has. Factories?”

  “Yes, there are factories, mostly owned by shifters.” Abby plopped down in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we stay on topic?”

  Grinning, Roux made a mental note to discuss the subject in further detail later. With over a couple of million people still alive on the planet, and most of those being Gemini, it made sense. Before the Purge, she’d never given much thought to the effort it would take to keep things running smoothly. Electricity, sewers, clothing, food, medicine—she rather liked penicillin and not having smallpox—and the thousand other little things had to be controlled by someone.

  “What about Europe? Asia? Do we still import goods from the East?”

  “Roux!”

  She’d never seen Abby so worked up, and it made her giggle. “Okay, okay, don’t pop a blood vessel, Barbie.”

  The front door of the office swung open, bringing a gust of warm wind that shuffled the papers on Roux’s desk. The sunshine had persisted through the weekend and into the workweek, the sky dotted with only white, wispy clouds, and the temperatures holding in the upper seventies. The nights had been cooler, but still just as clear and lovely, perfect for sitting out on the deck with a batch of brownies and a glass of wine.

  “Hey, kitten.” Deke crossed the small lobby and leaned over her desk for a chaste kiss. “Are you ready?”

  “Almost.” She tapped the eraser of her pencil against the document in front of her and scowled. “Actually, never mind. I guess I don’t need to file a renewal license for someone who doesn’t exist anymore.”

  Deke’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline, and Abby groaned quietly into her coffee mug. “What do you mean?” Deke asked. “Who’s missing now?”

  “Bethany.”

  Threading his fingers through his thick, dark hair, Deke exhaled harshly. “Damn it. I liked her, too.”

  “In the past tense? So, you think she’s already dead?”

  “Roux, please,” Abby hissed.

  “She’s right.” Pushing away from her desk, Deke held a hand out to help her up from her seat. “This isn’t the place to discuss it. C’mon, kitten, let’s get you home.”

  His tone brooked no argument, so Roux bit her tongue to hold back her sarcastic retort and took his hand. She’d barely risen from her seat when a blood-chilling shriek cut through the Square beyond the office windows. Another terrified scream followed, and then another, intermixed with the commanding shouts of the guards.

  “What the…” Hurrying to the window, Abby opened the blinds and gaped. “What’s happening?”

  Pandemonium reigned in the Square as people bolted through the streets, searching for the nearest shelter. A young mother with red hair and a harried look burst into the registration office, cradling her baby protectively to her chest.

  “Ravagers,” she panted, stumbling toward the far corner of the lobby. “They’re everywhere.”

  Thankfully, Roux had never encountered a Ravager up close, but she’d seen the destruction they left in their wake. “We have to do something.”

  “No,” Deke snapped, grabbing her elbow when she started toward the door. “Stay here, lock the door.”

  “You’re kidding. You want me to hide while people are dying in the street?”

  “I want you to stay alive!” Growling, he pulled his handgun from its holster and chambered the first round. “Stay here.”

  Abby followed him to the door, locking it behind him as he hurried out into the Square. The first shot rang out only a heartbeat later, followed by wild, vicious snarls.

  Roux couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. Rounding her desk, she jerked open the bottom drawer and fumbled through the contents until she found her father’s military-issue knife. She curled her fingers around the leather-wrapped hilt, the weight of the blade familiar and comforting in her hand.

  “Where did you get that?” Abby met her in the middle of the room, blocking her way to the door.

  “My desk.”

  “Yes, I can see that. Why do you have it here? Do you know what would happen if someone found it?”

  “I’m mated to the captain of the guard.” Roux arched an eyebrow. “Who’s going to search my desk?” She tried to step around her, but Abby sidestepped with her. “Move, Barbie.”

  “We’re supposed to stay here.”

  Roux actually had to laugh at her. “Since when do I do what I’m supposed to?” She moved again, but Abby pushed her back. “I don’t want to hurt you, Abby.”

  The redhead screamed, and her baby began to wail, his little fists shaking with the effort. Catching sight of the young woman from the corner of her eye, Roux followed her gaze to the front exit. Outlined by the silver frame of the door, standing just inches from the glass, a Ravager stared back at her, his cold, obsidian eyes tracking her as she pulled Abby behind her.

  Dark shadows ringed the creature’s lids, standing out in a striking contrast against his sallow skin. Hair as dark as night trailed over his shoulders in a tangled, matted mess, and his blue lips parted in a terrifying grin. His sharp canines glistened with saliva, and he lifted a clawed index finger to tap tauntingly at the glass.

  Dirt and blood stained the fabric of his shirt, and the cargo pants had been shredded up to the knee, but Roux recognized the Coalition uniform easily enough. For a moment, she considered the possibility that he’d stolen the clothes, but a different, more horrifying theory tickled the fringes of her consciousness.

  “…the wolves got it the worst. Other than teeth and claws, they can’t shift at all…in the beginning, a lot of them turned feral.”

  Deke had never said what had happened to the wolves that had gone feral, and Roux hadn’t thought to ask. Really, she hadn’t thought much about them at all in the past couple of weeks. Staring at the Ravager—his sunken eyes, his sharp cheekbones, and the maze of blue veins that snaked up his neck—she would have never guessed he’d once been a shifter.

  The redhead had stopped screaming, but she still cried along with her baby. Abby patted the girl’s arm awkwardly while offering generic and clichéd words of comfort, but most of her attention remained on the door. She didn’t appear as frightened as Roux would have expected, but then again, the beast was only toying with them at the moment.

  The thought had barely crossed her mind when the Ravager threw himself agains
t the door with a heavy thud. A spider web of fissures appeared in the glass and splintered outward toward the frame, but it didn’t break. Not yet. The…man—she had to remind herself that he’d once been a man—backed away several steps, preparing for his next attempt.

  “Go!” Roux yelled, crouching into a fighting stance.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Abby ushered the other woman toward the small room where they administered inoculations and birth control shots. “Roux, let’s go!”

  The cheap, manufactured door and its flimsy lock wouldn’t keep the Ravager out of the clinic room. “Just go, Abby! Take the alley to the library. I’ll meet you there.”

  She might not be able to stop the Ravager, but she could slow him down. He was bigger, stronger, and crazier, but she was smarter. The last time she’d gone up against a werewolf hadn’t ended so well, but she’d been rash and impulsive. She’d played to his strengths instead of her own, and she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  Thankfully, Abby didn’t argue. When the Ravager slammed into the door again, breaking the lock and shattering the glass, the two women and the crying baby had already disappeared. With a little distraction and a lot of luck, they’d make it to the library’s basement untouched.

  Adjusting her grip on the knife, Roux scissor-stepped to the right, staying out of his reach but keeping herself between him and the back exit. “Okay, big guy, it’s just you and me. No one has to get h—”

  When the Ravager charged for her, Roux dropped to the ground, rolling into his legs and toppling him off balance. He stumbled a couple of steps, but unfortunately, he didn’t go down like she’d intended. With a high-pitched snarl, he swerved toward her, lunging again with his curved claws.

  Crouching on the balls of her feet, Roux waited until the beast was practically on top of her. She gritted her teeth and exploded upward, driving her body into his sternum, using his own momentum to flip him over her shoulder. The Ravager landed on her desk, scattering the contents and knocking her computer to the ground where it smashed into jagged pieces.

  If she bolted for the back door, he’d follow her, and she refused to lead him to the library. Even if she managed to lose him, he’d just go after someone else, and she couldn’t have that blood on her hands, either. Repositioning her grasp on the hilt, she ran toward him, slashing her dagger through the air. At the last minute, he rolled to the right, dropping off the edge of the desk, and the tip of her blade carved into the desktop instead.

  He came at her again, his eyes wide and filled with rage. Clearly, he’d tired of toying with her. Still attempting to pry her knife out of the wood, Roux leaned into the table to steady her weight and kicked out behind her, landing a solid blow to his ribcage. Of course, the impact barely slowed him, but it did give her enough time to free the dagger and spin on her toes, driving the blade into the side of the Ravager’s neck.

  Stumbling backwards as blood seeped out around the handle of the knife, Roux groaned when it became obvious that even a slashed throat wouldn’t keep the guy down. Pulling the dagger from his flesh, he tossed it to the floor and staggered toward her, his upper lip curling over his fangs.

  “Oh, come on!” Roux groaned, calculating her chances of reaching the knife before the Ravager separated her head from her shoulders. She didn’t like her odds.

  Grabbing one of the wooden, straight-back chairs they reserved for visitors, she used it as a battering ram, driving the legs into the Ravager’s chest. He slipped in a pool of his own blood, smearing crimson across the white tiles, and crashed to the floor. The guy just wouldn’t give up, though. His long fingers curled around Roux’s jean-clad calf, his dirty claws piercing her skin through the denim.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  She jerked her leg away and scrambled for her blade, slipping and sliding through the growing puddle of blood. Gritting her teeth against the white-hot pain that seared through her ripped flesh, she crawled back to barely moving Ravager, poised the blade just below his sternum, and stabbed upward to pierce his heart.

  With the beast dead, Roux turned her attention to bandaging her own wounds, cutting off one leg of her jeans and shredding it into strips to tie around her calf. Then she hauled herself to her feet, wincing at the throb that ran from ankle to knee, and limped out into the Square.

  The gunfire had ceased, replaced with the primal sounds of snarls, growls, and cat-like screams. A sable-colored cougar leapt off the fountain, landing on the back of a naked Ravager. Across the street, a white tiger the size of a fucking pony dragged another monster through the door of Peter’s bakery by his throat.

  In front of the pharmacy, three of their uninvited guests gathered around a prone body on the ground. Nearby, Zerrik used his superior strength and agility—along with a wicked-looking dagger—to cut a path toward them through the Square. A werewolf guard Roux only knew by appearance fought with his bare hands, laughing and dancing around a lone Ravager as he threw punches. At least someone was having fun.

  All manner of wild cats prowled the Square, all except the panther she most wanted to find. Another wave of petrified screams rose up over the sounds of the battle, coming from the direction of the Bastille. A deafening, guttural roar followed, echoing off the stone buildings, and Roux jerked toward it as if she’d been summoned.

  “Deke.”

  Ducking away from a Ravager’s reaching arms, she drove her blade into his right flank and ripped it free, barely slowing as she did so. She skirted around the rest of the fighting, cutting through the alley that ran between Moon Pie and the barbershop. Pain lanced through her calf, and a cut over her eyebrow began to sting, but Roux ignored the discomfort, running as fast as her injured leg would allow to the Bastille.

  She emerged at the edge of the forest bordering the main building and ducked into the trees. Pressing flat against one of the large trunks, she fought to catch her breath while she assessed the situation. Bodies littered the ground, some moving, some not, but it seemed most of the residents had made it inside the Bastille.

  A black jaguar with glowing blue eyes swiped his massive paw at a Ravager, creating deep gouges down the creature’s chest. Then he bounded into the nearest tree, twisted his sleek body, and soared through the air to land on the savage’s back, dropping him to the ground and snapping his neck.

  Deke’s fellow guard—another werewolf covered in blood, dirt, and sweat—dispatched his own opponent, but neither of them noticed the Ravager leaping from the top of the building.

  “On the roof!” Roux shouted, shoving away from the tree, staggering as she tried to make her swelling leg cooperate. “Deke, watch out!”

  The Ravager landed next to Deke with a heavy thud, unsettling the dirt at his feet. Before anyone could react, he tackled the big cat to the ground, sinking his claws into both flanks as he went for the throat with his fangs. Deke screeched and flailed, batting at the beast with his paws, but he couldn’t get the leverage to do much damage.

  A scream built in Roux’s throat, but she choked it back and jogged forward. Unlocking her white-knuckled grip from the hilt of her blade, she tossed the knife to the ground and climbed onto the Ravager’s bare back. Fear and rage vied for dominance as she sunk her fingers into the feral wolf’s shaggy hair and pulled roughly.

  He roared and twisted his upper body, trying to shake her loose, but Roux locked her knees around his waist and grabbed his chin in a steely grip. With one hard twist, the bones in his spine snapped, and the Ravager slump sideways, his coal-black eyes wide and unseeing.

  Then all was quiet.

  With shaking hands, Roux stroked Deke’s furry side, swallowing down a sob when her palm came away coated in his blood. “Hey,” she whispered when he lifted his head to nuzzle against her thigh. “I’m okay. You’re okay. It’s over now.”

  Deke nudged his nose against her shin and chuffed.

  “No, really, I’m okay.” The tears she’d been fighting fell hot and fast, but she wiped the
m away roughly and smiled. “Just a scratch. No big deal.”

  “I’m going to guess you’re the female who’s had the captain all tied in knots lately.” The other guard, a werewolf with caramel skin and bright green eyes, knelt down beside her. “Those were some nice moves.”

  His hand landed on her shoulder to steady her when she began to sway, earning him a low growl from Deke.

  “Knock it off.” Roux sniffled as she scratched behind his ears. “And thank you,” she added to the werewolf. “I’m Roux, by the way. Roux Jennings.”

  “Sergeant Gabriel Riccelli.” The sun had already begun to set, but he still squinted as he ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “This is a fucking mess. I’ve never seen a pack that big before, especially not here.”

  “Pack? They’re the wolves, aren’t they? The ones that went feral?” She continued stroking Deke’s side, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  Gabriel nodded. “They hunt in the woods a couple of miles from here sometimes, but they don’t ever come into the city.” He glanced over his shoulder at the Ravager she’d killed. “And I’ve never seen this many of them together.”

  Roux jerked when a shudder rippled through Deke, and a rumbling yowl escaped his black lips. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is he going to be okay?”

  “Easy, relax.” Gabriel chuckled as he pushed to his feet. “He’s just changing. I’ll grab him some clothes from the dorm.”

  The guard disappeared into the building, leaving her alone with her mate. The shift was painful to watch, and she could only imagine what it would be like to go through it. Deke’s bones cracked and realigned, the thick fur receded from his skin, and his muscles bunched, flexed, then bunched again as he panted through the transformation.

  The entire process took less than a minute, but it seemed like much longer to Roux. When it was over, Deke laid curled on his side, naked, pale, and shaking. The bleeding had stopped, and his wounds had begun to heal as his supernatural abilities repaired the mangled flesh.

  “Hey, kitten,” he whispered, inching closer to her.