Throne to the Wolves: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Spell Slinger Chronicles Book 1)

by J. A. Cipriano

  “Why are you mad at me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. I thought about adding a little “humph” sound, but I didn’t.

  “You kneed me in the crotch for no fucking reason,” he half-snarled and yellow spilled into his blue eyes. Great, the last thing I needed was for him to hulk out while driving a car I was currently traveling in. There was no way that’d end well.

  “You were going to kill me,” I replied, resting my fingers lightly on the butt of my phaser. With any luck, I’d be able to draw it and take him down before he killed me. Then again, I had no idea what to expect from him in the way of physical fortitude. I mean, it’s not like they regularly shot werewolves on Star Trek. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt him at all.

  “I was going to do no such thing.” He sighed and turned back to the road, which didn’t matter since the road was a fraking parking lot because it was LA. So yeah. Traffic.

  “Well, maybe you need to work on your whole interpersonal skills thing. Not all of us womenfolk will just fall at your feet because you’re Justin Bailey.” I turned away and stared out at the buildings lining the road. Real monuments to human hubris, all. Sleek glass and old world statues. Like someone just bought things because they could afford them and shoved them together without regard for aesthetics.

  “Fair enough.” The smugness in his voice made me want to punch him. “If you’d have waited a second, I would have explained the situation.” He let out a loud sigh. “Guess there’s no time like the present since we’re going to be stuck in traffic for the next century or two.” I felt his eyes on me. “You do live that long, right?”

  “I’m not telling.” I kept my eyes out the window. The last thing I wanted to do was look at him because he was making very strange feelings well up inside me.

  On one hand, he was Justin fraking Bailey, and I loved him. He was hot, rich, and cool. He was like the Wil Wheaton of comic book collectors. You know, making nerdy things redeemable in mainstream society while at the same time being funny as hell.

  On the other hand he was a werewolf, and last time I’d been around one, it had gutted my brother like a fish. Werewolves, cool or not, ended us on sight, no questions asked.

  “Someone died on the set of my latest movie, and we need a reader to pull the images out of the prop used to kill her so we can track down the murderer.” Sadness washed out of him as he spoke, and this time, I couldn’t resist. I turned toward him. Emotion was painted across his features, and as I knew from experience, he wasn’t that good of an actor. Hey, sometimes honesty hurts. “Until I touched you, I had no idea you were a, you know…” He waved at me as if that was explanation enough.

  “An animator?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “You can say it. I won’t be offended.”

  What he’d said almost made sense. I’d often used my talents for reading objects to help people out. Usually it was by getting a pillow or sheet to share its memories so I could see if anything untoward had happened in their vicinity, or to determine proper ownership of objects when someone died sans will. That one was always a touch tricky because I had to hope the previous owner had said something about it to the object, but yeah, Blair had set up tons of jobs like that for me.

  “So why didn’t you just call me to the set directly? Why come to get me?” I asked, somewhat shocked at the venom in my voice.

  “My agent told me I shouldn’t come. To have him contact you because that was the normal way of doing things. You know, my people call your people. Guess I should have listened.” His sigh told me this wasn’t at all going according to plan. “Truth be told, I wanted the fucking comic, so I drove my happy ass down here. I was excited. Yes, I could have had you brought to me, but then I wouldn’t have seen the 181 for myself.” He waved a hand at me. “I don’t like just writing checks to douchebags on eBay if I can help it. I like to feel the comics in my hands. It’s half the fun.” He sighed. “So yeah, two birds. One stone.” He turned his glare back on me. “You really fucked that up for me. Thanks.”

  “You punched in a fraking security door, you psycho,” I replied, barely able to handle it. He had come to buy the fraking comic? Seriously? Did he expect me to believe that? It sounded insane.

  “It’s a werewolf thing.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was angry. People don’t like me when I’m angry.”

  “Whatever, Bruce Banner,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Actually, the line ‘you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry’ is from the Bill Bixby TV show.” He grinned at me. “So the character who said it would be David Banner.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but I’d never actually seen the television show. Maybe it was true. So, instead, I decided to ignore it in an incredible show of maturity.

  “Just tell me what the frak is going on so I can fix it. And I swear to God, if we’re driving anywhere we shouldn’t, I will end you.” I narrowed my eyes and let the emotion drain from my face just like how my master had taught me to do all those years ago. When dealing with the supernatural, looking scarier than the other guy was half the fraking battle.

  “You can try.” He shrugged in a way that suggested he didn’t take me very seriously. Good. I loved when people underestimated me. “But yeah, this is on the up and up, I promise. Loraline was murdered. We need to find the killer because her murder isn’t the first. It’s the eighth.” He let out a sigh. “My clan thinks I might be next.”

  “When you say Loraline, do you mean Loraline Prescott?” Part of me didn’t want to believe she was both dead and a werewolf. I was a huge fan of Loraline. She’d started out as a YouTube cosplay star. Later she’d graduated to horrible movies, but no matter what she did, she absolutely imbued the part with a level of talent not usually found in Uwe Boll films. Then because that wasn’t enough, she’d become a pop sensation and toured the country. I’d had her new album stuck on repeat for the last month. How could she be dead? It was inconceivable.

  “Yeah, which is why we want to find the killer before this goes public because once it does, well, clusterfuck won’t begin to describe the circus we’ll be in.” He looked out onto the road as the traffic started to thaw, and we inched forward. “You probably don’t know this because of your condition, but like me, Loraline was werewolf royalty. Her father is the King of Wind and Fire to be exact. Over the last eight months, eight of the clans have had a noble murdered. It’s suspicious. It needs to stop. Hence we wanted a reader.” He exhaled hard. “If I’d known you were an animator, I’d never have come.”

  “You’d have just ordered a hit squad, eh?” I said, trying to joke, but the sidelong look he gave me let me know it was probably true.

  “Look.” His voice was measured, which wasn’t good. From the way his jaw tightened, I got the feeling he had considered the idea and found it semi-appealing. “If you’re thinking I’m just taking you to your death, you’re wrong. If you do this, you’ll get an exemption.”

  “An exemption?” I asked somewhat shocked because I’d never heard of such a thing. Hell, I was still wondering if I should just leap from the car now and take my chances. I mean, we weren’t moving fast, I could manage it. Besides, it isn’t like he’d shift with all these people around. I could totally take him.

  Even if I couldn’t, it was still the smart move. Once the werewolves found out I was around, I was as good as dead, and here I was sitting next to one in a car on my way to see more of them? Was I fraking stupid? I didn’t have a magic 8-ball or anything, but I was pretty sure if I did, it’d say “Signs point to yes, dumbass.”

  “Open the glove box. In it you’ll find a contract. It says in return for this you get whatever you want. I’m supposed to negotiate terms, so let’s negotiate. You write ‘exemption’ on the line. Sign it and it’s a done deal. You’re safe. Forever.” He shrugged like he hadn’t just offered me the thing I wanted most in life. The chance to be free and live my life. It sounded almost too good to be true. I mean, I’d runaway and hidden, for a long time, and I could go on doing that, but what i
f I didn’t have to do it?

  “That sounds a bit too easy,” I said, and nearly launched into my life story about how werewolves had tracked down every single one of my animator friends over the years and murdered them horrifically.

  “Well, usually I’m a tough negotiator, but since I really need your help, I’m going to let you in on the whole exemption loophole.” His grin was downright predatory as he spoke, almost like he knew I had no choice. And I really didn’t. After all, how was I going to pass up a chance like this?

  “What’s the catch?” I asked, hoping beyond hope he wasn’t lying. If he was offering me a chance to be free of the blood feud I had to take it. Unfortunately, things like this had huge strings attached. Helping him find a killer seemed a touch too easy.

  “No catch. Just sign it before we arrive, and we’ll be cool. It’s pre-signed by the nine clans already so no one can break it or their blood will boil from within.” He stuck his tongue out. “It’s pretty gruesome.”

  “And you’d do this for me, why?” I asked, opening the glove box. He was right. There was a contract, but it was written in legalese so I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Man, where was a Babel fish when you needed one?

  “If I said because you were cute, would you hold it against me?” he asked, and this time he smiled at me, and as he did, I felt my heart flutter in my chest.

  I know. Seriously. I know. I’m a fool. A silly little girl taken in by a movie star, and not even a good one. He was a werewolf, and I was a mage. Our clans were engaged in a millennia old blood feud. Sure I had a contract, but that might not keep me safe. I should have left right then, but I was really good with objects. If I left, Loraline’s killer might not be found, and if Justin was right, he might die too. It wouldn’t be my fault per se, but as I looked at him, I realized I couldn’t let him die if I could help it.

  So instead of doing anything remotely intelligent, I pulled a sharpie out of my pocket and wrote the word ‘exemption’ on the dotted line before signing the contract.

  Yeah, I was going to die because let’s be real, no contract would ever keep me safe, but at least now, whoever did it would melt into a puddle. Small victories, I know. On the upside, I was going to a movie set, so I had that going for me, which was nice.

  4

  “So when you said movie set, you lied,” I said, staring at the lot. “Or, you’re shooting a very creepy porno.”

  We’d pulled in front of an abandoned warehouse with a single non-descript van rusting in the parking lot. It didn’t seem like the scene of a crime nor the scene of a movie shoot. It almost made me wonder if he was fucking with me, and as that thought occurred to me, my heart leapt into my throat.

  As he unlocked the car and pushed his door open, I tried to shove down the sudden bout of panic that surged up inside me. What if he really had taken me somewhere to kill me? What if the contract was a lie to get me out here for a good old-fashioned axe-murdering?

  Before I could stop myself, my hands tightened on the rolled up piece of parchment, and a spark of energy flowed from my fingers and into the object. A smattering of images hit my senses like a freight train, before resolving into a scene.

  Nine separate people, none of whom I recognized, were signing the document in blood before handing it to Justin. I couldn’t make out what they said since the object didn’t speak whatever language they spoke and therefore couldn’t understand it.

  Still, I could tell from their thousand dollar suits and facial expressions, not only were they important, but so was this document. What’s more, Justin was wearing the exact same thing he was wearing now. This had happened today, and not just today, but a few hours ago at most. It made me think he’d left the scene of the movie to meet the nine people before jetting over to find me.

  “It is the set for my movie,” Justin said, stepping out of the car and stretching. His muscles shifting beneath his skin reminded me of a jungle cat stalking its prey. “We’re filming on the other side. I came this way to avoid the fan girls.” He flashed me a movie star smile because of course he had one. Duh.

  “I’d like to note that you didn’t deny the creepy porno thing,” I replied, raising my eyebrow at him even as a flush crept across my cheeks. I mean, while he’d been naked in nearly all of his movies, he still hadn’t shown us the total package if you get my drift. That said, I knew he had a cute ass beneath those jeans.

  “You wish,” Justin replied, crouching down to make eye contact with me because I was still sitting in his car. “My eyes are up here.” He pointed.

  “I most certainly do not,” I snapped even though I most certainly did. Like way more than I should have probably. Jesus, what was wrong with me? I mean, I’m totally okay with drooling over a guy from time to time, but something about Justin sent my libido into overdrive. Man, I needed to get laid.

  “Whatever you say, Annie,” he replied and the laughter in his words made my cheeks heat up ten more degrees.

  I turned away from him and flung the door open before leaping from the car. Instead of looking at him, I glanced at the cracked asphalt and kicked at a pothole absently with the toe of my Doc Martin. I’d thought he was just hitting potholes on purpose when he’d pulled into the parking lot, but now that I was staring at it, I realized there were more pot holes than actual parking lot. I glanced back at his Maserati. I’d have never driven it here, let alone left it alone in an empty lot like this. It made me wonder how much money he had.

  The asphalt crunched beneath Justin’s feet as he walked around the car and offered me his hand. “Ready?” he asked, gesturing toward the rundown building.

  It sort of resembled an old hospital, and not the nice kind. No, the bad kind you’d see in slasher flicks about mental patients. Just looking at it gave me the creeps. Even though most of the glass in the windows had been shattered, only a few had been boarded over, although for all I knew this could be for his movie. Then again, I was starting to doubt how much of that was true.

  I mean, he was an actor, but like I said before. He was a B-movie actor with a cult following. I wasn’t even sure if he made money on his movies. Then again, if he’d wanted me dead, he could have killed me while we were in the car. No, he seemed to genuinely want my help. I sighed and glanced down at his hand before marching past him toward the desolate hospital.

  “You forgot the ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here’ sign,” I said as I crossed the parking lot. I could feel magic in the air as I approached. It swirled around the structure like we were sitting on a ley line. You know, the metaphysical currents of magic that crisscrossed the earth. It was especially strange because, I’d studied countless maps of Los Angeles, and I was reasonably sure no ley lines were anywhere near one. So what was the weird magic crawling over my skin like a pack of hyperactive marmots?

  “It’s on the other side,” Justin said, catching up and then passing me. His long legs ate up the distance between us in a few quick strides. As he approached the door, he produced a key and jammed it in the lock.

  He had the door open by the time I reached him, and gestured inside with one hand. “After you, Annie.”

  “Why do you say my name when you talk?” I asked, glancing past him into the darkened hallway. The place was so badly lit, I could scarcely make out more than the stained white walls and the cracked cement floor at the entrance. It only took a few feet for everything to settle into murky darkness, and I wished I’d brought some night vision goggles.

  “Using someone’s name endears you to them.” He stepped past me into the room, evidently tired of waiting for me to move my ass. That was fine. It gave me a spectacular view of his. “When it comes to you, I figure I need all the help I can get.”

  “Well, stop. It’s creepy as Hell.” I shrugged and followed along behind him. My hand trailed down toward the lightsaber clipped onto my belt, but I didn’t tug it free. Anyone who saw me walking through a darkened hospital clutching a toy lightsaber would immediately think less of me, and if I was abo
ut to confront a murder scene, I needed all the credibility I could get.

  I forced my hand away from the saber as Justin turned down a corridor and disappeared from view, leaving me alone in the hallway. My heart sped up in my chest as the darkness seemed to close in around me. I didn’t like this place. Now I was alone. I mean, okay he was probably only a few feet away, but I couldn’t see him.

  “Justin?” I asked as I turned the corner, hoping I didn’t sound as feeble as I thought.

  “Boo!” he cried, leaping out at me and waving his hands.

  I decked him. Right in the nose. He stumbled backward, smashing into the plaster before I even realized what had happened.

  “Ow, what the fuck?” he cried, grabbing at his face, blood streaming through his fingers.

  “Did you seriously just bring me into an abandoned mental hospital and jump out at me screaming boo?!” I yelled. Rage welled up inside me and my fingers inched toward my saber, ready to cut him up good. It’d be fine. He’d heal.

  “I was trying to be funny,” he mumbled through his hands. Then he tilted his head toward the ceiling in an effort to staunch the blood. I must have gotten him good because he should have healed it already. Points for me.

  “News flash, you’re just a jackass!” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t stab you or something.”

  “Though I agree with your assessment of Mr. Bailey, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stab our star,” said a voice from far to my left. It sounded ancient and cultured. Sort of how I envisioned Alfred speaking to a young Master Wayne. “It’s hard to find actors with abs like his.”

  My head snapped to the left and as it did, my eyes nearly bugged out of my fraking skull as I took in his ebony skin, bald head, and dark eyes, and immediately realized who he was. Even if he didn’t nearly vanish into the gloom due to his trademark black turtleneck and black slacks, I’d have recognized him from the last several years’ worth of entertainment magazines.