by Jen Pretty
As we walked up, the witches finally noticed me and took a step away from the door to let us pass. Inside there were dozens of witches and warlocks gathered around. My least favorite witch, Cindy, didn’t bother to get up or glance my way more than once.
I walked straight to the back room and knocked on the door. I turned back to see if Singh had followed, but he was at the bar with a drink already in his hand and a hoard of witches around him.
“Come in, Lark.” I heard Frankie’s muffled voice form beyond the door, so I walked in and shut it behind me, blocking out enough of the heavy music to at least let me think straight.
Frankie was sitting behind his desk, holding a picture frame. He set it face down on the desk and looked up at me.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey, I heard you had quite the adventure.”
“Yeah, and then my friend Frankie showed up and disappeared again pretty quick,” I said. “It was the strangest thing.”
He gave me a crooked smile.
“Sorry, I thought I could catch him this time,” he said.
“It wasn’t Vernon.”
“No, I know it wasn’t Vernon,” he replied.
“Then who was it?” I asked, exasperated with the cagey warlock.
“My father.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I thought your father died.”
“I let people think that. I have tried to keep it hidden from the coven; a few know the truth, but they are devoted to me. The council don’t care that he went dark. They don’t believe it is hereditary, but some still believe the superstition and wouldn’t stand for my leadership if they found out.”
“Jesus, Frankie,” I said. “I’m so sorry. Is that where you have been all this time. I thought you were looking for Vernon.”
“It was a good cover. I need to kill him before he destroys any more lives. Dark warlocks are more dangerous than fallen vampires. They can wipe out whole cities. Make them disappear off the map.”
I was hit with the gravity of the situation. Frankie’s father wanted me dead. That was really inconvenient for our friendship.
A scream from the bar pulled me from my thoughts. We rushed back out the door to find a white lion sitting on the bar, his tail flicking back and forth. His giant maw opened in a yawn that turned into a roar, jingling the glasses behind the bar. He shook his white mane and began grooming his paw like a house cat.
“Jesus, Singh? What the hell?” I yelled over the witches and warlocks in the bar. Their animated faces and talking sounded like a bunch of children on a field trip to the zoo. It wasn’t far off, I suppose. His yellow eyes trained on me and he lifted one lip in a weird lion smile.
Frankie laughed behind me. I spun around to look at him, giving him a questioning look.
“The shifters always end up shifting here. There’s too much magic. I bet no one expected him to be a white lion.”
He said ‘the shifters’ like there were more of them. I did not need to consider more shifters
“Ok, fuck.” I rubbed my forehead. How did my life get this weird? “I’m going to take him to Vincent’s. Can you come with me so we can discuss this business?”
Frankie sobered at my words. “Ok, let’s go talk to your vampire.”
I wanted to smack him and say he wasn’t my vampire, but it was pointless.
Singh hopped down off the bar, on silent feet. The restrained power and control of each muscle in his sleek body, right to the very tip of his tail was almost frightening. Durga chose that moment to send me a flash of the lion rending flesh from bone, his white face stained blood red. Great.
As we walked out, the witches and warlocks followed behind us in silence but as we approached the SUV, I began to hear whispers from the crowd.
“Can you change back into a person, Singh?” I asked as we approached my brand-new SUV with the leather seats. His claws had left deep gashes in the bar top as he leaped down. I had visions of much worse happening in my vehicle.
The lion huffed and between one blink and the next he was a man again. He didn’t break stride, but the swagger he had as a lion continued for a few more steps before he walked normally again.
We drove back to the mansion, each in our own worlds. My thoughts lingered on Frankie. He had to kill his own father. His father who wanted me dead. Ugh, Durga wanted Frankie’s father dead too. If I killed his father, that might make things weird between us.
“Stop worrying about me, Lark.”
I screamed and swerved, making Singh holler in the backseat. “I’m sorry. Sorry. Shit, Frankie.”
“I won’t hold it against you if you kill my father before he kills you. In fact, I will be really pissed if you don’t kill him first,” Frankie said never even commenting on the fact I almost killed us all in a fiery crash.
“It was hardly a near death experience,” he said. “Your lion might just be lacking in the courage department,” he snickered.
I really needed to get a tattoo that said ‘Frankie reads your mind’ so I remembered to think more selectively.
“That’s hot,” he said.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked as we turn off the highway into the subdivision.
“I can answer that,” Singh piped in from the backseat.
“Shut it, lion man,” Frankie retorted.
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a head ache coming on and pulled up to the gate of the mansion. I put my window down and waved to the guard who smiled and opened the electric gate before waving me through.
Inside, I followed the corridor around to Vincent’s office. Frankie and Singh on my heels.
I knocked and walked in without waiting. Vincent wasn’t alone. I was greeted by the back view of a blonde in high heels. I would probably be average height with heels that tall. She was standing in front of Vincent, his arm was wound around her shoulders, holding her close to his chest and his teeth were in her neck. The blonde’s skirt was extremely short. I wasn’t sure how she could sit down. Perhaps that was the point.
Durga jumped forward in righteous indignation on my behalf. Flashing our knife into my hand, she gave me a shove in their direction. Goddess, she’s a hot head. Instead I turned and pushed past the two idiots behind me who were staring at the blonde too and I walked back out the door. I reminded myself I had no business being jealous, despite what Durga said. She flashed me an image if my knife stuck in Vincent’s stomach.
At least she didn’t want him dead.
I walked up to my room and changed into yoga pants and an oversized sweater, reminded myself again that I had no right to be jealous and walked back out of my closet. I startled, nearly tripping over my own bare feet because suddenly he was sitting in his chair in the corner of my room.
“Christ, Vincent.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, but I got the feeling it wasn’t just for startling me.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not. Old habits die hard.”
“You mean tall, blonde, bombshell habits?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have any say in what you do with tall blonde bombshells,” I said sitting down on my bed to put on some wooly socks.
“But I want you to have a say. I want you, Lark.”
“Not tall, blond bombshells?”
“Would you stop saying tall blond bombshells.”
“Only if you stop dining on them,” I replied with a smile.
“Done.” He stood and scooped me into his arms. His lips found mine as he tangled his fingers in my hair. My pulse jumped, racing in my ears. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, wanting the moment to last forever, so was pretty disappointed when a throat cleared behind me.
Vincent pulled away with a groan.
“I understand we have something to discuss,” Vincent said scowling over my shoulder. I turned around to find Frankie there. Great.
I sighed. “Yeah, Frankie’s father wants me dead or he is going to kill a bunch of people, I assu
me. We can add poppa warlock to the list that currently has your brother’s name on it.” The ‘who wants to kill Lark’ list. The WWWTKL. The acronym wasn’t great; I would work on it.
My bedroom door opened, because apparently not everyone could magically appear in my room, but knocking was still totally optional, and in walked a giant white lion.
He walked across my room and hopped up onto my bed, then curled up there and started grooming himself and purring as loud as a motorcycle engine.
I threw my hands up in the air and collapsed in Vincent’s favorite chair in the corner. Nothing was sacred anymore. My bed was full of white cat hair. Why was my life like this?
“Alright, what are we supposed to do about poppa warlock?” I asked.
“It’s really weird that you call him that,” Frankie said running his fingers through his hair and sitting down on the edge of my bed. The lion stopped cleaning his shaggy mane and looked at the warlock on my bed, then went back to what he was doing, apparently satisfied the warlock wasn’t about to climb into his bed or something.
“Why is he a lion right now?” I asked. I couldn’t take not knowing anymore.
Vincent and Frankie both looked at the lion who stopped licking his fur and rolled over onto his back, displaying more of the lion man than I needed to see.
“Dude, that’s really not ok,” Frankie said. Singh didn’t seem to care.
“Whatever, back to the bigger problem. I think Durga will let me know if Frankie’s father is back.”
“He’s still in the city. If he doesn’t use magic, you won’t be able to sense him.” Frankie explained. “Warlocks are not evil unless they are actively casting black magic. It’s not like vampires who turn evil. We make a choice every time we use magic.”
“Great.”
“I finally heard back from the police station. The tip about your image in that surveillance footage in the high rise came from a payphone near your old apartment. It could have been anyone, but with Frankie’s father causing problems, I have a feeling it was him. No one has seen Vernon since he tried to blow you up in Canada.”
“Well, if Vernon could just stay lost somewhere for a little while, I’d rather not have two people chasing me at once,” I said, leaning back and closing my eyes.
Silence filled the room. My thoughts turned from Vernon to poppa warlock. I didn’t really know what witches and warlocks were capable of. I would need to get more information before I tried to fight that brand of evil. I knew I could probably take on any vampire with Durga’s help. She flashed an image of our knife sticking out of someone’s temple. It could have been Frankie’s father. I didn’t recognize him. Pretty gross, Durga.
“That would kill him,” Frankie muttered from where he leaned against the window frame across the room. I cracked an eye open.
“Did you just see that?” I asked.
“I heard you think it.”
“That’s a bit shady. I didn’t think it, Durga showed it to me.”
“What are you two talking about?” Vincent asked.
“Durga has been sending me pictures. Typically, violent ones,” I replied.
“I heard her think about her knife in the side of my father’s head,” Frankie replied.
I shifted, uncomfortable with the phrasing. I didn’t want to kill someone’s father. It was such a grey area. Then I realized I had spent all this time trying to kill Vincent’s brother and I was probably the most terrible person in the world. I looked at Vincent. He was a good person. Why couldn’t his brother be good too?
“He’s not that good,” Frankie muttered.
“Who isn’t good?” Vincent asked.
I glared at Frankie and told him to shut up and stop reading my thoughts.
“I can’t help it,” he replied out loud.
“Can’t help what?” Vincent asked
I mentally told Frankie to stop. Vincent was getting angry.
“He’s always angry and he’s not good for you,” Frankie replied out loud, throwing his arms in the air. Oh shit, we were not having this conversation now.
“Why not? We should get it all out in the open. I want to be with you, Lark,” the idiot warlock replied. Out loud.
Vincent stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him, startling the sleeping lion who growled and rolled over. At least his lion bits weren’t on display anymore. I put my head in my hands and rubbed my forehead. This was not what I needed right now.
“Lark,” Frankie said. I didn’t look up. I sat in silence for a few more minutes.
When I finally felt strong enough, I looked up and Frankie was gone.
Singh shifted back into a man and bit his lip.
“You have quite a mess there,” he said.
“Yes, thanks. Everything is a mess,” I said. “Want to go get some food?”
Singh slid off the bed and I made a note to change my sheets before I collapsed in it later.
The sun was well and truly in the sky. I was exhausted. I hadn’t heard from Durga in a while and I was nervous that she was going to take over and lock me out again. I needed to get some sleep. Singh had been a hit at breakfast with the vampires. He stayed in human form, but told them stories of ancient times. He was pretty charismatic when he got going and knew some of the early vampires. Vincent even stood in the doorway of the dining room listening. I saw him out of the corner of my eye.
I climbed the stairs to my room and discovered that the magical house keeping people had removed the lion haired bed coverings and replaced them with brand new sheets and blankets. I closed the blinds, plunging the room into complete darkness before changing into a big shirt and boy shorts. I collapsed into the bed and burrowed under the heavy blankets. I closed my eyes.
I heard a click and light from the hall flooded my room, hitting my closed eyelids.
“Whoever you are, in or out. I’m sleeping,” I said, keeping my eyes closed.
“I can just sit by the door,” Singh said.
“You want me to ask Vincent to give you a room?” I muttered. I hadn’t thought of that at brunch.
“He already offered but it would be better if I stayed with you.”
“Singh, I am too tired to play twenty questions. In or out?”
The door shut and the mattress dipped beside me. Purring confirmed what I had guessed. He was totally going to sleep as a lion, on my bed. Whatever. His purring was soothing and before I knew it, I was asleep.
***
Intense purring was the only warning before a coarse tongue ran up my face. It was the equivalent of being licked by a cinder block.
“Oh, God, that is so gross.” I tried to shove the offending lion off the bed, but he weighed about the same as a mac truck. He rolled over on his back, pinning the leg I was trying to shove him with to the mattress and pulling the blankets off me. The room was cold so I started trying to dislodge the blankets and my leg form beneath the freaking jungle beast.
“Shit. You oaf. Get off!”
Suddenly my door opened and an angry vampire walked in. I really needed to get better locks. Or maybe lasers, because the vampire got an eyeful of me with very little clothes on, wrestling with a lion and I wasn’t about to try and explain that.
The angry look melted off Vincent’s face and he sat down in his chair, like he was ready to watch the show. I gave up on getting the blankets back and instead slithered off the bed like a jelly fish sliding my leg out from under the lion.
I righted myself and stomped to the closet, slamming the door behind me. I had way too many men in my life. They were all jerks.
Durga sent me a flash of the river and gave me a shove. I put on my leather gear and strapped my blade to my thigh. When I walked back out Singh, now in human form, and Vincent were talking. They stopped when they saw me.
“Time to go,” I said with a smile.
***
My boots were a loud retort on the cement under the docks. Vampires on my heels and a dark magic user in my sights, I pushed my muscle
s until they burned and kept pushing. We flew past a group of teens setting up sleeping bags and an old man who yelled at us to stop the government. I thought of Frankie and with whatever weird magic connected us, he appeared just as his father disappeared in to thin air. I stopped short, tripped on the uneven pavement and slid across the ground tearing my hands.
My pride was hurt more than my body. Frankie grabbed my hands and inspected the cuts and scrapes imbedded with gravel and dirt and who knew what else. This was why I wore leather pants.
I took some deep breaths and tried to slow my heart rate. If I could calm down, I could search for him.
“You won’t find him now, Lark,” Frankie said.
I took one more breath and tried to send out my senses. Instead, Durga was there, she sent me a flash of black. Nothing.
“Shit.”
“What has he done?” Frankie asked, still holding my wrists. I didn’t say anything, just thought about the scene on the other end of the docks. Four homeless people, still in their sleeping bags with their throats slit and the word Durga, sloppily painted in their blood on the cement pillar beside them.
Frankie dropped my hands and started walking back the way we had come. The team and I followed behind him. A sullen procession.
I probably wouldn’t catch him without more bodies. He only used dark magic when he wanted me to see what he had done. He was toying with me.
“He’s toying with me too, Lark,” Frankie said without turning around.
I found Singh about half way back to murder scene, sitting beside an elderly man who was weeping. Singh’s arm was around the man’s shoulders and the pair were rocking gently.
“I just don’t know what to do,” the man sobbed.
“You know what you must do. You must change your ways. It is time to go home, Leo. Your family wants you to come home and get help.” The man’s sobs punctuated Singh’s words as I waited.