Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  He suddenly laughed. Not a belly laugh, but a demonic one, cold and cruel. “See? Everyone has the instinct to be angry. To inflict violence on others. I rest my case.”

  He brushed past me and, for a moment, I stood frozen. He was right. I knew he was right. I was furious that he had provoked me so easily, livid that after all the time I had spent restraining myself and fighting for the Fae, this one bad egg was trying to spoil the lot. He poked and I exploded; acting exactly the way shifters were supposed to. But I didn’t want to be like them. I had seen the things Mordecai had done in the name of “the greater good.”

  Honey-colored eyes sparkling with all the brightness of childhood curiosity filled my mind. I clamped down on the image. No. I couldn’t let those memories back in, because if I did . . .

  “Fine. You’re right. We all make mistakes.” That was the closest I could bring myself to offering an apology. I shrugged and added, “But not everything has to be a fight.”

  The Fae stopped in his tracks. Maybe I was finally getting through to him. “You’re right,” he said, and a flicker of hope warmed my chest. Then, “But if your kind doesn’t control their urges to beat up my kind, then why should I? Leave me alone, stalker.” And with that, he turned to stride away.

  But the paper fell free and I bent, plucking the folded sheet from the ground. “What’s this?”

  The Fae whirled, fire in his eyes. I was pushing my luck. Hard. He closed in quickly and I shoved the paper into my bra, giving him an I dare you smirk. He froze, eyes locked onto my chest. With a blink, he tore his gaze away, lips twisting as if the sight repulsed him. Heat blazed in my cheeks, but I held my ground. I didn’t know what was inside this paper, but he wanted it and I wanted information. I wasn’t about to pass that off.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Or don’t talk and I’ll take the paper back to my penthouse. Either way . . .”

  He frowned as he considered his options. Fight or flight? I was shocked when he said, “You know what? Keep the paper. I’m out of here.”

  Ugh. What a diva. I pulled the paper free, quickly scanning the contents. Mordecai. Job opening. Fae only. I blinked. What?

  “Here,” I said as he pushed past me. “I was only teasing you. Trying to clear the air a little. You can have this back.” Questions flooded my mind. Any inquiries I had for this Fae could wait until I solved this new mystery. Folding the sheet in half, I extended my hand toward his retreating form. I paused, then asked, “What’s your name?”

  He didn’t turn around. “My name? I’m surprised you don’t know already, being a stalker and all. And I don’t need the ad anymore. My puny Fae brain has already memorized the words. If you really need a name though,” he said, head swiveling enough to meet my eyes, “call me ScarFae.”

  “I hate those stupid Pit monikers,” I muttered, raising my voice to add, “And you’re as pathetic as your dumb nickname.”

  I spun in a huff, dropping the slip of paper over my shoulder as I went. Fae prick. If he responded, I didn’t hear him. I had more pressing matters to attend to. Questions I needed answered.

  —

  I paced the foyer of Mordecai’s mansion, flicking cigarette ashes on the flecked marble floor. My hands were jittery from dealing with the Fae and I knew if Mordecai noticed, he would have my hide.

  “No Fae should be able to spook my daughter.”

  Adopted daughter. Theoretically the same thing. And I wasn’t spooked, I was infuriated. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so angry from a handful of sentences. That Fae had me teetering a dangerous line between helper and Enforcer, and I didn’t like the feeling.

  “Your father will see you now.” An older gentleman—one I had dubbed Squirrel Butler so long ago the name was ingrained—played doorman to the mansion. Mordecai said his shifter form was harmless, but I wasn’t entirely sure what the doorman actually was. With his mousy face, puff of red-brown hair, and bottomless pocket of sunflower seeds, I had to get creative. He was wiry, thin, and twitchy. Squirrel made sense.

  I began the climb to the second story, up an elaborate staircase made from the same marble as the floor below. Mordecai spared no expense on this place. Alec had an entire wing to himself now. I had been offered the same, but I had passed under the pretense that I needed more quiet to sleep during the day. Mordecai agreed, and paid the expense for my penthouse, but only so long as I remained on as an Enforcer. The last bit was formality; I didn’t actually have a choice in the matter.

  His office was down a long hallway, carpeted in black velvet and scattered with silver light fixtures; the same thematic colors he used downstairs and in all the public rooms of the mansion. Mordecai had decked his own suites in green and silver, Alec choosing red and gold. Both had massive balconies attached to their private chambers, larger even than mine. Dragon shifters took up more space, they claimed. I scoffed. Alec’s “mighty” dragon was puny next to my lion.

  Mordecai’s huge office door was dark, solid kingwood, engraved with a dragon curled around a shard of crystal. His signet. I twisted the silver handle and shoved, groaning at the weight.

  My eyes fell first to the walls and the beautiful bookcases that circled the room. Mordecai’s desk sat in the center on a garish, woven rug. He was tapping away at his laptop when I entered, but he paused to look up expectantly. I dipped to one knee.

  “In loyalty and service to the Great Dragon.” I lowered my head.

  Mordecai snapped his fingers and I stood. “Sit. I’ll only be a moment.”

  I did, lounging in the chair in front of his desk. Resting might have been a mistake. The moment my feet left the ground, my eyelids began to droop, my mind slowing. I straightened, planting my boots firmly on the floor.

  “Father, can I ask you about a flier I saw at Smithfield Press this afternoon?”

  Mordecai’s eyes flicked up. He and Alec shared that icy blue color, though his were a tad lighter than his son’s. They even had similar hairstyles, though Mordecai’s was noticeably shorter, black, and peppered with gray. A long scar stretched from the left corner of his mouth to his jaw. I didn’t know where the mark had come from—one of the stories he swore he would never tell. From what I knew of wounds, I could only guess that someone had sliced his mouth wide open.

  “What did you see at the press, my darling?”

  I balked at the strange pet name, so easy to mistake for real affection. Mordecai had never been shy about his terms of endearment; always the doting father until he needed to punish me. I didn’t fall for the act anymore, not often anyway. Alec and I had grown up the same, with every comfort and privilege, but having seen the sheer brutality they dealt innocent Fae for small things like stealing food, I couldn’t bring myself to share their ideals.

  I swallowed. “I saw that you’re opening a new position to Fae employees? I was curious as to what, and why? You’ve always shown so much favor to the shifters—if you have this many new jobs, shouldn’t they be approached too?”

  He probably wants to repress the Fae a bit more, I thought bitterly.

  Mordecai leaned back, his wooden chair groaning at the weight change as he steepled his fingertips. The three silver bands in each of his ears clicked together. He slowly nodded. “I think we should try to repair a bit of the damage that’s been done. Allow the Fae to take better-paying positions if they’re up to the task. Mend fences, if you will.”

  “But why? And why now?”

  “I have mines in need of workers. The Fae have workers in need of jobs. I thought you of all people would appreciate a move toward bettering Fae livelihoods.” His tone was a challenge, daring me to defend the Fae. Asking for a reason to reprimand me, or worse.

  “Yes, well, we both know you keep the Fae in the city to do the jobs shifters don’t want.”

  His eyes flashed. I was pushing my luck. But I would handle a lashing if I could squeeze more information from him. “I’m in need of laborers. Why do you care where I acquire them?” My hands shook and I tugged a cigarette
free, lighting the end and taking a long drag. Mordecai scowled. “You’re not to smoke in my office. You know this.”

  “I do,” I agreed, eyeing him. The best way to get Mordecai off me was to send him after his son. My brow lifted as I said, “I’ve had extra Enforcer duties all day. On Alec’s watch. I think I’m entitled to a little leniency.”

  “What do you mean on Alec’s watch?” Mordecai’s scowl deepened, but his shoulders relaxed. “That boy is as useless as wet bread.”

  “There was a shifter in Fae territory. A coyote. Don’t worry, I handled him.”

  “I’ll have a word with Alec,” he growled. “Go home, rest. I need you in top shape tonight. I hear there’s a Fae making trouble at The Pit.”

  “I’ve handled him,” I said casually, standing. “That’s all this new job is? Mining positions?”

  Mordecai shrugged, his expression a touch too innocent to be believed. “That’s all, sweetheart.”

  I strode out onto the balcony, smashing my cigarette onto the banister before I shifted. Part of me suspected he knew what I did for the Fae, but I had to believe he would have punished me if he did. He never seemed to miss the opportunity, and I wasn’t always the one to pay the price. Then again, his hatred for the Fae was the reason Alec and I had been trained as Enforcers.

  To do whatever is necessary to teach them their place.

  I growled at the thought. Whatever these mining jobs were, they were almost certainly not going to benefit the Fae. If Mordecai was even being honest about the positions in the first place. I had my doubts. I guess I’d have to be a little more nosy.

  When my fur finally settled into place, I took flight, my aim the soft bed that called my name.

  The last twenty-four hours had royally sucked. Getting beat up sucked. Losing my job sucked. Getting carried away by the Night Enforcer who happened to be a foot shorter than me—and probably a hundred pounds lighter—

  Sucked.

  Carried . . . Yeah, I still didn’t know how I’d gotten into her apartment. The bouncer’s warning about her lion form resurfaced. I snorted and tossed the notion aside. She was too small. There was no way.

  As I took a swig of whiskey, I stewed over the mystery, but my brain was buzzing too hard to help me solve the case. I knew fighting at The Pit so soon after my win would only land me in a ditch, so I was playing nice. For now. No one bothered me as I sat in a corner booth of the warehouse’s underground, slowly getting drunk and pretending to watch the fights.

  I saw nothing.

  My head was too full of what-ifs and booze. Earlier in the evening, a few shifters had approached me—tried to bait me into entering the cages. But no, as much as I wanted to numb the pain, I couldn’t risk another beating. Alcohol would have to do. So, after staring at my unblinking face for a few minutes, they called me a piece of Fae trash and left me to my vices. Deep down, somewhere in the far recesses of my being, I was relieved. I doubted the Night Enforcer had any desire to rescue me a second time—not after the way I had treated her.

  I really was a prick sometimes. The thought made me want to laugh. I gnawed on my lip instead. If everyone just left me alone, my word choices wouldn’t be an issue. It had taken years of social suicide on my part, but not many noticed me anymore. Except Benji, and now this Enforcer. What was her deal?

  My mood was especially sour tonight—didn’t help that I’d been stuck in a downpour on my way over. This city was the worst: wet, dirty, and smelling of shifter musk. If I had more money, I’d leave this craphole behind for good and find a small corner of the world that accepted Fae as equals.

  But that was the problem. I didn’t know if such a corner existed, and finding a shifter knowledgeable enough and willing to escort me past the minefields so I didn’t get blown to bits was probably impossible—especially with my bad rep. More likely, they’d laugh, shoot me in the face, then pocket my money.

  Humans had been smart enough to clear out of this city around the time of The Shift—I hadn’t seen one since before my days spent locked in that sad excuse for an orphanage. The humans had been treated fairly and were allowed jobs with decent wages, but they’d still left en masse after witnessing so many executions.

  They were lucky. Mordecai had allowed them to leave, and other cities would accept them. But here I was, stuck, fresh out of a job, and money wasn’t coming anytime soon. That was why I chose not to fight tonight, despite my body’s cravings.

  Money. A necessary evil.

  I had stashed away the roll I’d won last night, but the cash wasn’t enough to solve my problems—unless drowning my problems in whiskey counted. I laid a hand over my right pants pocket where the wanted flyer now rested. Open interviews started at noon tomorrow and I was determined to be first in line. My blood heated when I realized who I would no doubt face. Who I would directly work for. For the first time that I knew of, the devil dragon himself was offering a position to Fae. The pay would undoubtedly be better than any I’d had previously.

  But the thought of Mordecai peering over my shoulder while I worked, correcting my every stupid Fae move, made my blood boil. I slammed my empty mug down on the sticky, claw-marked table, and the cheap glass shattered. Someone nearby cursed and threw an insult my way. Another urge to laugh swept over me.

  “Hey, you,” I said to a passing Pit girl, the words a bit slurred. “Another whiskey on the rocks.”

  She wrinkled her nose, but went to do my bidding. I hoped. The buzz in my head was getting good now—heavy, like a nest of swarming honey bees. My problems were but pesky little bubbles, and if I squinted hard enough, I could pop them. Make them disappear.

  Another glass of amber liquid thunked on the table and I wasted no time knocking the drink back. After two more, the world started to swirl. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last one. Getting home was going to be interesting. With a lurch and slight stumble, I was on my feet. Somehow I had to keep my cool as I weaved through the undulating crowd.

  Were they dancing?

  I had never seen anyone dance in this joint before. They had no idea what they were missing out on. An urge to sway to the thumping bass consumed me. I bobbed my head and shuffled my feet. Only for a minute. Shaggy hair fell over my face like a curtain, hiding me from the others. If they couldn’t see me, they couldn’t bother me. I was alone with the music, the vibrating beat, alcohol warming my insides and calming my normally rage-filled mind.

  The moment was rudely interrupted as my back hit a wall. I swung around, almost tilting too far, but I grabbed onto a pole. Or rather, an arm covered in swirly green art.

  “Pretty.” I focused on the wall that had ruined my dance moves, but was greeted by a two-headed monster instead. I blinked and the heads squished into one. Then split into two again. He looked human. Sort of. “Ugly.”

  Two mouths pulled back to reveal hideously yellow teeth. “What did you call me, Fae scum?”

  I stumbled back a step, waving a hand in front of my face. “Dude.” I coughed. “Didn’t your mom ever tell you to brush your teeth?”

  The teeth elongated and I stared, fascinated. How did he do that? Then he started talking again and more laughter bubbled up my chest, escaping through my nose. “You shouldn’t have come to a shifter joint if you can’t hold your liquor, boy. Now the floor is about to get real messy.”

  I watched, curious, as he took off his shirt, revealing a large tattoo of a mermaid. But the drawing had—I squinted—three heads. I pointed at the fuzzy image. “Is that your girl? She’s uglier than you.”

  The two-headed monster roared, sounding like a constipated walrus. His rotten egg breath washed over me a second time and my gut roiled. I held up a hand, the other gripping at my stomach. “Whoa, I think you’re right. Keep doing that and the floor is going to get messy. Maybe your shoes, too.”

  Out of nowhere, something struck my face. My head whipped to the side and so did the rest of my body. Another pole broke my fall though. No, not a pole. Some of the fog receded, enough for me
to see a furious shifter holding me upright. A second later, I was thrust backward, right into another wall.

  The whiskey in my stomach sloshed back and forth. I groaned. “Time out, guys. Give me a second. I don’t think my stomach likes being tossed around by an ugly pack of shifters.” I belched, my body’s way of agreeing.

  But I should have known better. Shifters didn’t play fair.

  One second I was swaying on my feet, the next rolling on the floor as a boot struck my back. My spine throbbed, the ache sharpening my awareness. Shifters. Shifters everywhere. At least a dozen glaring down at me. Another kick, right between the shoulder blades, wrenched the buzz away.

  I scrambled to my feet, blinking rapidly as the dozen faces became fifty. Snap out of it before they snap you in half! Barely dodging another kick, I let fly a fist—my knuckles smashed into a nose. Crunch!

  Everyone paused, gaping as a shifter cradled his broken nose, blood streaming between his fingers. I clenched my teeth, knowing that whatever happened next would be bad. Maybe I’d finally managed to provoke them into not letting me walk away again. The end had come for me at long last.

  At the finality of the thought, my stomach twisted, and not because of the alcohol. Maybe, now that the end stared me in the face, I wasn’t quite ready. The realization came too late. In the next moment, hell was unleashed as several hands grabbed me, dragging me to the putrid floor.

  Fists and feet and elbows and knees rained down on me. No way was I surviving this. My entire body was on fire, receiving blow after blow.

  “Stop!”

  The shout was strong, authoritative, and decidedly female. But the beating didn’t let up, only intensified. Everything changed when a roar shook the building, vibrating through the cement beneath my cheek and into my bones. Silence. Frozen silence. Shuffling feet, and then . . .

  Then . . .

  I frowned. From my place on the floor, I saw the crowd part, giving me the perfect view of . . . the alley wall painting? White wings. And attached to the white wings was an enormous white lion. My eyes failed me then as the terrifying creature shrank inward. Shaping, reshaping, bones snapping, fur receding, until a few short moments later, a girl stood in place of the lion.