The Red Shoe Chronicles : A Fantasy Romance Anthology

by N. R. Larry

  They torment me until dawn. Instead of sleeping, I toss on my bed, trying to figure out the puzzle that Jessie Lewis has become. Last night, her blindfolding me stirred up feelings that I had believed dead and buried. Yesterday, I couldn’t grasp why she made them surface again. Damn it if I can now. There’s something painfully familiar about Jessie. I’m sure I would have remembered her if we had crossed paths before.

  Right?

  Still, her kisses triggered something at the back of my mind, but the frail wisp of a memory went up in smoke when Jessie touched me. I find little solace knowing I affect her just as much. She wants me. No doubt about that. What’s her end game? What favor does she need from me?

  After crawling out of bed, I hit the shower to snap out of the stupor I find myself in thanks to a sex-marathon that culminated in an unabridged rampage. I’ve got no time to waste as the situation calls for massive damage control. Snippets from last night defy my self-control and flash before my eyes as I wash the suds away and towel myself dry. The way her body responded to mine. Her breathing quickened when I sucked her tongue, her lips melded with mine.

  As I step out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, I grab the doorknob to steady my staggering body as realization stuns me. She kisses like Becky. Slack-jawed, I stare into nothing. How could it be though?

  With a vigorous headshake, I dismiss the disturbing thought, the gnawing emotions, as I dress in a charcoal silk shirt and black slacks. Better remember that I’ve been assaulted before by this ‘almost-Becky’ sensation on occasion since I lost her. Not often, but enough times to make me doubt the feeling. It doesn’t matter that Jessie evoked it with unmatched strength.

  I can’t escape the memories. There’s no other like Becky. Nobody fits me that perfectly.

  I reach for the keys resting on a side table at the entrance hall, stalk into the private elevator, and jam the garage button. The journey from the penthouse isn’t long enough to get rid of the bitter taste in my mouth.

  Nobody can wreck me so thoroughly as Becky did.

  Nobody will betray me so wickedly ever again.

  I won’t allow it. Now, I know what I must do.

  As I cross the four-story atrium of Mystic Creek Hall, a sardonic grin splits my lips. Leave it to my old man to hide in plain sight as he’s managed to do for centuries. I must give him that. Then again, my father’s kind is all for irony and sarcasm.

  Inside the metal cage of the elevator, I revel in the coolness of the polished wall against the back of my head. I should probably say ‘our kind’, even though I’m only fifty percent demon. Having my mom’s shifter traits means I’ve got to prove myself to my Dad’s folks every second of the day. My own Dad lost his trust in me after what happened to Devon.

  Getting out of the elevator, I square my shoulders and banish the memories of my dead only brother. Last thing I need now is to lose focus to unbearable grief. I take the corridor to the left to find Dad’s assistant at her desk, guarding his door like the dutiful watchdog she is. Regardless of the fact it isn’t eight o’clock yet, she won’t let me in without an appointment. Been there, done that.

  “Good morning, Ms. Lauren. Looking lovely as always,” resorting to the Greek charm, I flash a bright smile.

  Her dark brown gaze holds mine, but it gives away nothing. “Hello, Mr. Krios. How may I assist you?”

  She must have grown immune to my family’s allure. Before I can switch to a new tactic, the office door behind her opens, and my dad steps through it. Every time I see him it’s like staring into a mirror, finding an older version of myself: Same wavy dark hair, built, and sapphire eyes.

  His baritone fills the room as he addresses the elderly woman, “I’ve got this, Tess.” He steps to one side and holds my stare. “Come on in, Nicholas. I was expecting you.”

  Of course, he was.

  I plop myself on one of the two chairs opposite his, expecting my father to take it. Instead, he perches his lean frame on the side of the desk closest to me. Dark shadows under his eyes betray a sleepless night. It’s unnerving how the old trickster knows stuff.

  “Do I need to remind you of what’s at stake here?”

  I stare at the tips of my Italian shoes. “No, dad.”

  He pauses until I meet his eyes again. “These people must be taken out. All of them. Do you understand?” He enunciates the last three words as if I were a toddler.

  I lick my lips to alleviate their sudden dryness. “Yes, dad.”

  After a beat, or ten, his stare probing mine, he adds, “Good. Now, tell me what happened.”

  He listens without interruptions as I deliver every detail. I know better. Nothing escapes my father. He never forgets - or forgives. After the ordeal I went through at the hands of the vicious Hekate coven, I’ve yet to prove myself trustworthy again. That’s what losing a first-born does to a father, I guess.

  What the hell! I lost my brother! Right in front of me and I couldn’t do anything to save him. I keep that to myself, but a slight tremble of his fingers, as my father rubs them over his chin, betrays his state of mind.

  His expression remains stoic when he asks, “You think this Jessie Lewis is part of the Hekate coven?”

  “Not sure. If she is, she’s just joined them. She bears their tattoo on her left wrist. I never saw it before last night. She strategically covered the ink throughout the semester, always wearing a bracelet or something. Last night, it felt like she wanted me to see it. It’s recent ink, though.”

  “In your opinion, where do her loyalties lie?”

  I lift my shoulders, then drop them. “She might be loyal to our toughest nemesis. She might have her own agenda. Who knows?” I hold his stare for a moment before answering his unspoken question. “That’s not an issue. I’ll take her down with the others.”

  He squares his shoulders, spine as straight as a rod. “You’d better.”

  “Stealing my wallet and threatening to call you doesn’t make sense to me. And there’s that bit about me doing her a favor. The whole thing doesn’t add up.”

  He suggests, “Maybe she’s too new to the coven to be in on their real goals. Maybe she’s a bounty hunter. These vultures are just as eager to get their hands on you as we are to wipe those witches out of the face of this earth.”

  “If that’s true, our cover’s been busted.”

  Dad nods. “Don’t reach out to Jessie before talking to Karl.”

  “You think she knows who we are?”

  “She knows our real name. If you’re right about her intentionally showing you the tattoo, she’s also aware you know the Hekate witches.”

  A memory flashes through my mind.

  Dad knits his eyebrows. “What is it?”

  I shake my head. “Last night, Jessie looked older than a freshman. It’s more than make-up and hairdo. Something lurking in her gaze. I’ve got the feeling she’s closer to my age, maybe a bit older.”

  Like Becky.

  My father’s scowl speaks volumes. “Don’t go there.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. I won’t do anything stupid.”

  Again.

  “Call Karl. He’ll find out whatever we need to know about this Jessie woman.”

  Nodding, I unfold from the chair and amble toward the door. My father’s hand holding my shoulder burns through the thin material of the shirt. He squeezes me before letting go. This is the strongest display of affection I’ve gotten from him since Devon and I got trapped by the Hekate witches. And only I escaped.

  Nick

  Pride

  “You’ve reached Karl Samuels. Leave a message after the beep.”

  I click a button under the steering wheel to end the call. What’s the use of having your best buddy’s direct number if he doesn’t pick it up? I try his cell phone this time. It goes straight to voicemail. I might as well call the office.

  “Halo Security Inc., Carol speaking. How may I direct your call?”

  I’ve got my twisted sense of humor from my father’s side of
the family. Case in point – the name I chose for my security company.

  “Hey, Carol. Nick Katach here.” Dad only uses our real name with his kind. Humans know us as Krios.

  “Oh, hello, sir. How are you doing today?”

  “Not bad. Getting a hold of Karl would make me feel much better. The bastard’s been dodging my calls all morning. Could you make that happen?”

  A nervous giggle is my only reply. I wonder if that’s because she’s talking to the boss or because the boss won’t appreciate what she’s got to say.

  “Mr. Samuels isn’t in, sir.”

  Second option it is.

  “Put me through to Pat.”

  She whispers, “Yes, sir.” Then, puts me on hold. Annoying elevator music makes me step on the gas pedal.

  I hate wasting time. I’m on the way to the airport. I just need to know where I should fly to, not much to ask from my team of capable demons.

  Damn it!

  Music is swapped by Carol’s apologetic tone. “Mr. Katach, sorry to keep you waiting. I double checked with Mr. Samuels’s assistant who has got his schedule for today.”

  “Where is he?” I bark.

  “Palm Springs.”

  “I’m five minutes away from the airport. Call Max. Tell him to have the airplane ready for take-off.”

  I spot the sign for Oakland/Troy airport exit in half a mile. I switch to the right lane. Blood pounds my temples. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Karl since I left dad’s office. Karl and Devon were best friends growing up. He is just as invested in my family’s revenge as we are. He created our new identities, background history, the works. He’s been running the security business during my self-imposed exile from the company six years ago.

  For a human, he’s done a remarkable job. Not easy leading a bunch of demons when you can be vanquished at a whim by even the least powerful one of them. Granted his massive six-foot-six combined with his low, resonant voice may trick people into believing his got supernatural powers. But I guess the demons were more impressed by Karl’s ties to my family, which run deeper than any of his subordinates.

  I park the car inside an empty hangar and jog to the nearby private jet. It takes off as soon as I strap the safety belt on. I keep trying to get a hold of Karl as the plane crosses the cloudless sky toward California. No luck.

  My mind’s been racing non-stop since Jessie happened to me last night. Struggling to get a moment of quiet, I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the window. I don’t want the flight attendant to engage. As stunning as Lynn is, I’m not in the mood for her mile-high club antics. I’ve enjoyed them in the past, more times than I care to remember. Not today.

  Images haunt me, jumbled up in random sequences behind my closed lids. The Hekate witches torturing me. Torturing Devon. Jessie tempting me with her fingertips running down my body. Devon’s eyes pleading with me. One swollen shut, the other black and bleeding. Becky screaming her pleasure as I flogged her. Pain and pleasure went together for us. Devon crying out for my help. He didn’t know the wretched witches had stripped me of my demonic powers. Or that the torture had weakened my wolf. I was his only hope in that dungeon, and I failed him.

  I look out of the window, shaking my head to dissipate the memories. Stubborn as they are, they keep flooding my mind.

  Devon and Karl had been inseparable growing up as if my older brother needed a human around to make him feel accepted. Not inheriting our father’s powers had weighed on Devon. I chuckle at the memories of Karl finding out about my family roots.

  Ten-year-old Karl’s eyes rounded, and his mouth dropped open for a couple of beats. He found his voice to whisper, “You’ve got to be kidding me! No way!”

  Devon laughed out loud. “Seriously, dude? You never guessed?”

  “How could I?”

  “Duh. The family name?”

  “Katach? Yeah. So what?”

  “It’s short for Katachthonios.”

  “So?” Karl sliced the air with his hands.

  My turn to guffaw. I butted in. “How good is your Greek?”

  Karl screwed up his nose. “Non-existent. I’m Russian. Why the hell would you think I spoke Greek?”

  I shrugged.

  My brother put his buddy out of his misery. “It means underground, infernal.”

  Despite still being a kid, Karl loomed taller than many teenagers, and almost as wide, which made his cowering reaction all the more hilarious.

  Devon squeezed his shoulder. “Relax, man. I’m human just like you.”

  “Nick isn’t,” Karl muttered, tipping his head in my direction.

  “He’d never hurt you. He’d have to kill me first.”

  That was as true then as it is now. After losing Devon, Karl became a surrogate older brother to me. We vowed to avenge Devon’s death and have worked hard on that for the last six years.

  Lynn clears her throat and I open my eyes to find her ample cleavage inches from my nose, “Can I be of service, sir?”

  She doesn’t mean food nor beverages. Why the hell not? It’s a long flight from Michigan to California. I can use the distraction. I nod my consent. She kneels between my legs, unzips my pants, and cradles my large cock in her expert hands. She works hard on it, uses all her tricks, but nothing happens.

  What the fuck?

  She’s good at BJs. Not today though. I close my eyes and lean back to better concentrate. Big mistake. Becky’s face pops in my mind, morphs into Jessie’s. I can’t do this. Lynn isn’t the one I want. Rage seethes through my veins. I can’t have the one I want.

  Lynn’s whimper pierces through the haze in my mind, propelling me to I sit up, open my eyes. She’s spread-eagled, pinned against the opposite wall, a good couple of feet above ground. When I blink, she slides to the floor.

  Did I do that? I can’t do stuff like that anymore.

  Her terrified expression tells me I might be wrong. Like most of our employees, she isn’t aware I’ve been stripped of my powers, so I play along.

  “Leave,” I groan, dropping my head on the headrest.

  For the past couple of miles, my yelling has done nothing to infuse some life into the sluggard behind the wheel of an oversize pickup truck in front of me. Nevertheless, I persist.

  “Move your ass!” I shout, as if he would hear.

  Jerk must be doing fifty on a fucking seventy-mile-per-hour freeway. I speed up behind him as close as I can get without causing an accident. Still nothing.

  “I’ll never get to the office. This is taking longer than the damn cross-country flight,” I grunt through clenched teeth.

  There’s no room for my car on the lane to my right because the only car going on that lane seems to be happy driving at the exact same speed as I am.

  “Come on!” I clutch the steering wheel.

  There’s no lane to the left. I’m boxed in.

  “Finally!”

  When the moron in front of me remembers how to change lanes, I zoom past his truck, flipping the bird as I go. In the blink of an eye, I’m doing ninety and the damn guy’s tailgating me. I slam the gas pedal, the Maserati roars, and easily goes over a hundred. The car vibrates under me.

  “Damn it!”

  I smack the steering wheel as I change lanes and release pressure on the gas pedal.

  What am I doing? Picking up fights on the road isn’t my thing. And trying to escape inner demons will just get me killed.

  Another fleeting memory assaults me. Becky trussed up, smiling as I claim her lips. Her trusting eyes as enticing as her submission. She was so sweet, so innocent. Or so I thought.

  “A demon has no business fooling around with a starry-eyed witch. Stick to our own kind,” my father warned me. The man who had married a shifter, that is.

  The more he complaint, the more I was drawn to Becky, until she owned my heart and soul. The memory gets stronger.

  I groan as the image of a birthmark in the shape of the tiniest heart, the color of dark blood comes into focus. It crowned
Becky’s left nipple. I used to suck that mark to tease her. It drove Becky wild, which made me insane.

  Yet I had forgotten all about that. After she lied to me, handed me to the Hekate witches, I banished Becky from my mind. She cost me my powers. She caused my brother’s death. I had to make myself forget her because I couldn’t bring myself to hate her.

  It makes no difference now. She’s dead. Devon’s dead. I survived.

  Last night, when Jessie stripped the blindfold off me, I saw in her eyes the same vulnerability Becky’s used to harbor, the same lust. There’s got to be more to it. What am I missing?

  The truth strikes me like a fucking ten-wheeler.

  A tiny, bloody heart crowns Jessie’s left nipple. The same damn birthmark as Becky.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I smack the steering wheel as I spit each word.

  How can it be?

  A booming honk jerks me out of the reveries. I glance at the rear mirror to find out that Road Warrior, former Sluggard, has decided to change lanes and is trying to run me over with his monstrous pickup. I move over to the right.

  So does the asshole, without considering the gap his truck needs for that. His humongous right front tire slams the left rear fender of the Maserati. The letters RAM, engraved on a silver grille, flash by my window when my car takes off before flipping in the air multiple times.

  Screeching of tires and shattering of glass pierce my ears. Then, silence. I see nothing. I feel nothing, as darkness descends.

  Jessie

  Lust

  “Don’t you dare die on me, Nick. Not before your father pays for my sister’s death.”

  I’m seeking revenge just like Nick. Only difference is I know Becky never betrayed him. His dad did. Nick won’t believe me. I’ll take what he can offer and work from there.

  Crouching beside the mess of contorted metal, I peer through the driver window, now sans glass. Tiny, tinted bits turn the ground into a glimmering rug under the desert sun. The red shoes crunch the glass to powder as I unfold myself.