Jack’s brow furrowed. He’d been around long enough to have memorized a few locations in his life, and this one was fairly famous. “Did you just give me the address for Dylan’s Candy Bar?”
Walker pursed his lips. “Yep.”
Jack considered that a moment, then with his left hand, he touched the tattoo and said, “You heard him.” The tattoo began to glow red. A line of magic swirled through the black markings, and a portal opened up around the two shifters.
Moments later, Jack shoved the sleeve of his shirt back down, and the two stepped out into an alley surrounded by the sounds of downtown at night.
Chapter Five
All she’d wanted was a little bit of candy. The old-fashioned kind. She wanted the kind you couldn’t find in grocery stores or in gas stations any longer unless they’d been shut down and derelict since the sixties and the candy was just as old.
Sometimes she just got moods and needed something particular, and this particular hankering was special. Because it was supposed to be a special day.
So now because she just had to have an AbbaZabba and an IdahoSpud on her birthday, she was trapped on the second floor of Dylan’s Candy Bar after hours, shaking furiously, and wondering how the hell she was going to get out of this fresh, newest hell.
She was ducked down and curled as tight as she could get, her arms hugging her knees, her chin resting on their caps, her eyes shut tight. Her body wanted to change. Her fight or flight had kicked in and she wanted to become a mouse, a bird, a goddamn bacterium that could disappear – or better yet, infect the bastards who’d trapped her.
She wanted to shift right then and there and fight her way out tooth and nail. But that would probably be suicide. The people on the other side of the counter she was hiding behind knew good and well she was a shifter. They would be prepared for any animal eventuality, no matter what the animal was. After all, she was why they were there.
Once upon a time the men known as the Hunters hunted only werewolves. “Demons,” they called them. But somehow, someway, they’d learned there were other shifters on the planet. And their hatred had expanded to include them. They began hunting werecats, were-owls, were-everything, and their definition of “demon” became one that indicated anything other than a human.
But like anything that wanted to survive, animals fought back when they were attacked. Hence, so did shifters.
Usually, they even won.
However, when their leaders were killed, rather than die out and dwindle as the supernatural community had hoped they would finally do, the Hunters became martyred fighters for a “better” world; one in which there were no shifters, there was no magic, and probably one in which new leaders envisioned there would be no rainy days. In short, your perfect summer nightmare existence on Stepford street.
They grew in numbers, increased their training, expanded their reach, and now had branches, like long arms and dirty little fingers, in nearly every state in the US. Before long, they would become an international problem. Sam wondered how many news broadcasts on BBC would reveal bombings or attacks they would label “terrorist” when in fact the truth would be that the attacks were due to radicals of another kind.
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. Her mind was wandering again. It did that when she was really freaked out and couldn’t cope with her situation. It was less self-destructive than what she used to do when she would freak out. But it wasn’t anymore helpful.
“Come on out, sweetheart. You’re only delaying the inevitable.”
The leader of this particular band of Hunters was calling out to her again. She was tucked into a nook on the second floor of the candy shop, where they kept the “vintage” candy. The Hunter leader was somewhere on the other side of a wall composed of windows on top and shelves underneath. The shelves were filled with the treats of yesteryear.
She dared not stand up and look through the glass to see exactly where he was. She was trying to determine that by the sound of his voice instead.
But there were other sounds interfering. The air conditioner had kicked on again. It was fall outside, but there was still too much chocolate in the store for the owners to allow the air to climb past a certain degree. The AC was loud. There were scuffles of shoes on tiles and coat sleeves brushing against bullet proof armor, and the sound of guns cocking. Lastly, there was the hammering of her heart. She was surprised it wasn’t drowning out everything else.
Sam closed her eyes and tried to think. What could she become that would get her out of this without being too noticeable? She didn’t want to bring unwanted attention to shifters, or to animals in general. It was hard enough on the occasional stray bear or wolf. If someone witnessed a wild animal ripping through a bunch of humans, Hunter or not, it would just add to their miserable situation. They didn’t need any bad press.
Something mythical then, she thought.
“You know, if you come out willingly, we won’t kill you,” said the leader calmly. He was moving. His voice was coming to her from a different place than it had moments earlier. They were caging her in.
Anything small or “normal” was going to be expected and prepared for by the Hunters. Right now, it was time for her to survive. That was her first task. If she lived through this, she could try to contact the Shifter King and let him know that crap had gone down in Chicago and a cover was needed. That was what the Kings were very good at these days, apparently. Covering their tracks to keep the existence of their kind a continued secret from mortal minds.
“Just give us a chance to try out this new spell that Allen here created,” continued the Hunter. “See if it works.” He chuckled. “We might just be the cure you’ve always prayed for.”
Cure? she thought incredulously. Prayed for? Who the hell did these jackasses think they were? Who did they think she was? An infected or sick human with the disease of shifter-itus? They’re insane, she thought helplessly. There was no reasoning with an insane person. And there was probably no escape from one either.
“Just think about it, sweetheart.”
Stop calling me that!
“You’ve probably been running all your life, right? Hiding, at the very least. Let us help you and you won’t have to do that anymore. You’ll be just like everyone else. Normal.”
You mean boring, she thought.
“You’ll be safe,” he said next, with emphasis. And that made Sam freeze, not only because of the word and the fact that she had been running and hiding all her life – but because it came from just on the other side of the glass that separated her from the rest of the store. He had closed in.
His voice lowered a little, as if he knew good and well she was closer now. “You can’t be a human and an animal, little one,” he said condescendingly.
Shut up! she thought in frustration.
“Nature didn’t intend for you to be both.”
“God, you sanctimonious asshole, just stop talking!” she finally yelled as she stood from behind the partition. She had already zeroed in on what she was going to shift into was changing even as she rose. Despite all of his preparedness, the man on the other side of the glass hadn’t been expecting this.
It was something she had never before changed into. In fact, she was running purely on theory, desperation, and a good dose of anger rather than practice when she chose the creature. She was the magishifter, right? She should theoretically be able to become anything. Even something enormous. Even something monstrous.
And she was right.
Her body tingled and pulsed with magic, her eyes gave her a multi-hued view of the world that she knew had passed into ultra spectrums. Her height made her dizzy with power, both emotionally and literally. When she turned slowly in place, her tail knocked over the cash register behind her and sent scores of candy bars flying like the sparks in a fireworks show.
She looked down at the man who had cornered her. He stared through wide eyes, the surprise on his features palpable. He’d dropped his walkie-talkie, and the
men around him backed up, raising their rifles.
“W-wait!” he ordered. “Don’t shoot!” But he never looked down. His stunned gaze never left hers. Off to the side, the guy who must have been “Allen” was murmuring something at a breakneck pace, and she could tell by the frustrated expression on his face that whatever spell he was trying to cast was being messed up as he stumbled over his own speech.
She wanted to smile, but the muscles of her face were different now. No matter, she told herself as she opened her mouth and inhaled. She could smile later. I hope Dylan’s has insurance, she thought before she exhaled and all hell broke loose.
Chapter Six
It was late enough that darkness crowded the sidewalks, stalking in slumped, seething wait around the spheres of light created by the lamp posts. Shadows wanted to lengthen, but were held in check by headlights, the glow from the windows of late workers or second-floor apartments, and the faint whisper of beams from the waning moon.
The air was thick with sound, though. The hum of traffic, the catty interruptions of fighting here and there, and the choking-to-life of heaters or stubbornly hanging-on air conditioners created a cacophony that was a low, constant din.
The air was cool, in the forties. Mist clung to Jack Colton’s hair and jacket. Halloween was just around the corner, and Chicago it seemed had finally pulled out of the swelter of an Indian summer. Autumn was on the way. It was his favorite time of year.
It made dealing with things like this a little easier.
“Hunters,” he repeated grimly.
Beside him, the Shifter King nodded. Jack was only able to see the movement because Walker was on his right side rather than his left.
“We’re wagering around eight or nine. No more than a dozen at a stretch.”
Jack turned to face him. “Where’d you get this information?”
“Security cameras,” he replied easily, gesturing to the building. “As you already know, that’s one of the most famous buildings in Chi-Town. It remains under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”
Alarm shot through Jack, though he did a good job of hiding it. It was curious to him that his reaction was so strong. He would figure out why it was later. “And who is viewing this footage?” he asked.
Walker’s expression was just as grim. “Security company. They called the police, claiming that a woman was trapped inside, surrounded by crazy terrorist-men in fatigues and carrying weapons. One of our own then phoned it in to me and D’Angelo.”
His worry ratcheted up a few notches. He turned Walker’s words over in his head, a woman was trapped inside….
A buzzing began to vibrate through him. He tried to ignore it and its implications.
What Walker had told him meant several things. One, it was easy for him to see why the cop on the inside had determined this was a supernatural situation, probably one involving a shifter, or a werewolf at the very least. Why would a dozen men in combat gear corner a single female human in a candy store? Because she was not human.
Two, Roman D’Angelo was probably on his way right now. His services would be needed to deal with the security footage and anyone who had viewed it. Vampires were good at that kind of thing. And knowing that Roman would be there soon did take a bit of the sharpness off Jack’s frayed nerves.
He looked back at the building’s storefront. It was quiet right now. The lights inside were off. All was dark and undisturbed. But there was the thick scent of danger in the air, tinged with intent to kill. It was adrenaline and cortisol and gobs of testosterone. There was something else there, but it was smaller and subtle, bowled over by the overtly masculine violence waiting to go down. He couldn’t catch it long enough to figure out what it was. Or maybe he already had and didn’t want to believe it.
When he heard the flash of a transport spell opening a portal, he turned around. There was a play of light in the alley’s opening, followed by the sound of footfalls on cement, and finally darkness. New arrivals appeared in the shadows at the alley’s entrance and moved stealthily to his position where he knelt behind one of several parked cars on that side of the street.
He nodded to the newcomers, both of whom he recognized as kings. Jason Alberich and Roman D’Angelo nodded back and knelt beside him.
For once, the vampire sovereign was not wearing a suit. Instead, he wore jeans, black boots, and a black sweater. It was strange to see him in anything other than perfectly tailored Armani, not that Jack had really had that many opportunities to see him in general.
But it was Alberich’s appearance that had Jack troubled. He wouldn’t be there unless they were dealing with warlock magic. He turned back to Walker. “Are you telling me the woman inside is actually a warlock? Or does this mean the Hunters are using warlocks now?”
“The latter, I’m afraid,” said Alberich, answering for Walker. “Surveillance caught him casting up something I’ve never seen before. Something none of us have seen before.” No one would have guessed it from his composure, nor from the cold green slice of his narrowed eyes, but from the sound of his voice, Jason Alberich was actually scared. Not to mention the fact that Jack could smell the adrenaline in the man’s blood. It was there, lacing his cells just as surely as his warlock magic.
And that worried Jack perhaps the most.
A sound from inside the building had his head snapping back around and his ice-blue eye focusing on the building’s door and windows.
“What the hell was that?” asked Alberich.
But Jack recognized it, and he had a feeling that the Shifter King who had gone still beside him recognized it as well. It was just too far-fetched for either of them to admit. It was the roar of an animal. A very large animal.
The wind shifted and that subtle, unplaceable hint of something was back, but this time it was strong enough to identify instantly, and there was no denying the truth any longer. Jack rose from his crouched position, every muscle tensing, every sense humming to life, his eyes focusing like predator on prey.
It was outwardly foolish to stand up just then. Anyone inside the store could have taken a pot shot at him; he was a sitting duck standing high above the parked cars. But he was betting the darkness of night afforded him a good amount of cover, and that the men inside had no idea he was even out there. He also didn’t care. “I’m going in,” he said. His voice felt strained. He was mentally entering another world.
The Shifter King didn’t object when Jack took a step back and began to move around the car. There was no argument from him, even when he stepped into the street and Alberich asked him what the hell he was doing and D’Angelo stood as if to stop him. In fact, Walker said nothing at all, right up to the moment Jack reached the middle of the road, horns honking around him, his body tingling with a near-shift, and the top of the candy shop exploded.
Time stood still for just a moment. Long enough for Jack to look up at the magnificent, impossible figure emerging from the top of the two-story building. It shot into the night spinning straight upward like a rocket, then stopped and hovered, spreading its wings like a living, breathing dream.
Each dark gray wing spanned twenty feet, and in the glow of a stray bolt of lightning, their scales shimmered to life like gemstones, arraying the spectrum from red on one end to violet on the other. The beast opened its mouth and roared. The bellow thundered with the rolling cacophony overhead. The two sounds melted together and moved over the land below in tandem, terrible and wondrous, as if born in unity.
“Tell me I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing,” whispered D’Angelo, who had somehow wound up beside Jack. Vampires were capable of all sorts of sneaky movement.
But Jack was stunned beyond speech even as questions, and their answers, swam inside his mind, just waiting to jump onto his tongue. Overhead, the dragon’s head lowered, and its brilliant gaze burned over the city streets below. For a fraction of a frozen-forever moment, their eyes met.
Recognition moved between them like an electric current. He would know her anywhere.
And she would know him.
“Is that… the…” asked D’Angelo. But Walker cut him off.
“Yes,” said the Shifter King, who had also come up beside Jack, flanking his other side. “It’s the Thunder Dragon.”
Overhead, the mighty dragon beat its wings, and bullets followed errantly after. The wind from the mighty creature’s movement buffeted everyone below. But Jack’s mind cut to the dragon and those bullets, and bitter fear flooded his bloodstream. He moved so fast toward the building, he nearly blurred.
Behind him, out in the street, Walker motioned to his men, who had been ducked behind parked cars of their own along the street. They at once began to shift. The Vampire King blurred into invisible motion toward the candy shop. The Warlock King began to conjure up a spell, his hands glowing green, his eyes glowing red.
Darius peered steadily into the sky, where the outline of the mythical Thunder Dragon carved itself against an angry sky and grew more distant with every beat of its wings. Then he looked down at the building full of men with guns and he knew that like a storm cloud of his own, Jack Colton was going to rain chaos down on it.
Chapter Seven
Abraham Silence, known by his men as “boss,” and by his boss as “Mr. Silence,” turned in place, fury pulsing through him with every frantic beat of his heart. He motioned for the shooting to stop – shooting he’d forbidden in the first place. He would find out who had been the first to pull the trigger later and deal with him then.
Right now, demons were moving into the building, and his men were surrounded. Right now, they needed a way out. “Allen!” he roared to the warlock, motioning him over. The warlock, a young man by the name of Oliver Allen, got to his feet. But as he did, some of the front windows of the building exploded inward, and the shooting began anew, this time in validated defense.
The warlock cringed and bent low, running to Abraham’s position beneath an onslaught of new bullets and building noise. Oliver Allen was a brown-haired man dressed in the same black they all wore, but decorated with a rather odd looking pendant and a leather, bejeweled wrist cuff of some bizarre origin. Just as the magic user reached his boss, the front windows of the building crashed inward, and someone broke down the door.