L. BANKS - Cursed To Death

Fearful murmurs broke out, creating a low din. Sasha closed her eyes and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“I hate to break it to everyone, especially before Sir Rodney’s fabulous gala,” Captain McIntyre said, standing firm and speaking in a loud, clear voice, “but it is advisable to watch your backs and to stay out of human sight. We don’t want to cause a panic amongst the locals or human law enforcement.”

“When did Sir Rodney learn about this?” an angry patron yelled out. “We need to find out if his Sidhe is still a safe haven, or maybe we should just go home this year. I didn’t come all the way from the Bonnie Isles to have me last days end in a swamp in New Orleans! We could attend the fêtes in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, for that matter… even London-but we came at the invitation of the Seelie Court king.”

A rousing aye rang out, and Sasha knew that she and Ethan were losing ground fast. The only thing to do at this point was appeal to the sense of righteous indignation that all worthy Fae owned when they thought they were being run off.

“When Sir Rodney learned of this is of no import! He is our sovereign and some things are not meant for public consumption! I have convened this meeting on the orders of our king, and his Sidhe is refuge,” Captain McIntyre shouted above the din, but was promptly ignored.

Pandemonium had replaced order and there was only one thing to do-appeal to the primal instinct within the crowd.

“So, that’s it?” Sasha shouted into the mic. Dead silence greeted her. “You’re going to fold your tents and allow a group of dark forces terrorists to just run you off your land? You’re going to allow them to best your magick, make you turn away from your Seelie king, put your tail between your legs, and hide? I don’t know what this is, but I’m not running from it! I’m staying until we hunt the bastards down-staying until the last wolf stands!”

She looked at the strongest group in the room, the Order of the Dragon, feeling their indignation palpably rising as the spiked-armored bikers glanced at one another with angry glares, snorting fire. Fae archers lifted their chins, seeming resolute now that their honor had been called into question. Pixies and Faeries began emitting dark plumes of furious black dust, while the Brownies and Gnomes were finger-sparking mad. Even the Phantoms came out of the walls, hurling glasses in peak poltergeist form, clearly ready for war. This is what was needed-unity. Division would cripple them.

Fired up, Sasha walked across the stage and then looked at the Wolf Clan factions in the room. Perspiration rolled down her back, down her cleavage, her entire body was soaked with an adrenaline rush. She was so close to a wolf transition that her voice bottomed out on a low female alto and the hand that gripped the mic shook as her nails lengthened.

“Gentlemen, ladies… standing your ground and defending your territory, as well as your right to exist in pure freedom, may not be the way of the Fae, but turning tail and running is not the way of the wolf!” She released the howl that had been pent up inside her, and simultaneously all the wolves in the room joined in, sending chills down her spine.

“There is an allied team finding out who did this, and the moment we are sure, we hunt!” she shouted.

A loud aye went up as a singular roar. Fire blasts and released arrows hit the ceiling. Feet stomped the floor in a unified thud.

“As one!” a lead Fae archer yelled out.

“As one!” the leader of the Order of the Dragon confirmed.

A miasma of colored Faerie lights zinged around the room as Gnomes and Brownies chanted, “As one, as one, as one!”

But the voice that cut through the din stole her focus. It was a deep baritone from the middle of the crowd that made her insides tremble.

“As one!” Shogun shouted and simply nodded toward her-the private meaning implicit in his gaze.

Hunter spun, staring at his brother for a moment, and then released his assent in a deeper baritone that was just above a snarl. “As one, brother .” He turned back to face the stage slowly, his expression unreadable as he stared at her.

The sight of two alphas so near to mortal combat spiked insanity within her. Sasha dabbed the perspiration from her throat with the back of her wrist. It was a slow, sensual invitation to claim her vulnerable kill zone and she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d wanted to. Her body was on autopilot, her human losing ground quickly to her inner wolf. The more the alphas prepared for a lunge, the more they turned her on. Potential combat crackled in the air; the Fae were oblivious, but the wolf packs stood at the ready for a bloody brawl-waiting to see if instinct or alliances would win the silent struggle.

Breathing deeply, watching every positioning move of the dominant males in the room, she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Hunter squared his shoulders as Shogun tilted his head. She could see thick ropes of muscles coiling tighter beneath bronze skin, beneath dark walnut skin… They smelled fantastic, canines cresting, battle imminent. They were magnificent. The air suddenly became still and there was no sound, only her heartbeat, their heartbeats.

The human part of her brain tried to wrestle with reason, tried to tell her primal instinct that this had to be part of the bad juju that was affecting the area. She had to get out of Ethan’s bar. The energy here was dangerous for her, Hunter, most likely Shogun, too. But her wolf was hearing none of it. She studied both mating candidates carefully, the she-wolf within loyal only to natural law now-which one would be the dominant male… which one would produce the strongest heirs… which one would survive the vicious battle… which male would she mate for life. They seemed to know her questions, too; their understanding reflected back at her from the wolves in their eyes.

Ethan grabbing the microphone gave her a start and temporarily broke the spell. She watched Hunter’s shoulders relax as Shogun pulled back closer to his men. Sasha dragged her fingers through her hair and let out a quiet breath. Her body ached, but a sudden death match had been averted.

“We have a Shadow Wolf envoy going with me and my wife to get word of the outcome of this meeting to Sir Rodney,” Ethan said, seeming much more confident now that Sasha had swayed the crowd. “They will bring you return word about the state of his fortress. But we felt it would be completely irresponsible to leave, not inform all of you, and then come back to who knows what.”

whatever was happening to her was kicking her ass, big time. The adrenaline jolt, quickly followed by a fast diffusing of the wolf brawl, was sending her through changes that had her reeling. Sasha bent and placed her hands on her knees, gasping.

“You all right, lassie?” a huge Gnome in the front asked. Sasha looked up and snarled. “No. Not at all.”

The crone sat back in her chair, staring at Bradley and Clarissa, and laughed. “You two can’t pay me enough to do a divination on that subject. Seeing Faeries and Elves, ha!” She shook her elderly head, causing the huge golden earrings in her sagging earlobes to bounce. “Leave it be; let it rest. It’s an old fight. Sometimes you got to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Clarissa stared at the drawn, paper-thin skin of the reader’s face, studying each line in what used to be a tea-in-milk Creole complexion. Wisps of white hair escaped her lavender kerchief, making Madame Cottrell seem like a shrunken head wearing a wig. Giving up, however, was out of the question. Her second sight was waning fast and they needed answers.

Madame Cottrell smiled as Clarissa drew a breath to speak. “You’re a seer. So why you got to come to me and try and drag me into it?”