* * *
New beginnings.
The moon glowed through the habitat’s barred ceiling as I stepped off the tram. I breathed in the cool, fresh air, ready to see the movie.
I’m going to really try some sort of romantic relationship with Wallace. Eventually.
There were things that I had to get used to with him.
He scratched his arms and chest a lot due to some sort of skin disease he had. It was why his skin appeared really splotchy. At times, he smelled like rotten cheese, but hey, I didn’t walk around smelling like flowers all the time, either. And then there were those awkward moments where I tried to hold his sweaty hand, and he would move it out of my reach.
He probably needs more time to get to know me.
I chewed the inside of my cheek.
Not all men are sexual deviants that constantly need to touch the women around them.
I inhaled and turned the corner, ready to greet my future.
New beginnings.
I spotted Zulu immediately among the crowd of Captain Habitat fans. He stood right next to Wallace, conversing with him as if they’d been childhood friends. His massive biceps and pectoral muscles stretched the black Captain Habitat shirt he wore.
I almost laughed at the absurdity of him wearing my hero’s shirt. If only the need to tear that shirt away and savor each muscle’s curve hadn’t overflowed in me.
“Lanore, over here,” Wallace shouted over the loud, chattering group of movie-goers. He waved his hand from side to side.
Forcing a smile, I slowly maneuvered through the massive crowd. My nerves flared on edge as I swallowed.
Now what am I going to do with Zulu here?
I scanned the area outside the movie theater. I could probably slip behind a tall group and then crawl out of there, but of course MeShack had been right about the type of people that would come to this movie.
Most of the mob standing outside were young kids with their parents. They all wore different types of Captain Habitat shirts, from purple to black. Some even had the cool retro shirts where my favorite superhero wore brown cowboy boots and had a violet lasso instead of his transparent Hexagon laser gun.
Regardless, there were too many short kids and nowhere to escape.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, passing four boys who were acting out some fight scene and bumping into everybody.
Now only a few feet away from Wallace, I glanced their way—only to notice Zulu focused on me. The dark blue and gold in his eyes gleamed. The portion of the cords that I could see on his arm brightened into different colors and looked like rainbow veins on his skin.
I approached them.
Wallace hugged me and said, “I was at the Inked Guerilla telling Zulu about our plans, and he wanted to come along. He’s a huge Captain Habitat fan too.”
I opened my eyes wide. “Really? Because I remember you commenting on how his purple tights must have constricted his balls.”
“No. You have me confused with someone else.” His voice came out deep with a smooth tone. His eyes journeyed from my mouth all the way down to my toes. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Thanks.” I ruffled my locks to let them fall around my face and hide me from his view. “We should probably head in.”
Zulu appeared on my side, guiding me to the door with his hand snugly placed at the center of my back.
I glanced up at Zulu and bumped into Wallace, head first.
“Are you okay?” Zulu leaned down and asked, seizing my senses with his sandalwood cologne.
“Yes.” I moved away from his hand and got on Wallace’s right, putting distance between Zulu and me.
“So I’ve been catching Zulu up,” Wallace said, getting behind me. “He didn’t get a chance to see Super Force II.”
“Okay.” I could feel Zulu’s eyes on me, or maybe it was just my own imagination. “And what do you think, Zulu?”
“Well, I like that midget guy’s powers.” Zulu rushed up to the door and opened it for me.
The aroma of freshly popped popcorn hit my nose.
“Midget is offensive you should say little person,” I insisted.
“Really?” Zulu raised his eyebrows. “I would assume calling him a little guy would be more offensive. It would make me mad.”
“Well regardless G-5 is small but really cool. He can see through walls and buildings.” Wallace moved his hands around like a wild man.
I blocked the conversation out as Wallace began describing some scene from the latest graphic novel he’d read that reminded him of Zulu.
Why don’t you just give him a freaking blow job, Wallace.
In his bedroom, Wallace had a picture of Zulu in between Trojatom the Mighty Robot and Captain Habitat. He’d confessed this to me one time in the library and then discussed Zulu the rest of the night. The conversation had been unbearable because all I wanted to do was stop thinking about Zulu.
I trailed behind both men. It made it harder for Zulu to gaze at me, and yet I got a great view of his muscular behind.
Stop it, Lanore.
“Is that him?” A Mixie woman with short red dreadlocks said near several Coming Soon movie posters.
“It has to be,” her short pudgy friend said. “Look at the arm cords sticking out of his shirt.”
This is exactly why I would never date him. Too many groupies.
“Oh, girl, a bunch of Supes are getting that now.” She bumped into me, didn’t say excuse me, and then glided toward Zulu. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you—”
“No.” Zulu shook his head, blurred to my side, and grabbed my hand.
My breath caught in my throat at his quick speed.
“What are you doing?” I gently pulled my hand away.
“They think I’m available.” He grinned.
“You are,” I muttered.
With clear persistence, the two women strolled around Wallace and marched Zulu’s way.
“Are you sure? Because you look just like him,” she said as Zulu’s hand went back to the center of my back. “Can we have your autograph? What you do for Mixbreeds is awesome!”
He leaned back on the wall as they remained planted in front of me.
“You should give them an autograph,” I offered, pulling out a pen and an old receipt.
He sighed, took the pen, and signed his name on the receipt and their Captain Habitat shirts.
We stood there for several more minutes as they asked him questions from what his favorite color was to how many pounds he could lift when he worked out.
Once they left, he glared at me. Aggravation creased on his face.
I shrugged. “This is the life of a hero.”
“So cool.” Wallace grinned, scratching his arm. “Do hot women always come up to you like that?”
I smirked. “Yeah, does that happen a lot?”
“No.” Zulu avoided my eyes.
“I wish I could have hot girls come up to me,” Wallace whined. “No one hot ever comes around me.”
“Thanks a lot, Wallace,” I mumbled.
Zulu smirked at me and got off the wall. “Do you both want popcorn and drinks? I’m paying.”
I shook my head and pointed to my satchel. “No. I brought sandwiches from Cinnamon’s Meat Shack.”
“And it’s probably enough for all of us.” Wallace peeked in my satchel as I opened it. “You pack food like you’re feeding a big Shifter.”
My mouth dropped open as I counted the sandwiches. There must have been six in there. The perfect amount for MeShack and I to sneak into the movie theater. I guess old habits are hard to change.
“They smell good. I can’t wait to eat one.” Zulu pulled out a stack of bills. “Wallace, why don’t you grab us some sodas and anything else you want? Those Captain Habitat cups look cool.”
“Sure. You’re the greatest.” Wallace attempted to high-five Zulu, missed, and laughed as he left.
Once Wallace was five feet away, Zulu’s lips brushed my ear. “I meant
what I said. You do look lovely tonight.”
“What happened to giving me time to myself?” I edged away from him.
“I wanted to see you.” He tucked some of my dreadlocks behind my ear and let his finger linger a few seconds on my skin.
I shivered and shifted to the other side.
A mom walked by, pushing a stroller with twins and holding a toddler. She glanced at Zulu and blushed.
“Another fan,” I announced.
He edged closer to me. “Why are you spending so much time with Wallace lately? He told me you both hang out every night now.”
“I’m opening my mind, starting new beginnings.” I shrugged my shoulders.
He nodded and focused on two guys Teacuping near the theater’s arcade. It was a new dance that used spells to keep the body elevated several inches above the ground while the dancer spun around. Currently, the pimple-faced kid was upside down and spinning. His green sneakers blurred together.
“Well.” Zulu clapped along with everyone else in the theater lobby as the dancing kid finished spinning. “I would just hate for something to happen to Wallace during your pursuit of new beginnings.”
“Is that some sort of threat?” I snapped my head to his.
He centered his attention to me. “I wanted to maim Wallace when he told me he spent time with you, but I doubt that’ll get me any points.”
“It won’t.”
“You see how good I’m being for you? I haven’t ripped out any hearts or anything.” He got in front of me and put his hands on the wall above my head.
“That’s good.” I ducked under him, noticing a lot of people looking our way. Zulu got right back in front of me. This time, he blocked me with both arms so that if I wanted to escape, I would have to do a duck walk.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m spending time with my lady.” He nipped at my chin.
Heat swirled inside of me.
Fuck me.
I sighed. “Zulu, absolutely nothing is going to happen between us.”
I would have loved it to, but Zulu is too much like MeShack.
“Lanore, what color cup you want?” Wallace asked, interrupting Zulu and my exchange and holding up one purple and one white cup. Wallace didn’t even appear uncomfortable about Zulu’s and my position.
Wallace is definitely not interested in me.
“I didn’t know what you would like, Lanore,” Wallace admitted.
“She wants the purple cup,” Zulu said without looking that way. “Get the purple one with him wearing those stupid cowboy boots, and then get her a large popcorn with the hot pepper butter sauce.”
How does he know that?
My mouth dropped open. I almost beamed at Zulu, ready to ask for his autograph myself.
“So, purple with boots and hot popcorn?” Wallace asked.
“Yes.” I nodded. “But…”
I gazed at Zulu’s huge arms and inhaled his sandalwood scent.
If I don’t get out of here now, I’ll end up making out with Zulu before the movie’s opening credits begin.
Wallace stood there staring at me.
“I’m actually feeling really sick.” I held my stomach with my hand and moved Zulu’s arm out of the way. “I’m going to go home. You both have fun though.”
I rushed away before Wallace could say anything else. Not that it mattered; he’d been drooling over Zulu anyway.
Cool air hit me as I got to the door and quickly walked out, hoping the next tram would be here shortly.
A hand grabbed my waist. I halted and turned to see Zulu in front of me.
“No. I’ll leave. You really want to see this movie.” He dragged his hand away from my waist. “Don’t go. Like I said, I just wanted to see you. I’m satisfied for now.”
I bit my lip as the wind blew through my locks. “But Zulu, do you understand that I don’t want to date you?”
“We’ll talk about it later.” His eyes shifted dark blue and gold to black, and he put his hands in his jeans pockets. “Go back and enjoy the movie. Quinn and Wallace both told me that you’d been talking about the damn movie all month.”
I sighed.
“I’ll see you later.” He leaned down and pressed those full lips against mine and took them away after several delicious seconds. “I may have gone overboard tonight, showing up here like I did.”
He stepped around me and maneuvered through the crowd still lingering outside.
I can’t let him leave like that.
“Zulu!” I raced up to his side and stopped him. “I can explain my weird behavior.”
“So you’re not just crazy?” His blond eyebrows rose as he grinned.
“Well, that’s the point. I am crazy.” I raked my fingers through my hair and blew out a long breath. “I set my ex-boyfriend and the two women he was cheating with on fire. They were all in the hospital for several months.”
He didn’t say anything and just continued to stare.
Feel like running away yet?
“So,” I said. “I’m not the sanest person you could spend your time trying to be with.”
He flashed me a huge smile. “If someone touched you now, they would be lucky to have only one month in the hospital.”
Oh, my goodness.
“Okay. I don’t think you understand me.” I held my hands out to my sides. “What I am trying to say is I’m insanely jealous and act on it in violent ways that are frankly detrimental—”
“You have a few more weeks.” He tapped his watch. “And then I’m coming for you.”
Coming for me?
I shook my head. “Clearly you’re not getting what I’m trying to say. I need to get my personal issues together before I date anyone.”
“Isn’t that the point of two people uniting, to lift each other up?” He leaned his head to the side. “I’m already a better person around you.”
My mouth dropped open. I searched for something to say.
He kissed me again, and this time I didn’t want him to stop, but he did and then nipped at my chin. “I’m really going to enjoy tasting you when you’re mine.”
My skin heated as if I’d been set on fire.
“The clock is ticking.” He gave me a wicked smile and left.
EXCERPT FROM CHAMELEON,
(A young adult paranormal romance novel set in the Santeria habitat.)
Police tape surrounded my mom’s studio apartment.
I stared at my mom’s feet as she hung, lifeless, from the mango tree. She’d painted her toenails teal and used a marker to draw smiley faces on each one.
It’s funny how people tend to notice the craziest things in time of shock.
Each time the treacherous wind blew, the mango tree’s branches swayed, and her dangling body twisted and turned.
I stood among the crowd in disguise. Today, I was an Earth Witch, with almond skin instead of my regular pale complexion, thick, curly black hair in place of my white bushy strands, and fuller breasts versus my nonexistent ones.
Normally, I had an X brand embedded in my forehead that identified me as a Mixbreed. It was the forehead brand I’d been born with, the one Human doctors tagged me with, like they did all Supernaturals.
However, to fit my current Earth Witch disguise, I’d covered the X brand with an illegal brand cap that had an illusionary spell. When people now saw my forehead, they saw an upright triangle with a line going through it.
“That’s the crazy lady who talked to ghosts,” an Air Witch whispered to a tall man as she tucked her red hair behind her ear.
“Too bad the ghosts never talked back.” The man covered his mouth to quiet a chuckle. “They would have told her to wash.”
Even in your death, they make fun of you.
I forced myself to walk away from them without yelling. My hands balled into tight little fists. My nails dug in my skin.
“How long has she been up there?” a Shapeshifter asked another.
I paused to hear the r
eply.
“Don’t know. They found her there this morning.”
“Where’s her family?”
“Don’t know,” the guy replied. “I think someone said she had a daughter or maybe a niece.”
I checked the guys out from my peripheral view. Neither one looked familiar, but then, I’d run away from home two years ago, when I was thirteen. They could have recently moved in.
I edged away and bumped into the one person that I didn’t think I would meet on this end of Oya District.
Wiz.
I’d kept my regular height for my disguise, so he towered over me. His short, sandy-blond hair brushed against the middle of his ears and blew in the wind, getting in the way of his unique eyes. The left one was emerald green, the right one sapphire blue. His eyes never truly focused on one thing. They always gazed off into the distance.
Although he was only two years older, he resembled more of a man than a teenager. His arms possessed the sort of muscle that a lightweight boxer would have, taut and curved but without all of the bulk. Jagged scars covered every knuckle on his hands. Ancient runes were carved in his light brown skin above the scars.
He would have had thousands of girls screaming at his feet if it wasn’t for that hooded trench coat he wore. It was formed from patches of Shapeshifter flesh. Every time he fought and won, he’d cut a square patch of the loser’s skin and add it to his coat.
Currently, it hung beyond his knees, and Were-lion fur bordered the hood.
“Excuse me.” I averted my eyes and stepped around him, wondering if I could trick him this time. For some reason, he always knew it was me, regardless of what image I’d formed into.
Wiz’s hand went up to block my way.
“Cameo, I have a job,” he said in a low voice. “Let’s go to the playground over there to talk.”
I snapped my face up and glared at him. “How did you know it was me?”
“Does it matter?” He flashed me a crooked grin, displaying silver fangs. “Are you going to start hiding from me?”
“Nope,” I muttered. “Not even if I wanted to.”
I’d met Wiz the first month I ran away. It was during one of Santeria’s notorious tropical rainstorms. The downpour had beat down on me while I sat in a semi-flooded dumpster, shivering. That night, I wore the image of a Hispanic Shapeshifter boy.
Out of nowhere, Wiz had jumped into the dumpster, pulled me out, and taken me to one of the many small rooms he rented around Santeria. I was sure he was going to hurt me, but I was too weak and sick to put up a fight.
But he never hurt me.
He’d kept me covered in a pile of fluffy blankets the rest of the week and declared I had a fever.
And that was how he found out about my power.
When I’m sick, it’s really hard to keep my body in any disguised form. I’d passed out in his arms, transforming from a little Hispanic boy to a pale teenage girl right before his two-colored eyes.
We’d been in business together ever since.
“Did you happen to be in this area, or were you looking for me?” I headed to the playground in the apartment complex and sat on a swing.
“A little bit of both.” He stood in front of me. His lips formed into a straight line. Worry creased his face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I slowly rocked back and forth in the swing.
“Did you know that woman?” Wiz gestured to my mom as the habbies cut the rope from her neck and pulled her down.
“No.” I shook my head, lying.
He targeted me with his eyes and remained quiet for a few seconds.
I moved my attention to the Santeria habitat’s ceiling that covered my caged city. Gray clouds traveled north beyond the bars, concealing the sun. Thunder boomed in the distance far outside the habitat to where the Humans lived.
When I’d run away from home, the weather had been exactly the same, chilly gray with a certainty of rain ahead.
Another habbie car arrived and parked in front of my mom’s apartment.
I need to get out of here.
“So, what’s the job? Another jock wants me to take the Supernatural Scholastic Aptitude Test for them? I’ve been studying the Math section. I can probably get somebody a perfect score.”
Wiz leaned back on the swing set’s main foundation pole. “You don’t have to take this job.”
“Why wouldn’t I take it?” I rolled my eyes, laughing nervously. “Like I said, I don’t know that dead woman over there.”
“Whatever.” He got up and sat on the swing next to me. “This job isn’t a test. I need you to take the physical image of a chick that doesn’t want to go to her debutant ball.”
I groaned.
High society supernatural jobs sucked. I never knew how to properly act.
I glanced at him. “How much?”
“A thousand dollars.” He watched the emergency unit put my mom’s body onto a stretcher and cover her with a white sheet. “I’ll put ten percent away for your college fund, give you half now, and then the rest later.”
I nodded.
That money would keep me in the room I was renting for a month, get me some new sneakers, comics, and a couple bags of groceries.
I kind of wanted to ask him to just give me that ten percent this time and forget about the college fund.
Wiz had made me save money to go to college. He thought I was smart and had a future away from the streets. I let him keep the fund, humoring him.
You’re more than a Cage Punk, he would say. You have the type of brain that can take you off the streets.
“So,” I said as the habbies began bordering the tree my mom hung from with police tape. “That’s a pretty high amount just to avoid a debutant ball. Why doesn’t she want to go?”
“I don’t know. The girl you are supposed to be isn’t even the contact person. It’s her sister.” Wiz shook his head. His emerald eye glimmered to bright green. “I almost didn’t take the job, but we need the money.”
“True.”
“I made the sister agree to have me as your driver for the whole event, just in case. I feel uneasy about this job.” He glanced at an area behind me.
“The full moon is coming. That could be why you’re on edge,” I offered.
“Regardless, be careful and always stay where I can see you,” he ordered. “You’ll have a date the whole time, so don’t talk much. Just nod and look pretty.”
I blew out a long breath.
Anytime Wiz felt weird about a job, something crappy usually happened.
But a thousand dollars is worth the risk.
I stared in front of me.
The habbies had jumped back in their cars and sped off. They hadn’t even closed my mom’s front door. There would be looters and homeless Vampires in her apartment by tonight.
“You sure you’re down to do the job?” Wiz asked. “We can always cancel.”
“I’ll do it.”
He handed me the debutante’s photo, a flask of her blood, and a sheet with her body measurements. Blond curly hair fell down to her shoulders. I noted the shade, honey blond instead of a reddish hue. She had regular blue eyes, no special flecks of color, nothing too hard to copy; however, drinking her blood would guarantee that I was in her exact image, from every scar to pimple. I also preferred doing a blood transformation because it always allowed my brain to store the DNA for later use.
“The dress and shoes are at my place,” Wiz said. “You’ll change there, and then I’ll take you to her house for the switch.”
I nodded as I watched the emergency unit drive away, and, just like that, my mom was gone.
I closed my eyes for a few minutes.
A chilly breeze rushed past me. The black curls of my current image brushed against my face.
“You’re an abomination!” My mom stumbled after me, holding the worn-out leather belt in her hand. “I should have killed you when you were in my womb.”
She seized my neck and slammed me into the
wall, the chemical scent of vodka on her breath.
I concentrated on the eight-year-old kid I’d babysat earlier that night. Guilt had filled me when I’d taken some of the boy’s blood with a syringe while he was asleep. But now, I was glad I’d done it. I’d consumed the blood before coming back home, so my brain could study and file the DNA away for further use.
I needed that DNA now as I pictured the boy’s huge father standing before me, broad shoulders, long legs, and huge hands.
The right side of my brain throbbed.
My mom screamed something, and then slapped my face.
I didn’t drop my focus as a stinging pain spread across my skin.
I imagined myself transforming into the man.
My skin bubbled, but Mom was too drunk to notice as she screamed more insults at me.
A tightening sensation formed in my chest and sucked the rest of me in as if a vacuum was inside of me.
I transformed into the man’s image, my clothes tearing apart with the change.
She backed away in fear, as usual, covering her mouth. “You’re a curse sent down from the gods!”
I raced away before she could gain control of herself and hit me anymore.
Although I looked like the man, I didn’t have his strength, but Mom didn’t know that.
“You ate his soul, didn’t you?” she whispered, shaking and backing up into a corner.
I raced for the door, trying desperately to adjust to the new legs and large feet. I stumbled into the desk near the door, banging my knee.
The door was locked.
I scrambled to open it.
“Wait a minute! Get back here!” she yelled, but didn’t come out of the corner.
I slammed the door behind me, speeding off into the rain.
I heard the door open.
“Cameo! Don’t leave,” she shouted behind me. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
I didn’t glance back that time. It would make me turn around and go back to her, like all of the other times.
No.
That time, I kept looking forward as the sky darkened around me.
Tires screeched.
I opened my eyes, falling back into this new reality, Wiz in front of me and my mom gone.
The crowd in front of my mom’s apartment had dispersed.
She’s really dead now.
My fingers trembled against the swing’s rusty chain. I shook away those memories and forced myself to focus on the present.
Why don’t I feel relieved?
I looked at Wiz.
He’d been facing me the whole time. No expression was on his face. He held his usual neutral mask. He caught me staring at the runes on his hands and put them in his jeans pocket, making his chained belt clank against itself.
“So, what color is the debutante’s dress?” I asked. “If it’s pink, I want an extra hundred.”
“I think it’s green.” He gazed down at my cleavage. “Did you have to make your image’s breasts that big?”
“I like them.” I stood up from the swing and headed off to Eleggua District, where his current room was located.
“Cameo,” he whispered.
I twisted around to face him.
He still stood by the swing.
“Take my keys.” He threw them at me.
I caught them, just barely. “You’re not coming with me?”
“No. I’m going to grab the belongings out of this place over here.” He gestured toward my mom’s home. “Some people in the crowd said the dead woman had no last relatives. I figure there has to be something of value right?”
I gritted my teeth and gazed down at the ground, my feet kicking the dirt. “Yeah, probably.”
Unease sat in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m going to box the stuff up and take it to my place later.” He took a few steps my way. “I’m not good with knowing the value of things. You think you could take your time and go through the boxes for me?”
He knows it’s my mom.
I remained focused on the grass as it leaned in the direction of the wind. “I could do that, but it may take a while.”
“Then I’ll drop the woman’s stuff off at your room. Take as long as you need to go through it.”
I held back the tears that formed in the corner of my eyes. “Okay.”
“I’ll meet you back at my place in two hours. Take your time walking back. The spoiled debutant can wait for a while.”
“Thank you, Wiz.” I sighed and glanced up, but he was gone.
FIRE BAPTIZED
First Three Chapters
Now Available in ebook and print.
I raced past the university’s gates, splashing water onto homeless Vampires. The campus security Trolls would’ve caught me if I were Human. Mixbreeds didn’t have Pureblood speed, but we could outrun Trolls.
“Drop those books!” The Troll’s voice sounded muffled against the books’ alarm spell, which blared in a long staccato pattern.
“Where is she?” another Troll asked.
Heart pounding, I stayed close to the buildings, hoping my brown skin would blend with the night’s shadows. Cold rain dripped into my eyes. My wet dreadlocks fell onto my face, sticking to my cheeks and blocking my view. I pushed the dreadlocks away. Some of them fell back in my face. Others flung over my shoulders and down my back.
Almost out of breath, I trudged through a flooded street. Water filled my sneakers, making my feet feel like they were enclosed in sponges. The blare of the books’ alarm spell almost drowned out the Trolls’ distant shouts.
“There she is! Over there!”
“She’s going to Shango District!”
The Trolls headed my way. I sped up so fast, the streetlights above me blurred together in one long, illuminating line. My numb hands held the satchel of books closer to my body.
My Sociology of Shapeshifters course required the books. I’d been stealing from the campus bookstore for years. It was just my luck; the store’s security had been improved during my senior year. When I stole the books, their attached alarm spells gave me away. I took them anyway. I knew an Air Witch in Drum Housing Projects who would remove the alarm spells for twenty bucks.
I passed a flooded playground and then glanced over my shoulder, only seeing obscure shapes through the rain. Did I lose the Trolls? Maybe. I crossed the street, barely looking both ways. A car horn blared. I jumped on the sidewalk, slipped, and cursed as my body crashed into the wet pavement. Sharp, raging pains shot through my arms and legs. It took me a few moments to stand up.
“What a great day.” I’d ripped my MIXBREEDS FOR EQUALITY shirt, but there was no blood. I checked my satchel. The books were still there—loud, but secure. I looked behind me. Supernaturals with umbrellas ran for shelter as thunder roared, but there were no more Trolls chasing after me. Perhaps the tropical storm drowned out their motivation. Relief poured over me, knowing I’d escaped campus security again. Letting out a long breath, I kept to the shadows and moved on. All I needed now was to get out of the rain.
August marked the peak of hurricane season in Miami, the home of the Santeria Supernatural Habitat. Tropical rainstorms occurred weekly. Our caged city needed an irrigation system, but no Human contractors would enter the habitat’s walls and barred ceiling.
I speed-walked, my jeans sticking to my legs as the storm picked up. A furious wind blew through the palm trees and dragged debris through the habitat’s ceiling. I brought my arm to my forehead, shielding my eyes as I searched for shelter. Lightning flashed near nightclub signs that said, “No Mixbreed Customers Allowed.”
A stray crimson and gold Pixie scurried by my feet. His soaked gold wings dragged on the ground behind him. I considered catching and taking him home, but decided against it. MeShack would kill me if I brought another stray to our apartment.
Seeing the Black Closet Shop ahead, I crossed my fingers. Two figures lurked under the shop’s awning as the red light glowed from inside. I sighed, hoping th
ey still had cashew butter cookies on the counter. The owner always let me grab some since I helped her kid get an A in English.
“Is the shop open?” I asked as the shorter of the two guys walked to the edge. A silver crescent moon embedded in his forehead identified him as a Shapeshifter.
He waved me over. “It’s open.”
Walking toward him, I noticed the raindrops falling on his pale hand and images of dogs biting each other tattooed up his arm in liquid silver. Just when I was going to compliment him on the tattoo, he grabbed me, flinging me into the air. I screamed and crashed into the shop’s door. The CLOSED sign fell to the ground. He grabbed me again before I could catch my breath and threw me against the door. Pain surged up my back. His hand clamped over my mouth.
“You got anything that’ll make me happy?” he said with his lips next to my ear and his body pressed into mine. I shook my head from side to side. The slime of his hair dripped on my cheek. He moved his face in front of mine.
Our eyes met, putting him at my height of 5’2”, but his short stature gave me no advantage. A Pureblooded Shifter’s strength outranked mine. He snatched my satchel away from me. The smoky scent of the drug Hemo Drop filled my nose. Red tinted the whites of his eyes. He looked over his shoulder. “Check her bag, Tony.”
Tony stepped out of the shadows. “You hear that alarm spell? She must’ve stolen something good.” He dove into my satchel, grabbed each book, and then threw them across the street.
Realizing that my left arm remained free, I focused on creating fire. A tiny flame formed near my palm and then faded out. I tried releasing more heat. The flame faded again. Fuck. Fire is created when flammable liquid and oxygen are exposed to heat. My pores naturally released heat and flammable pyrobem oil. Presently, water drenched my skin, depriving my fire of the oxygen and heat it needed for combustion. I rubbed my hand again.
“What’s she got?” the Shifter asked, tightening his grip on me.
“She’s just a university girl.” Tony turned my satchel over, making everything fall out. “I don’t see any wallet.”
The streetlight reflected off Tony’s forehead brand, displaying a silver crescent moon. Another Shifter. I looked back at the guy who was holding me and tried to figure out what type of Shifter he was. All Shifters had the same crescent moon brands. I hoped he shifted into something small as I continued to rub my hand against my jeans.
“What are you mixed with?” he asked, tightening his grip on me with his right hand and moving his other to my face. His calloused fingers rubbed the silver X brand embedded into my forehead, scratching my skin.
“You’re a sexy Mixie, aren’t you? Dark, like chocolate. You Haitian?” He looked at my chest, licking his cracked lips. “Big tits, too.”
Hot bile rose in my throat.
“Shorty, she doesn’t even have a penny.” Tony threw my empty satchel onto the ground. So, this Shifter’s name is Shorty. What a surprise.
“No drugs either? I thought all those big-time university kids did drugs.” Shorty continued to lean into me. The storm transformed into a light shower. The streetlights became more visible. I watched Tony pull out a cigarette. Please have a lighter.
“Nada, Shorty.” Tony patted his ragged shirt pockets. “Why would somebody put a spell on books? They ain’t worth shit.”
I looked at his cigarette and focused on the pocket he was searching, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Tony rubbed the back of his jeans pockets. “Might as well let her go. She’s not going to the Habitat Police. Those Humans don’t care about Mixbreeds.”
“No, she won’t go to the habbies. But let her leave? You’re crazy!” Shorty focused his eyes on my breasts. “Might as well have fun with her.”
No.
Tears appeared in my eyes but didn’t spill over. I focused on my left hand. Two fire marbles formed at my palm. I closed my shaking hand around them, attempting to intensify and hide them. I’d been held down before, but I’d never had to surrender.
Come on, Lanore, focus.
“I don’t really care,” Tony muttered, taking a couple steps toward me. His eyes focused on my face and followed the curves of my body. He nodded. “I would do her.”
“Ever had a Shifter?” Shorty’s hand left my arm and glided down my breasts. He pressed his body closer into me and licked the right side of my face.
I wanted to vomit and hoped I would. If the fire didn’t work, I would throw up all over him and run.
“Let me finish my cigarette. I’ll hold her down,” Tony said.
What a great guy.
He pulled out a lighter and placed the cigarette between his lips.
Yes! I swallowed, watching the lighter produce an orange flame, and mentally reached out for it. The fire leaned in my direction as if in a trance.
“Come on, Tony. Smoke it later.” Shorty put his hands down to his jeans. The sound of a zipper made my tears spill over my eyelids and fall down my face.
Tony dragged the lighter to the cigarette’s tip. I increased the flame until it was a foot long.
“What the fuck?” Tony opened his mouth. The cigarette fell to the ground. In a flash I pushed the flame to his face, commanding the fire to snatch at his flesh. He violently hit his face. Fire spread to his wrist and swirled around his elbows. He screamed, his head forming into a glowing mass of fire. He fell back to the wall, skin crackling like bacon in a hot pan. His eyes bubbled and bulged, while the flames swallowed his head.
I held in a scream, knowing that I would have nightmares about this.
Shorty released me. His mouth opened, looking from side to side, while Tony’s high-pitched screams rose above us. The smell of meat cooking filled the air. Tony moved away from the wall and fell into the street, thrashing madly at the flames.
“Oh, shit.” Shorty stumbled back, covering his nose and gaping at Tony. I increased the fireballs in my left hand, sparks flickering in the air. Smoke rose and carried ash around me. I threw one of the fireballs, aiming for the back of Shorty’s head. The ball flew over him and captured his attention. He snapped his head to me.
“Shit!” Shorty gazed at me, then at the fireball. A growl came from his chest. He fell to the wet ground in a crouching stance, skin rippling in large waves around his forehead brand. If he shifted quickly, I would be screwed. My left hand shook, making the last fireball bounce up and down.
“You Mixie bitch! Y—you did it,” he stuttered, pointing at me. “Your eyes are on fire.”
“Yeah. I did it.”
His pupils expanded and shifted into black pools.
Okay. He isn’t from the Were-cat family.
Brown bits of fur sprouted around his face and arms as his jaw began to extend and reshape. Claws erupted from the tips of his fingers. I almost choked on the ash that floated near my face. A cracking sound came as his back rose to a hump and his shirt ripped away. I brought my left hand to the front of me, letting him get a closer look at the fireball. He froze. The cracking stopped.
“Shifting is useless. I can make hundreds of these go to your face like a machine gun,” I lied.
He quickly held his paws up as if to shield himself from oncoming rapid fire.
Paws? Fuck, a Were-dog.
I pointed to Tony. His burning body lay on the pavement. The rain had smothered the flames, leaving charred flesh and a pile of ash in place of his face.
“You want to burn like him?” I asked.
“No!” Shorty yelled, guarding his face with his paws.
I sighed, wishing I really could blast fire like a machine gun. “Put the books in the bag and leave.”
“Huh? What books?” Shorty’s eyes widened. I raised the fireball in the air. He fell to the ground, covered his head, and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Those books.” I pointed to them. “Put the bag there and leave.”
Shorty ran to the books and slung them into the satchel. Once the books were put beside me, he darted away in the direction th
at I was heading.
Fuck.
Rain tapped against my head as the book’s alarm spell began to fade in and out. I counted myself lucky, grabbed the satchel, turned the corner, and hoped I wouldn’t see Shorty again on my way to the apartment.
I passed Linderman Blood Factory on my left, slowly inhaling and exhaling. The cool wind carried the scent of blood as it blew past me.
I’ve got to get out of the Shango District before I end up getting raped or worse.
I shook my head from side to side, quickening my pace. Out of all the districts in Santeria Habitat, Shango had the most deaths and highest crime rate.
One day, I’ll move to a nice place.
Broken streetlights met me as I turned the corner.
Maybe I’ll get a good job after college or go to law school.
I passed the border wall on my right, which was glowing with multicolored graffiti. Free Us! was spray painted near the wall’s attached bars that extended thousands of feet in the air and covered the habitat’s districts like a ceiling.
The alarm spell buzzed a little then stopped. A low-level Air Witch must have cast the spell.
Silence greeted my ears. Smiling, I sped up, glad to finally get a break on a night that was becoming the worst night of my life.
A female screamed.
Of course.
I stopped walking but couldn’t see anybody, so I leaned forward, straining my ears for another sound. Is Shorty with victim number two? He’d run this way. I should have given him Tony’s fate when I had the chance. Wind blew, bringing more rain.
“No!” a woman yelled.
Pulling the satchel closer to me, I increased the heat in my body and only saw steam. I raked my fingers through my dreadlocks, dreading whatever lay ahead. I was wet, defenseless, and just wanted to sit in my apartment, lie in MeShack’s arms, and cry. But I had let Shorty live, putting another female in a similar predicament. I tried drying my hand against the inside of my satchel as my feet carried me forward.
“No, don’t!” the woman said. “I have a kid!”
Biting my lip, I heard her scream again from the alley in front of me. I stopped at the edge and crouched down until my fingers touched the sticky pavement.
“Please!” she said as I peeked around the corner. A large figure wearing a raincoat and hat stood over her. The hat’s wide brim hid the figure’s face and brand. Relief filled me. It wasn’t Shorty.
“No!” The woman held up her hands.
The mystery figure’s arm rose. Moonlight reflected off a knife. The short-lived relief drained from my body. He grabbed her hand and held it up. Fear wormed its way down my body.
What should I do?
A bang came from behind me, making my head snap back. Wires swung from a utility pole and splashed into a puddle. Electric sparks flew up in the air. Glowing blue lines of electricity formed a wall that cracked and popped each time the rain hit it.
Fuck. There goes my detour to get her help.
I bit my lip. Home was three blocks ahead. I could run across the alley’s entrance and get MeShack to help her. The problem with running across the entrance was that I couldn’t tell if the knife holder was a Shapeshifter or not. The average Shifter could snap my neck before I took a second step.
“Yemaya! Help me!” she screamed. I hoped her goddess was listening, because we could both use the help.
In a blur, he raised the knife and chopped off her hand. Blood spurted out of her stump and fell to the pavement. Her screams scraped against my eardrums. Shock beat against my head. My heartbeat became erratic. I had to do something. Against all sane thoughts, I crawled across the alley’s opening, shaking and trying to hide behind boxes sprawled around the entrance.
“Help me! You, right there,” she screamed. “You! Help me!”
I froze.
She isn’t talking to me, right?
My head turned toward the alley. Moonlight hit her eyes as they focused on me.
I should have run.
“Help me!” She flailed her arms as he pinned her down with one hand.
I could have helped you if you hadn’t made him notice me.
I jumped up, put my hands in the air, and kept my eyes on the dark figure as I took a step back.
“Please,” she begged.
He put the knife to his side, turning his face to me, his features still hidden by the shadow beneath his hat’s brim. I resisted the urge to release the scream lodged in my throat.
“I have a gun.” I put my hand in the satchel.
He inclined his head.
She started to get up, holding the injured arm. Blood dripped down her dress and onto her leg. He pushed her down.
I edged a few steps to the side, hoping he didn’t notice.
“I’ll call the habbies!” I backed away a few more inches. He remained standing. Maybe he wasn’t a Shifter.
“Go ahead. Shoot,” she sobbed.
“Don’t push me.” I formed a fireball with the hand that was inside the satchel. “Let her go and leave.”
I felt the ball’s heat, pulled it out to throw it, and then watched the wind extinguish the fire. I almost pissed on myself.
“No,” she cried, seeing my empty hand. My stomach twisted into a knot.
“I see you! I know what you look like,” I lied, pointing to him.
Within two heartbeats, he raised his knife above her head. It came down in a flash. She fell to the ground like a sack of bricks. Blood sprayed from her open wounds, splattering everywhere and pooling around her now limp body.
Screams escaped my throat. I raced away. Streetlights blurred past me. My lungs burned. I never looked back and raced by the Aztec Hotel, my arms flailing in the air.
The Caged View Apartments’ sign appeared, swinging back and forth with the wind. A chair was wedged between the lobby door and its post, propping it open. I kicked the chair into the lobby, pulling the door closed behind me. The lock clicked. I raced upstairs, never looking back and hoping to any god or goddess who listened that he wasn’t behind me, following me home and waiting to kill the only witness to the murder he’d just committed.
The bed slammed into the wall every second as Joanne’s loud moans filled the air. The kitchen and MeShack’s bedroom shared a wall. Every time MeShack had sex, he damaged it.
“Oh, daddy, give it to me!” Joanne yelled. Daddy?
I rolled my eyes. A joint lay between my shaking fingers. Is the woman from the alley dead? Did the man follow me home? I brought the joint to my lips, inhaling the bluish smoke of marijuana and lotus petals, and wiped tears from my face.
“Right there!” Joanne moaned.
My book sat in front of me. It was Freud’s psychoanalytical approach to Vampires. Holding a yellow highlighter in my hand, I wondered if witnessing a possible murder would give me a pass on tomorrow’s discussion and inhaled more blue smoke. The words on the page merged into a blurry black and white pattern.
“Oh, daddy!”
“Turn around.” MeShack’s voice thundered through the walls.
I exhaled, rubbed my eyes, and put my feet on our table, which was a huge door MeShack had found. He’d painted it black and then placed it over cinder blocks.
“Don’t stop, daddy!”
I could clearly hear the booming sound of MeShack’s bed banging into his bedroom wall. Pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling and crashed onto the kitchen floor.
“Come back here,” MeShack said over Joanne’s shrieks. “Don’t run from it.”
“Yes!” Joanne screamed. “Yes!”
I lifted my head, crossing my fingers. The bed’s pounding stopped. A beautiful silence filled the apartment. Finally. I started reading and almost finished a page when loud purring vibrated throughout the apartment. Son of a mixed bitch. I closed my book.
One downside of living with a Were-cheetah is that he purrs when he’s happy. At times, the apartment vibrated all day from MeShack’s enjoyment of life.
After a few minut
es, the purring stopped. I exhaled more blue smoke, knowing he’d be out soon. I scanned the living room and was sure MeShack would complain about the mess.
My wet clothes hung over the arms of our russet brown couch, hiding the tan patches I’d sewn in last month. Damp pages from the books I’d stolen tonight covered the burnt orange coffee table, drying. More pages decorated the olive green carpet near our old flat-screen TV. I increased the heat in the air, hoped the pages would dry faster, and heard movement from MeShack’s room.
Yep. He was definitely coming out, and there was no time to clean. Fuck it.
I brushed away my bitten nails from the door table, watched them fall onto the carpet, and kicked them under the table. Besides the drying papers, the carpet appeared clean. My dad gave it to us. It was a housewarming gift/I’m-sorry-I-tried-to-kill-you-both-in-a-drug-induced-rage-and-forced-you-both-to-flee-from-your-childhood-home gift. Nevertheless, MeShack had a profound affection for the raggedy rug. If he found a mark on it, fangs and claws would appear.
A creaking sound announced MeShack’s door was opening.
“Like a slow river, baby,” MeShack sang. His voice was a musical instrument, sending smooth liquid tones through the apartment. “So slow, you run through my heart.”
He bent his copper-toned body under the doorway’s frame.
“Like a slow river, baby.” He wrapped a pink towel with yellow flowers around his waist and closed the door. Drops of sweat clung to the rows of muscle on his stomach. “You run through my heart. Like a slow—”
“Would you stop? You’re going to get that song stuck in my head.” I glared at him. His skin glowed like honey poured over layers of caramel. His black pupils blazed within hazel irises. I looked away and asked, “Is Joanne asleep?”
“Is that her name?”
I rolled my eyes and nodded.
“Yeah, she’s asleep.” He walked in a bowlegged stride toward me, bent down to kiss my X brand, and snatched the joint from me. “Cool shirt. The hot Were-cheetah that bought you that shirt must be a comedic genius.”
“Or a pre-med geek who thinks he’s funny,” I muttered. The shirt I’d put on after my shower read, I wish I was an Ion so I could form an exothermic bond with you.
“I see you’ve been in my marijuana supply tonight,” he said. “And I’m not a geek. Hot band leaders can’t be geeks.”
“You’re right. Perhaps the best words to describe you would be humble and modest,” I replied. He smiled and flexed his biceps in response.
Humming, he walked into our kitchen, pulled a rubber band out of the “everything” drawer, and tied his black curls into a pony tail that went beyond his shoulders and lay at the center of his back. He’d gotten the hair from his father, a Were-cheetah from somewhere in Africa. Everything else came from his Iranian Were-cheetah mother.
Ten stray Pixies flew from under the door table and swarmed in MeShack’s direction.
“These freaking strays are killing me. No more, La La. I’m serious. I convinced Janice to take two home with her.”
“Joanne,” I corrected, watching him pull out sugar cubes and hand one to each Pixie.
“I haven’t seen you smoke in years. What’s up?” He grabbed a slice of raw ostrich meat from the refrigerator, folded it, and then stuck the entire piece in his mouth.
I scrunched my nose up in disgust. “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being horrific, today was a hundred thousand.”
“Why?” He drank milk straight from the carton, threw the empty container into the trash, and burped. “What’s wrong?” He balanced the joint between his full lips and sat down next to me. “Whose neck do I have to break tonight? Please say it’s Zulu.”
“For the thousandth time, I’m not dating him.”
“Whatever, La La.”
MeShack had called me La La since we were nine. Most Shapeshifters know how to control their shifting by six. His mother and my father were drug buddies. She’d been too busy getting high with my dad to teach MeShack control. When I met him, he couldn’t say Lanore. His face had shifted in and out of cheetah form. La La had been the only words he could manage as his long tongue hung out of the side of his furry mouth.
“So?” MeShack’s eyes focused on me. My stomach clenched into a tight ball as I told him what had happened. With each detail, the muscles in his jaw twitched.
“Why did you start crawling across the alley?” He stamped the joint out on his hand. The charred skin surrounding the burn healed and vanished.
“I don’t know why. I keep correcting my actions in my mind over and over.”
“You think this Shorty guy saw the murderer too?” MeShack’s eyes transformed to feline.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“You said the killer was holding a long knife, right? Could you draw it for me?” He handed me my notebook. I drew it. He looked over my shoulder. “That’s a machete.”
“Do you think he’s out there looking for me?”
“Stop it. If he wanted you dead, he would have already been in this apartment.” MeShack scooted his chair over to me and rubbed the back of my neck with his fingers. I exhaled, enjoying the feel of his fingers caressing my skin.
“I would never let anything happen to you. Nothing.” The veins in his large neck bulged. “Just play it safe and stay out of the rain. Only go out when it’s dry enough to make fire.”
He stopped massaging me, opened his box of marijuana, and took out a gold piece of smoking paper. His eyes returned to normal. “And since we’re discussing your safety, I think you should stop hanging around Zulu.”
I ignored the comment and asked, “How was last night’s gig?”
“I beat up a Were-leopard for booing.” He laid his right arm on my chair. “Javier dropped the band from next month’s line up.”
“You need anger management.”
“I’ll fix my anger problem when you do something about your kleptomania.” He pointed to the wet books I’d stolen earlier. I showed him my middle finger. He leaned forward until his chest touched my arm.
“Is that an invitation?” The flecks of gold in his hazel eyes sparkled.
I tried to calm my heart pounding in my ears. When would his effect on me stop?
“Your invitations expired when you cheated on me last year.” I leaned away from him. Good job, Lanore.
He continued to stare at me.
“Everybody is saying that Mixbreeds for Equality did the bombing in St. Barbara’s square,” he said. “Hanging around with them will hurt your chances of getting into law school.”
“That’s a bad rumor. I would never be in a group that harmed others.” I got up from my chair and headed to the kitchen. A sharp pain throbbed at my temples. “Stop worrying about me being in MFE.”
“You’re all the family I have.”
Our parents would get high, argue, and then get high again. On payday, they’d turn on some cartoons, give us candy bars, and leave for days. As kids, we thought it was an adventure. We ate syrup sandwiches and stayed up all night watching TV. A year later, MeShack and his mom moved in. Sometimes her pimp, Joe, stayed for a few weeks.
Everything changed when I was fourteen. MeShack’s mom disappeared. A month later, the habbies found her behind Linderman Blood Factory, drained dry. We figured Joe had killed her and took her blood. Back then, Supernaturals could get $5,000 from the factory for a bucket. The next night, MeShack returned to me, silent, and covered in blood. The habbies discovered Joe later that evening with his head ripped from his body, his heart torn out of his chest and stuffed into his mouth.
“MFE is getting a lot of bad press.” I heard MeShack say as I opened the freezer section of the fridge. Cold air hit my face. I took out a large tub of ice cream that I’d stolen from the university’s cafeteria.
“And this Zulu guy is telling people you’re his lady,” he said as the skin wrinkled around his crescent moon brand.
I shook my head and laughed.
“That doesn’t
sound like something Zulu would do. You Shifters gossip worse than Witches.” I spooned ice cream into bowls. “If I was involved with him, I would tell you.”
“And what happens if I don’t want you to be with him?” He stood up.
“Absolutely nothing will happen.” I grabbed honey off the counter. “I just listened for an hour as you pounded my classmate, Joanne, whose name you keep forgetting, by the way. I don’t think you’re the authority on what makes a decent guy.”
He marched over to the kitchen’s doorway, wrapping his huge arms around his chest. I exerted heat into the air as a warning for him to calm down. Ice cream dripped from the spoon onto the counter.
“You’re about to lose your temper and shift.” I attempted to focus on the bowls in front of me. The pounding in my temples increased. “And you’re aggravating me.”
Within seconds, MeShack charged in a blur of motion toward me. The towel fell from his body. I resisted the urge to look below his waist and remained standing, not moving one inch. His beast loved a good chase. I had to keep still.
“If I find out you’re dating him, I’ll rip his throat out.” His nostrils flared.
Swirls of fire erupted from my hands.
I targeted my eyes on his. “You mess with Zulu and I’ll burn your balls off. I’m not with him, and even if I was, it’s none of your business.”
MeShack stared at the fireball I bounced in my hand. He opened his mouth in shock, exposing sharp fangs that stuck out of the top and bottom rows of his teeth. Silence hung between us for a few seconds until he said, “I wish I wouldn’t get jealous, but I do. You spend a lot of time with him, and for the past few weeks he’s been leaving messages and sending flowers.”
“Flowers?” I scrunched my face in confusion, searching the kitchen with my eyes. “Where are the flowers?”
“I threw all of them away.”
“Asshole! You had no right. You know how much I love flowers.” I slung the spoon into the sink and walked around him. He reached for my arm, but I moved it away, grabbed my satchel, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” He stared at the floor.
“I’m freaked out from this murder. Instead of you calming me down, you take the opportunity to belittle MFE and act like a jealous ass.”
“La La, I’m sorry.”
“I need fresh air. I’m suffocating in here with you and your ego.” I put my hand on the doorknob.
“MeShack?” Joanne yelled from his bedroom. “Is everything okay?”
“Go back to sleep, Jane,” he replied.
I exhaled, forcing myself not to correct him on her name.
He stepped forward. “Okay. I’m being an asshole, but could you get fresh air from your fire escape? I want you close just in case that guy is hanging around the building.”
Frowning, I thought about it for a few seconds. I could light some candles, make a huge cup of tea, and sip it out there, but Joanne was awake. They’d probably have sex again, and the serenity of my fire escape would just transform into a self-loathing cage of depression. At least downstairs, I would be free from the noise.
“No. Bernie the guard probably started his shift. I’ll hang out with him, clear my head, and be back.” I snatched open the door before he could offer an opinion, stepped into the hall, slammed the door behind me, and froze.
A note was taped to the door with black letters and red splotches. Please say that’s not blood.
“I SEE YOU TOO!” it read.
I held my breath and looked down the hallway, but only saw my Air Witch neighbor bringing in groceries. I snatched it off the door.
“Lanore. The storm stopped.” My neighbor flashed a toothless grin as grocery bags floated behind her. She did a zig zag motion with her hand. The groceries obeyed, lined up, and flew into her apartment. “You better grab some food before more rain comes.”
“Have you seen anybody weird around the halls tonight?” I asked.
“No. But Bernie started guarding if you’re worried.” She took a sip from her copper flask and stumbled into her apartment.
“Thanks, Mrs. Flora.”
As her door closed, I let out a long breath.
The streets would be busy. Hookers and dealers hung near my building. I would be relatively safe. I could just stand outside for a few minutes with Bernie. Not that the hundred-year-old Were-lion could do much, but at least he could get MeShack if anybody tried to attack me.
I read the note again.
“I SEE YOU TOO!”
Outside of my apartment building, hookers covered in orange lingerie strolled the streets, calling out to passing cars. A cool breeze blew through my dreadlocks. It smelled fresh and clean, as if the earlier storm had washed away all of the neighborhood’s impurities. The habitat ceiling’s beams came on after the storm, bathing the caged city in a threatening light.
I sat on the cracked concrete steps, half listening to Bernie tell me for the hundredth time about fighting in the Supe-Human Wars. The killer’s note sat in my pocket, weighing me down.
Is it just a threat to be silent? Or a declaration that I would be the next victim?
Seconds later, I spied Zulu stomping my way. The security lights shone on his X brand. His blond dreadlocks hung beyond his broad shoulders, slapping around his elbows. He wore no shirt, just indigo jeans that hung low and framed perfect abdominal muscles. Multicolored cords were sewn into his ivory skin in a swirly pattern that stopped at his wrists. It had to have been pretty painful when he’d gotten it done. With each furious stomp, his muscles bulged under the cords.
Fuck. He is pissed. I stood up, told Bernie I would be back, and headed toward Zulu.
“What are you doing here?” I held my hands out to my sides.
“You forgot about our date,” Zulu growled, his voice deep with a dominant edge. It was why Supernaturals, or Supes as they were most often referred to, stopped and listened when he spoke at MFE rallies.
“Zulu, it wasn’t a date.”
He narrowed his eyes. Usually they were a blend of dark blue and gold, reminding me of the dawn’s sun as it peeked through the habitat’s ceiling. Tonight, his eyes were midnight black. His gaze was like the sharp edge of a sword pulled out for battle.
I took a step back and cleared my throat. “We were just going to talk about what happened.”
He raised his blond eyebrows. “You mean when I had you on my desk, dress lifted, shirt ripped, and your lips on mine?”
“Fine. When we kissed.” I bit my lip.
“Why did you stop me and run away? Why aren’t you coming to the meetings or returning my calls?”
“I can’t do this tonight.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“No, mon. This is your fifth cancel.” He got in front of me, leaning down so that our eyes met. “You’ve been avoiding me for three weeks. You promised me tonight; and besides, me made us dinner.”
I resisted the urge to correct his use of me. It was Rebel dialect. They called it Lib Lib. It had taken him years to learn the crazy speech patterns and communicate with the Rebels. The fact that he’d so easily slipped into Lib Lib told me that he was upset.
“Zulu, trust me. Tonight I’ve been through so much. I can’t . . . wait a minute.” I looked up at him. “You cooked?”
“Duck and some cheese potato thing that my sister said would impress you. Me . . .” He stopped for a few seconds as if he’d realized that he was speaking in the dialect, and then cleared his throat. “If you had a rough night, then tell me about it on the way to my condo. I’ll help you solve whatever it is—but no more cancellations.”
“It’s midnight.” I pointed at my purple Captain Habitat watch. Angry lines formed around his X brand. He glanced at my watch and then back at me.
“Hey, Blondie,” a Vamp hooker called to Zulu from across the street. “Come here. Mama want to give you something for a tiny fee.”
Zulu ignored the hooker. He gently grabbed my hand, kissed it, and whispered, “Like i
t or not, that night started something inside of me. You have two choices. We talk in your apartment or my condo.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I raked my fingers through my hair. There was no way we would talk in my apartment. Letting MeShack and Zulu meet would be a disaster. On the other hand, would it really be that bad to leave with Zulu for a few hours? I needed to go to sleep, but I doubted I could keep the image of the machete and spraying blood out of my mind.
“I can only be out for an hour,” I said. “I have class in the morning.”
“Fine.” He turned around and walked away. “I parked my bike around the corner so you wouldn’t see it and run away like you did after the kiss.”
“Are you mocking me?” I trailed behind him, rolling my eyes.
He laughed. The huge wings tattooed in silver on his entire back moved. Sparkling gems formed the feathers’ design. I’d spotted sapphires, amethyst, diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and some gems I didn’t know the names of.
The wings were beautiful and took my breath away every time I saw them.
Zulu stopped at his red bike, grabbed a black helmet with white wings off the handle, gave it to me, and then jumped on. Putting the helmet on my head, I climbed on, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“You can hold on tighter,” he offered.
“Just drive.” I smiled and tightened my grip. Heat radiated off him. I leaned my face on his back, secretly enjoying the satin texture of his skin with the gems’ rough edges. Closing my eyes, I inhaled his scent of sandalwood.
“What happened?” he asked without starting the bike.
I reluctantly sat up, sighed, and told him everything. By the time I’d finished, his body hardened under my grip, and he still hadn’t started the bike.
“Let me see this letter,” Zulu said, with an edge of violence in his voice. He remained with his back to me, but I could see him clenching and unclenching his right hand around the handle. I pulled the letter out and handed it to him. After a few seconds, he said, “I’ll use all of MFE’s resources to help you.”
He pushed a button and whispered some words to start his bike. Turning around, I noticed gold sparks fly out of the back pipe. I didn’t want the magic to touch my skin, so I inched closer to Zulu.
“I have a connection with a habbie,” he said. “I’ll report the body to him. And then see if he can give us some information on what he found. He’ll give us anything if the price is right.”
“We’re not going to exhaust all of the organization’s resources,” I yelled over the sound of Zulu revving the engine. We drove away from my building, and the noise disappeared. A smooth humming sound came from the bike while the wind whipped around my face.
“You’ll get all of our resources. That’s why I created MFE, to help Mixbreeds.” Not making any effort to stop, he drove us through a red light. I screamed as cars honked their horns, and a group of Vamps in a truck cursed at us.
“Damn it! Red lights mean stop.” I cringed as he cut off a delivery van and drove through another red light. More cars honked. Closing my eyes, I hid behind his back and yelled, “This is the last time I ride with you.”
“You said I only had you for an hour. I’m trying to cut the driving time.”
“Fine! I’ll give you more time.” I kept my eyes closed and heard more horns blare. “Just obey the damn traffic laws and slow down.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The rush of wind lessened to a breeze. I opened my eyes and peeked over his shoulder as we turned out of Shango District. The habitat was divided into five districts. Each district was named and themed after a popular Santeria god. I lived in Shango’s flaming orange district. Zulu lived in Yemaya.
We entered the sapphire gates of Yemaya. A life-size statue of the goddess stood near the entrance, carved from spelled ice that could not melt. It shimmered in the moonlight, giving the effect of wavering liquid. Blue and white flowers lounged at her sandaled feet.
Even though it was in the middle of the night, Supes kneeled in front of her, chanting. Their voices rose above the jeweled gates. Teal silk robes covered them. Cowrie shells, dyed in blue ink, draped around their necks. Gone was Shango District’s smell of death and blood, poverty and depression. The soothing scent of the sea hovered in the air and seized me, stirring up memories of Orisha beach during the summer, salt on my tongue, sand between my toes, and the calming waves of the ocean pushing me forward.
I sighed.
“You’re lucky to live here,” I whispered. Zulu’s body tensed under my arms.
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he said as we stopped at a light. “It’s a way for my mom to pay me off. To make sure I don’t call her Mommy in front of her Pureblood friends.”
“So then, what do you call her?” I asked, watching a couple stroll by, hand in hand.
Each time the Pureblood laughed, her massive diamond earrings sparkled like expensive champagne. I shook my head. Her jewelry could fund both MeShack’s and my education and provide us room and board for several years. I hated her for flaunting her wealth and looked in another direction.
“I usually call my mom by her first name,” Zulu replied.
“Which is?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Nice try, Lanore. If you want to know my secrets, then tell me yours.”
I laughed.
Zulu maintained a reasonable speed as we passed high-end restaurants painted in cobalt blue. An aroma of slowly roasted meats and simmering delights tugged at my senses. Crystal fountains glowed, producing playful shadows of fish. Luxury condos with bricks the color of the ocean decorated the clean streets. There was no litter—anywhere. Nothing to suggest Supes walked on the sidewalks at all.
“I’m going to have two Rebels follow you around until we catch this guy,” Zulu said, getting my attention.
“No Rebels. Are you insane? My professors already hate that I’m in their classes. And you want me to bring two Rebels?” I shook my head. “Not happening. They can’t come with me.”
The Rebels were a group of Shifters who considered themselves revolutionaries. They hated Humans and shunned most laws, wearing bright colors instead of the blacks and whites that you saw Humans wear on TV. They remained in partial animal form, which freaked out most Purebloods, even regular Shifters.
Fur covered their faces. Animal ears stuck out of their hair. Fangs were usually fully extended and protruded out of their mouths. Whenever I was near them, my skin always felt like hundreds of ants were crawling up my arms.
“I don’t know why you hate them. They’re great for MFE,” Zulu said as we sped off, just as the light turned green. “They listen to you and me, which is a miracle.”
“I don’t hate them. But if we continue to involve them, they’ll ruin us.” A tiny pain began at my temples. “And those freaks destroyed my peace demonstration.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t like the peace thing either.”
“Peace demonstration,” I corrected. “And like it or not, nonviolent actions are going to get us funding. And funding is what will help MFE get results.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled.
I opened my eyes wide and screamed, “Keep your eyes on the road!”
He laughed, turned his head forward. “Besides the peace stuff, your ideas are brilliant. This is why you’re second in command.”
“Don’t start with that again, Zulu.” The pain at my temples transformed into a pounding headache. “I don’t want the position or any leadership responsibilities.”
“If you won’t take the Rebels, then consider a regular guard,” Zulu said, ignoring my refusal to be his number two. “You’re too important to me. Just one guard?”
“Fine. But he can’t come into my classrooms.”
“Deal.”
We turned into the driveway of a turquoise condo building.
“On another topic,” Zulu said. “When are we going to talk about the fun we had on my desk? I would like to try that
again, though your escape last time tells me that I’ll have to wait.”
I opened my mouth but was unable to find the words that I’d planned on saying. He parked the bike and kicked the stand down. Regret filled me. He stiffened under my arms.
“Are you going to answer me?” he muttered, not looking at me.
I swallowed. “Zulu, I like you.”
“But?”
“You’re the face of MFE,” I said. “Supes know you all over Santeria, especially the women. They throw themselves at you after every rally.”
“What does that have to do with you and me?”
I blew out some air, removed the helmet, and jumped off of his bike.
“Lanore?”
“I’m just not interested in dating another guy that’s in the public eye. MeShack’s band was successful only in Shango, and there were still lots of female fans knocking on our door and sneaking into his room. The temptation is—”
“MeShack’s dick was the problem. He’s a Shifter. That’s what the males do when they’re young.” Zulu climbed off of his bike and grabbed the helmet from me. “Don’t let his crap mess up what we could have.”
“I’m not interested.” I shifted all of my weight to my right foot, leaning my head forward so that most of my dreadlocks hid my face. He put the helmet on the bike’s handle.
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” I said. “I shouldn’t have. Now I just want everything to not be awkward.”
He eliminated the distance between us and was so close, the tips of his blond dreadlocks touched my breasts. I shuddered and took a step back.
“Your nipples get hard when I’m near you,” he whispered. “And you stop breathing for a few seconds.”
I forced myself to breathe.
He came closer. The cords in his arms glowed white.
“My body reacts to you, too,” he said. “I would have been content with wanting you from afar, but you kissed me. Now I can’t get your taste out of my mind.”
He pulled me to him, pressing his lips to mine, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth, and bringing with it a peppermint flavor.
So perfect.
I moaned and attempted to push him away, but it was a lackluster effort. As soon as my fingertips touched his chest, I stopped pushing and glided them down his smooth skin.
It’s just a kiss.
He wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer. A groan escaped from him. I sucked on his lip and then bit it. He tightened his grip, and in that moment, I knew I wouldn’t stop if he wanted more.
A horn beeped. Light flashed over our faces. We stopped kissing and looked in the light’s direction.
“Mixies! Get your asses out of here,” a guard shouted from a security car. He held a flashlight in his hand. “Take that to Shango where you Combo Trash are allowed.”
“I have a condo here.” Zulu spat out the words as he pulled me behind him. “And don’t flash that fucking flashlight in my face.”
“Zulu, stop. Let’s just go.” I couldn’t see the guard’s brand and figured it was best to avoid any more problems tonight.
“Listen to your lady.” The guard turned off the flashlight. “You don’t want my type of trouble, boy.”
The guard twirled his hand in a circular motion. Wind appeared from the guard’s palm, spinning into a tiny tornado. An Air Witch.
The mini tornado headed toward us. Zulu grabbed my arm, trying to help me keep my balance within the current of air as it pushed against our bodies. I stumbled, falling to the ground and dragging Zulu with me. The wind stopped. The guard laughed.
I increased the heat within me, ready to end his entertainment, but he drove off.
A growl shot out of Zulu’s throat. He jumped up and then gave me his hand.
“This is why peace doesn’t work with Purebloods.” He pulled me up. “You have to speak their language. Meet violence with violence.”
He stormed off before I could reply.
Hours later, I lounged on Zulu’s couch, my stomach full of roasted duck, watching the NSFL championship on his 6DTV. He’d recorded it earlier. I grabbed the couch’s pillows as he massaged my feet. Pleasure spread throughout my body. I’d lost a bet that the Buddhist Monks would be in the lead before halftime. Being that he had a foot fetish, he chose massaging my feet as his reward. I found it to be a win-win situation.
As far as the kiss in the garage, neither one of us brought it up. It was too closely linked to the asshole Air Witch. It had taken the whole dinner to calm Zulu down.
“Tackle him!” Zulu yelled.
The game’s images floated throughout the room. The 6DTV had just come out on the market. Two Air Witches had patented the spell. A football flew by my head. The referee’s whistle blew right next to me. I covered my ear.
“Could you turn the weather effects down?” I said as the wind from the stadium blew into the living room.
Zulu grabbed the remote control and stuck it on his X brand. The cold breeze disappeared. Several players ran off the field and sat on the bench next to me. A horrid funk floated off the players. I covered my nose.
“Zulu, we’re too close to the action.” Sweat sprayed on my neck as a player flung off his helmet. I wiped it away.
A boy walked through me with a barrel of water.
“Come on, tackle him!” Zulu roared.
I looked in front of me and froze. The Monk’s quarterback raced toward me. Ten feet away. Dust flew under his feet. Eight feet. My heartbeat increased. Six feet. I could see five Santeros behind him. Four feet. I dove off of the couch and onto the carpet as the Santeros slammed into the quarterback and pushed him into the place where I’d been sitting. They fell through the couch. Helmets crashed. The quarterback grunted.
“Yes!” Zulu cheered.
I stood up, shaking my head as a commercial came on. A blonde Vamp with huge breasts slid her hands up and down a Burglar beer can. Words floated, stating that all raccoon blood was extracted humanely.
“Thank you for hanging out with me tonight.” Zulu grabbed my foot when I sat back down on the couch. Licking his lips, he glided the tips of his fingers up my feet and then thrust a finger between my toes. A tingly sensation rippled up my leg.
I jerked it away from him.
“You said I could play with your feet if I won,” he said. “Do I only get to use my hands or can I play with them in other ways?”
“I don’t think I want to know what other ways you can play with them.” I shook my head and grinned. “You’re a very naughty Mixie.”
He lifted my right foot to his lips.
Raising my eyebrows, I opened my mouth to speak and then stopped, turning my attention to the TV.
“. . . her body found in pieces throughout the alley,” the reporter said.
I spotted the words Breaking News floating around the room. The Earth Witch reporter held an umbrella in her hand and stood next to the coffee table. Red and blue lights flashed. A crowd dressed in raincoats stood around her.
“The female’s head was found on boxes stacked over there.” She pointed her hand by Zulu’s hallway, where yellow tape faded in and out. “Her identity is still unknown. Her brand will be scanned tomorrow to discover it.”
A chill crawled up my spine.
“Habitat police say she is a Hispanic Were-dog with black hair. If you know someone missing who may fit this description, contact your district’s crime stoppers.”
Phone numbers flashed in red over Zulu’s coffee table.
“Although this is the second body found this week, the habitat police are refusing to say the murders are related.”
A beep sounded. All of the 6DTV images disappeared. Figuring Zulu turned off the TV, I looked at him with shivers running through my body. He slid over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m going to take care of this.”
Zulu’s lips moved, but I stopped listening. The machete slamming down on the female replayed in my head. The reporter said two murders.
Wil
l I be number three?
Zulu’s lips continued to move.
She had a kid. I closed my eyes. Who will tell the kid that mommy was cut into pieces?
“I SEE YOU TOO!” the note had said.
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