17

Let me tell you a story.

Well, it's not really a story. It's reality. My people always don't get the benefit of storybook endings.

If I had a storybook ending, it would probably go something like this: my mother and father would have stayed happily married; I never would have had to hide behind the couch as my father beat my mother. My father would have been a presence in my life instead of the evil dream mage he became, tricking people into harm by creating nightmares. He wouldn't have gotten fifteen years in prison for mental manipulation, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have hung himself in jail.

And if we’re talking about true storybooks, let's talk about my mom, who fell into drugs because there was no other way to cope on the street. If life had been a storybook, she wouldn't have bundled me up one morning, driven to my grandmother’s, pretended to run some errands, and then never showed up again.

My grandmother, a shifter wolf, was in her fifties at the time and too old to take care of anyone, let alone a starving child who didn't understand jack shit about what was happening to her.

Throw in my mom’s dysfunctional brother—a shifter—and a narcissistic wife—a witch…and you've got a three-dimensional image of my family.

Yep, that whole ‘blood being thicker than water’ crap—it's kind of true, if you're not referring to my uncle and aunt. They didn't care about Darius and Destiny, leaving them to fend for themselves and live on the street—even when there was a roof over their heads.

Nana ended up raising us, all while working nights as a demon hunter.

So when I say that Nana raised us, I was the one doing the raising. I had to cook. I had to clean. I had to get everybody to school. When shit happened, I was the one who had to solve it. When bullies decided to beat up Darius on the playground because he was a wizard and they were jealous, I was the one teaching Darius how to fight after school.

When Nana had a heart attack and left us alone, I was fifteen.

Didn't have a clue about life, or how to raise two kids when I was a kid myself.

So if we’re talking about storybook endings, I didn't get one.

But you know what? Nobody should ever control another person’s destiny.

You write your own destiny.

Don't let anyone ever try to take it away from you.

And I wasn't about to let Falconer do that to Darius and Destiny.

All of this crossed my mind as I navigated through the cool darkness of the warehouse, feeling for obstacles.

Using my phone, I activated a flashlight and illuminated a maze of crates.

I hopped over a hole in the floor. I didn't shine my light down in the hole for fear of something scurrying out.

The inside of the place was dank and smelled like mold and wetness that hadn't had a chance to properly air itself out. Also smelled like rubber.

My footsteps echoed. I took slower, measured steps. If anyone was in here, I didn't want to let them know I was.

I checked my phone.

No service.

Especially no service here.

I passed through a crumbling, arched doorway, through what used to be an employee locker room. All of the lockers, road-cone orange and rusting, were busted open, likely the conquests of vagrants and urban explorers looking to make some quick cash from the contents inside.

I passed by a locker with swirled graffiti sprayed on it. Looked like a gang sign.

A locker lay overturned in my path.

I had to go over it, so I grabbed a metal edge and pulled myself atop it. I balanced on the slanted debris and ran quickly across it, jumping off and landing on the other end of the room.

Splash.

I landed right in the middle of something.

And it wasn't water.

I scrunched up my nose.

It wasn't urine.

At least I had that to be thankful for. But whatever it was, it didn't smell good. Like rotten eggs. I hoped it would wear off.

I exited the locker room and came into a narrow hallway. At the other end, I spotted a stairwell.

There was less water here and my footsteps didn't echo as loudly, so I picked up my pace.

Slowly, concrete stairs came into view.

I drew a mental map of the facility.

I could climb these stairs and find a way that might deposit me into the adjacent property, helping me circumvent the magical charm.

I climbed the stairs, thinking about how crazy life was that I found myself crawling through an abandoned building to save my family.

At some point, fate owed me a break. Right? Right?

Right.

A blue glimmer stopped me.

I sighed.

At the top of the stairwell, three flights up, was another shimmering glyph.

Another charm.

Naw, this wasn't Falconer. Couldn't have been.

But now I was starting to think these charms were set by someone more sinister.

Instinctively, my hands reached for pepper spray on my belt that wasn't there.

I took in a deep breath.

I started down the stairs, realizing the only possible path was into the basement or back out the way I came.

I descended the stairs.

I balled my fists.

I reached the landing where I started.

Down the hall, near the locker room where I had come from, a blue glyph glimmered in the darkness like a tattoo suspended in mid-air.

Fuck.

I turned around just in time to see a shadow of a shrieking animal falling at me from the stairs, claws and fangs aimed at me.