Forty-Four

 

The two shifters were practically bouncing at the prospect of getting into a fight with a serial killer. Alasdair had to take them to one side and remind them they were supposed to be our victims. They both lowered their eyes and put on a sluggish submissive act when we marched them down to the guy we’d met earlier. He grinned at us until he saw there were only two of them.

“They’re good specimens,” Alasdair said.

The man looked between us and them, his expression souring.

“You’ll have to make up for it next time,” he said.

We all nodded in understanding.

He led us to a battered old van, which we were all pushed into the back of. I sat next to Alasdair on the floor, trying to ignore the blood stains near my feet and the dents in the panelling behind me. How many innocent people had been tossed in the back of that van and taken to an awful end?

“Focus, Niko,” Alasdair whispered.

I tamped down the fire that was beginning to surge into my veins, I was going to have to work on my control. It was getting worse.

The shifters remained very still, their ears pricked, their confidence ebbing with every turn. The driver didn’t make any attempt to avoid pot holes or other such things. We were bounced and thrown around the back of the van, no doubt to disorientate us so we’d have no clue where we were when we got there.

To my surprise, we were outside of the city in front of a sprawling farmhouse with a large barn next to it.

“Come on, out,” the man said, waving for us to get out.

Alasdair got out first with the shifters after him and Grayson coming up behind me. We looked around and saw there was only one road in and out and only one car besides the van. Getting out of there was going to be an interesting challenge. People were lurking in the shadows around the barn.

“Get to the barn,” the man said nodding in that direction.

The shifters had lost their bravado. The caution and nervousness they displayed was completely genuine. We walked across the scrubby grass towards the large barn, where a number of alchemists and fae part-breds were waiting for us.

“Two Guardians and a hellhound mutt, you did well!” an elf who looked to be in his early thirties exclaimed with joy when he saw us.

He wore practical trousers and a loose shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves. His long hair was tied back with a red and silver ribbon, no doubt showing his house. We were quickly surrounded, and they were on their home turf. This plan wasn’t looking quite as good now.

“Let me guess, you thought you’d walk up to my front door, kick a few heads in, and then there would be no more magic-removal powder in the world,” the alchemist said.

“That about sums it up,” Grayson said.

The alchemist laughed, and his people edged a little closer.

“Take the two shifters away, they’re useful. The Guardians need reminding of their place in the world.”

A pair of large men grabbed the shifters and wrestled them to the ground, where they proceeded to administer some form of knock out thing. It took everything I had to let it happen. Alasdair’s firm glare kept me where I was. I trusted that he had a reason.

The shifters were hauled out of the barn, leaving us with the alchemists. Goddess be with me, I’d tear every alchemist and alchemist ally into small shreds if those shifters were hurt. They were good guys who just wanted to help. Alasdair wrapped his fingers around mine, I felt the warmth of the fire against his palm. Taking a calming breath, I pushed it down inside once more.

“Are you going to be good boys and sit down quietly?” the elf asked.

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself.

“Kill them.”

I pulled my knife and spun around to face the closest alchemist. She was a scrawny woman with pale gold skin and a wild look in her eyes. She kept throwing a small purple vial back and forth between her hands. I ignored it and slowly circled around her, watching the part-bred fae to my right. Grayson lunged at the part-bred nearest him, and everything exploded into action from there.

The alchemist with the purple vial grinned at me. Her two top front teeth were missing. I was distracted enough by that that I missed the vial landing near my feet. I reflexively squeezed Gray’s shield between my finger and thumb and prayed that whatever was in that vial could be kept out. A purple ooze slithered along the floor and made its way towards my feet. I jumped over it and aimed for the short, stumpy part-bred woman.

A primal snarl came from somewhere behind me. I didn’t dare look, instead focusing on trying to slit the part-bred woman’s throat. Another part-bred was circling around behind me, and the alchemist was watching me a little too intently. The part-bred threw herself at me. I grabbed onto her hair and used her momentum to throw her behind me. She collided with another alchemist, who threw some powder at me. A wall of green fire erupted a foot in front of me. Thank the goddess the shield worked. Fuck. Four minutes before it didn’t.

Gray had shifted into his hellhound form and was savaging an alchemist, and Alasdair punched a pixie so hard in the face I was sure his nose vanished into his skull. The alchemist screamed something at me before she began throwing small orbs at me, each bouncing off the shield with a soft hiss before they began burning holes in the floor. The concrete floor.

“Fucking alchemists!” I shouted before the part-bred kicked me hard in the stomach.

I coughed but kept control and stepped forward to slash him in the stomach. He twisted away, meaning I only grazed him. Something began burning my shoulder blade. My shield was faltering. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.