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“There are a lot of mysterious things about boats, such as why anyone would get on one voluntarily.”
~ P. J. O'Rourke
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Bear Crawford tucked his chin and pumped his arms. Stretching out his legs, he quickened his pace. Faster. He needed to run faster. His footsteps echoed down the dark alley while the spring moon laughed at him.
The guards grunted somewhere farther down the alley. He didn’t dare look.
Adrenaline raced through Bear’s veins and his heart punched against his breastbone. He clutched the stolen book in one hand and kept running. His leather jacket squeaked with each stride.
Almost there. The intensifying smell of ocean cheered him on.
A raven swooped down from her perch on the building’s ledge and hovered beside him. Her energy pinged against his. Though most birds couldn’t communicate more than a word or two, they often shared images and feelings with him. This one sent visions of birds playing in the air flows. Tasha. Though she looked no different than any other female raven, he’d know this bird and her mischievous energy anywhere. She followed him like a shadow.
Not now, he told her. Not ever. He didn’t have that kind of talent, but she didn’t understand that. She kept sensing his corvid energy and assumed he could shift into a bird.
The sleek raven clicked at him before flapping her wings and taking off into the night. If only he could join her. Instead, he rounded the corner and pushed his body harder. Where had these guards come from? He’d scouted the location for weeks and studied the schematics of the building until his eyes crossed. He must’ve tripped some sort of silent alarm—one installed after the company updated the latest security plan on their internal website.
Bear gnashed his teeth. The black material covering his face scratched his skin. He wanted to tear it off and feel the fresh air, but he couldn’t risk it. Of course, if he had his sister’s power, he’d already be free.
Bear grimaced. It wasn’t Raven’s fault she inherited more magic from their absentee biological father. Just as it wasn’t her fault Bear hadn’t been around much lately. But now was not the time to dwell or drown in guilt.
The thundering footsteps behind him drifted farther away. He created more distance between himself and his pursuers. That expensive gym membership finally paid off.
One more turn.
Bear rounded the last corner toward the docks.
He almost skidded to a halt. One of the guards waited for him, red-faced and panting by the entrance of the docks. The guard spotted him and braced in a ready position more commonly seen on rugby players than security for hire. How in the Underworld did he get here first?
Bear growled and charged ahead. Rugby happened to be one of Bear’s favourite sports.
The guard—Red, for the face—narrowed his eyes and lunged at him.
Bear sidestepped and flung out his hand—straight-arming Red. The guard’s heavy body slammed against Bear’s hand, but he locked his elbow and held Red off. He cradled the stolen book under his other arm like a rugby ball.
The guard swiped and grabbed at empty air, unable to get a grip on Bear’s clothes or bring him down. The guard lunged forward, throwing his considerable weight at Bear.
With sheer determination and muscle memory, Bear danced out of Red’s reach. He gripped the stolen property. Good. He still had possession.
Red grunted and fell face-first into the pavement behind him. His body smacked the ground with a loud thud. Without breaking stride, Bear ran down the ramp to the docks.
Loosely tethered to the end was a cheap tin boat he’d purchased as a backup plan. Good thing, too, or he’d be dead.
Footsteps pounded behind him.
He wasn’t free yet.
With a flying leap, Bear jumped in the boat, pulled the rope and let the natural momentum push the vessel from the dock. He straightened to smugly smile at the guards, and—
Fuck!
One of the guards jumped from the dock, aiming his body straight at Bear’s. He barrelled into Bear, and they crashed into the boat.
Oomph.
Bear’s head smacked the side of the vessel. His ears rang. Before he could right himself, a fist smashed into his side.
Bear grunted and tensed his ab muscles to brace for the next fist. And the next. He needed to move, not get pummeled by some random guard. With a deep breath, he dropped the artifact, pushed off the bottom of the boat and jabbed out with his fist. His knuckles slammed into the guard’s neck.
The guard gurgled and reeled back, stumbling with the movement of the unsteady boat. Salt spray sloshed over the metal side. The vessel had drifted farther from the docks. Hopefully, far enough to discourage any other guards from joining them.
Bear got to his feet, the boat swaying back and forth even more. If they weren’t careful, the vessel would capsize. Even if Bear survived the frigid and gelatinous waters, poisoned from years of turmoil between regs and fae, the stolen book and his source of income wouldn’t.
The guard scrambled to regain his footing. He squared off with a snarl, telegraphing his intent. His weight shifted to his toes. The guard was getting desperate, he’d put everything into his next move.
Bear wasn’t a lethal fae warrior, but he benefitted from the corvid essence running through his veins. Like the birds he could communicate with, he read people very well.
The guard lunged forward.
Bear stomped down with his right foot with all his weight.
The boat rocked to the side and the guard stumbled.
Now was his chance. Bear struck out with his fist, contacting the man’s face. The momentum, with the boat listing, sent the guard tumbling over the side. His body smacked the surface of the ocean and salt water sprayed Bear’s body and face mask.
Bear panted, wanting nothing more than to sit down and catch his breath, but he was too close to shore and a dock full of angry guards.
He reached down, and gripped the cord for the engine. The guard in the water gurgled and latched onto the side of the boat. The vessel listed. Bear stumbled. The congealed depths of murky ocean loomed.
Bear kicked out, stomping on the guard’s fingers, crushing them and righting himself. Nope. He wouldn’t be falling over the side and joining the guard for a sludgy ocean bubble bath tonight.
The man screamed and fell back into the water with a splash. A plume of foul ocean air hit Bear’s face and he shuddered. If the guard focused on swimming back to the dock, he’d survive. Hopefully, he chose life over making Bear’s job more difficult.
Bear pulled the cord and the engine sputtered to life. The oddly comforting smell of gasoline pumped into the air.
The guards left behind on the dock shouted obscenities about Bear’s mother, while their comrade flailed in the water a few feet away and tried to shoot Bear down with a death stare. Neither of these things prevented Bear from slipping into the night in a cheap tin can of a boat.
He’d been lucky. If any of those guards had been armed...If any of them had been fae...
Bear shook his head. He didn’t get paid to complete easy jobs.
Tasha swooped down from the night sky and perched on the bow.
“Hey, girl.”
She cocked her head at him and clicked.
After he was far enough away from security cameras and prying eyes, he pulled the balaclava from his head. His black hair stood straight up and sweat had dried to his face. The cool wind flowing over the still waters of Burrard inlet rushed by, a refreshing reminder that he’d survived another job.
And he was one step closer to his goal.