Legacy of Flames- The Complete Trilogy, page 2
part #1 of Legacy of Flames Series
The giant had left a trail of devastation in its wake, but seemed to be heading the opposite way—towards the busy tourist district. My stomach lurched at the sight of bloody bodies discarded in the road. Giants were fae, and as far as I knew, none still existed in this realm. Something had gone very, very wrong.
Whenever we’d run through the drill in the past, we’d been operating under the assumption that none of us would ever be able to shift openly. But with the sky on fire, with the whole world panicking, the balance had shifted. My mind churned through possibilities. What if every supernatural came out of hiding? The hunters would be revealed as the sadistic animals they really were. Maybe they’d be locked away. Maybe…
Who are you kidding? I thought as my feet pounded against the paving stones. Those screams belonged to the ordinary people confronted by the underworld living underneath their feet. The terror of the unknown. No human weapon, no matter how powerful, could stand up to the strongest supernaturals. Mages could burn cities down, and had to exercise extreme self-control not to do so. Necromancers could unleash an army of the dead. Shifters could transform into fearsome beasts. And faeries… the amount of power contained inside their realm was capable of burning this one to ashes.
We stopped running at the entrance to the local park—or Cori did. Rhea landed beside us, stone-like wings spread wide to repel any attackers. Then she shifted back into human form.
“It’s the faeries,” she growled. “They’re coming here.”
“The faeries!” Cori clutched a stitch in her side.
Flashes lit up the sky, alternating between green and blue, dazzlingly bright. Meanwhile, a thick fog filled the gaps in between, sweeping through the streets. Already, the path through the park was shrouded. Figures began to appear on our path, faint and indistinct.
“Ghosts,” whispered Rhea.
Ghosts?
“What the hell now?” whimpered Cori, echoing my own thoughts.
“Climb on my back,” said Rhea.
Both of us stared at her. “What?”
“This isn’t the time for secrecy,” said Rhea. “Faerie’s attacking this realm. We’re at war.”
And she shifted again. A second later, her grey gargoyle form stood in her place.
I let Cori climb in front of me then followed, my hands carefully guiding her between Rhea’s feathered wings. I’d never even flown in a plane before, but a strange sense of calm briefly rose as Rhea left the ground, strong wings beating. The buildings and roads dropped away, and my senses surged in a way they never had before—yet still felt intimately familiar. Like reliving a memory.
A large black shape appeared ahead of us in the sky. More than one. Worse, the fog remained as thick as ever, filled with transparent faces. Were spirits from Death attacking us as well? Rhea dropped to avoid them, screeching in pain as something struck her arm, nearly knocking Cori and me out of the air.
Rhea’s guttural gargoyle cry cut through the air as she dived—not a minute too soon. The sky was thick with black horses, moving too fast for me to see who rode them. Snarling beasts followed, hounds the same size as Rhea’s gargoyle form or bigger. I hung on with one hand and gripped Cori’s jacket with the other. She’d buried her head in Rhea’s feathers, sobbing in terror.
We landed on the road, Rhea’s clawed feet tearing at the tarmac. Right now, I’d take the monsters on the ground over those in the air. But there were enough of them down here. Shadowy, clawed creatures appeared, tearing into anyone who got too close.
I grabbed my knife, positioning myself to cover Cori’s back. The nearest Underground station was metres away. It seemed stupid to go there, considering the collapsed roof, but supernaturals had access to a network of tunnels nobody else used. They’d get us to a safe house.
As we reached the entrance to the Underground, a group of figures poured out. All wore black in a horrifyingly familiar ensemble.
The Orion League. Hunters. Masked, dressed in black, and armed heavily.
We carried on running. We didn’t have much choice.
The first bullet whistled over my head, raising my hair, and struck the nearest car-sized beast, a fearsome creature which appeared to be made of solid tree bark. Another three followed. Bang. Bang. Bang. In the time it took to blink, the beast fell. Holy shit. Even at full power, it’d take several shifters to bring down a creature that size.
The hunters fanned out, as though they’d rehearsed the formation a thousand times. Locking onto their next opponent.
Us.
They’re trying to kill us. Either they thought we were the enemy, too, or they wouldn’t miss the chance to take down a supernatural. The thick street-level smog wasn’t enough to hide us, even running as fast as we were.
Bang. The hair rose from my skull and my heart stopped, but they’d aimed at another shifter who’d tried to make a run for the Underground. We weren’t the only ones attempting to escape via that route.
The shifter—gargoyle—made a choked noise and fell to the road. One single shot to the throat had brought him down. The hunters hadn’t even broken formation.
Oh god.
Three wolves had nearly reached the Underground when two hunters abruptly swung around, firing at them. Not at the faeries, but at the shifters trying to escape. My stomach lurched. Two of the wolves were smaller than average. Children. “Stop!”
Rhea grabbed my arm and hauled me back, not a second too soon. The other wolf—their mother—roared at the others to run, but it was too late. Two shots fired, each hitting one of the smaller wolves in the skull. The bullets killed instantly no matter where they struck, but it was an execution tactic the hunters used to show their lack of mercy. As they turned their aim onto the mother wolf, another fired at us.
I dragged Cori back into the smoke, out of the way. Protective rage exploded inside me, and my claws broke free. Thick red scales spread from my elbows to my wrists, ending in curved claws roughly the length of my forearm. The nearest hunter fired on me, but I ducked, pushing Cori behind me. Rhea hadn’t transformed back into her gargoyle form yet. If she did, she’d make a bigger target.
Bang. The mother wolf was dead. Magic bullets, as we called them—ironically, because they were as poisonous to magic users as iron was to faeries—could even kill a shifter in beast form, with a single shot. Nothing in our training had prepared us for open combat with them.
“Get Cori into the tunnel!” Rhea shouted. “Run!”
Before her words sank in, she’d thrown herself into the fray, turning into her gargoyle form again. Talons lashed out at the hunters, breaking their formation and giving us the chance to escape. At close range, some opted for other weapons than guns—knives with razor edges, designed to cause permanent damage to shifters. I’d seen pictures, heard stories, but I’d never been so close to death before.
Cori clung to my side as I ran through the gap into the station, fear pounding through my chest. Hard scales spread higher up my arms, and I fought for control. Unleashing my full form might be the death of us all.
A terrible scream tore through the air, a beast in awful pain. Behind the bodies of the dead wolves, Rhea’s eyes met mine as she fell, her last word reverberating in my head: run. They’d cut off her wings, tore into them with those razor knives of theirs. As she dropped to her knees, three guns pointed at her skull. A roar of rage rose inside me and tears scalded my eyes as the sound of destruction drowned out the echo of three bullets hitting our mentor.
“Bastards!” Cori screamed. Her own claws burst from her hands as she lunged forward, but I grabbed the back of her jacket, my claws snagging in the fabric.
“No. We have to go—we’re outnumbered.”
Tears tracked down my face as we ran into the Underground. The station floor was cracked, but most people must have fled for the open, leaving the way ahead well open. I helped Cori clamber over the ruins, pushing down the scream building in my chest like a fireball intent on being unleashed.
My breath burned my lungs. My legs screamed. But Cori—she and I would live.
Then another group of hunters ran in, from the opposite direction.
I pulled Cori into the broken-down entryway of a shop, praying nobody would look our way. The group ran past, already firing on the approaching fae creatures. I held my breath and tried to retract my claws, the fear and panic churning inside me with an endless message—danger. My teeth clenched and felt odd inside my mouth. Oh no. Now wasn’t a great time to fully shift. Every shifter knew the first time was the most painful, and often ended in passing out. If I did, I might die—and Cori would be alone.
The hunters had almost reached the door when one of them turned back. My heart sank as he began to walk our way. He shouldn’t be able to see us. The heightening of my senses warned me I didn’t have the beast reined in, not at all. I hid my clawed hands behind my back, but Cori…
“You,” he whispered, pointing the gun at both of us.
I shook my head. “No…”
I moved in front of Cori as the bullet ripped through the air. No time to duck or dodge the attack. At least my death would win her a few seconds—
The fireball building in my chest exploded. Wings burst into life behind my shoulder blades, and my body extended to six feet. My wings beat, carrying me off the ground—and the bullet clipped past me.
A torrent of fire roared from my mouth, and the hunters fled in its wake. It wasn’t enough. Anger tore through me, but the door was in the way, and my wings collided with the low ceiling. Pain reverberated through every cell in my body, blurring my vision, stopping my breath.
I roared, even as my vision blurred and my legs gave way, collapsing into human ones again… my body cried out for a reprieve, but the hunters were gone… they’d gone.
Then all was still.
2
Two Years Later
“Ember!” Cori called out. “This is our place.”
“You sure?” I climbed over the garden wall to join her. Even if anyone still lived in the dilapidated house in front of us, they’d happily let us onto their property to catch whichever creature had left claw marks all over the garden. Long thin gouges marked the lawn, churning the rain-damp mud into patterns. “Damn. That’s not a fire imp.”
“Unless they’ve grown a lot bigger than we’re used to.” Cori poked the claw-print with her foot. Three prongs. Some kind of bird. Images of wings flashed through my head, and my fire stirred inside me like a rattle in my chest. I pushed it down. My dragon would only get to fight as a last resort.
A dragon was still a rare sight, but humans had adapted pretty well to their whole world being overturned. Considering half London’s population had been wiped out in the faeries’ invasion, they were damn good at surviving to have rebuilt so much. That day, two years ago, I’d thought things couldn’t get worse.
The universe stamped out that notion pretty quickly.
For one, our home had been wiped out, along with Rhea and most of the shifters who’d frequented it. Though the invasion itself had lasted only a day, the faeries remained behind, and nobody had been able to avoid the carnage. Supernaturals the world over had lost the secrecy we’d cherished for thousands of years. The mages were gradually beginning to get the riots under control, but disgruntled humans were the least of anyone’s problems. Unfortunately, they were the ones offering us a huge bonus for extracting the monster tearing up the street. Mystery missions were my least favourite, but on the plus side, the bigger the monster, the bigger the payment. Cori and I, like many people, had lost all our possessions, so we’d relied on other shifters’ charity until we’d found a new home. Steady work was a pipe dream, so we did what we could.
I crept around the side of the house, looking out. From the size of the footprints, the creature couldn’t have gone far without causing a disturbance. It definitely wasn’t inside the house, unless it was a shapeshifter of some kind.
A rustling noise came from the bushes, but it was only Cori, perching on the garden wall with her bright hair a splash of colour against the damp garden. This wasn’t the life she’d have chosen, before, but she wanted to pay back the shifters who’d helped us as badly as I did. The shifters who’d saved our necks after Rhea had died. Loss remained, an aching sense in my chest. Reminders of her were everywhere, but I didn’t shut them out or look the other way. When you didn’t have many years of memories, you’d better believe I cherished the good ones.
Rhea had always said she’d give up her life for us, but it’s one thing to hear those words and quite another to watch someone you love killed right in front of you. Cori had lost some of her shine that day. I missed the days when I’d had to chase her down because she got curious and wandered outside onto the streets. Now, it took a lot of coaxing to bring her outside. ‘Mysterious monster attacking people on the street’ wasn’t the best of incentives, but Cori’s sense of adventure had begun to return. Also, if this turned out to be a lone shifter, both of us had the same protective instincts towards our kind.
Twice, I’d accidentally caught a shifter who’d been mistaken for one of the faeries, and my conscience had urged me to let them go, forfeiting a potential payment. I only caught monsters from Faerie. That was my rule. Shifters had a bad reputation amongst other supernaturals, most of which was unfounded. Certain species, like wolves, were sensitive to the lunar cycles and lost all reason during nights of the full moon. Most of them had moved out of the city into rural areas where they’d be less likely to fall prey to the hunters. Because, as if things weren’t dire enough already, the Orion League had survived. They were too damn good at hiding themselves to get taken out—and besides, the Mage Lords had bigger problems, like keeping the faeries from invading again. No hunter would be stupid enough to target the mages, who were protected by their money and property and strength in numbers. Instead, we were the targets.
“I keep getting the scent, but I can’t pick up where it’s coming from,” I said, prowling forward.
Will was perched on the roof watching the sky, as our lookout—a good role for a gargoyle shifter. He looked for all the world like a statue, six feet tall, winged and menacing with long claws. The top hat perched on his head kind of ruined the intimidating impression, though. It’d started as a joke, but was also a signal so we knew who he was. Some of the other local gargoyles weren’t friendly.
On cue, Will made a noise somewhere between a pterodactyl shriek and a train as he moved positions on the roof.
“He’s the least convincing bird ever,” snickered Cori.
“But we know it’s him.” I looked over my shoulder. “Where’s Becks?”
“Around the corner,” said Cori. “You’re supposed to have enhanced senses. Honestly.”
“I’m too focused on sniffing out our mysterious giant bird.”
I spotted Becks’s sleek wildcat form approach, disappearing mid-step to turn into a woman in her mid-twenties with possible Iranian or Middle Eastern heritage—like us, she was an orphaned shifter who didn’t fully know her own background. She thought she was half-shifter, or maybe three-quarters, but in human form, the only sign of her ability to transform into a cat was the slight ombre effect on her hair, which faded from dark brown on top to light brown at the roots. Shifting forms didn’t mean losing our clothes, luckily. Don’t ask me why. Unfortunately for Becks, she’d been in human form when she’d lost her glasses two years ago during the invasion, and had never been able to replace them. She made up for her short-sightedness by punching twice as hard.
Most cat or wolf shifters didn’t get along with dragons, even though there were so few of us. Something primitive in their nature reacted to being too close. Probably because, you know, dragons eat smaller predators. But we’d bonded with Becks after we’d found her in the ruins of one of our old hideouts a day or two after the faeries had arrived. Will had shown up later when we’d run afoul of a gargoyle gang while looking for a new shelter. Neither seemed to mind that we were dragon shifters. Becks had seen my claws and worked it out, while Will had eavesdropped on one of my whispered conversations with Cori when we thought she might be close to shifting. It was hard to keep secrets from a gargoyle. Luckily, he was one of the good guys.
“I’ve checked every room of the house,” she said. “Unless it’s a shifter in human form, they can’t be hiding near here. I’d be able to smell them, even if I can’t see them.”
“Must be a faerie,” I said. “Those footprints sure didn’t come from a human.”
“Might be a hoax?” Cori suggested hopefully. None of us had known we might be facing off against a giant bird monster when we’d left the house, following the call Will had got that morning.
“We should be so lucky,” said Becks. “We need the money, anyway.”
“Yeah, we do. I don’t like this place, though.” Cori looked around. “Isn’t it just down the road from the place the hunters used to hang out?”
“They haven’t come here in years,” said Becks.
“Unless they’re after the beast, too,” said Cori.
“Relax,” I told her. “The League isn’t here.” Even now, right by an area once off limits because of patrolling hunters, we were more likely to be eaten by a passing faerie than shot at by hunters. I still watched my back, as did Cori, as we finished circling the house’s perimeter.
The mages had put in a statement a few weeks after assuming leadership dictating that half-faeries and the other fae creatures were to be under the same human rights as other supernaturals unless they broke the law. The rule had saved hundreds of innocent half-faeries from being trampled by an angry mob, but wild fae were sneaky bastards and some were more than happy to snack on unsuspecting humans. Which meant hiring people accustomed to dealing with supernaturals to take them out. That’s where we came in.
