Fire Reborn (Shifting Fire Book 1) Page 8

  Though it seemed that Kaster was less than convinced. “Huh. What happened to your cup?”

  Katra felt a sudden jolt of anxiety rise up as she considered how to answer the completely legitimate question, but Finley was there to help her out in a pinch with a deep chuckle. “Oh, well…seems Miss Supergirl over here has a bad case of butterfingers. I’m never letting you live this one down, by the way. You weren’t even doing anything, you were just sitting there and suddenly—BAM!—your cup just drops. If you weren’t a shifter, I’d say you might have some kind of muscle disorder. But no. It’s just you.” He finished his teasing with another chuckle, shaking his head as if completely befuddled by Katra’s supposed klutziness.

  The glare she shot at Finley was not at all faked. She was not a klutz—far from it. Grace should have been her middle name, because she exuded it like a fine perfume.

  Even if he was trying to cover for her, how dare he call her klutzy!

  “I’m going to end you.” She growled through clenched teeth.

  Finley just grinned and patted her head, forcing another irritated growl from Katra.

  “Huh.” Kaster repeated, and looking into his eyes she was unable to ascertain whether he believed or disbelieved their excuse. “Anyway, I got a response from one of our connections, Detrick. He says he can meet us at a pub in the village. We should head out. Oh, by the way—there’s a car in the back.”

  Katra’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Daromir has a car? He’s got frickin’ teleportation mirrors and crystals out the wazoo. What the hell does he need a car for?”

  Finley shrugged as Marclan silently stepped in through the back door, rejoining their little party without so much as a single word. “Pleasure?”

  She eyed him doubtfully. “I feel like he’s the type of person who finds…different kinds of pleasure.”

  “Well, you can ask him when you see him again, I guess.”

  Katra nodded absently. “If I see him again…” She whispered to herself.

  Finley was 90% certain he’d never been this intrigued by a girl before. He’d been with a number of women throughout his adult years—though he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Katra that it was the low hundreds—and they had hailed from all locations and all walks of life as his mercenary lifestyle led them to places all across the world. But it was true what Katra had said—if he were to choose, he would gladly take a dusty old tome filled with the legends and lore of past civilizations over a night with a woman, no matter how beautiful she was. The only thing that had kept him from pursuing a life of history and knowledge-seeking were his brothers. They’d been through so much, and Kaster in particular had sacrificed a good portion of his youth protecting and raising both him and Marclan, and now, many years later, he felt it wouldn’t be right to just abandon them for his own quests. He’d never even considered it as a possibility.

  Until now.

  Talking with Katra had lit a fire in him he’d never even known existed, and he found himself craving the stories that her father had regaled her with, stories of events and times and cultures, of heroes and villains and just everyday people trying to make choices in their lives.

  As they drove quietly into the small village, following the directions Detrick had texted to them, Finley found himself staring across the backseat at Katra, as she stared out at the rolling green hills and the distant ocean. Maybe one day they could return to the cabin where all her father’s books were, if they all went together and moved quickly. Hopefully, no one else had gotten there, and everything would be relatively intact. They could gather the books together, come back to the cottage and pour over them like a starving man at a feast. And after they gleaned the knowledge filling the tomes and parchments, they could discuss the fascinating stories that had somehow led up to this very day. She could tease him about how he was missing out on all the beautiful, single women out there by reading with her all day, and he could banter back with how could she possibly know what he was missing out on without actually being out there in the world herself? They could joke about how she doesn’t know anyone and he doesn’t care about knowing anyone because there are far more interesting things there in the cottage with her.

  Her. A real, living phoenix shifter.

  He briefly wondered just how much her father had discussed with her about phoenix shifters. Did she know that she would live for just about forever? Just like dragons. Most shifters had a lifespan only slightly longer than humans—by about a hundred years, give or take a decade. Rare shifters were another story. While he might look like he was in his early to mid-20’s, he was actually well over 50, and he would continue to look that way for many centuries to come, just like his brothers, and just like Katra. Did her father tell her how breeding amongst phoenix shifters was the same as breeding amongst dragon shifters—that in order for the child to be a dragon, at least one parent had to also be a dragon?

  In order for her to exist, her mother would have to have been a phoenix shifter. But she wasn’t. Katra had said that her mother was a lion shifter, and her father was clearly a wolf shifter…so how could Katra even exist?

  Unless they had lied to her. That was the only logical answer to this conundrum he found himself in as he gazed over at her profile. If that were the case, he couldn’t begin to imagine the sense of betrayal she would feel if she were to ever find out. And if he were to continue on with her, at some point, he would feel compelled to tell her. He was already feeling a connection to her, a sense of kindred spirits. Perhaps it was because of their similar magic, or perhaps because they both knew the pain that came from losing a beloved parent. Or maybe it was her quiet strength, her muted self-confidence that she neither boasted of nor hid from the world. It could even be her quick wit and seamless sarcasm. He really didn’t know what it was, but it was there, and it was growing.

  It was then that the late afternoon clouds outside the traveling car parted, allowing a beam of sunlight to shine into the car. In that small moment in time, her thick mass of hair piled on top of her head lit up like fire, her eyes glowing a bright gold, and she looked for all the world like the mythic animal she would shift into. All that was missing was a pair of fiery wings. Even with all that she had lost—some of it so recent—she still gazed out at the horizon with a strength and determination he had no doubt her mother would be proud of.

  Finley was sure he’d never seen a more powerful woman in all his life. And he wondered if he’d ever see another like her again.

  The next second, the sunlight was hidden behind the grey clouds again, and he blinked as her amber eyes suddenly turned to him. “What?”

  “Do you think maybe one day you’d like to go back to that cabin and get your father’s stuff?”

  Finley had just surprised even himself. Certainly, he’d always been the one with the silver tongue, able to weave lies and make up excuses at the drop of a hat, even as a child, but just now, after the whirlwind of emotion that one, single moment had put him through, he felt he deserved a damn Oscar for pulling that shit out of nowhere.

  Well, not nowhere. He really did want to go back to the cabin.

  With her.

  A small smile appeared on her face as she peered over at him, and her eyes began to twinkle like tiny, twin flames. “Yeah. I really would.”

  Suddenly, the car jolted to a stop, and Finley’s eyes whipped up to stare into Kaster’s black ones as he sat in the driver’s seat, glaring at him in the rearview mirror. “We’re here.”

  There was no doubting the look Kaster had just given him. It was a look that undoubtedly said ‘knock it off’.

  Whether Finley would listen or not remained to be seen.

  Chapter 6

  The pub Detrick’s directions led them to was relatively nice—not that Katra had much with which to compare it to—and she couldn’t help but admire the inviting simplicity of the décor as she followed the guys to a booth in the far corner. It was a round booth, and Kaster pulle
d up a chair and sat it at the end of the table, before moving to sit next to Marclan in the booth. Finley was positioned on Marclan’s other side, with Katra next to him on the other end from Kaster. She had purposely waited until they were all seated. After years of being on the run, this habit had been ingrained into her DNA. Always be at the end, so you have a quick way out. Know where all the exits are. Keep track of the number of people in the room, along with their height, weight, and bulk, which all added up to the total amount of possible damage they could do in a fight.

  Presently, there were five other people in the room aside from them, one of them being the burly old bartender watching them like a hawk. She could sense, even from here, that he was a supernatural, just as he could undoubtedly sense them—well, not her, but definitely the guys.

  She was simply guilty by default, judging by the hostility coming off the old man.

  The other parties in the room seemed human, without any smell or taste coming off them, and with their enhanced ability to scent others, there was no way they could have been hiding it.

  “Hey, I’m gonna go get a beer. Anyone want one?”

  The guys simply stared at her.

  “What? You guys don’t drink?”

  Kaster snorted. “We’re not staring because we don’t drink. We’re staring because…how old are you?”

  Katra felt her spine stiffen as she glared at the offending dragon shifter. “18. Why? What’s it matter to you?”

  His response was another snort combined with an eyeroll. “We can’t have you getting shitfaced while we’re trying to keep you out of a crazy sorcerer’s hands. Besides, technically, you’re too young to drink.”

  She grinned brightly. “Not in Ireland, I’m not.”

  “You’re American.”

  “Who’s in Ireland. Shut the fuck up and let me get a beer.”

  “You got any Irish currency?”

  That shut up her real quick.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. No beer, sweetstuff.”

  “Don’t call me sweetstuff.”

  “Can we call you hotstuff?” Finley piped up.

  Katra’s glare swung over to him as he sat next to her with an almost innocent expression on his face. “I am still armed, and I will hurt you.”

  “We do look mildly out of place sitting in an Irish pub without a single ounce of liquor in front of us.” Marclan quietly interjected, glancing around at the other patrons in his usual wary manner, which was such an odd look on him considering his massive size. “If not to drink, we should at least get something to keep from standing out so much.”

  Katra turned a ‘told you so’ look on Kaster, not at all attempting to hide her smug grin.

  “If I believed for even half a second that you could manage to sit with a beer and not get completely sloshed, I might consider it. As it is, we won’t be here long enough to garner enough attention to be considered worrisome, anyway.” Kaster leveled a look of his own back at Katra, one that clearly said ‘stop asking, it ain’t gonna happen’.

  “If we get thrown out, I’m blaming it on you.”

  Rolling his eyes again, Kaster rubbed his temples with his index and middle fingers, muttering under his breath about ‘babysitting’ and ‘being too old for this shit’.

  “Why are you rubbing your head? We don’t get headaches.” Finley queried in confusion, staring at Kaster like he’d grown a third eye or a set of horns.

  “Well if there was anyone to test that theory, it would be you lot!” Kaster boomed in response as he glared at each of his three companions.

  “Hey. There’s Detrick.”

  Katra’s head turned towards the door at the sound of Marclan’s quiet words, and her eyes fell on a surprisingly small man with rumpled pale blonde hair and grey eyes. Granted, he was nowhere near as small as her, but standing at roughly 5’8”, he was still considerably small for a male shifter. And from the smell of deep woods wafting towards her from his direction, she could tell he was a wolf shifter.

  Quickly striding up to their table, Detrick stared at the chair at the end of the table momentarily before looking back at the four of them. He quickly took a seat in the chair after realizing that none of them were planning on moving to let him in. The chair creaked under his weight, and Katra watched as he nervously glanced around at the other patrons before looking back at them.

  “I got your message. You were asking about a sorcerer who put a hit out on someone? Says this ‘someone’ stole something of his, right?”

  Kaster nodded in confirmation, offering up no other information.

  “Well, looks like he put this hit out everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. Every damn merc, bounty hunter, and Joe-Schmoe with a gun and silver bullets is on the lookout. Hell, from what I hear, he’s even got some human hunters in on it. The weird thing is, I guess he’s been giving these people he’s contracted with some crazy, new-fangled magical tools that can track this person down. Supposed to be able to sense shifters and other supernatural beings that give off a high enough power signal or something.” He paused for a moment, watching the guys intently.

  They didn’t react, didn’t even blink. They looked completely and utterly unimpressed by the information.

  Katra, on the other hand, was damn near terrified. If this were true, then there were gods only knew how many supernaturals out there with a device that could lead them straight to her.

  It took a moment for the realization to hit, but when it did, it took every ounce of her control to keep from showing her shock on her face.

  Of course. That’s how they guys were able to find her. Alekter hired them, gave them the tracking device, and when she used her power, it led them straight to her.

  After a moment, Detrick continued. “But, here’s the crazy part—these hits he’s putting out? They keep coming. For well over a year now, they’ve been coming out. And I think it’s working.”

  This caught Kaster’s attention. “What do you mean, it’s working? What’s working?”

  Detrick leaned forward, lowering his voice and glancing around before speaking again in a hushed whisper. “People have been disappearing. Shifters. Witches. Mages. Even some of the fae living here, and those suckers are hard as fuck to grab. Just—POOF—gone. So, I did a little digging, and you know those tracking things he gives them? He also gives them a paralyzing spell, one that can take down any supernatural creature out there. Word is, it can even take down another sorcerer.” He paused again as he waited for the surprising information to settle on them.

  This was bad. This was so, so bad. Katra didn’t even have words for how bad this was. If this Alekter was kidnapping powerful supernaturals, there must be a reason. But why? Why would he want them? What was he doing with them? And, most importantly—was Daromir one of them? Was he even still alive?

  “I don’t get it.” Kaster interrupted her internal loss of sanity with his deep, measured voice, giving her something to latch onto to keep from spiraling further out of control. “If he’s looking for such strong, powerful supernaturals, why didn’t he just use us?”

  Detrick shrugged. “Maybe he is.”

  A brief look of confusion passed over Kaster’s face before it smoothed back into emotionless stoicism. “Explain.”

  Another shrug preceded Detrick’s reply. “Well, I mean—even with the paralyzing spell, whoever goes after these supernaturals has to be pretty damn tough and capable, or they could be mowed down before they even get close enough to the supe’ to throw the damn thing. And who better to get close to powerful supernaturals than someone who’s impervious to their magic?”

  This theory did not go over well as Finley swore under his breath and Marclan paled, though his face betrayed no emotion, save for the despair that flittered briefly through his eyes.

  Turning her head to Kaster, she found him staring at her with a heated look so intense she thought his black eyes might burn a hole right through her skull. She couldn’t pl
ace an emotion on it—as was usual with Kaster’s heated stares—but it was clear that Detrick’s theory was just as unsettling to him as it was to the others.

  Reaching over Katra, Detrick smacked Marclan’s arm, causing him to jump and forcing Katra to lean further back into her seat. “Whoa, there, Marcy! You look pale as a ghost! Maybe get yourself a beer or something, eh? Before you pass out.”

  It was exceedingly uncomfortable being this close to the wolf shifter, and she had to force herself to keep from shoving him away, clenching her jaw until he finally moved back to sit in his chair.

  Kaster spoke again, reining in the conversation and taking the lead again. “Did you happen to hear any information as to why he’s taking all these supernaturals?”

  Detrick shook his head, looking a bit chagrined. “Nah, man. I’ve got some pretty good sources for this kinda shit, you know I do, but there’s not a single person around who knows. Seems like the only people who would have that answer…are the people who were taken.”

  Standing abruptly, Kaster pulled a small wad of bills from his pocket. “Thanks, Deet. Keep us posted. We’ll keep you paid.” Tossing the cash at Detrick, he turned to leave, not bothering to look back and see if Katra and the others were following. Not that it mattered, because of course they were following. They were all suddenly very anxious to be out of the place where they received possibly the worst news of their lives.

  Well, maybe not the worst, but it was undoubtedly right up there near the top of the list.

  Stepping out into the crisp autumn air, Katra breathed in deeply, trying to wash away the harried thoughts plaguing her mind with the strong scent of ocean. As they began moving back down the road towards Daromir’s parked car, Katra tugged on the sleeves of her leather jacket, trying to fight off the chill in the air.