Felons and fangs, p.1
Felons and Fangs, page 1
part #2 of Smoke and Shadows Series
Felons and Fangs
L.L. Gray
Heroic Rose Publishing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by L.L. Gray / Heroic Rose Publishing LLC
All rights reserved.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Contents
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Prologue
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
46. Chapter 46
47. Chapter 47
48. Chapter 48
49. Chapter 49
50. Chapter 50
Bones and Blades - Sneak Peek
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A killer pair of shoes, a party of a lifetime, and a demon.
What could possibly go wrong?
Cameron Blaze owes a demon a favor and what better way to pay off a debt than to have a girl’s night out? The plan was simple. Find a killer pair of heels, go to a great bar, and party into the early hours of the morning. Cameron thinks that she has everything planned. The shoes on are, the drinks are poured, and the party is in full swing. She just forgot to account for one small thing. Magic going haywire.
Suddenly, gods are out of control, myths are throwing punches, and Cameron is running for her life. Will she be able to stop the magical mayhem in time or has the clock run out for Cameron and her friends?
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Prologue
Have you ever had one of those days? Or weeks? Or even months? I bet you have. One of those times, however long it lasts, where you’re convinced everything and everyone in the world is conspiring against you? I’m not talking about spilling your coffee on a Monday or getting stuck in traffic. Don’t get me wrong. Both of those suck balls and can ruin your day. We’ve all been there. But, let’s be honest, that’s a bad five minutes. No, I’m talking about a run of luck so bad that you’re not sure if you should get out of bed to take a piss because even that simple act might have world-shattering consequences. No? You never have? Just me then?
Great.
Given my current track record, I could almost imagine being put on trial as the capstone to a truly shit-tastic run of epically rotten luck. A taciturn judge would rattle through the charges against me as I sat awkwardly on a hard wooden bench in a desperately uncomfortable starched shirt while the gallery was filled only with disapproving librarians, all rolling a twenty on their judgmental death glares.
“On trial today for questionable life choices is one Cameron Blaze, a Supernatural jack-of-all-trades who seems to possess an uncanny penchant for finding the worst possible situation and somehow making it worse. Worser.”
“Is that even a word?”
“Shut up, I’m the judge. Did you or did you not dismantle a ghost-napping ring here in New Orleans?”
“Yep. That was me. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Slow your roll there, sunshine. I’m just getting started. Did you befriend a Pack of werewolves? Or at least non-biting acquaintances?”
“Yeah, I thought I’d be neighborly for once and not bite the new kids in town.”
“I want none of your sass, young lady! Did you or did you not release two malignant rogue souls and a demon from Hell to wander the mortal world?”
“I mean, technically, that wasn’t me.”
“Did you murder the Fae Ambassador to New Orleans?”
Pause.
“Yes. Yeah, okay. That one’s on me.”
Obviously, my mind was elsewhere when I opened the envelope left on my kitchen counter. “Ouch!” I said, shaking my hand vigorously as blood welled in a surprisingly deep paper cut on my index finger. I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked the droplet of blood away. It hurt more than such a small cut should’ve. I pulled my finger out of my mouth and looked at it again. Blood sprang up along with a tiny spike of pain. I danced around my kitchen, waving my hand back and forth in a futile effort to get the pain to subside. The only thing I managed to do was to flick a few droplets of blood towards my torso.
“Damn,” I said, pulling my chin in to look down. I wanted to wipe the drop of red away before I ended up with yet another blood stain on my clothing. I’d have to start setting aside a larger budget for clothes if I kept ruining them at this rate.
I jerked back in shock. The carved golden talisman on my necklace was glowing.
I started abruptly when a deep male voice rang out from the oblong charm: “It’s about time you opened up this thing, Sophia!”
I yanked on the necklace, breaking the thin chain and hurling it across the kitchen with a clatter.
“Sophia! Sophia? Where are you? What’s going on?” The male voice shifted from annoyed to concerned.
I grabbed a kitchen mug and carefully crept towards the talking necklace.
“I can hear you moving around. Just answer me already, damn it.” The tone of command in the voice raised the hairs on the back of my arms.
Without saying a word, I plopped the mug over the necklace, muting the noise. Confident I’d contained the thing for now, I hurried to my bedroom. I whipped open the closet door and fell to my knees, using a dull practice blade to wiggle some of the floorboards loose. Soon, a small iron safe glinted at me dully from the floor. I’d had it installed to mute the effects of magical items I procured for Logan. Magic and iron didn’t mix. I spun the dials and it clicked open.
Snagging a playing card from a deck on my coffee table, I crept back up to the mug. I heard annoyed buzzing from the voice on the other end of the necklace, but it was muted through the thick ceramic. Careful not to touch the enchanted item for fear of what it would do to me, I wiggled the card until I flipped the necklace into the cup, much like one would capture a spider.
The volume rose from the oblong charm, but I ignored it. Moving swiftly, I carried the mug to my bedroom with my arm fully extended to keep the talking necklace as far from me as possible.
“Who are you? Where is Sophia? Tell me!” the voice roared. I ignored it.
Carefully, I set the mug down in the iron safe and slammed the door shut. The voice cut off abruptly. I spun the dials and sat back on my heels, considering the safe with a furrowed brow.
Who was on the other end of that necklace? And why did he call out my mother’s name?
Chapter 1
I threw myself into a forward roll, narrowly avoiding the sledgehammer-like haymaker aimed at my head. The half-ogre grunted, stumbling past me in a barely controlled fall. I grinned. He hadn’t expected the speed. I sprang to my feet, spinning on a heel to face my lumbering opponent. The big man pawed the sweat from his eyes before setting himself to attack again.
I raised my short sword, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet. Deep-set eyes burned with intelligence. The half-ogre wiggled his fingers before clenching his fists, stretching the skin tight across his broad, hairy knuckles. The grayish-greenish tinge that betrayed his supernatural ancestry caught the evening light. I could see why people assumed that ogres were the villains. Ogres were big, ugly, and brutish, but also clever. Imagine someone with the brawn of Hercules and the face of a billy goat meeting the business end of a frying pan, who was also a grandmaster at chess, and you’ll get an idea why ogres are considered among the most dangerous Supes.
A growl brought my attention back to the business at hand. The half-ogre wasn’t as big as his full-blooded cousins, but that didn’t matter when he lowered his head and charged, relying on his bulk to pummel me into submission. The drawback was that he had to haul all that muscle around. Nothing about my five-four, lean a
As the ogre rushed towards me, I dodged again. This time, he was ready for it. He spun with me and feinted a jab at my head, testing my defenses. I danced backward slightly, using the movement to search for an opening. He left his right arm hanging out between us for a breath too long. I could’ve struck, but I knew from experience that this ogre was wily. I couldn’t afford to get lured into his long reach. Not without a plan at least.
The ogre shuffled forward again, his large, hairy feet squelching on the mat. I didn’t look down. Not just because he was in desperate need of a pedicure. No, the attack would come from his shoulders and chest, not his feet. The ogre preferred the noble art of boxing to MMA-style fighting. Me, I didn’t care, as long as I won.
With a roar, the ogre sprang at me, arms outstretched to capture me in a sweaty bear hug. I dodged to the left and yanked on my shadow magic. I blurred out of sight. The ogre’s eyes went wide as I apparently vanished right before his eyes. I used the momentary advantage to swipe up with the flat of my blade and rap him painfully on the wrist. The ogre hissed, yanking his arm back to his side as he whirled around. I let my shadows fall away as I pressed my advantage, hitting with two lightning-fast taps to his torso before dancing out of his reach once more.
The ogre let out a bellow of pain, batting the tip of my wooden sword aside with one meaty arm. He closed the distance between us. His fist flashed out as jabbed me with a quick combination. Despite his speed, I dodged easily, noting that he left that right arm hanging in midair too long once again. I whipped my blade up, hoping to catch the nerves running along his forearm. The ogre surprised me. He opened his fist and caught the blade, jerking it and me forward.
Damn ogres and their damn feints! Why couldn’t they all be stupid like the stories said?
I stumbled forward, caught off balance by the unexpected move. The half-ogre wrapped one massive arm around my biceps and chest, effectively pinning my arms to my torso. He lifted me up so my feet flailed helplessly in mid-air. With his free hand, he palmed my head like a basketball and squeezed.
“Call it, Cam!” the ogre grunted.
“Never!” I shouted, trying to wriggle out of his iron grip.
“Admit it, I won!”
“Inconceivable!” I shouted. I whipped the wooden training sword up to kiss the ogre’s forehead between his eyes, almost hitting myself in the face. “If I die, I’ll take you with me!”
The ogre batted the wooden blade aside, sending it spinning into the corner of the gym. “Fine, if you won’t concede, then suffer the consequences!” he roared in my ear. I had a moment to wonder what he meant before massive ogre knuckles ground into my scalp. “Noogies!”
“Hey!” I batted ineffectually at the big guy’s hand. “Hank! Hey! Stop it! You’re messing up my hair!”
“Not like anyone would know. Concede!”
“All right, all right. You win!” I laughed. He released me immediately. I slid to the floor gasping with laughter.
Hank chuckled with me. “That’ll teach you! Never mess with the mighty Hank!” He flexed his impressive biceps, striking a victorious pose.
Hank was a half-ogre who worked security for the Fae Embassy. He was also a great guy to train with because of his size and his fighting expertise. Whenever I went toe to toe with Hank, I always felt like I could really push myself to my limits without fear of injuring him or me. While he was a nice guy and a great sparring partner, Hank wasn’t always around. He was often sent off on mysterious assignments and could be gone for weeks at a time. However, since Halloween, he’d been sticking closer to home. Which was great for my training and bad for my scalp.
I made a show of sniffing at my shoulders and back where I was drenched with his sweat from the unexpected bear hug. I wrinkled my nose. “The smell will teach me,” I said.
“Be faster,” Hank shrugged.
I rolled my eyes. “Remind me what the score is, big guy? Four to one in my favor, isn’t it?”
“The only bout that matters is the last one. Which I won.” Hank struck another pose, sweat making his muscles glint in the fading sunlight.
“Well, let’s have another round to see who’s the champion,” I suggested.
Hank glanced at the clock on the wall of the gym, the grin dropping from his face. “I can’t. I need to get cleaned up and back to the Embassy. The Interim Ambassador has an engagement tonight and I don’t think she’d approve if her bodyguard turned up like this.” He waved a meaty hand at his sweat-drenched clothes.
I nodded. Lady Letitia was a stickler for propriety when it came to appearances. Especially since she had been made the Interim Fae Ambassador following her uncle’s death on Halloween. Aldrich Kingsley had tried to open a portal to hell to bring his dead wife’s soul back, by using my best friend and me to fuel his magical ritual. Needless to say, I objected strongly and let him know. Repeatedly. With my knife to his jugular. Letitia had been doing everything in her power to demonstrate to the greater New Orleans area that Kingsley’s crazy hadn’t tainted all of the fae.
“Fine,” I said, moving with him towards a bench on the far side of the padded mats. “But before you go, can you help me with these?” I held up my hands that were wrapped tightly with extra padding.
“Sure.” Hank started loosening the wraps. As he worked, a pair of werewolves in human form took our place on the sparring mats and started their workout. I glanced around at the gym. It was a swanky place full of high-end equipment and lots of padding for the Supernatural clientèle. Most Norms didn’t set foot in the place more than once. They were scared off by the amount of muscle on display, the exorbitant prices, or a well-developed sixth sense for survival.
Hank dexterously worked the knots loose. “Hey, you’re getting better with your magic. Your disappearing act really threw me off my game and I know you can do it.”
I grinned. “Yeah, I’ve been practicing. It’s getting easier to use, but I still feel like I’ve got a ways to go.”
Hank nodded. “I’ve heard that learning magic takes a while. Be patient. You’ll get there.” The last of the wraps fell away. Hank let out a low whistle when he saw the barely healed lacerations criss-crossing my hands. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be sparring this much? I mean, this is the fourth time in as many days. Shouldn’t you be resting those hands?”
I jerked my chin at the training blade lying on the floor. “That’s why I get the sword instead of punching you, you big lug.”
“I suppose,” Hank said, unconvinced. He handed me the wraps. “But Mama would have your hide if you mess up all of her hard work.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? Speaking of Mama, she sent along some of her chocolate chip cookies.”
His eyes lit up. “The ones with the bits of toffee that take her two days to make?”
“The very same.”
He stuck out a massive hand, “Give ’em here!”
A wicked twinkle lit my eyes. “Can’t. I ate them.”
“No you didn’t.” His eyes widened in disbelief. “She only makes those a couple times a year and they’re my favorite.”
I chuckled. “You’re right, I didn’t.” I dug into my bag under the bench and pulled out a plastic box filled with the cookies. “Here you go,” I said, offering it to him. Hank’s eyes locked on the box and he grabbed for the treats eagerly. I pulled it back, holding up a finger. He cocked his head questioningly. “These are all yours. If you don’t tell Mama about all this.” I spun my finger to indicate the gym and the sparring mats.
“Deal!” The ogre said, grabbing the box. I let him have it this time. “Although, she’s gonna figure it out eventually, Cam. How are they feeling anyway?” he asked, popping the lid and jamming an entire cookie into his mouth.
I flipped my hands back and forth, flexing the fingers. “Stiff. Mama told me to keep working on the flexibility. If I don’t, they’ll stiffen up permanently.”
He shook his head somberly. “That’s shitty. Do you know if the damage is reversible?”
