Cry of the Phoenix

Staccato piano chords, intricate saxophone solos, blaring trumpets, an energetic guitar line, drums hammering out a frantic rhythm—the divine sounds of an incredible jazz-and-foxtrot fusion, amplified by magic, swept through the club. And near the stage, where The Hounds of Tartarus themselves were performing tonight, sheer madness reigned. Shifters, vampires, and humans screamed as one, forgetting racial differences, merging into a single rhythmic dance.

The music overpowered my will and set my body moving on its own. Even I had started swaying to the beat. Luckily, I was upstairs, far enough from the security guys that they couldn’t see their boss shaking her ass.

“From what I can see, everything’s going splendidly,” a velvety voice sounded beside me, hot breath grazing my ear.

The vampire’s hand slid gently around my waist and came to rest on my stomach, crumpling the long shirt.

" A suit really isn’t your style,” he whispered, cool lips barely touching my neck.

“What does?” I managed breathlessly, feeling my body melt. My heartbeat was gradually overtaking the insane rhythm of the jazz.

“Nothing. You’re better off without clothes at all.” He pulled me back, pressing me against him.

His other hand settled on my throat. Slender, delicate fingers began stroking the skin, sending goose bumps racing across it.

“Looks like your boys are managing just fine,” Etienne purred in that same hypnotically velvety whisper. “And if you happen to vanish for a couple of hours, no one will notice a thing.”

I glanced back, catching the predatory gleam of dark eyes. Pale skin with sharply defined blue veins; a perfect, almost beautiful, slightly narrow face with fine aristocratic features; long dark hair spilling over his shoulders; an expensive black suit, a snow-white shirt, and platinum cuff links set with blue stones. Etienne Leran, owner of The Drop of Blood, the most fashionable club in the Central Quarters. Also a vampire, my boss, and the man I’d fallen for like a complete idiot.

“You haven’t fed in a while.” Through an incredible effort of will, I managed to pull myself together. Almost managed.

“I’m in perfect control. You know that.” A smile crept across his thin lips, and his hand pressed harder against my stomach.

I sucked in a ragged breath. The vampire swallowed audibly, his eyes darkening further. That was what finally sobered me up.

“No.” I turned and stepped back. His hands slid obediently away. He never tried to hold on.

My breathing was ragged, my heart still hammering, but I couldn’t afford weakness now. Etienne was too hungry. He might lose control.

“Are you really that afraid of it?” His nostrils flared with anger, irritation roughening his voice. “Afraid of becoming mine?”

“I don’t want to become an addict!”

The problem was that vampires, when they fed from a source—as they called it—released special pheromones. These didn’t just calm the victim; they sent them into something resembling a trance. They said there was nothing more exquisite than those brief moments. Except we Shifters got hooked on it terrifyingly fast. For some, once was enough. And there was no cure. After a vampire’s bite, a Shifter turned into a mindless animal who would do anything to be fed on again and again. The usual cause of death for those poor wretches was massive blood loss.

I had no intention of sharing their fate.

No more than a yard separated me from the vampire. He was hungry and furious. And I was practically defenseless—I wouldn’t have time to shift, and in human form my strength was only slightly above an ordinary man’s. But I wasn’t afraid. We’d been together almost a year. In that time, I’d gotten to know Etienne fairly well. I’d almost begun to trust him.

“Leave,” the vampire growled, making no attempt to hide his lengthened fangs. “Get out of the club. Now. I can’t have your scent around me. I need two hours.”

I nodded in silence, turned my back on him, and walked slowly toward the stairs, steadying my breathing. Now was no time to provoke a hunter. Who would know that better than a Shifter?

Before leaving the club, I looked around one last time. Made sure the guys really were handling the flood of guests. And couldn’t help myself—tried to spot the vampire. But he was already gone from the second floor. In his place stood a broad-shouldered young man. An impossibly handsome blond with a strong, wide jaw, vivid blue eyes, a straight nose, and unexpectedly dark brows that stood out too sharply against his fair complexion.

Unease pricked at my heart. Too handsome—even I froze, mesmerized, studying those flawless features. I drew in a breath. There was a fair distance between us, but there was only one staircase leading to the upper level, which meant he’d used it recently. So there was a chance I could catch his scent.

And catch it I did. His Elerin scent was intoxicating [1]. True, that divine fragrance of meadow wind, snow-capped mountains, and sea breeze was laced with something bitter and sharp—unfamiliar, frightening.

He sensed my stare and turned. I collided with piercing blue eyes, and a chill washed over me. What was a Highkin doing here?!

No. None of my business. Besides, it was time to go. Etienne had asked me to. The only problem was that I couldn’t be the one to look away first. The stubborn cat, so quiet in the vampire’s presence, was bristling now, refusing to back down from some mage. Right—for a beast, dropping her gaze meant admitting weakness. And she couldn’t allow that. Not for herself, not for me.

“Everything all right?” A tall Shifter appeared in front of me, breaking up the staring contest with the Elerin.

“Yeah, Dan, everything’s fine,” I shouted over the music. “I need to step out. Can you handle things?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered.” The muscular, stocky man flashed a broad grin—unibrow, overly prominent brow ridges, and a massive jaw.

I nodded and headed for the exit without looking back. But I felt the weight of those blue eyes on me until the moment I disappeared through the door.

***

The instant I stepped outside, thoughts of the strange Elerin were pushed aside by far more pressing problems. My relationship with Etienne, for instance. How the hell had I managed to fall in love with a vampire?! The worst part was that our bond was equally agonizing for both of us.

For a vampire, sex was practically inseparable from feeding. And every time we were alone together, I wondered whether he’d manage to hold back this time.

I also knew exactly what the vampire was doing right now. Sating his hunger while fucking one of the human waitresses in his office. All because she could give him what I refused to.

No, enough torturing myself! Maybe I should just say, “To the Shades with it,” and quit. Quit and find another job. Why not? Despite being only twenty-three, I had a decent track record, including three years with Lettown Central Police.

I smirked, knowing I’d never dare say any of that to Etienne, and wandered through the nighttime city. My feet carried me to the Wolf Moon, the nearest Shifter bar. A peculiar place, meant for our kind alone. Just what I needed.

I descended the unlit stairs leading to the basement and pushed open a battered door bearing no signs or notices.

The familiar reek of hard liquor, male sweat, animal fur, and spiced tobacco hit my nose. I nearly sneezed. The cat inside me growled in displeasure, suggesting a stroll across the rooftops of the nighttime city. But I waved her off as usual and made for the bar.

“Well, look who’s here! Good to see you, Rin—haven’t had you around in ages.” A short, lean man of indeterminate age broke into a grin. Karl, a ferret shifter and the owner of this fine establishment. “Heard things are pretty wild at your place tonight?”

“You have no idea.” I settled onto a tall stool. I couldn’t stand all those tables tucked away in corners. Give it a minute and some mangy mutt would sidle over to chat you up. ” Can’t remember the last time things got this wild.”

“What’ll you have?”

“The usual.”

The bartender nodded knowingly and set a tumbler filled to the brim with brownish liquid in front of me. A lone ice cube rested at the bottom. I sniffed it. Whiskey. Ten years old. First-rate malt, made exactly the way it should be. An excellent drink. I inhaled again.

Truth be told, I didn’t so much drink the stuff as savor the smell. I couldn’t explain why, but the aroma of whiskey had a strangely calming effect on both me and the cat. Maybe because it drowned out every other scent.

I meditated over the glass for a while, then finally took a small sip. Gave a little shudder. A bit too strong. But adding more ice would dull the aroma, and the aroma mattered more than the taste.

“Hey, Karl.” An unfamiliar man sat down beside me. Brown-haired, tall, well built.

I drew in a breath, trying to identify his animal, then stared at the stranger in confusion. Human! A human in a Shifter bar! I sniffed again in case the alcohol was playing tricks on me. No—definitely human. I studied him more closely.

Slightly overgrown hair tucked behind his ears; gray-green eyes, unexpectedly vivid. Handsome. Very handsome, actually, especially for a human. High cheekbones, dark brows sweeping upward and lending his face a stern edge, a sharply defined chin covered in several days’ worth of stubble. I’d have put him at about thirty. No older.

Dressed simply—black trousers, a dark blue shirt, and a jacket. Nothing remarkable. Not to the eye or the nose.

“Lex, good to see you.” The bartender smiled at the newcomer and poured a shot of tequila without being asked.

Interesting. What kind of human strolled so casually onto Shifter territory? And wasn’t afraid to drink in their company, at that. A mage, most likely. No human could possibly afford the prices here.

Our world was structured simply enough. At the top sat the Elerins, handling politics, finance, and defense. Then came us Shifters, keeping order and running the factories, the police, the hospitals—responsible for all the infrastructure. Vampires kept to themselves but occupied roughly the same rung as we did.

And then there were humans, who served as expendable material. They got the hardest, lowest-paid work. The only thing that could drag them out of poverty was the awakening of a magical gift. Of course, they couldn’t hold a candle to the Elerins, but even the barest hint of a gift raised their value. And gave them a shot at climbing one step up the social ladder.

“By the way”—Karl gave me a conspiratorial wink while addressing the odd patron—“Rin here happens to be a Shifter without a pack. And she used to work for the police.”

I stared at the bartender in disbelief. Had he completely lost his mind?! Laying out my whole story for some stranger! And the fact that I had no pack—that was a disgrace for a Shifter. You didn’t broadcast something like that.

The stranger regarded me with interest.

" Oh, don’t get all bristly.” Karl smiled good-naturedly. “I just figured you must be sick of breaking up drunks and slaving away for a vampire. Things are bound to be more interesting with Lex.”

“And what exactly makes things more interesting with Lex?” I looked the human straight in the eye.

To my astonishment, he held my gaze.

“I’ll let him tell you that himself. I’ve got customers.” And the bartender retreated to the far end of the counter.

Talking was the last thing I wanted right now. I felt like shit and would’ve preferred to sit in silence. But Karl hadn’t left me a choice.

“Sorry for being foisted on you as a conversation partner.” The man smiled broadly. Not just handsome—charming. Even the cat perked up.

Funny, really. The moment I’d started thinking about a new job, one practically fell into my lap.

“To be fair, you didn’t foist yourself. You were foisted.” I smiled back. “So what’s the job?”

“I run a private detective agency. Good team, but we’ve had no luck finding Shifters. And in our line of work, as you can imagine, it’s tough without a decent nose.”

I nodded, understanding not only why detectives needed a keen nose but also why they couldn’t land a decent hire. A pack Shifter would never work for a human. And those outside a pack were usually rejects incapable of anything useful. Or the ones with authority issues—like me, for instance.

“Did you really work for the police?”

“Yep. Three years. Started on street patrol, left as an assistant investigator.”

“Not bad.” Lex gave a surprised grunt. “If you don’t mind my asking—why were you let go?”

“I left my pack, and they happen to control the Central Precinct.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Didn’t see eye to eye with the pack leader.” I gave a crooked smirk, remembering the enraged muzzle of an enormous white wolf.

“Where do you work now?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“A job interview.” Another disarming smile. Damn, the man was absurdly charming for a human. And not just for a human, if I was being honest.

I fixed him with a hard stare, got nowhere, and answered:

“At The Drop of Blood. Head of security.”

“Impressive for someone so young.”

“Deadly boring, to be honest.”

“So you are looking for a new job?” Lex perked up.

“Still mulling it over.”

“Well, if you decide—”

He never finished. The door crashed open, and a blood-covered human stumbled into the bar. The local janitor, if memory served.

“A breach!” he screamed, voice raw with panic. “A Shade! There’s a Shade here!”

[1] Elerins are the highest order of mages. They closely resemble humans in appearance, but are far more perfect and beautiful. They possess immense magical abilities. A privileged race, the Elerins govern the five cities of the Great Union.