Inked & Sinful

Grey 

“Where the fuck is she?”

I slammed my fist into the creature’s jaw. The skin tore this time–blood splattering. He couldn’t heal as fast as he used to anymore. Maybe from all of the bad potions he’s been drinking for his occasional high, to taste the sunlight every now and then, before slinking back into his darkness.

You had to be a powerful witch to do that kind of thing. No matter how short-lived it was for the creature buying into it.

“I–I dunno, Grey, honestly,” he stuttered.

A low growl erupted from my throat.

“Don’t hit me! Please!” he hissed in fear, cowering on the wall. Fangs bare, while he peed himself on the sidewalk in front of me. The scent was rancid. “I saw some of those weres you ran with, take her into the alley an hour ago, o–okay. That’s it. T–that’s all I know.”

“I need her alive,” I growled at him. “Lucien needs her alive!” I slammed my palm on the wall beside his head. He whimpered like the coward he was. Only stealing information to live a little longer. Everyone needed a mole, and he was one of Lucien’s.

“I know, I know. For his ritual,” he said, then jumped when the thunder clapped. “H–Her mother assured me that she was gonna be at the library till 5.”

He’d made the arrangements to have the witch collected outside the library. But here I am ready to collect, and there’s no one to collect.

“He’s not gonna like this,” I gritted through my teeth.

“At least, I’ll probably lose a fang or two,” he said, shaking, but when I looked into his eyes, they held a smug determination.

“That means you’re the one walking dead,” he chuckled to himself.

I snapped. Driving my knuckles into his face until I couldn’t feel his bones anymore.

After I was done with him, I hopped onto my motorcycle and sped down the deserted roads, hoping I’d catch a scent before the Grimhounds did their worst.

I half expected the Snake to die on the sidewalk before Lucien’s men found him. But that fucker always found a way to live.

Then it began to rain.

The wind shifted suddenly. I caught it instantly–intense, metallic, and wrong.

The scent punched through the rain, lingering sweet. I sniffed again, closing my eyes this time. My beast snarled beneath my skin, barely leashed. My senses flared, the world sharpening.

The rain hit the cracked asphalt like a hammer. Neon signs buzzed and flickered through the storm, throwing broken light across cracked sidewalks. The Harley roared beneath me, a black beast purring dangerously low, eating up the dead miles of a place long forgotten.

Above me, a dying moon strained to pierce the thick, ominous clouds.

I shifted my grip on the handlebars. The leather gloves had split along my fingers, soaked through, and were cold against my aching skin. From my wrist, the silver chain clinked softly, like a warning.

My cell rang. I knew who it was before snatching it from my leather jacket pocket.

“Grey.”

Lucien.

“I’ve got a scent and I’m heading towards it now.”

“Good dog.”

The line disconnected before I could protest. He knew I’d lost her before I could report it myself. Shit.

I gunned the throttle, weaving between gutted cars and shattered glass. Back when we were still a real pack, the Grimhounds used to run this part of the city before I tore it all down with my own two hands.

I was alone now.

A stray.

A traitor.

Lightning struck across the sky, illuminating my path, and for a second, I caught my reflection in a shop window – a gaunt shadow in black leather, eyes hollow, mouth a grim line.

My inner beast stirred, restless.

Every mile I rode, I left something behind.

A friend.

A promise.

A piece of my soul.

It was a ritual now, this endless running. Town to town. Face to face with monsters that wore human skin better than I ever could.

I pressed forward, the engine snarling louder. The city’s bones rose around me – broken tenements, sagging bridges, hollow-eyed alleyways.

The city had been dying long before the monsters made it their playground. Some nights, I thought it would be kinder if it just gave up altogether.

I slammed the brakes, skidding sideways into an alleyway cloaked in darkness. Heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped animal, I killed the engine and listened. Something out there was bleeding to death.

I swung off the bike, boots splashing into oily puddles. My hands flexed, nails itching to lengthen into claws.

I fought it back–barely.

The chain around my wrist felt heavier.

“Don’t,” I muttered under my breath. My voice sounded broken, rusted. “Not yet.” But the scent pushed forward.

I walked deeper into the gut of the city, where the ghosts whispered my name because of the debts I could never repay. Past crumbling walls and dumpsters oozing with each neighbour’s sins. My beast thrashed against its cage, eager, sensing something primal ahead. The alley narrowed into a dark tunnel with dripping walls. Garbage floated lazily in the puddles, bumping against rusted cans and broken glasses.

The smell grew stronger, then it coated my tongue, making me want to vomit. I took another step, and that’s when I saw her.

A girl–no, a woman.

At first, just a shadow hunched against a graffiti-stained wall, soaked and trembling. Then the next flash of lightning showed me more–torn clothes, blood running down her arm, eyes wide with terror, and more blood pooling beneath her. The Grims got to her. Damn it. I crouched beside her, quickly scanning for injuries. Her throat was torn, and her heart beat faintly.

My stomach turned at the sight of the symbols carved into her skin. Dark magic had been worked here. Blood magic.

This doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t look like something the Grims would do. It was like a glimpse into her soul. It was older than the fear that held her. She looked almost sinful.

Not like a victim, but more like bait.

The magic reeked off her, thick, wild, and desperate.

I froze, instincts at war.

Hunter.

Protector.

Monster.

Which shall I become?

She looked up at me, straight at me, and her lips moved.

A wordless plea.

For help or death. I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

I jerked back instinctively, then forced myself to look at her. My chest heaved so tight, my fists clenched till the claws punched through the gloves into my flesh. The beast inside me demanded blood for blood, but there was nothing to tear apart. Nothing but the wet, shuddering alley and the taste of magic still burning the back of my throat.

I should walk away. Call Lucien and tell him that I’d found nothing. There was something unnatural waking in the city, worse than the vampires skulking in Old Town or the witches selling spells out of butcher shops. I straightened slowly, my bones aching, and my soul feeling heavier.

I should have turned around and left her to rot in the rain like all the others.

Instead, I gathered her into my arms, held her cold body close, and gently set her atop my bike before stepping forward.

Into the trap.

Into the storm.

Into my own damnation.

Then, she vanished into a sea of dark smoke. Damn it.