Infernal Ties
Authors: Holly Evans
Infernal Ties
Book One in Infernal Hunt
by Holly Evans
Copyright Holly Evans (2016)
©
. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are purely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is fictionalised and coincidental.
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
Dedication.
First and foremost to my dear husband, for his unwavering support and encouragement. Next, I dedicate this to my best friend. He is at the heart of every snarky elf I write, and I love him for it. Last, but not least, my twin (in spirit if not in blood) Mollie. She made me smile during the darkest times and reminded me why I love writing so much. I’d be lost without these three amazing people in my life.
CHAPTER ONE
Something was wrong. I could feel it.
The pink encroached on the greys of the morning, and he still wasn’t home. I clenched and unclenched my hands as I looked out over the red roofs of the city. He could have gotten side-tracked with some girl on his way home, but my gut told me otherwise. I paced around our large living room and tried to tell myself that it was an easy task; my dear twin could handle himself. It was only a rogue lycan, one he’d dealt with previously. I glanced at the front door again, hoping to hear his familiar footsteps. Nothing. I’d never been one to believe in psychic abilities, despite what I’d seen from the fae and witches of the city… yet I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had happened to Quin.
Pacing wasn’t going to help anything. I resigned myself to trying to sleep. It was going to be a long night. I reassured myself that we’d be laughing about it over drinks in the evening. The set of six throwing knives, each with a different coloured hilt, caught my eye. It was foolish at that point, but it made me feel a little better. I picked up the pink-hilted knife with the elegant red swirls inlaid into the hot-pink enamel. A smile crept across my lips unbidden as I pictured his face upon seeing my message. With more force than I intended, I turned and threw the knife at the cabinet just a few feet inside of the front door. It sank into the soft pine with a satisfying
thunk
.
Each knife had a meaning, a way of leaving messages to the other. Pink meant, “Do not leave this flat, you’re in the shit.”
We usually hung them on the small black hook screwed into the end of the cabinet facing the front door. I couldn’t resist, though; I had to make my point clear. He had me worried sick. He’d never vanished without warning before. I sighed, feeling satisfied that there was nothing to do before the afternoon. I’d need my wits about me. With one last glance at the knife buried in the wood, I headed to bed.
The flat felt empty without him. We hadn’t spent more than a couple of days apart since we were born; we didn’t have anyone else. We relied on each other, and he needed me. I pulled on a pair of jeans and knee-high boots; spring in Prague was a fickle thing. I could almost hear Quin laughing at me and trying to lecture me when I grabbed a pastry for breakfast as I headed out the door. He always insisted that a good breakfast was key. It weighed heavily on me when I slipped his little pouch of iron filings onto my belt and his vial of wolfsbane into my pocket. I was supposed to carry the blades while he screwed around with the alchemy. He wasn’t an alchemist, but he would have dearly loved to have been one; he learned everything he could from the alchemists. I couldn’t deny that some useful things had come from it. Still, the alchemical things were his domain. It wasn’t right for me to carry it.
I jogged down the flights of stairs, my footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. I couldn’t help but admire the detailing on the ceilings around me; never stop looking up in Prague, there’s always a new piece of beautiful architecture to see. I kept telling myself that he was in bed with some local beauty. He’d just lost track of time. I ran my fingers down the leather sheathes holding my knives, just in case. Things were prone to getting bloody once the sun set.
The tram started off down the tracks just as the stop came into sight. I cursed under my breath and wished for the millionth time that we had a car. The city wasn’t made for cars, though; it would have been more of a pain than it was worth. I sat down on the wooden bench and crossed my arms over my chest as I waited for the next one. They were usually quite regular. My impatience kept building, though; I tapped my foot, waiting for the familiar whining rumble of the next tram. The idea that the city should know what was going on and bend to my will popped into my mind. I smiled to myself. The image was a foolish consideration.
My wait wasn’t long, and I was soon sitting on an uncomfortable bright-red plastic seat. Some of my anxiety was soothed by the passing of the trees that were starting to turn green again. Faces stared out at me from the architecture. Angels guarded spires. They looked fearsome in armour with large swords, a reminder that this city had been home to the paranormal since its birth. Quin had said he was going after the rogue that he’d tracked and released before. I remembered the conversation clearly; I’d told him to kill the damn thing at the time. He had some sob story for it, though. They were beasts. The moment they stepped out of line, they had to be put down. Yet he cared far more for the magical side of the city than I ever did. It was part of what made us work as hunters. We balanced each other.
I kept that in mind as I got off the tram and headed to Café Silhouette, the preferred hangout of the pack the rogue had originally belonged to. They seemed like a sensible starting point. Rogue or not, they were likely to watch out for him. Once pack, always pack, until death do them part or some shit. I pulled my hand away from my sheath and covered the head of the hilt with my leather jacket when a normal human gave me an odd look. I ignored her and carried on down to the café. They had a habit of calling bars ‘cafés’ in Prague. I didn’t believe Silhouette had ever served coffee, and yet, the café name stuck.
CHAPTER TWO
The outside of the café was almost garish in the elegant surroundings of Újezd. The dark wooden window frames made no attempt to hide the brightly coloured interior with its ever-changing modern art. Lycans weren’t a subtle bunch. Where the fae owned the trendy underground bars, the lycans preferred the places that were rougher around the edges. Of course, it could be argued that the lycans made them that way by their very presence.
I tensed as I pushed the door open and stepped into the warm surroundings of the bar. A surly-looking barman looked at me over the tall wooden bar with empty bar stools lining it. I could hear the deep growling voices of lycans in the back room. My patience had worn thin on the tram ride; it was non-existent at that moment. My twin was in trouble, and the time for manners and platitudes had vanished along with him. I pulled back my jacket to reveal the two daggers on my hips; I kept the vial and throwing knives hidden. It’s good to have some surprises.
His eyes yellowed and he nodded to the back room. We were known around the city. We’d never made any attempts to hide what we did. As long as they played by the rules, we left them alone. It was almost a shame they couldn’t play by the rules. I smiled to myself as I walked past the bar into the adjoining room; I knew that I’d hate a quiet life. I enjoyed the thrill of the fight too much to give it up.
Three broad males were in the far room with polished tree stumps for seating around the edge. The tables were stained slabs of wood, complete with knots and uneven surface. The entire place was a chaotic mash of styles and desires, yet, somehow, it managed to work. It also offered weapons; no one enjoyed having their head smashed onto one of those tree stumps.
They stopped whatever conversation they were having and turned to face me. I gave them my sweetest smile as I strolled over to the wall between the room I stood in and their room and leaned against the archway; doorway was too strong a term. If nothing else, it had no door.
“Hello, boys, have you missed me?”
The tallest, with pitch-black hair, snarled at me. I pouted.
“Now, Felix, that really isn’t very friendly.”
His younger brother, the scrawniest of the bunch, given he fit through the doorway without too much effort, put his hand on Felix’s chest and held him where he stood.
“She’s not worth it.”
I gave them a dark smile and stepped closer. “Oh… but I am.”
The brother with the dirty blond hair, whose name I didn’t remember, ran his tongue over his lips.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Playtime’s over. Where’s Quin?”
They looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. Mouths twisted, brows furrowed, jaws jutted; they finally turned back to me.
The brother released Felix, who grinned at me. “We don’t know. We thought he was attached to you.”
My fingers ran down over my sheathes as they puffed their chests out and shifted their weight. They were twice or more likely three times my size, but I’d dealt with them before; a ripple of fear ran through the smaller brother. He still bore the scar down the side of his neck where he tried to take me down last time.
“Why don’t you be a good girl and fuck off before we find some use for you,” Felix growled as he flexed his rather large muscles.
I pulled my daggers and stepped forward. “I’m not leaving here until you tell me where that rogue and my brother are.”
The blond took another step towards me; he was just out of arms reach. “I’ve been waiting to enjoy a human female; the last one died.”
The sound of the last shred of my patience shattering was almost audible. I needed to act quickly; they out-numbered me and had strength and size on me, too. I threw the vial of wolfsbane in Felix’s face; it would upset Quin to lose an entire vial like that, but I’d deal with that later. My daggers were coated in silver for extra impact on the beasts. I jumped onto the tree stump closest to the blond, near the wall, just as the vial connected with Felix’s face. He screamed. I plunged my dagger down into the neck of the blond while Felix clawed at his face, screaming and howling in agony.
The blond snarled, but my dagger sank down into his muscle deep enough to slow him down. And piss him off. Felix was down. The other brother almost managed to get behind me; I felt his claws graze my jacket as I ducked under the blond’s fist. They were big, but they were clumsy and dumb. I jumped onto the floor and sank down into a deep crouch, where I slashed through the brother’s jeans and hacked at his Achilles tendons.
Pain shot through my back when one of their fists connected. I struggled to stay up and stood to dance away from them. The brother was slow, but somehow managed to remain standing. Despite my best efforts, I’d only managed to nick the tendons; it wasn’t enough. Felix continued to scream. His face was coated in blood as he clawed at himself. I danced away from their onslaught, trying to keep tables between us while I figured out my next plan of action. I was used to fighting with Quin at my side. I couldn’t wear them down; I needed to end it.
