Chapter 7

ANITA

Afreaking shadow walker.

Who the hell are these people?

Awe and trepidation surge through me, but before I can even process what any of that means, the world forms around me in a rush of sights and sounds. My legs buckle, and Darby's arm around my waist is the only thing keeping me upright when gravity takes hold.

Very few species have the ability to walk through shadows, and none of them have a good reputation. One who is powerful enough to take others with them through shadows? So not good.

Thoughts become irrelevant a second later when I bend forward and lose the contents of my stomach. I'm aware of the others staggering away, but they are instantly on guard, their weapons raised and magic at their fingertips.

By the time I stop heaving, my stomach aches, and I groan then glare at Porter. "A little warning next time would be nice."

"Sure." He shrugs, scanning our surroundings. "I'll put that on top of my priority list and get right on that."

Asshole.

From the way he chuckles, I'm not sure if I spoke out loud or if he's just enjoying my misery.

A hand grabs my arm and helps steady me as I straighten.

Darby.

He oozes comfort and warmth on a winter night, and I sink into him.

Uncomfortable perving on my best friend's brother, I force my legs to hold my weight and pull away. The last person who helped me ended up paying for it with her life, and I won't do that to him too.

"Motion sickness." Darby's voice is low and soothing, despite me pulling away. "You get used to it after a while. The effects will wear off soon. It's best to walk it off."

I'd swear he was being kind, but that's ridiculous. He knows the truth now, no doubt hating that he's forced to breathe the same air as the girl who got his sister killed, and that thought hurts something deep inside me.

"Status," Porter demands, stealthily moving away from our location when no immediate attacks follow.

Not that he relaxes. He's in perpetual motion, his head constantly swiveling as he scans our surroundings. If I thought he was tense before our departure, it's nothing compared to the rigid set of his shoulders now.

"The Kerringtons were coming to collect their daughter. I sent a report to the director that we were heading back out on assignment, then closed my connection to the system." Darby remains close to me as we hustle through the dark side of town.

Dawn is just a hint on the horizon, but I recognize the run-down area, and I shiver with unease. We're on the outskirts of the borderlands—the last stop before laws are just suggestions and magic is wild and hungry enough to consume the unwary.

Porter's stride hitches at Darby's news, and I'm sure he's cursing up a storm at getting involved in the mess that is my life. Surprisingly, the expected protest to dump my ass doesn't come. I glance at Cassius and Soren, wincing at the knowledge that they would put their lives at risk for me.

I can't let them do it. "Thank you for getting me out, but the more time we spend together, the more my family will get suspicious. I'll head back into town, get spotted on the cameras, then disappear. That way, you won't be implicated in my escape."

"No." Soren doesn't even look at me as he strides down the back-alley.

I can only gape after him, not realizing that I paused until Darby places a hand against my lower back to keep me moving.

"I'm trying to give you an out," I say through gritted teeth, marching after the bonehead.

My annoyance only spikes at being barefoot. I walk along the broken path with the others, grimacing at the dirt and assortment of gunk that sticks to the bottom of my feet. I refuse to look down—if I see the nasty crap gathered on the streets, I won't be able to take another step.

Thankfully, being a bike messenger means I'm on my feet all day, so the pads are nearly indestructible from all the peddling. The rough ground abrades the balls of my feet, rocks dig into my soles, but it's more annoying than painful, and I do my best to pick a path that avoids most of the trash.

"No." This time, it's Cassius who speaks, his voice brooking no argument.

I throw my hands up in exasperation and stomp after them. "Don't you idiots understand that I'm trying to keep you safe?"

Porter snorts, Darby remains impervious, while Cassius and Soren exchange a look with raised eyebrows. Cassius is the one who drops back to speak with me, and I swear amusement crinkles the corners of his eyes. "We are MID agents. We're more than capable of keeping you and ourselves safe."

I frown in annoyance when his sunglasses prevent me from seeing his eyes. When they say that the eyes are the windows to a person's soul, it's a bunch of bullshit, but I do believe they give away a lot about the person. "It's dark out. Why still wear your glasses?"

Any amusement vanishes, and he stiffens, purposely not looking at me. The sides of his glasses wrap around his head, preventing me from getting even a glimpse of his eyes. "I'm a basilisk."

He says it like that answers my question. "And?"

A furrow appears between his brows, and he tilts his head to give me a sideways glance. "Do you know what a basilisk can do? We turn people to stone with just a look."

He waits, almost like he's bracing himself for my reaction, but I only shrug. "And? What does that have to do with your glasses?"

His furrow becomes more pronounced, and he speaks slowly, a tinge of annoyance coloring his voice. "The glasses are a safety measure so, you know, people don't turn to stone around me."

I roll my eyes, following the others as we head toward a backstreet to try and stay off the radar. Most people along the borderlands mind their own business, but if people offer enough money, anything can be bought.

I excel at not being seen, I've been practicing the skill my whole life, but being surrounded by four obvious MID agents tends to draw attention, especially when they are skulking along in the shadows. As I glance around at the guys, though, I notice that said shadows seem to cling to us much like wispy fog. It swirls around our legs and up our bodies until we are indistinguishable shapes moving through the darkness.

Yeah, because that's not creepy at all.

But it seems to have the desired effect. If anyone notices us, they quickly avert their gazes and scurry away like rats.

Honestly, I can't say I blame them.

The borderlands are not a place where anyone wants to draw attention to themselves.

With his dark skin, Porter practically merges with the darkness, his large frame disappearing in the shadows. If I didn't know where to look for him, I might not have noticed him at all.

Cassius huffs at my side when I don't respond right away, and I turn back to face him.

"Yeah, I get it. Basilisk. Stone. Very dangerous." I wave my hands vaguely toward his face. "But you control your abilities, not the other way around. That's the first thing everyone is taught. The glasses are like a child's binky."

"A binky?" His steps slow, his mouth opening and closing.

A slithering sound, like something moving over dry rocks, floats in the air, accompanied by a chuffing hiss. If I didn't know better, I would almost swear his basilisk is laughing.

The sound should chill me to my soul. No one wants to become a basilisk's plaything. Apparently, their poisons can inflict agony on those who are infected. It would just take a touch, a light brush of his fingertips across my skin, and I would be toast.

My courage wavers for a moment, and I cautiously peer at Cassius from the corner of my eye. Cassius has a hand pressed against his chest and a poleaxed expression on his face. As we walk, his shoulders are stiff, and he studiously avoids looking at me.

The rest of the men eye the two of us—Darby with concern, Soren like he will step between us if it looks like Cassius might attack, while Porter just appears amused as he continues to guide us farther into the outskirts of town.

I blow out a heavy sigh, my shoulders dropping a little, and I call myself an idiot. "Sorry," I mutter, giving a half-hearted shrug. "My family calls me tactless. Charlotte used to smile and call me blunt. She said it was part of my charm, but I suspect she found it more amusing than anything."

Cassius reaches up and fiddles with his glasses, then he stiffens and drops his hand when he catches me watching. Without looking at me, he storms ahead and joins Porter at the front, and I can only stare after him with a pang of self-loathing.

Don't make an enemy of the basilisk, Anita.

Beastlings are notoriously moody. You'd think I would know better than to antagonize one. Apparently, my self-preservation instincts are nonexistent, which isn't surprising, considering that my life is such a shit show and I'm literally on the run.

Taking pity on me, Darby falls into step next to me…or maybe he got the short end of the stick.

After going down another grimy alley, where I don't look around too closely, I catch him watching me more than our surroundings. My skin tightens under his scrutiny. I shift under the uncomfortable sensation, but I'm unable to shake off the feeling of spiders crawling between my shoulder blades. I finally snap and throw out my arms in a huff. "What?"

Fire surges under my skin at my annoyance, and I nearly sigh in relief at the blessed heat. My powers are returning. While I might only be a level three mage and I don't use my magic often, being without it would be like losing a piece of my soul.

The return of my flames feels like sinking into a warm hug.

Heat chases away the cold that seeped into my bones, and I can finally take a full breath since waking up. Sure, we're still on the run and my family is hunting me, but that's nothing new.

"What did my sister call you?" Amusement tinges his voice, and a lopsided smile curls his lips.

I freeze, almost tripping over my feet, then I studiously look straight ahead and pretend I didn't hear him.

"Come on." He bumps his shoulder against mine, or more like his arm bumps into my shoulder, since they are all giants. "If she liked you, she would have given you a moniker. How do you think I got the name Corsair?"

I give him the side-eye, more than a little curious. "I assume because you either pirate treasure, knowledge, or women." I look him up and down, noticing the fit shape of his lean form, then mutter under my breath, "Most likely all three."

He blinks for a second, like his brain can't process the words, then he sputters and chuckles. "It's because I used to hoard candy, while she would eat it all at once. I would have one a day, and it drove her crazy that I wouldn't share my treasure with her. As we grew older, she would call me Corsair. When my abilities manifested, it became more apt, as I would, indeed, hoard information."

A small smile curls his lips, and he glances at me expectantly. My shoulders slump, and I kick at a rock, cursing under my breath when my big toe throbs in protest. The rock spirals off into the distance, smacking hollowly against a trash can with a clank. At the disturbance, a flurry of rats hiss before they scamper off in different directions.

I swallow my panicked shriek, cursing that I don't have my fire to burn their furry asses. I dart closer to Soren, ready to climb onto his back if any of the vermin decide to rush me in retaliation.

He's the tallest of them.

If the rats want to take a bite out of me, then they are going to have to work for it.

Soren notices me practically frog-marching behind him, seeking his protection, and his chest puffs up, a delicious rumble going through him that has my whole body lighting up with interest.

Unfortunately, the noise does draw attention.

From Porter.

He pauses mid-step as the clatter from the garbage can and the hustle of fleeing rats echo around us, the noise amplified by the stone walls of the alley. When he turns to glare at me over his shoulder, I duck my head, giving him a shrug and a small, super-duper awkward wave. "Oops."

With a heavy sigh, he continues on his way, but the tension in his shoulders warns me that if I make one more mistake, I will find myself knocked out and tossed over someone's shoulder.

I follow as meekly as possible.

The last thing I want is to be vulnerable again.

I don't trust the men to take care of me, not when they are underestimating the danger my family poses. If my cousin makes a play for me, I need to be able to protect the men, and my heat surges through my veins at the thought of the guys being harmed.

As we head farther away from the center of town, the buildings become more run-down, and the people become scarier. Darby and Soren use their big bodies and broad shoulders to block anyone who might look too closely at us. If anyone stares too long, the basilisk hisses, and the nosy neighbors scurry off into the darkness.

It's a novel experience to have people scamper away in fear, and I sigh when I glance down at my barely five-foot frame.

Yeah, I don't instill fear in anything, not even mosquitos.

I fuss with the hem of my shirt, glad that my bare legs are swathed in shadows, or it would draw even more unsavory attention. A half naked girl wandering in the borderlands is just asking for trouble. While the loose shirt is long enough to pass for a dress, the lack of pants is unsettling.

One errant breeze will have me flashing the goods at everyone.

Distracted by my attempt to magically make my shirt longer by tugging on it, I accidentally step in something squishy, and I grimace when it smooshes between my toes.

Ew!

I debate burning it off, but then I glance at Porter and mentally sigh, already able to hear his lecture if I did something so stupid as to draw attention to us.

Again.

I hop around on one foot, then drag it on the ground to scrape off the muck, probably looking like some deranged zombie shuffle. I don't know if I should wish for the gunk to be shit or not. Just thinking of the alternatives sends a shiver of revulsion down my spine.

I ignore the squishing between my toes, deciding that it's better not to look. If I didn't know better, I would almost think Porter selected this route just to make me miserable, and I narrow my eyes on his back.

"If you tell me your nickname, I'll help you with your…er…little problem," Darby wheedles, his gaze dropping to my feet, and a little grimace curls his lips.

I huff under my breath and give him a nasty look. "A gentleman would offer to help without bribery."

"Well, I never claimed to be a gentleman." A devilish smile crosses his face, and my breath catches at the roguish look, the studious man suddenly turning into a pirate ready to plunder my bounty.

A different type of heat flashes under my skin, one I'm not used to feeling, and I'm not sure I trust the new sensations. Flustered, I drop my eyes.

Only it doesn't help.

I can still feel his gaze caressing me.

Desperate to get his attention off me, I latch onto his question. With a sigh, I shrug and look into the darkness. "Spark. She called me Spark."

I hold up my hand and flick my fingers, and a tiny spark flares like hitting a stone against flint. I quickly lower my hand before Porter notices, then shrug. "I tended to set things on fire when…"

Dark memories try to force their way from the abyss where I locked them away in the back of my mind, and I shake my head to get rid of them. "When things got tough."

When the beatings became too bad, my fire would take over to protect me. Scorched walls and rugs were often repainted and replaced at least once a week in my house. They built a fireproof room for their extracurricular fun, but they soon discovered that my fire would not be contained. My powers saw the room as a challenge and burned hotter and brighter.

In retaliation, they would beat me more frequently, leaving me bloody and broken, but they were never able to kill me before my powers emerged to protect me. It infuriated my family that I refused to bend to their demands. That they couldn't control me. They tried drowning me in ice water, used spells to dampen my powers, but my fire learned how to consume whatever they threw at me.

Then his sister arrived.

Just the thought of her banishes the yawning darkness hovering at the back of my mind. "Charlotte was the opposite of everything I was taught to believe—she was so genuine and…happy. No lies. No subterfuge. I called her Pixie because she was like pixie dust, shiny and bright, and she left a lasting presence much like glitter—you just couldn't get rid of her."

I wave a hand in the air to brush away the fanciful thoughts. "Oh, I know she had a darker side. She was a trickster, often doing her best to sabotage my family's nefarious plans. I'm afraid it put a target on her back."

Darby listens intently, inching closer the more I speak, until his arm brushes mine with every step. Sorrow darkens his blue eyes, and a sad smile touches his lips. "A pixie—pure mischief. It describes her perfectly. No one could control Charlotte. She was very much like a will-o'-the-wisp—a bright spot in the darkness, and often going wherever the wind took her."

His expression turns rueful, and love shines in his eyes as he talks of his sister. "There was nothing you could have done that would have stopped her when she set her mind on something. Trust me, I tried many times. If she's still out there, we'll find her."

He steps in front of me, stops and hunches down, then looks at me over his shoulder. "Jump up."

I stop abruptly, heat warming my cheeks at the thought of climbing him, and then more inappropriate thoughts spring into my mind of what we could do in a different position. I have to pinch myself to banish those naughty images.

Reluctantly, I step forward and do as I'm told. I've seen children carried this way, but only in movies. I awkwardly climb up and wrap my arms around his neck. A squeak escapes me when he reaches back, loops his arms under my legs, then drags me closer until I'm snug against his body. The action drags up the shirt until it's barely covering my important bits.

Flustered, I cling to him when he stands and starts walking, afraid he'll drop me if I breathe too deeply.

He doesn't pay the least bit of attention to my too tight grip, just carries me like I weigh nothing and hurries to catch up with Porter and Cassius. Soren catches sight of us first, and he almost stumbles over his own feet. The silver encircling his eyes expands, the metallic color swirling as he watches us intently, as if memorizing the position so he can offer to carry me next time.

A low growl rumbles in the air, more felt than heard, and my whole body tingles. Soren edges closer, no doubt getting a good look at my granny panties, and my body sags with mortification. Instead of making fun of me, his black eyes glitter possessively, and I can't help blushing at his nearness.

I quickly face forward before my daft brain can delve further into that thought. Beastlings can often smell strong emotions, and the last thing I want is for them to think I'm interested in something more.

I'd die of embarrassment.

The way Darby's body shifts beneath me is so distracting that I can't focus on anything else. I forget about the outside world until only the two of us exist. He's surprisingly solid and so warm that I shiver and cuddle closer. The scent of crisp winter nights in front of a crackling fire infuses the air, and I realize that it's rising from his skin.

The writhing fire under my skin calms to a gentle glow, and contentment permeates my very essence. I sigh in pleasure and nuzzle my face against his shoulder, feeling like I finally found what I've been searching for my whole life—peace.