Chapter One of Obsidian Gate

*Here's Chapter One of my Obsidian Gate trilogy. Hope everyone likes it. This is a resposted and redone version of this chapter and, while it may not have major edits, I think it flows a lot better. *

Chapter One:
The Gray Hell

“So you walk into this restaurant, all strung out from the road
and you feel the eyes upon you, as you’re shaking off your coat.
You pretend it doesn’t bother you but you just want to explode.” - Turn the Page - Bob Seger

- Somewhere on Earth, approximately the 13th of March, just shortly before sundown -

Noise. Loud voices, shrieking in an overwhelming cacophony. The stench of smoke, refuse, and too many people living in too close a proximity to one another. All of this crashed into his senses at once, as Danthias Silverbow snapped back to consciousness with a jarring, physical lurch, his head reeling. His nose and throat were on fire from the horrid stench of this place and his ears burned from the abrupt exposure to all the noise. His eyes watered and he choked on filthy air that smelled dimly of rain. Danthias did not even attempt to fight the queasiness he felt. He just rolled over onto his side and promptly lost everything he had put into his stomach over the past twenty-four hours. It was painful and degrading, but unavoidable. Twenty minutes later, only dry heaves wracked his body and, though Dan quietly contemplated puking some more, the elf managed to stop the heaves before they could get any more painful. For a moment, he just laid there, eyes closed, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Then, he reluctantly opened his eyes and looked up at the sky, which was angry, dull, heavy, and gray.
The elf counted to ten slowly and then pulled himself into a sitting position, laying his head back against the cool hardness of the brick wall behind him. He arranged his silver half-face mask, extremely thankful he had not gotten anything on his good silk clothes. The now travel stained outfit smelled bad enough as it was. Dan felt somewhat better now, but the stink in his nose, the ache in his stomach, and the dull throb in his head were not fading anytime soon.
“Where am I?” the elf wondered breathlessly.
The last thing Dan could clearly remember was patrolling the Unicorn Forest along the main trade route. The frightened merchants and the fight with the bandits entered Danthias’s mind as a brief interlude of humor but, after that, everything was hazy. Only vague impressions and images, the sense of running through the trees, heading for something, looking for something, prevailed. Frustrated with the stubborn memories that would not come, Danthias gingerly pulled himself to his feet and allowed himself a moment to see if the nausea would return. It did not. Luckily, the half face mask seemed to be filtering the majority of the stench.
Then, suddenly, he remembered. A wall of inky blackness, cold as death and shimmering like obsidian velvet. The portal. Reality came crashing in on Danthias. The elf knew enough about magical travel to realize what had happened and how unpredictable his current situation really was. He could, literally, be anywhere or anytime. Taking stock of his possessions, Dan cursed heavily.
“Damn portals,” he muttered to himself, as he moved to the head of the alley and warily stepped out into the heavy traffic that cluttered the sidewalk.
Dan’s first impression of this immense city was resoundingly negative. Humans were everywhere. There had to be thousands of people on the streets, all just going about their daily lives, milling here and there, talking, shouting, and jostling one another. The crowd was so thick the elf could have walked on top of it, from one head to another, however, there were just so many people that movement was impossible without getting rudely heaved about. Danthias had never seen a city this big in his entire life and immediately had to fight his natural claustrophobia. Taking a deep breath, Dan plunged through the crowd diligently, searching for a sign, any at all, that he could use to tell where he was.
“It’s like the whole country of Avalonea’s on this street alone,” he thought, bleakly.
As he traveled, Dan took careful stock of his surroundings, trying to keep his panicked, scattered mind focused. The first thing he noticed was that the ground beneath his feet was covered, as far as the eye could see, with some hard, cold, mortar-like substance. The stuff was everywhere. The buildings, sidewalks, everything Dan could see was made of it and there was not a green thing in sight. It gave what parts of the city Dan could see a cold, impassive air, not at all friendly. On Solaris, the larger cities had streets paved with bricks or cobblestones to make travel easier but even the biggest cities had trees lining every street and most Solarian homes were no more than two or three stories tall. Here every building seemed immense to the beleaguered elf, towers of steel and glass, stretching all the way up to the sky, dwarfing even the largest of the Elven trees.
The street Dan was on was filled with multi-colored metal machines, which looked like gnome invented death machines to Danthias’s eyes. That these people had this kind of technology just for what appeared to be their transportation scared Dan badly and he tried not to think of the implications. Just as he thought to cross the street, one of the infernal things nearly ran him over. Swearing profusely and dodging elegantly out of the way, the elf thought that perhaps staying on the sidewalk would be safer.
People passing by looked at the elf with an annoyed, amused curiosity and Danthias could not help but stare back. The clothes they wore were so strange to Dan’s eyes, garish and ugly. There was almost not a single stitch of expensive fabric anywhere in sight. Everyone seemed to be dressed in some kind of cotton material in every color of the rainbow and the women here did not seem to wear dresses. The people that he was seeing came in every size, shape, and color possible among surface-dwelling humans, no one sub-race dominating any other. Everyone was very loud and very rude, seeming to ignore everything and everyone around him or her with a single-minded determination to get wherever they were going.
The wind was cool, coming out of the north, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Though no rain had fallen, the clouds and sky were getting steadily darker and uglier by the minute. Dan took that as a sign. Reluctantly, he decided to plug on.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Danthias happened to see a group of young men, dressed in black leather, torn shirts, and more chains than he knew how to count, dart out of an alleyway. One of them raced right in front of a pretty young lady in red with long, stunning, black hair, startling her, while another snatched her purse and started to run. The woman was quick. She reacted instantaneously, grabbing one man by the wrist and throwing him into his buddies, while she turned to try and grab her purse from the fleeing man. Worried that the woman would be outnumbered, Danthias moved with the speed that had made him a local legend, sprinting quickly into the path of the fleeing thug.
The elf moved without thought. His hand snaked out and caught the small black purse, prying it easily from the grip of the man who was trying to run away with it. Not slowing down an instant, Danthias swept his leg out hard, catching the would be thief just as he was moving forward. The man tumbled down, having no time to make more than a startled grunt as he hit the pavement with a resounding thwack! His buddies tried to rush Dan but the woman moved first with a grace, speed, and agility born of hard training. Her boot heel met the face of one thug and her hand captured the wrist of the other, the same one whose wrist she had nearly twisted before. The man she had kicked looked startled and stumbled back, just off balance enough to tumble unceremoniously onto his ass. The thug that was pinned in the woman’s grip yipped in pain, as she wrenched his wrist again, this time flipping his entire body as she did so. He landed on the ground right next to the other guy with the woman staring over at him with a look in her dark eyes that would have quelled just about any man.
For a moment, it looked as if the would be assailants wanted to try something, but the threatening manner of the woman and the unknown factor of Danthias standing casually to the side told them that this was a fight they could not win. With a black look at both the woman and Dan, the thugs clumsily picked themselves up and slinked off into the shadows. The woman watched them go with a cautious air and then turned her eyes to Dan. She smiled then, speaking words that seemed to be of thanks and gratitude in a language that Dan did not know. He just had time to note that she was actually quite pretty and had a nice pair of legs, as he tossed her back her purse.
The woman caught the black handbag out of the air effortlessly and gave a little bow, a gesture that reminded Dan faintly of the people of Xai Xung where he was from. She spoke again, saying something that sounded lighthearted and genuine. Danthias attempted to communicate with her but every language he tried only made her give him a confused, sorry look, as she shook her head in incomprehension. After a few more awkward attempts at communication, Dan simply shook her hand lightly and prepared to move on.
As much as he wanted to stay around for some introductions, especially to a gorgeous number like this woman, Danthias knew he had more important things to do and he hated every minute of it. The woman, meanwhile, watched Dan’s retreat for the longest time, her intelligent eyes observing him with more than just a casual glance, before she finally moved on. Danthias merely nodded his acknowledgment of her thanks and continued his observations, desperately seeking a way out of his dire situation.
Though it was slowly starting to turn dark, the city was lit up like a festival. Dan could not go two steps without seeing one of the lighted globes that were perched atop the metal rods sticking out of the street. To the elf, who had never seen electricity, it appeared as though someone had captured faerie fire and put it into small glass globes. All in all, he found that he did not like this place. It was ugly, it was loud, it was smelly, and it was entirely too bright. And he was stuck here. That thought nearly broke Dan where nothing else, thus far, had even come close. However, despite his growing panic, the moon elf forced himself to be calm and re-focus on the problem at hand. Maybe the people here spoke a different form of Common and were not used to seeing his kind. Dan attempted to listen closely, hoping he could catch a snatch of what language they were speaking.
After a while, it became plain that Danthias did not speak the language but he decided that he had to try at least once more to get aid. Looking around him, he spotted a young woman with a purse slung over her shoulder who was leading two children, one of them in a stroller. The older child was walking beside her mother and clinging to her jacket. She appeared to be about six or seven and Dan had no wish to frighten her or her mother. Taking a lesson from what had happened before, the elf approached the woman and her offspring slowly, putting a harmless, charming smile on his face and hoping for better results.
“Pardon me, My lady,” Dan said, when he was within earshot and was certain that the woman had spotted him, “but would you happen to know the name of this city?”
Despite the elf’s best attempts at a non-threatening demeanor, excellent Common, and soothing voice, the woman gasped, afraid, as soon as she laid eyes on Dan. Without a single word, she grabbed hold of her daughter and herded her and the stroller across the street as quickly as she could. The sheer horror and fright on her face both worried and irritated the elf.
“She was actually afraid of me!” he thought, amazed, “Where the Hell am I that people would fear an elf that much?”
Then, as he struggled to find a reason why anyone would be afraid of his kind, it slowly dawned on him, in horrifying clarity, that he had not seen one single elf since he had arrived here. Granted, he had not been here long and elves were not the most common race on Solaris either but, on the continent where Danthias lived, one could still expect to run into at least one or two elves in every major city. What if they had never seen elves here? The people here seemed an overly superstitious, hostile, and frightened lot. It seemed logical that they would react to the unknown that way. Jerking himself out of his thoughts, Dan noticed that several passersby were staring at him, whispering one word almost fearfully under their breath. Mutant.
While Dan had absolutely no idea what that word meant, the connotations in which it was uttered by the people around him told him just how bad they thought the word was. Quickly adjusting his half-face mask around his face and pulling some of his knee-length silver hair over the points on his ears, Danthias turned and quickly hurried down the street, looking for any avenue of escape. Anything to get away from their accusing, frightened eyes and hushed whispers. Try as he might, however, he could not outrun their stares. No matter what street he went down, the looks were all the same. The elf could feel the panic rising within him again and his natural dislike of crowds was intensifying at an alarming rate. Racing around a corner, he was just about to rush past the door of a building with tall, glass windows when the door opened. It nearly knocked Danthias on his butt and he had to do an abrupt stop just to avoid trampling a little old lady who was rushing out of the door with an armload of purchases.
The woman stopped just short of running into the elf and both she and Dan were on the verge of apologizing to one another when the woman got a good look at him. Before the elf could react, her eyes became big and scared, and her hands darted into her pocket. Danthias had only a moment to look perplexed before she produced a slender, metal cylinder, pointed it at him, and pressed the tip of it. A vaporous liquid mist assaulted Dan’s eyes and immediately the elf began to scream in agony.
The liquid caused his eyes to burn and water viciously to the point of being painful. The scent of whatever was in the liquid choked off his throat and his nose. He could not breathe and found himself gasping in torment, running as fast as he could into a dark alleyway, while the little old lady hobbled away. He continued to cough, unable to make the horrid stuff go away. Then, suddenly, the rain that had threatened to come all along finally started, a fitful drip that soon rose to a raging downpour. While the rain was far from clean, at least it covered up more of that pervading stench and Dan was able to rinse the foul spray from his face, raising his head to the rain and letting it all wash away.
For a few moments, he just stood there like that, unsure what to do. Then, he felt something heavy and warm drop around his shoulders. Reacting out of fear, Dan whirled around, ready to fight, only to see a homeless beggar holding up his hands in the universal “I’m harmless” sign. He appeared to have no weapon and his eyes radiated only casual concern underneath the permanent tinge of alcohol. The man carried a bottle wrapped in a paper bag in his hand and tentatively offered it to Danthias. The elf was wary at first but slowly took the battered thing and took a sip of the contents. It tasted like battery acid urinated out of a yak’s bladder but it was alcohol and it soothed his system. With a smile of appreciation and a grimace at the taste, the elf handed the human back his brew. While it was foul stuff, this man had done the kindest thing anyone had in this place and the elf was not about to forget it.
Reaching into his pockets, Dan produced a single gold piece and shoved it in his hand, smiling. If nothing else, the elf figured it would be enough to replace the coat he was wearing. The man smiled at Danthias, looked at the gold stunned, and stumbled off into the distance, becoming nothing but a part of the mist that was fast rising from the streets. The moon elf watched him until he was completely gone and then felt something poking out of the front pocket of the jacket. Reaching into it, he found a pair of cheap battered up sunglasses. They were not much but they would cut down on the glare from all the infernal street lights and hide the unusual color of his eyes from the casual observer.
Wandering down the nearly deserted alleyway, Dan came into an open area and spotted a large group of people not unlike the drunk beggar he had just met several moments ago. They were all dressed in the tattered remains of what must have originally been nice clothes, much like the tan suede trench Danthias was wearing. The men, women, and children of this alley huddled around several metal containers, from which blazed many small fires, the only source of warmth in the whole street. The weather, now that the sun had begun to set, was enjoying reminding everyone that winter was still not quite over and Danthias was starting to feel chilly.
Casually and cautiously, the elf wandered over to where a small girl and a teenage boy stood before one of the larger fires. As he approached, they moved aside just a little, making room for him unconsciously without even looking at him. Stunned but delighted at the unspoken invite, Dan joined them, holding his hands out towards the fire and letting the warmth seep into his fingertips. No words were spoken. Only companionable silence reigned over the humble gathering and Danthias found it was one of the homiest feelings he had had in a while.
Before he could contemplate what a sad thought that truly was, a loud noise suddenly interrupted the lull of the evening. The sound blared and cut through any attempt at concentration and the elf held his ears for a moment in pain. The people around him gasped in fear and scattered to the winds, running every which direction. The elf could see flashes of red and blue lights in the distance and he wondered what in the Nine Hells was going on. Then several figures appeared in the alleyway. They were all young, not one of them over twenty-one, and they were all dressed in leather, ripped up shirts, and combat boots. Every single one of them was also armed, be it a length of wood, chain, or knife. They were the same punks that Danthias had stopped from robbing the pretty lady in red and there were more of them this time. The elf got his first good look at them, as they sauntered into the light of the barrel fires. Dan knew gangs when he saw them and groaned, cursing his rotten luck. Why did this always have to happen to him?
The thugs glanced around them warily, their eyes eventually coming to rest on Dan. The elf didn't need his common sense to tell him that these men were spoiling for a fight and he knew how dangerous even a common thug could be. They smelled of pent up aggression, sexual frustration, and the need for violence. Each one was leaking dominance in one form or another but Dan was not impressed. He was far more dominant than any of these punks ever would be. Cracking his knuckles, the elf thought that perhaps it was time he showed them. The men recognized Dan and were talking amongst themselves and grinning, as they sized the elf up. Danthias was tall and fairly well built for an elf but, for a human, he was only slightly more muscular and average height at best. The thugs obviously thought they stood a chance against him because, before Danthias had the opportunity to reach for a weapon, they rushed him.
Dan immediately dropped into a low crouch as the first one came at him. Brass knuckles flashed in the light but the elf didn't let that bother him. Dan allowed the man to get just close enough to swing and waited until the man was fully committed to the movement. Just as the punch was about to connect, the elf danced gracefully to the side. He took hold of the man’s extended arm and brought his other arm down. Dan could hear the satisfying crunch as his elbow made short work of the over-extended bones. The man’s arm dropped to his side, useless, and he screamed a curse, holding the broken limb.
Dan had no time for cool satisfaction. The other four men were on him, knocking him to the ground. The elf bucked, kicked, and struggled but the thugs managed to pin him, as they beat him. At one point, Dan heard the clatter of metal, a knife, hitting the ground. A growl started in Danthias’s throat, nothing more than a low, dangerous rumble, but he could feel the anger rising within him. He had had enough. Dan’s eyes, for a moment, were not the eyes of any mortal but those of a large, predatory cat and he was pissed. Danthias shoved up hard and scattered all four men from his body in one fluid motion, one gigantic burst of strength that left them flying. Each landed hard, hitting cement. While no bones were broken, the impact startled the thugs and left them reeling. They had not expected such strength from what had appeared to be a harmless mutant.
Dan just stood there as the men slowly pulled themselves to their feet. Their weapons lay scattered around them, like discarded toys, dropped in the intensity of the brawl. The elf did not go for any of his weapons. The thugs were scared now and they would be stupid. Danthias could feel the strength within him rising to the surface and knew he would not need weapons to deal with these imbeciles. Silver cat’s eyes stared out from where Dan’s had once been. He growled at them and they trembled. Yes, these men would fall easily. Dan just stood his ground, waiting for them to make their move. One of the men, confident in his stance, pulled out a strange metal contraption and pointed it at him. With no more than a callous sneer, he pulled a trigger and a loud noise assaulted Dan’s ears.
The elf moved quickly. He had very little experience with firearms but he thought this might be a highly advanced pistol. Dan had seen the damage those could inflict and a small pinprick of worry penetrated his shield of confidence. Unfortunately, that momentary worry threw his timing off. Though Dan moved fast enough to avoid a killing blow, something sharp, hot, round, and metal bounced off his left shoulder. Pain lanced immediately throughout his entire arm and he could smell the blood splattering both his clothes and the ground. Danthias looked up at the assailants, his eyes shining in the dark, like two fiery points of molten silver, and a low growl started in his throat, this time full out. The edges of his mouth came up, baring teeth as sharp as any predator's. He rubbed his arm where he had been shot, glad when he felt the wound beginning to close. It was time these punks learned what happened when you messed with the Shadow Stalker.
The thugs came in slowly at first, wary of this strange man. They could hear the snarls coming from him and, in the pale moonlight, they saw the fangs protruding from his mouth, as he gave them a sneer that quickly turned into a predatory smile. Backlit against the moonlight, he was otherworldly with all that pale skin, and those shining silver eyes. The look on his face was pure murder. Then, they noticed the gaping hole in his shoulder. A bullet wound that should have taken weeks to heal began to seal, skin and tissue knitting back together in a matter of moments right before their horrified eyes. It was like watching slow motion photography. One minute he was wounded and the next, there was only a raw, angry line and some blood where a hole had just been. Terror curdled every bone in their bodies and they knew they could not let this man live. He was worse than some freak mutant. He was a monster and they were ready to eradicate him.
They were about to rush him a second time when the sirens in the distance grew louder. The blue and red flashing lights covered the alleyway and the young men gasped, as they saw the uniformed policemen that had been chasing them rush into the area. Instantly, their young legs took them far and wide as they scattered like jackrabbits.
Danthias’s hands immediately went to his ears. The sounds coming from the infernal black and white gnomish death machines were killing his head but he forced himself to concentrate and pulled himself out of the hunch that he had instinctively gone into. His whole body ached to curl back up in pain but he did not. The men in blue were approaching him warily, one of them slowly pulling out a weapon not unlike the one that had just wounded him. Rather than stay and get shot a second time, Dan found his body in motion almost before his thought to move was completed.
The policemen just stared in shock. The last thing they had expected to find out here was some weirdo in black and silver Renaissance Festival clothes with eyes like a cat. They moved to intercept him and he was suddenly just gone. Faster than anything they had ever seen, he leapt straight up, vaulting the brick wall that edged the alleyway, landing somewhere on the other side. The police officers were contemplating giving chase and then they spotted the thugs running towards the next street and raced after them. Better to be chasing after normal, human thugs than a creature that looked like a man but jumped like an animal.
Danthias’s body soared gracefully over the seven-foot high brick wall and landed easily on the other side in a simple crouch. Rather than try to hide, he simply went into autopilot, letting his primal instincts take over. He looked ahead and saw a building before him, lit with bright lights. More of the faerie fire cast through colored glass caught Dan’s eye and, as he had never seen neon signs before and could not read what the sign was saying, he approached the building cautiously. He could smell food, drink, and a small amount of humans inside the place. Something about it seemed friendly and nonthreatening, protective, which was more than he could say for the alleys behind him. Stopping only long enough to make certain that he was not observed, the elf made his way quickly across the street and into the relative safety of the building, hoping he could find some refuge. Unknownst to him, dark shadows detached themselves from nearby buildings, all heading towards the same place, their faces contorted in anger. They were going to get him and they were going to do it now.
Danthias was reaching his hand towards the door that would lead him into the strange establishment. His fingers had not even begun to close around the handle. Suddenly, he felt sharp stabbing pains coming from every direction at once, jamming into his ribs, his midsection, his arms, and his back. Immediately, the elf reacted, growling, as he was suddenly slammed to the ground by the weight of his attackers. He could feel fists, feet, knives, and blunt objects assaulting his body. Someone kicked him hard enough to break at least two ribs and a fist pelted his face hard enough that Dan was worried his entire facial bone structure would collapse. It certainly felt that way from all the pain. He was bleeding and he could feel the thick, wet stuff cascading down his side, far too much of it for Dan’s liking. One of the knives felt like it may have scraped a lung or a kidney. The elf was in far too much pain to figure out which. One of his knee caps was nearly shattered from one of the blunt metal objects being swung at him and he knew the cut above his eye felt like it was going to need a whole bucket full of stitches. Danthias could hear the men screaming at him in their ugly language, calling him names, and the elf just laid there in an effort not to cry or pass out.
This was, without a doubt, the worst day of his entire life. The world was spinning in front of his eyes and Dan could feel his natural healing abilities trying to kick in...and moving sluggishly at best. Roaring in outrage and frustration, Dan moved like a man possessed. He punched up hard, sending one of his attackers flying. The hit connected solidly with the thug's jaw and Dan took satisfaction in the pain he had caused the imbecile. If he was going to die here, dammit, at least two of them were going with him. Not that he could tell how many of them there were with how blurred his vision was becoming. Dan reached for his next opponent, gripping him by the arm he knew was broken, and twisted. The man screamed in pain. With super-human strength, Dan threw him high into the air, finally lurching himself free of the man’s friends and struggling to his feet.
Immediately, the world spun and Dan wished he hadn't done that. He still could not tell how many men there were with how dark it was and how incoherent he was becoming. This was not good. The other three attackers seemed uncertain they wanted to continue but Danthias did not give them the option of running away. He came at them suddenly, fists and feet flying, using what strength he had to make one last ditch effort to fight them. One of the men sneered and casually pulled out the slender metal firearm and aimed it at Danthias. The elf tried to dodge but his reflexes were off. The bullet caught him square in the stomach and the world spun head over heels. Dan’s leap halted midair, turning into a final plunge to the pavement. The echo of the bullet’s release rang hard in Dan’s ears. The elf lay there, still as death. His last conscious thought was of home and then he was only vaguely aware of running feet, as the thugs disappeared into the night and blackness finally claimed him.

2.

Alexandra Lee’s clear alto/tenor rang out, loudly amplified by the large speakers on either side of the stage. Charlie’s Nightclub was hopping, propelled on by the sounds of its brightest stars, Alexandra’s band, the rock band known as the Sirens. Al or Alex, as her friends called her, was front and center, carrying both lead guitar and lead vocals on this number. It was one of her favorites, “Dark Desire,” about a woman attracted to a man who was obviously the worst kind of trouble.
“Story of my life,” Al thought, not surprised that it had been the easiest of the ten or so songs she had written for the band.
Strumming one of her pride and joys, a midnight blue Fender Stratocaster painted with golden colored stars, Al moved into the final chords of the song with wild abandon. The audience exploded with applause, as the song finished and the Sirens took their bows. For a moment, it was total euphoria and Alex was ready to move on to the last song of the set. Then, she heard a gunshot and sirens. The entire mood of the place shattered around Alex, reality crashing in. Her eyes met those of Sonny LaPaglia, the bouncer on duty, and Charlie Hutton, the owner, who was tending bar and cleaning glasses. Charlie nodded once and that was all it took. The Sirens were in motion. Sonny may have been the muscle and the bouncer but the Sirens were the real security at Charlie’s. Instruments forgotten, Alex and the rest of the band moved with a single, fluid purpose. They were down off the stage and heading towards the door before the stunned patrons had even realized what happened.
A little smile lit Alex’s face, a smirk that was barely there, the left side of her mouth quirking up slightly. Turning back towards her fellow Sirens, the young woman felt her excitement take over, as she whispered, just loud enough for the other women to hear,
“It’s show time, girls.”
Charlie, sensing the problem, was onstage immediately, calming those who had come to see the concert, and promised free drink coupons to amend for the slightly early termination of the festivities. While this got quite a grumble from some people, Charlie did everything he could to get the patrons seated, calmed, and out of the way. He knew instinctively how close those gunshots had been to his door and wanted to be ready for the worst. He only prayed the people in the bar would have the brains to stay out of the way of the cops.
Alex carefully opened the door, honed instincts urging caution taking over, and peered out. At first she saw nothing, then, she nearly tripped over the prone figure of a young man. He was somewhere in his early twenties and was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous man Alexandra had ever seen. Streetlights played along the pavement, catching the edge of the young man’s skin. At first, Alex thought her eyes were deceiving her, but upon closer inspection, she could see that his skin was pale, glowing. It was silver, like white gold melted down and formed into flesh as soft as the petals of a rare flower. His hair was silver too. Not the fake silver that hair can turn with age but a richer, brighter shade, almost like moonlight or platinum. It had a bluish tint and traveled down as long as her own, all the way to his knees in a complicated set of braids. His face was so gentle, so open, and so perfectly handsome that Alex found herself catching her breath. He was beautiful, a real pretty boy, in all the best ways. Full, soft lips, long gentle lashes, and delicate cheekbones, and a very gently rounded face. His body, what she could see of it, was rock hard with muscle but soft in appearance and his shoulders were nice and broad. Even his Adam’s apple was charming!
Alex shook herself hard, having to forcibly bring herself back to reality. She leaned down and quickly checked for the mystery man’s vitals. They were weak, however, he had been beaten so severely it was a wonder he was alive at all. A myriad of knife wounds, some of which were deep enough to need serious stitches, dotted his body on practically all sides and there was a hole near his stomach. It was difficult to tell how deep the bullet had penetrated because of all the blood. One of the larger bruises on the man’s body, an ugly purple blotch, that had swelled nearly half of the man’s normally handsome face, happened to catch her eye. As Alex watched, the thing began to slowly recede and shrink, leaving little trace behind of having been there at all. The woman gasped, as shock and realization hit her. The other Sirens had just reached the door and Alex turned to them.
“He’s a lycanthrope,” she said, her sexy alto almost devoid of its usual honey and molasses southern accent, “Help me get ‘em inside an’ tell Charlie t’call O’Brian and Landen stat.”
Charlie did not even say a word when the girls brought the unconscious young man in. All he needed was to see the looks on their faces. With a quick glance to be certain no one had seen the girls come in, he jerked his head wordlessly towards the stairway that lead to the upstairs room and reached for the phone.