Home > Dawn till Dusk(2)

Dawn till Dusk(2)
Author: Becky Moynihan

The impact almost caved in my bones and crushed my heart. I staggered but focused on my defense, ignoring the fire surging through my chest. The fight had just begun. I wouldn’t black out now. My body yearned to make contact with his, brutally, savagely. No mercy. Never mercy. None of them deserved mercy.

Not after the way they had pinned her down and—

Wolf Man struck at my face, but I blocked—kept my arms up, chin tucked close to my shoulder, waiting. My feet danced, taunting him. No one could dance quite like Fae-kind. I swiveled around the guy, sneaking in jabs from behind, from the sides. He threw his head back and bellowed as I made contact with the same spot on his ribs for the third time. A dusky bruise formed on his deeply tanned skin.

“You’re slow,” I deadpanned, avoiding another killer swing. Given the opportunity, one of those hits would knock me out cold. And maybe I would never get up again. But wasn’t that what I wanted?

“Hold still and fight me, you prancing pony,” he snarled and fell for my fake jab, leaving his ribs unprotected once more. What was with this guy? Dumb as toe jam. I rammed a fist into that dark purple spot, the impact splitting the skin at my knuckles. Sharp pain sped up my arm, sending my pulse into overdrive.

Finally.

After months of losing, I’d finally hit my stride. I could win this match now that my veins were engorged with the sweet thrill of revenge. No one could stop me, not when I felt like this. Invincible. Powerful. Stronger than a Shapeshifter.

“Too bad you’re not allowed to show me the real you,” I taunted. Baited him. “Your human form is weak and pathetic.” He lunged and managed to snag a handful of shirt. The linen fabric tore, exposing a section of my torso and back. My scars. Pure rage fueled my next move as I whirled and leapt, my bare heel pounding his jaw.

He roared. Several shifters outside the cage roared back. Good. Communicate. Connect to your animal. Change. Change! Black fur sprouted on his arms.

“No abilities,” Ferret Man warned. But his words had no impact on the slowly-morphing beast man. Shifter’s strength lay in their animal forms, but therein lay their weakness. Sometimes they fell prey to their animalistic instincts, human rationalism but an annoying buzz in their furry ears.

I was counting on that tonight.

“Come out and play, little pup.” I crooked a finger at the now half man, half wolf. The fact that he hadn’t fully shifted was kind of impressive. At least he was smart enough to resist the urge. He was hideously ugly in this half form, though, large canines pushing past thinning human lips. His comrades shouted at him, demanding he change back, but he was too far gone.

With a wicked grin, I launched myself at him.

His claws lashed out and raked across my chest. That didn’t stop me. Ferret Man demanded we seperate. The match was over. Wolf Man didn’t hear him and I pretended not to either. The win wasn’t the prize, this was: fighting a fully-formed shifter.

“Show me what you got,” I snarled, all bravado stripped away. I had what I wanted, what I needed, and I wasn’t going to waste this ripe opportunity. The human part of the man disappeared completely—only a large black wolf remained. The creature growled, baring massive teeth. I growled, too. “Fight me!”

And then hands were suddenly on my biceps, holding me back. No. No! I struggled, shaggy hair slapping my cheeks as I twisted out of their grasp. But my moment was gone. Stolen from me yet again. Wolf Man was already more human than animal as his comrades coaxed the beast into his tattooed skin cage.

My gut spasmed as the hair receded. Disgusting.

“Wolf Man forfeits, you win. Get outta here before we string you up, Fae.” A wad of cash was shoved against my chest, scratching my new wounds. I barely felt the pain. I only wanted my fight, but the night was ending all too soon and I wasn’t satiated. When I didn’t leave, the hand on my chest pressed harder. “Don’t make me call the Night Enforcer again. Didn’t she threaten to tear your throat out last time?”

“I’m not afraid of her.” I spat on the ground near the bouncer’s shoe and, surprisingly, he didn’t deck me.

“You should be,” he continued, forcing me out of the cage. “Haven’t you seen her lion?”

I hadn’t. All I’d seen was a tiny girl with a strong voice that couldn’t disguise her short stature. With a dismissive wave, I balled the money in my fist and pushed past the hovering crowd, making for the exit.

This whole evening had been a colossal disappointment.

I charged through the back door, not caring that the metal banged off the stairwell’s cement wall. My bare feet took the stairs two at a time, and a moment later, I burst free of the accursed underground. The damp night air sent a chill racing over my sweaty skin. Maybe I’d jog back to my apartment, release some of the excess fire in my veins before taking a cold shower.

The dank alleyway appeared deserted, spattered with rusted garbage cans and bits of trash no one ever picked up. On either side of me, the dull brick buildings covered in garish graffiti cast long shadows that hid rats and who knew what else. As my sharp Fae ears picked up a slight shuffling noise a few yards behind me, I slowed, making a show of studying a detailed Shapeshifter painting.

The drawing was incredible, really, capturing the almost iridescent quality of pure white wings. Attached to the wings was the hulking body of a—

“Fae trash, what are you doing loitering in shifter territory?” The comment was meant to offend, maybe even confuse, but I knew they had followed me from the underground. Knew that they hated the fact I had walked away with the win. With their betting money.

I turned my back on that terrifying creature painted on the wall, and acted surprised. “Shifter territory? Is that what this rank craphole is?” I scratched my nose with my middle finger. “I should have known better. Even the dingiest part of the Fae slums doesn’t smell this bad.”

I knew how they would react: like hot-headed idiots. All shifters were the same. My blood thrummed once again, excitement a live wire beneath my skin. The odds weren’t great—three on one—but I’d dealt with worse. At least the incessant rage I carried would be depleted tonight. I didn’t know if I’d make my early-morning shift on time, though, not with the world of hurt I’d soon be in.

The largest of the three stepped forward, illuminated by a weak circle of orange light. He was bigger than Wolf Man. “What did you say, filth?”

“I said,” I enunciated slowly, “that your territory smells like a sewer exploding with animal dung. Oh wait, that’s what you are. Animals. Does your kind not use bathrooms? I didn’t realize you were that primitive.”

All three of their switches flipped like clockwork. Too easy. They prowled forward, fur of varying hues rippling along their tattooed forearms. They wouldn’t fully shift, though, I knew that much. In beast form, they couldn’t savor the pain that would soon be inflicted on me. I carefully rolled up the money and, with a smirk, slid the wad into my front pants pocket.

“Come and get me, hairy beasts.” I widened my stance, keeping all three men in sight. One more blink and they were on me. Too many limbs. Too quick. I loosed the fiery rage on them anyway. My knuckles cracked against a nose. In return, a fist rammed into my left eye, swelling the lid shut in seconds.

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