Malachi lets out an evil laugh that freezes me to the core, and in that moment, I realize we’re defeated.
“And as for you. There’s only one way to deal with a troublemaker like you,” Malachi smirks, waving his hand toward Connor.
My brother screams, and I’m helpless in my glass cage as I watch his bones crack and reshape. His feet turn to hooves, great antlers grow out of his head, and fur covers his body. Malachi has turned him into a stag.
Malachi continues, “We’ll be requiring a wedding breakfast in twelve months time. While I fuck my new wife and take all the power her virginity can give me, I’ll be feasting on her brother.”
Connor, now in deer form, turns and looks at me once before trotting out of the house, leaving me alone in my prison to contemplate my future.
Chapter Two
Griffon Taylor
One year later
The heavy rock music of Black Sabbath blasts out from the stereo of my black McLaren 5705 Coupe. Over the last few days, I’ve been traveling from San Francisco to Boston for a job. It’s a long drive, but you won’t get me on a plane. I’d much rather pound the kilometers by road than in the air, flying defies all logic. Gravity says I should have both my feet on the ground, and I plan on keeping them there. My boss doesn’t mind. It’s one of the first things he learned about me when he hired me. If I can do my work without getting on a plane, I will. He’s got other men to do jobs that require traveling in a tin can for hours.
I’m an elite assassin for the San Francisco Reapers run by the notorious Dominic Cooper—he’s the godfather of all things going on in the Golden Gate city. Here in America, I’m one of the best there is. Having been trained and well prepared for my role, I now devote my life to the Reapers, even though I know if I’m caught, I’d be on my own. It’s the way this life goes. So far, I’ve been lucky. I’m currently on my way to Boston for a job. A hit on a guy accused of playing with kids. It’s something I despise and I’ll ensure he’s harshly punished for it. He’s going to suffer by the time I’ve finished with him.
The song changes to Metallica’s ‘Creeping Death’, and I turn the stereo even louder. My love for old school rock comes from a mother who brought me up in the late eighties/early nineties, listening to this stuff. It definitely keeps you awake on a long road trip.
The song cuts out, and my Bluetooth rings with an incoming call. I glance over at the dash and see it’s Dominic.
“Hello,” I answer by pressing the button on the steering wheel.
“Any news on your ETA yet?” he asks his tone stern and demanding
I look at the distance left on my GPS.
“Should be another three hours.”
“I wish you’d fly. If this fucker gets away, I won’t be impressed.”
“Don’t worry, boss. I’ll track him down if he attempts to disappear.”
“Just get it done, Griffon, and in the most painful way possible. I know you love knives—so use them. I’ve got another job for you straight after.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I hang up.
My bladder tells me I need a leak. I knew I shouldn’t have had two coffees earlier. This area is notoriously crap for rest stops. All around me are trees, for as far as the eye can see. Fuck it! I pull the car over to the side of the road. It’s quiet, so I should be able to get away with having a quick piss in the bushes.
I switch the engine off and climb out of the car. It’s cold, and there are heavy clouds overhead, threatening snow. My legs are aching, so I do a couple of stretches. I probably should get a more sensible vehicle. Being over six foot four tall means I’m cramped in my current sports car—my height is another reason I don’t fly.
I pull my aviators off my eyes and throw them onto the driver’s seat of my car. Then, clicking the button on the key fob, I lock the vehicle. I’m not going to take any chances. As well as several guns, I’ve also got an assortment of knives in the trunk. I’m not about to risk having them stolen even out here in the middle of nowhere. If the cops pull me over, Dominic has provided me with proof I’m permitted to travel with my extensive arsenal. It was particularly handy when I got a ticket for speeding in Iowa. The cops’ faces were hilarious when they saw my weapons’ collection, but having checked my paperwork and called Dominic, I was free to go once the ticket was issued.
I head into the trees, colorful leaves crushing under my feet. When I reach a secluded spot, I unfasten my designer jeans. I’m only wearing a black t-shirt on top, which I’m now realizing is a mistake because it’s close to Christmas, and there’s a distinct icy chill in the air. Reaching into my pants, I pull my dick out and proceed to relieve my bladder on the mossy forest floor. It feels good, and I shut my eyes to enjoy the moment.
Suddenly, a crack of a twig comes from behind me. I spin around, dick still in hand, but I’m ready to attack. A massive stag stands before me, its dark eyes staring intently at me. I know they can be temperamental beasts. They aren’t as dangerous as a wild cat or a bear, but if he charges me, his antlers could tear through my flesh. I haven’t got a knife with me, but I don’t need one. Releasing my dick, I open my palm and form an energy ball in it. I’m not only an assassin but also part witch, on my mother’s side, although I prefer to use knives rather than spells. It’s more painful when you peel skin from a body with a blade.
All the Reapers have something magical about them. I’m one of two witches. We also have a lion shifter, a wolf shifter, and a vampire who doesn’t enjoy human blood unless it belongs to a pedophile—even then, it’s not to drink but to color the floor red as the perpetrator dies. Dominic, I swear, is the devil himself. His powers are incredible. I’ve never seen anything like him before.
At the sight of my energy ball, I’m certain I see the stag’s eyes go wide with shock. He snorts and then scrapes his hooves on the ground. It seems he’s about to charge, but he doesn’t. Instead, he comes slowly toward me, sniffing the air as he approaches.
“Are you a shifter?” I ask but don’t get any response. “Change back to human if you are. I warn you I will throw this if you try to attack me.” I hold the energy ball up higher.
The stag is directly in front of me now, but something tells me not to throw the ball. When he lowers his head to me as a sign of submission, I realize he’s been assessing me the entire time and knows I won’t hurt him unless he charges at me. “Can’t you change?” I ask.
He shakes his head ‘no’.
I extinguish the energy ball and reach out to touch the stag’s coat. He allows me to stroke him. The magnificent creature’s aura is all wrong. He’s not a deer by nature. His soul is completely human.
“Have you been placed under a curse?”
This time his head nods to indicate ‘yes’.
He looks behind him, deeper into the woods, then he looks back to me. His brown eyes are filled with sorrow, almost pleading with me.
“Do you want me to follow you?”
Another positive nod.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have time. I’ve got to get back on the road.”