Chapter One
There would be bloodshed tonight, of that, Logan McDurin was sure. He just hoped it wasn’t his. Sucking in deep on the cigarette he didn’t like, but needed to mask his scent, he warily eyed the rundown liquor store. Out front, his target a white box-shaped ambulance. Or rather the individual inside the emergency vehicle. A twenty-five year old paramedic who was just about to have his whole reality turned on its ass. It sucked to be that poor sap.
Logan took refuge at the side of an abandoned meth lab. The ground was littered with empty bottles, used condoms and needles. In other words, it was about as far away from the Ritz as you could get. Why he had volunteered for this wild goose chase of a mission he would never know. He must have an undiscovered masochist streak.
Looking up into the sky, his lips formed a silent prayer that he wouldn’t see the dark outlines of the Ravens. Given how shitty this assignment was going, them showing up would be the perfect way to end it. Even through the pitch-black night sky he would still be able to spot them, thanks to his heightened shifter senses. Nothing yet. That didn’t mean the winged bastards weren’t coming though. He had no doubt the Ravens were on their way. The only question was when they would pop up.
The passenger door of the rig opened and a tall man hopped out. Saying something to the driver that Logan didn’t bother to try and overhear, the male slammed the door and started for the store.
He wore dark blue cargo pants and a matching windbreaker that had the words of his ambulance company embossed, in bright yellow print, on the back. A smaller embroidered patch on the breast couldn’t be seen, but Logan knew what it said.
Jacyn.
The paramedic walked with a predator’s gait. Smooth and measured, like a feline. It left no doubt in Logan’s mind that if cornered, Jacyn would be more than capable of fighting his way out. He had brown hair that Logan knew would be a mix of dark and light hues. The man had it styled short, but not enough that when a slight breeze blew past it didn’t mess it up a bit.
As that same small wind blew by Logan, he lifted his face and breathed in. He would be better able to track Jacyn if he had his scent. Instead, he got a whiff of something bad. Acrid. Fetid. All too familiar. “Fuck!” Logan snarled aloud, although there was nobody around to hear.
The all too familiar stench of the Ravens was now thick in the air. Frantic, heart pounding, and adrenaline jacking through his body, he scanned his gaze all over. His stomach dropped when he saw the source.
Sitting in the driver’s seat of the ambulance, wearing the same uniform as Jacyn was a Raven. In human form, he had inky black hair slicked to the side. Even from a distance, Logan saw the all too familiar dark brown, almost black eyes, and pale skin that every Raven had.
Shit that answered his question about when the enemy would be showing up. They were already here. They had been on the scene the entire time and were already closing in on Jacyn, who had no idea what kind of danger was looming. How could he when he had no clue of what or who he really was?
Stepping back further into the shadows of the house, Logan pulled out his cell to make a call. Home base needed to know just how bad things were about to get.
* * * *
Jacyn Adams was just walking under the weak light from the post on the center of the parking lot when he got a funny feeling that someone was watching him. Turning quickly, body tense and fingers going for his handheld radio, all he saw was the deserted street.
Still, the strange, prickly sensation at the back of his neck persisted. Shaking his head, he decided it must be the stress of the job getting to him. There was nobody there but the neighborhood bum, Texas. Sure Tex was stinky, loud and drunk, but unless he tried to get frisky again, he posed no danger to Jacyn. Turning around, Jacyn went into the store. “Hey, Buzzy,” Jacyn called out over the ringing of the bell above the door. The place was so seedy and old it didn’t warrant a more modern electronic one.
“Jacyn.” The middle-aged woman smiled, showing off the gaps left from her two missing front teeth. “I was beginning to think you weren’t working tonight.”
“Where else would I go? You make the best coffee in LA.” Going over to the ancient caffeine machine, he poured a cup and, without adding anything to it, took a sip. A satisfied moan slipped passed his lips. He hadn’t lied when he said she made the best joe in the city. Hell, hers was probably the best brew in all of California.
“You’re just saying that because I don’t charge you.” She chuckled, the sound more rattles than laughter, thanks to her lung disease.
Even if she hadn’t shared her life story with Jacyn, he would have known it had been a hard one. In her forties, she looked much older, her face sallow and lined. Her hair was frizzy and grayer than brown and it looked like it had never been professionally styled. The nails on her hands were thick, cracked and yellowed and there were permanent burn marks on her fingers from the crack pipe. Jacyn really didn’t see all those flaws anymore. Buzzy was his friend and he didn’t have too many of those.