Dark Fates (A Paranormal Anthology)(116)

Jubilee blinked. Her life was in his hands. That’s what he’d said. Because she’d seen him kill those two men. The one man’s face had been ripped and torn. He’d snapped the second man’s neck with one hand. Impossible, her mind protested, but she’d seen it. Impossible as it might seem, she knew it had happened. Fox continued speaking, but his words bled together in a great hum of noise in her ears. She knew he believed; she saw it in his eyes and his manner.

But what was he saying?

“So, the choice, my dearest Jubilee, must be yours. No one can be forced. The magic of the bond will not allow it.” He waited, and she kept staring at him. She opened her mouth three times to speak and then shut it abruptly.

It was insane. All of it, utterly insane. He held up the key with two fingers and pressed it to her lips. The charming gesture did little to alleviate her concern for his mental health.

“Jubilee?”

“I say it’s a good thing you’re pretty. Because you’re bat-crap crazy,” she said. It was the best she could manage. “I’m not going to tell anyone about those men. You saved my life, and that’s enough for me. I didn’t need the fairy tale.” With trembling hands, she put the teacup aside. “I want to go home now.”

His expression tightened, and darkness shuttered his eyes. She didn’t have to know him well to read the anger in the compressed line of his lips.

“Did you not hear a word I said?”

“I heard you, and you’re nuts.” She shoved the blanket back and swung her legs out of the bed. It was long past time to go, and, even if the peculiar faith her gut had in him hadn’t wavered one iota through his mad story, she had to question whether her instincts were firing on all cylinders.

“You don’t believe me.”

“No. I don’t. There are no such things as shifters, much less angels and demons and a war and—”

The world exploded in a shower of sparkles, and all the oxygen seemed to whoosh out of the room and then back again. Where Fox had been sitting, now a red fox stood. The animal was huge and beautiful.

“Oh. My. God.”

“God is not the entity you should invoke,” a new voice declared, and it was so cold and unfeeling the frost of it chilled her to the marrow of her bones. The fox whirled, and a growl rumbled from his throat as he took a position between her and the ice-blond figure glaring at them. “I warned you, Fox.”

Oh. This must be what shit hitting the fan looks like.





Chapter Four


Cursing Enoch and himself in the same breath, Fox faced off against the nephilim. In no way was he prepared for this battle with his oldest friend.

I warned you. Enoch repeated, the power of his voice crashing into Fox’s mind.

It hasn’t been two days. You granted me the time to deal with this. Though he longed to check on Jubilee, Fox didn’t dare take his gaze off Enoch. The nephilim was one of, if not the most powerful of the Watchers.

The same way you and Kincaid brought Sage into the circle, and, through the three of you, the Watchers were born.

Maybe it had been too long since Enoch had tasted the sweet hint of change.

Ignoring him, Enoch switched his attention to Jubilee. His muscles bunching together, Fox prepared to leap. He could at least buy her the time to escape. The little vixen had been spry enough to make it downstairs before. She had good survival instincts. Enoch swept forward, and Fox struck. The nephilim flung him away, and Fox slammed into the closet doors. The wood buckled and splintered. Undeterred, he rebounded and charged the nephilim again.

Instead of casting him away, Enoch seized him by his throat. Fox shifted back to his human form. Wrapping his powerful arms around Enoch’s, he twisted and managed to flip the nephilim. It was Enoch’s turn to go flying.

Landing on his feet, the nephilim spun, and a sword appeared in his hands. Everything about his demeanor altered. The shift was subtle, but there was no mistaking the power emanating from the being. A flash of silver filled the air behind Enoch as the wings he often hid appeared, and his eyes blazed blue.

“Enough, Fox. You will stand down.” The order reverberated through the blood bond and echoed against Fox's soul. He fought the need to go to his knees and bow his head. The blood bond meant that battle between him and Enoch should be anathema. The thought crystallized through him. He shouldn’t have been able to hit Enoch in the first place.

“No.” Fox wasn’t sure who was more shocked by his denial, himself or the nephilim. “You cannot hurt her.” Not would not, will not, or any variation on that, but cannot. Fox refused to give this ground; he’d served Enoch for two centuries, battled by his side, and bled for him. He’d sacrificed everything for the man who’d plucked him from the refuse of his miserable life as a small boy, raised him as his own, and then, on his twenty-fifth human birthday, given him the choice to join them in their war.

Fox had never looked away from that honor, that privilege. Until now. Until her. The full force of Enoch’s will crashed into Fox’s, and the muscles along Fox’s back began to pull and scream in protest as he fought to keep his legs steady. He would not bow.

“Hey, Jackass.” Jubilee’s voice cut through the din like a clarion trumpet, and a crash sounded as a teacup shattered against Enoch’s chest. The dark liquid soaked into his silk shirt and began to spread like a rust stain. “Back off.”