Wingless (The Lia Hunter Chronicles #1)

Life slowly settled back into its normal routine. A week after I woke up in the hospital I finally managed to convince Mallory I was well enough for some light exercise. While Hutch had firmly told me I wasn’t allowed to come back to work for another two weeks, I had no desire to just laze around all day. Instead I worked on rebuilding the strength that had been stolen from my body in the three weeks I’d been sleeping. While I was getting better, there was a weakness to my muscles that still irked me. A weakness that only made the nightmares that visited every night that much more terrifying.

Every night I woke up in a cold sweat, memories of my time spent with Rodrigo mixing with the night my wings were stolen. Fear crushed the air from my lungs, every one of my new scars burning with remembered pain. The first night back from the hospital, Mallory and Hutch heard me scream in my sleep. Rushing in to check on me they made the mistake of touching me while the nightmare still had me in its grip. Reacting on instinct I grabbed my gun and almost shot them both in my nightmare hazed fear. Thankfully the safety was on. Let’s just say, that night sucked.

As soon as Rodrigo Alvarez’s files were sent over, I studied every detail about his life, wondering how I missed it. His story was nothing but ordinary. An orphan at the age of six he bumped around the system, moving from one foster home to the next until he finally turned eighteen. He got a scholarship to NYU and worked two jobs while he completed his degree in accounting. He was a straight A student, never got into trouble, never partied too hard, for all intents and purposes he was hardworking if a little straight laced, good person. After graduating college he quickly secured a job at one of the best accounting firms in the city, his co-workers had nothing but praise for the somewhat shy but kind man. He lived in a small apartment in Manhattan, his super claimed he never had any trouble, he always paid his bills on time. One day Rodrigo decided to grab coffee at a small café near his work where he bumped into Sandy Carlyle, the two instantly hit it off and soon started dating. Two years later Sandy was dead and Rodrigo was the one holding the knife. There wasn’t a shred of evidence of him being related to the purists. Not even an inkling that he’d come into contact with them.

I spent many frustrated hours desperately searching his file for a hint of when he’d been converted. Was it as a child, or did it happen later on in college? How had he been able to hide it so well and if he could, did that mean there were others out there, hidden in plain sight just waiting for orders to attack?

The fact that the purists had also willingly used magic, the very thing they despised was also a bad sign. The game was changing. The purists had altered the rules and the rest of us were left scrambling, trying to adjust to this newest mode of attack. The Bureau had been notified as well as the Jaxai leaders but what could be done except build up our defenses and brace for the next confrontation.

Soon after I had woken up I visited Harry Lumbard’s wife. It was a depressing visit as I apologized for not being able to save her husband. She thanked me for the apology, reassuring me it wasn’t my fault and then offered me some tea, making me feel like even more of a jerk for failing her. I visited Quinn as well and his heartfelt thanks for rescuing his daughter managed to relieve some of the darkness and guilt plaguing me. It didn’t balance out, in the end, I doubted it ever would but I would have to learn to live with it and keep on going. Because, as long as I had the chance to save another life, I would try. There was just no other option.

In the mornings I took to running, loving the way I could lose myself in the beat of my feet on the pavement, the burn in my lungs. I was just returning back to Mallory and Hutch’s from such a run when I saw the post man standing at the door. Remembering how my last experience with a delivery man ended, I cautiously approached him.

“Hey,” I called out startling him.

He turned around with a questioning smile. “Are you Miss Ophelia Hunter?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got a letter here for you.”

Opening his satchel he pulled out a smooth cream letter that looked expensive. I accepted it carefully, my fingertips brushing over the smooth material. Flipping it over I looked for a return address but the envelope was blank.

“You have a nice day.” The postman said, giving me quick nod before walking off.

“You too.” I murmured distractedly.

Fishing out my spare key, I unlocked the door and slid inside. Walking into the kitchen I fished out a bottle of water from the fridge and drained half of it. Screwing the lid back on, I picked up the letter cursing myself for being scared of a scrap of paper.

Sliding my fingernail underneath the seal I quickly pried it open and pulled out the card.

Agent Hunter,

We hope you will accept this small token of thanks for all the hard work and the sacrifices you have made in working our case. The Seraphim greatly appreciate all you have done for us and hope we will continue to have a great working relationship. We tried to salvage what we could. Let us know if anything is not to your liking.

Thank you,

Leviathan Notos,

Duke of the South Wind.

P.S. I’m still waiting.

My cheeks flared hot as I remembered his determined words from weeks ago.

“Don’t worry, I’m a patient man and you are well worth the wait.”

What have I gotten myself into? Groaning I dropped my head into my hands. The envelope fell to the bench with a heavy clank and I realized there was something still inside. Scooping it up, I plucked out a key chain. My key chain, I realized staring at the various keys hung on the silver hoop. Scrolling through them I realized the only one that was missing was the key to my apartment, in its place was a brand new blue key.

Suddenly the words from the letter clicked as I stared at the blue key.

No way. He wouldn’t.

Not wanting to waste any time testing the theory I rushed from the house jumping in my car, which had been retrieved weeks ago, thankfully unharmed. Pulling into traffic, I made quick time to reach my apartment. As I approached the building I looked up, biting my lip as I looked at the unblemished building front. It looked as good as new.

Pulling into my parking space I rushed up the stairs stopping in front of the door to my apartment. A new door. Shoving that blue key in the lock I bit my lip as it smoothly turned and the door swung open. I got two steps inside before I froze in shock.

Holy shit.

My apartment was completely transformed from the blast zone it had been weeks ago. The walls had been patched up and painted a soothing dark blue. The floorboards were shiny and fresh and the place was decked out with new pricey looking furniture. Stiff with disbelief, I walked through my apartment marveling at the change. Entering the bedroom I paused, staring at the bed in shock. The king sized mattress was covered in fluffy, inviting looking pillows.

How the hell did he know about that?

I was torn between being impressed and being more than a little freaked out when a knock on the front door interrupted my thoughts. Dazedly I walked over to the door, yanking it open. My brain which was still trying to comprehend my apartment had just gotten a makeover screeched to a halt at the sight before me.

A man with dove gray wings stood in front of me. He looked only a couple of years younger than me and although I’d never seen him before he looked strangely familiar. Meeting his hazel eyes, which studied me with a startling intensity I blinked in confusion.

What did a member of the Seraphim court want with me?

“Uh, can I help you?” I asked in confusion.

The Jaxai squared his shoulders, determination firming his lips. “Are you Ophelia Hunter?”

“Yes, and you would be?”

“Emory, my name is Emory,” he replied stiffly, “and I believe I may be your brother.”