Bound By Fate (Blind Fury #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

M y life was a series of Monday mornings with an occasional Thursday afternoon wedged between them.

Never mind that today was Sunday.

I checked the clock on my phone. If I skipped a shower, I’d only be ten minutes late to work. Judd would complain, but then I’d offer to work the night shift and miraculously, he’d get over it. One of the many reasons he and I made a good team.

My phone suddenly lit up in my hand, and I dropped it like a live grenade. It hit the edge of my nightstand and fell onto the carpet with a thump. With great reluctance, I slid the upper half of my body outside the cocoon of blankets I’d created to retrieve the phone.

Not a regular call. A Code Red at Gwen McCluskey’s.

I wriggled all the way out of the cocoon, falling far short of a butterfly, and rushed to get dressed.

I felt like Batman responding to the Bat signal—if Batman were an assistant security director and Gotham City were a secret retirement village for paranormal beings on an island off the coast of Savannah.

I swapped my T-shirt and sweatshorts for my only slightly classier security uniform, then opened the door to the spare closet.

Weapons weren’t allowed on the island except for those owned and operated by the two-person security team.

I also kept my own stash that nobody knew about, remnants of days gone by that my paranoia wouldn’t let me off-load.

The weapons were locked up and warded, not that anybody was interested in raiding my meager cottage.

If they dared, they’d be intercepted by an ornery stray cat before they reached the front step.

To say Jinx wasn’t a fan of people was an understatement.

I chose the reliable stun gun and shut the door. Knowing Gwen, it was more than likely that she’d lost her keys and managed to lock herself out of her condo, a frequent occurrence on the island.

The black cat was nowhere in sight as I stepped onto the front porch, which wasn’t particularly unusual.

Like me, Jinx walked to the beat of her own drum.

In my greater moments of delusion, I liked to believe the stray cat and I had an understanding, but the more likely reality was that Jinx understood where I kept the bowls of food and water and acted accordingly.

My golf cart was in the shop with a flat tire (see: series of Monday mornings), so I hopped on my bike and pedaled like the wind toward Gwen’s condo. Batman was too cool for a mint green Huffy with a wicker basket, and I wanted to believe I was, too, despite indisputable evidence to the contrary.

I left my bike on the grass outside Gwen’s first-floor condo and retrieved the stun gun from the basket. The older witch wasn’t outside, which meant the emergency was inside.

Color my curiosity piqued.

My knock was answered by two screams. The door was locked, so I did what any assistant director of security would do in a crisis and kicked it down.

My grand entrance was greeted by a headless figure in a black cloak. Under one arm, he’d tucked his decomposing head, because where else would you keep it when it wasn’t attached to your neck? In his other hand was a bone-white whip that lashed out at me, stunning me into movement.

I jumped backward and nearly tripped over the broken door. I was woefully out of practice when it came to surprise attacks.

“Gwen, are you hurt?” I asked.

Two heads popped up from behind a plastic-wrapped sofa. If Gwen was a stickler for a dirt-free home, she was going to be sorely disappointed in about five minutes.

“Not yet,” another woman said, then added, “It’s Lydia. I’m the one who sent you the Code Red.”

I dodged another strike by the headless intruder. The bony whip hit the wall. Pieces of plaster drifted to the floor.

“I have questions!” I shouted.

“I’m sure you do,” Lydia replied, “but would you mind if we answer them later?”

The creature twirled the whip like a lasso, preparing for another attack. This time I was ready. As the whip streaked toward me, I grabbed the end with both hands. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the weapon wasn’t fashioned out of random bones—it was made out of a human spine.

Delightful.

I gave the weapon a hard yank and pulled its owner toward me. “Care to dance, pretty boy? ”

I shocked him with the stun gun, causing him to drop his rancid head. It rolled across the floor, leaving a trail of sludge and goop in its wake.

Oops. Sorry, Gwen.

“You cannot kill me,” the intruder rasped. He glided toward the escaped head and scooped it back up and into the safety of his cloaked armpit.

“I’m happy to try.” If I’d known the nature of the Code Red, I would’ve brought a different weapon. My stun gun wouldn’t be much use against this opponent.

The intruder punted his noggin at me. Two eyes burned with hellfire as the head soared my way. I picked up a floor lamp and swung it, hitting the skull with a loud crack. A pathetic moan ensued as the head landed on the floor with a heavy thud.

Behind the sofa, the women shrieked.

The body stalked toward me with angry, jerking movements.

I glanced at the kitchen counter, looking for anything I could wield as a weapon.

I spotted the Frontier blade immediately.

Hard not to recognize the most popular throwaway knife in the country.

Like my cousin Sheryl, the paring knife was cheap, surprisingly strong, and available at Walmart.

Surprisingly strong would do in a pinch.

I lunged for the knife as the creature’s whip caught my cheek. My face stung as blood seeped from the wound. I whipped toward him and jammed the blade into his side.

“I will take your soul.” He sounded like his vocal tuner had been set to Darth Vader mode.

“Wouldn’t you rather have one that’s only gently used? Mine’s been through it.”

I pulled out the blade and somersaulted across the floor to put distance between us.

Bone whip. Headless. Here for a soul. I should’ve realized the identity of my opponent from the start. This was a dullahan, also known as a harbinger of death. The spine whip had been a dead giveaway, no pun intended. If he speaks your name, I’ve got bad news for you: you’ve been marked for death.

“We need a gold coin!” I yelled, as the dullahan spun to face me.

Lydia’s eyes peered at me over the top of the sofa. “We can pay him to leave? Why didn’t you say so?”

The dullahan stalked toward me.

“He doesn’t take Venmo. Gold coins only.”

Lydia opened her purse on the edge of the sofa and began digging through the contents. “Do we even use gold coins these days?”

I gripped the knife as the creature advanced.

“You cannot kill me,” he rasped again. “Submit.”

Don’t say a name. Don’t say a name.

“I have a Hershey’s Kiss in gold foil,” Gwen piped up, waving the small piece of chocolate in the air triumphantly.

I slashed at the dullahan, and he responded with another lash of his whip. “Any gold jewelry?”

“No. I only wear silver,” Lydia said. “One bad date with a werewolf and I never left the house without silver again.”

Gwen didn’t have jewelry. She’d dispensed with all her valuables before she moved to Evermore. All except?—

“Gwen!” I tried to catch the elderly witch’s eyes, but it wasn’t easy while I was also dodging the end of a bone whip. “Your commemorative coin collection. Are any of them gold?”

I had close, personal knowledge of the coin collection because Gwen nearly set her kitchen on fire last year trying to melt the coins in a pot on her stovetop. That was when Dr. Adam finally diagnosed the onset of dementia.

Gwen gave me a blank look. “I don’t remember.”

“I’ll check.” Lydia raced to the bedroom.

I ducked beneath the dullahan’s raised arm and popped up behind him. He responded with a backward kick that launched me straight into the kitchen counter. I winced as my shoulder hit the corner. That would leave a nasty bruise. The Frontier knife slid across the floor, out of my reach.

The dullahan towered over me. “Maya,” he rasped.

“Seriously?” Great. Now I was condemned to death. This was not the way I’d intended to start my day.

Lydia ran into the living room, waving a triumphant arm in the air. “I found a Gold Maple Leaf. Catch.”

“No, don’t throw it to me.” The dullahan had said my name, which meant the gold coin wouldn’t work if I handled it.

Lydia glanced at the unwanted visitor, uncertain. “Do I put it in his cloak pocket?”

“Chuck it at him! Quick!” The dullahan’s hands reached for me. “Now would be good, Lydia,” I croaked.

The coin arced through the air beside us, bypassing the body on the verge of killing me. I strained to see the coin’s landing place—and watched it roll directly into the creature’s gaping, rotten mouth. Score!

The grabby hands dissipated, along with the rest of the body. The head shrank like a deflated balloon until it popped, leaving a cloud of gray dust behind. I sucked in an oversized gulp of oxygen.

Lydia leaned over the top of the sofa, her mouth agape. “I wish I was that lucky in bowling. ”

I dusted off the dullahan debris. “Sorry about the coin, Gwen.”

“What coin?”

“Is he dead?” Lydia asked.

“No, the coin sends him back to his realm.”

“Remind me never to visit there. What was that?”

“A dullahan.”

“I heard him say your name, dear,” Gwen said. “Does he know you?”

“He does now.” A problem for another day. If he’d been given the gold coin before he said my name, I would be fine, but as my life was a series of Monday mornings?—

“How did this happen?” I asked.

Lydia pointed to the remnants of a chalk circle on the floor.

Good grief. “You summoned that thing on purpose? Why?”

Lydia bowed her head. “It was an accident. Gwen meant to say ‘Dolly Han,’ but I guess it sounded too much like ‘dullahan.’ She slurs her words sometimes.”

Well, at least she didn’t say “wendigo” instead of “Wendy.” A wendigo would’ve been much harder to dispatch.

My gaze slid to Gwen, who stared back at me with a vacant expression. “How are you feeling, Gwen?”