Chapter One
Chapter One
Akirako
“ W ell, happy fucking birthday to me.”
The burn of whiskey ran down my throat as I finished the small glass I’d ordered. I sighed. Stood-up and alone wasn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my special day. I couldn’t do anything about it, though, so I waved down the waiter and got the check.
The scotch wasn’t cheap, but since it was my birthday, I’d decided to go all out. I was sorely regretting that now.
It was the second date in a row that had decided to leave me hanging, too. Was my luck just turning sour, or had I managed to piss off some ancient kami?
“Ha,” I laughed to myself. “If only dear old mom could see me now.”
Stepping out of the restaurant, I pulled my coat closer. The rain came down in sheets, and I prayed a cab would be available. Walking to the subway did not sound like fun, umbrella or not.
An SUV’s brights raked across my face as it turned the corner, and I squinted against the intense light.
“Dude!” It was pointless to shout, being a pedestrian and all, but what could I say? I felt like picking a fight—sort of.
That’s when I saw the eyes across the street glow against the dark shadows of the alley.
At least, that’s what I thought I saw.
When I blinked, the red dots of light vanished, likely light trails from the blinding I had just received. I knew a thing or two about the physics of light, after all, being a research scientist specializing in vision impairment and correction. I was also probably drunker than I thought. It was just light trails from the stupid SUV.
Just like every other bogus claim about the supernatural.
And speaking of that fucking car, it had managed to splash street water on my legs, and I was now soaked from the knees down. Perfect, because this day wasn’t shitty enough .
As I walked toward the subway stop, there wasn’t a cab in sight, and my umbrella, despite its large size, was not keeping me dry enough. I was freezing, depressed, and getting “hangry.” Tonight was shaping up to be such fun. At this rate, an ex-boyfriend was going to show up with his new wife and baby. Or maybe that girl I had a crush on from the bodega would wander up and comment on how I looked like a drowned rat.
“Good fucking times. Ugh,” I sighed, keeping moving in some vain attempt to stay warm.
When I reached the subway’s subterranean dumpster of a platform, I closed my umbrella and waited for my train. The station was quiet, which was a bit weird, considering it was a Friday night. Where was everyone?
“Off on dates, duh. You’re the only one who got stood up,” I grumbled to myself.
Yes, I was in full pity party mode. Thankfully, I had a fridge full of beer, a plethora of snacks, and bad TV waiting for me at home. It was just a 20-minute subway ride until it was bra-off o’clock, and I could relax.
The wind whistled through the stairwell down to the platform, and I shivered, clutching my jacket closer. Minutes seemed to drag into hours as I stood alone beneath the city, waiting for my ride. A creeping sensation crawled up my spine, and I quickly scanned the space around me. I couldn’t see anything, but it felt like someone was watching me, that odd tingling you got when someone was too close to your personal space.
But there was nothing.
“Ha, ha, ha! Bitch, no!”
I turned toward the stairs. A loud group of inebriated jocks stumbled down the steps, distracting me from my ridiculous search for an invisible person who definitely didn’t exist—or worse, so dumb monster that my dead mother would be up my ass to avoid if I wanted to stay safe from being eaten.
Quickly facing the platform and not wanting to make eye contact with any of the guys—because that would just draw attention to myself—I chewed on my lip. If I could just stay silent and still, maybe they would completely ignore me, like the myth about dinosaurs with motion-activated vision.
Unfortunately, one of them ran into me, knocking me to my knees and causing my purse to spill open onto the ground. My keys scattered across the concrete in a loud jangle, garnering the eyes of the entire group. I was pretty sure they were college frat boys. I’d left that nonsense behind years ago, and I was not looking to strike up a conversation with my least favorite type of dude.
“Well, well, well. Hey, girlie. Whatcha doing?” one of them slurred.
I turned away, cleaning up my purse and content to ignore them. Girlie? I’m thirty-five .
It just wasn’t my day, though, and the bad fucking luck continued to rain down about as literally as the storm outside. Without looking up, I could feel them all press in closer to me, and my guts tightened, a nauseating dread crawling up my spine.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be shy. We just want to play,” another commented as he stood above me.
One knocked me off my knees, kicking my things out of reach. My pulse skyrocketed. This was precisely what I always feared. This is what every woman feared. I didn’t want to get raped, and I didn’t want to let any of this happen in some futile hope that they’d take it easier on me.
I just wanted to go home.
“Please, guys. Go have your fun somewhere else. I’m covered in dirty rainwater, I don’t have any cash, I’m not some hot piece of ass, and I’m 35. You don’t want this.”
Scrambling for the mace I knew had to be in that pile of shit that had spilled all over the platform, I came up empty. Panic swept over me like fog, and a burn crept up in my eyes. I couldn’t fucking cry right now. God knew that would only egg them all on, but I was… terrified .
“We like experience.” I couldn’t see the speaker this time, but suddenly, I was being hauled off my feet and surrounded.
They reeked like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Somebody held my arms behind my back, and the frat-hole in front of me just sneered, a sick grin lifting the corner of his mouth. He was young, blond, probably early twenties, going off what I knew, and he was wearing a letterman jacket—blue and white from the local university.
“Stop. Stop!”
I didn’t know why I bothered yelling. These guys weren’t going to listen. All I could hear around me was laughter, and several sets of hands pulled at my clothes and legs.
Everything blurred around me and became too fast and too much for my brain to process. I fought as hard as I could against their hold, receiving a blow to my head for the effort.
Blood dripped down my forehead—warm and running over my brow—and then I suddenly had more space. Something ripped away the guy who held my arms behind my back. The blond jock in front of me disappeared in a whoosh, and the remaining few began to panic, cursing and stumbling over themselves.
The group of would-be rapists was gone. I was alright, but why?
I tried to look around, but my vision was starting to fail me as the blood from my wound oozed into my eyes, and the pain picked up to extreme levels. And fuck, I was real damn dizzy all of a sudden. I was definitely about to fall over.
Flailing my arms out in front of me, I tried to catch myself, knowing I was probably going to meet the concrete hard. But then it was lights out as I involuntarily closed my eyes. I expected the firm slap of platform tiles on my face as I pummeled the ground with my skull.
But it never came.
There was something hard yet soft under my ribs and pulling my shoulders back. The movement sent the world spinning, and then I was being carried like a child, held in someone’s arms that felt far too large to be a normal person. I was clearly concussed, and just as I tried to wonder at what exactly was carrying me like a damn baby, I passed out.
Pain lanced through my temples enough to rouse me. It was pitch black—maybe in the middle of the night? A conversation was loud around me. I couldn’t process the words or who they were coming from; it sounded like the adults in the Peanuts. All I could tell was that I was in my bed, and the deep voices did not sound happy.
“...intervening in human affairs..”
Damn, he sounds pissy.
“You think with your dick too much.”
“At least I still know how to use mine.”
I tried my best to open my eyes more and focus on whoever was in my house with me, but the effort was too much, and I fell right back into the less painful realm of unconsciousness.