Fire Danger by Claire Davon

Author:Claire Davon
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: paranormal;shape-shifters;shifter;psychic;gods;fantasy;contemporary;apocalypse;devil;demon;pantheon;San Francisco
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2016-06-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Ron writhed in his bed, the nightmare vivid. Death. Destruction. Mayhem.

Excellent.

Then a winged man, and a guy who looked like a lion, a couple that had catlike qualities, and the last, a freaky fish person who appeared to have gills, collectively appeared. They fought on the opposite side and stopped the war, driving back forces that would have taken over the entire known world at that time, and changed the course of history. There would have been bloodshed everywhere, the victors killing most of those who didn’t look like them, and keeping only a few as short-lived slaves. Half the world would have fallen to their blades, if not for the do-gooders who stopped it.

The blood would have been beautiful. The massacres would have been epic. The humans’ world would have descended into chaos, all progress halted.

The voice of his customer echoed in his mind. “Pity we lost that one. The Elementals won that time. They won’t win this one.”

Ron bolted upright, shaking his covers off, the dream lingering. He wasn’t sure if the dream was real or not, but he discovered he was grasping the necklace the being had given him when he/she/it had hired him.

He wanted to rend, to destroy something. He wanted to kill.

Ron flipped on a light in the living room of the subletted apartment. To calm his edgy nerves, he checked each of the weapons he had acquired over the last weeks and found all of them to be in perfect working order, just like they had been yesterday.

It soothed him to know his guns would fire flawlessly. He checked the bombs and the grenades and was pleased to know all was in order. Perfect.

This jangled emotion wasn’t common to him. Ron prided himself on being cool under all circumstances, no matter what shit storm was going on around him. The anger he was feeling was almost visceral, primal in a deep-seated way he never allowed himself to feel.

It would be unwise to go out in the early-morning hours and find a transient to kill. It would be satisfying, but it would be a mistake. He wasn’t paid to do anything more than the tasks handed to him. The being had made it very clear that he was to do exactly as instructed, and no more.

Killing a transient was out. Unfortunately. He would be able to kill soon enough. The need to take a life beat against his skull, begging to be released. Who would know? If one more person died, who was to know that hadn’t been part of the plan? That it hadn’t been necessary? He didn’t think his employer would mind a few extra bodies, as long as the goal was accomplished.

An image of the couple he had followed the other day swam into his mind.

Them. Assholes.

Now he recognized the man as the same one from his dream/nightmare. The fucker who had spread his wings and stopped the primitive arrows from reaching their destination. That had been part of the reason

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