Sequel: Engulfed ›
Status: Completed!
Entanglement
010.
Azlynn eyed herself in the mirror critically. She and the two FBI agents that were trying to infiltrate the True Form Society were going to an opera that night to meet with the man who headed the organization. Azlynn had taken great care with selecting her attire for the evening; she wanted to make sure she blended in. She was probably the furthest thing from human of everyone working with William, and her nerves were taut at the thought of trying to pass herself off as totally human. Granted, there was little any of the members of TFS could do to her; she could crush them to dust or burn them to cinders, but she was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to that. It would completely undo all the work Chief Lawson’s team had done in the last five months.
She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle out of her dress in an effort to calm her racing heart. The dress was a deep red satin; the sleeves fell partway off her shoulders. At the bottom, it turned into red silk, a slight triangle cut away to expose her ankles, and it trailed slightly behind her. A thin diamond choker glittered at her throat and wrists, and twinkled in her ears. Her hair fell in gentle waves down her back, and red silken gloves covered her arms up to the elbow.
She donned a matching wrap and her black sequined purse, which contained her knife as well as her amulet. She had been hesitant to take it off, but she was worried that someone might recognize it for what it was.
Azlynn strode out the door of her apartment and down the stairs. She was out on the street in seconds, and found Agents Carl Greenberg and Harry Donaldson waiting for her. They both gawked at her. Azlynn fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her angelic beauty would prove useful when they approached the leader of TFS; almost all non-angel beings were easily enchanted by them, but humans were especially susceptible to an angel’s charms. They spoke very little on the way to the opera house; Azlynn could sense that Greenberg and Donaldson were expertly trained agents, but that didn’t do much to quiet the fear they felt.
Azlynn didn’t judge them; she was apprehensive herself. Greenberg helped her out of the car, and she linked her arm through his as they approached the opera house. They made their way inside, trying to appear natural and at ease.
“McNitt always sits in box 305,” Donaldson murmured. “We’re in the box next to his.”
“How do we approach him about the initiation?” Azlynn whispered back.
“We’re going to tell him that Deacon sent us.”
“Who’s Deacon?” She frowned.
“A member whom we arrested yesterday for trespassing,” Greenberg explained. “There’s a trial going on downtown; someone accused of assaulting a shifter. Deacon Blathe was dismissed from the jury, but he’s been hanging around, harassing jurors as they come out. You know, telling them that shifters are the scourge of the earth and that the man who beat up the shifter was doing a public service, etc etc. we’ve had a few problems with him since the arrest was made, and a couple weeks ago the Chief was able to link him to TFS, so we hung around the courthouse and busted him yesterday. His arrest hasn’t been announced and there’s no way anyone can know about it yet. He’s our ticket in. The easiest and most common way that people get in is to be recommended by another member.”
“Clever,” Azlynn said, smiling slightly. Dante and Charlotte should have more faith in these people, she thought. They settled into their seats and pretended to make small talk while they waited for McNitt to arrive. He slipped into his box fifteen minutes later, just before the curtain was raised. There was a tall, slender blond woman clinging to his arm, her black dress ridiculously tight. Something in the air shifted and Azlynn stiffened, eyeing the sallow man with wariness. There was something definitely off about McNitt.
The music began, and Azlynn allowed herself to get lost in it for a while, ignoring the unpleasant sensation snaking over her skin from being near McNitt. She could tell that Greenberg and Donaldson were growing restless. The hours passed, and finally the house lights came back on as the curtain closed.
“It’s time,” Donaldson said grimly, and the three of them rose, exiting the box and going down the stairs. They almost lost McNitt and his blond date, but then she caught sight of them near the front door. She gestured to he agents, and as one they surged forward.
“Stanton McNitt?” Greenberg asked quietly, reaching him first. Azlynn was close on his heels, but stopped short as the smell of ozone drifted over her like grease, making her skin crawl. She fought to keep her expression neutral. She increased the power behind her glamour. When she calmed her pounding heart, she stepped forward, smiling demurely as Greenberg explained to him why they were there.
“Deacon said to meet you here,” he said.
“Did he?” McNitt was staring at Azlynn now, his small eyes roving over her face greedily. She saw his fists clench at his sides, and she had to force herself not to send him through the window. She could sense every vile thing that McNitt had ever done, or wanted to do and it made her stomach churn. And it increased her fear tenfold. Chief Lawson’s team was skilled, certainly, but they had no idea what they were getting into. Yes, they had finally made a break in the case recently, figuring out that McNitt was heading the Western branch of TFS, but what they hadn’t uncovered was that McNitt was not just a deranged bigot.
He was a demon.
The True Form Society was virtually untouchable. They were not, as a whole organization, prone to announcing their existence, and many of the people who were members were wealthy, influential, and had plenty of people to cover up their dirty deeds, and the expensive lawyers to bog police down with red tape when the cover-ups failed.
The main reason that the group was known about at all was because of a group of followers who, over a decade earlier, had gone rogue and murdered over a dozen shifters and skin walkers in Northern California. They had spray painted the name of True Form Society at the scene of every murder, bringing public attention to the existence of the group. However, the only rogue member who had been caught had been shot when he tried to attack an officer as they were escorting him into the police station. The world knew that the TFS existed; but it was nearly impossible to find out who was actually a member.
That’s why the chief and his team hadn’t been able to find enough evidence to charge the TFS with the recent killings. And it wasn’t as if they could just arrest the entire organization; they needed whoever was in charge and was directly behind the murders.
Azlynn forced herself to keep a polite look on her face as she and the agents were led through the halls of McNitt’s expansive home. They had been checked at the door, and Azlynn had held a nervous breath until they were all declared human. She sent a silent thank you to Gabe for putting so much emphasis on her glamour training.
“So what do we have to do in order to be accepted as initiates?” Greenberg asked McNitt. Azlynn made a point to trail a step behind the agents; when McNitt stood close to her the essence of demon nearly made her choke, and his eyes always roved over her in a hungry way that made bile rise in her throat. She vowed that when she got the opportunity, she would kill him.
“You have to prove that you’re truly champions of the cause,” McNitt said, a dark gleam coming into his eyes.
“How do we do that?”
Greenberg’s question was answered when McNitt pushed open a door that led into a room with all the carpet stripped from the floor, leaving only bare concrete underneath. Azlynn’s heart sank out through her feet. A baby mountain lion cub was chained up in the corner of the room. It was trembling and making pitiful mewing noises. It was clearly a shifter; the chains were a special alloy that prevented shifters from changing. The stench of old blood and death lingered thick in the room, and the agents knew just as quickly as Azlynn what McNitt expected them to do.
“Good God,” Donaldson breathed, horror in his eyes.
“Oh, he hardly has anything to do with it,” McNitt chuckled. He strode across the room and plucked a wicked-looking knife nearly as long as Azlynn’s arm from a stone altar and twirling it through his fingers.
“So, which of you wants to take the first stab?” he asked, a hideous smile on his face. None of them answered. He chuckled. “Oh, don’t look so shocked,” he chided. “Perhaps it is a bit extreme for an initiation rite, but we need to know that all our members belong here, you understand. Here, beautiful ladies first.” He bowed and handed the knife to Azlynn. She took the hilt in her hands and made her way slowly across the room. She knelt beside the struggling creature. Eyes full of understanding filled the cat’s eyes. Sympathy filled Azlynn’s being, but another emotion quickly followed it. Rage. Cold, wild rage that made her hands shake. That filthy demon stole this poor thing from its family, and now expected them to torture it. Without thinking, she spun around, the knife leaving her hands with a deft flick of her wrist. It hurtled through the air, burying itself up to the hilt in McNitt’s chest.
He gaped down at it in shock; as did Greenberg and Donaldson. Azlynn knew she was blowing their cover, but she would not hurt the mountain lion. Nor would she back out of the initiation and leave the helpless creature to be tortured and killed by the monster in front of her. Azlynn launched herself across the room, digging for her athame. Instead her fingers closed around her amulet. She gripped the chain tightly in her hand as McNitt began to pull the knife free from his chest. She seized her athame, but a flicker of recognition in the demon’s eyes stilled her hand. His gaze was fixed on her amulet. It was a full moon made of polished silver, with two crescent moons faceted with moonstones flanking it, facing outward, on either side. It was the symbol of the Guardians; her mother’s symbol. McNitt’s lips slowly lifted in a smile. The gesture reminded Azlynn of a snake wriggling out of its hole.
“How interesting,” he murmured. He reached out to touch the amulet, but Azlynn jerked it away from him. McNitt studied her face, excitement lighting his pallid features. “My, my. Not only are you a pretty thing, you’re quite special too, aren’t you?” His whisper was like icy wind across her skin. She backed away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped. “Give me the keys for the cub’s chains.”
“Make me,” he breathed. Azlynn flicked a glance at Greenberg and Donaldson, who were rooted in the doorway, watching with wide eyes and hanging jaws. Biting her lip, Azlynn sent a glamour their way. It settled over them, and made them instantly fall asleep. They would remember the night’s events, up until Azlynn‘s superhuman speed and her altercation with McNitt. Azlynn slammed her fist into McNitt’s chest so hard that he flew backwards into the wall. Stone rained down around him. Azlynn rushed to the chained cub, easily snapping the chains. She scooped up the cub and darted into the hall. She pushed Greenberg and Donaldson; who were both asleep on their feet; out of the room and slammed the door. She traced a rune on the door with Angelfire, temporarily trapping McNitt inside the room.
She knocked Greenberg and Donaldson onto the floor, the impact startling them free of the glamour. As they groggily began to sit up, Azlynn made the lion cub invisible.
“What happened?” Donaldson asked.
“They tried to inject you with something,” Azlynn said quickly. “I protested; tried to stop them. I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I just panicked; they wouldn’t tell me what was in the syringe! They grabbed me and tried to inject me too, and you both tried to rescue me. Three of them jumped you from behind and knocked you out. Then they threw us all out here. I-I guess they figured I wasn’t enough of a threat to worry about because I was screaming so much.”
It was a weak lie, and she knew it. That’s why she used Compulsion as she weaved the story; planting the memories in their minds. They both nodded and got to their feet. “We should get out of here before they really give us trouble,” Donaldson said.
It’s too late for that, Azlynn thought grimly as they hustled up the stairs and out of the house. They’re already far more trouble than any of you can handle.
She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle out of her dress in an effort to calm her racing heart. The dress was a deep red satin; the sleeves fell partway off her shoulders. At the bottom, it turned into red silk, a slight triangle cut away to expose her ankles, and it trailed slightly behind her. A thin diamond choker glittered at her throat and wrists, and twinkled in her ears. Her hair fell in gentle waves down her back, and red silken gloves covered her arms up to the elbow.
She donned a matching wrap and her black sequined purse, which contained her knife as well as her amulet. She had been hesitant to take it off, but she was worried that someone might recognize it for what it was.
Azlynn strode out the door of her apartment and down the stairs. She was out on the street in seconds, and found Agents Carl Greenberg and Harry Donaldson waiting for her. They both gawked at her. Azlynn fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her angelic beauty would prove useful when they approached the leader of TFS; almost all non-angel beings were easily enchanted by them, but humans were especially susceptible to an angel’s charms. They spoke very little on the way to the opera house; Azlynn could sense that Greenberg and Donaldson were expertly trained agents, but that didn’t do much to quiet the fear they felt.
Azlynn didn’t judge them; she was apprehensive herself. Greenberg helped her out of the car, and she linked her arm through his as they approached the opera house. They made their way inside, trying to appear natural and at ease.
“McNitt always sits in box 305,” Donaldson murmured. “We’re in the box next to his.”
“How do we approach him about the initiation?” Azlynn whispered back.
“We’re going to tell him that Deacon sent us.”
“Who’s Deacon?” She frowned.
“A member whom we arrested yesterday for trespassing,” Greenberg explained. “There’s a trial going on downtown; someone accused of assaulting a shifter. Deacon Blathe was dismissed from the jury, but he’s been hanging around, harassing jurors as they come out. You know, telling them that shifters are the scourge of the earth and that the man who beat up the shifter was doing a public service, etc etc. we’ve had a few problems with him since the arrest was made, and a couple weeks ago the Chief was able to link him to TFS, so we hung around the courthouse and busted him yesterday. His arrest hasn’t been announced and there’s no way anyone can know about it yet. He’s our ticket in. The easiest and most common way that people get in is to be recommended by another member.”
“Clever,” Azlynn said, smiling slightly. Dante and Charlotte should have more faith in these people, she thought. They settled into their seats and pretended to make small talk while they waited for McNitt to arrive. He slipped into his box fifteen minutes later, just before the curtain was raised. There was a tall, slender blond woman clinging to his arm, her black dress ridiculously tight. Something in the air shifted and Azlynn stiffened, eyeing the sallow man with wariness. There was something definitely off about McNitt.
The music began, and Azlynn allowed herself to get lost in it for a while, ignoring the unpleasant sensation snaking over her skin from being near McNitt. She could tell that Greenberg and Donaldson were growing restless. The hours passed, and finally the house lights came back on as the curtain closed.
“It’s time,” Donaldson said grimly, and the three of them rose, exiting the box and going down the stairs. They almost lost McNitt and his blond date, but then she caught sight of them near the front door. She gestured to he agents, and as one they surged forward.
“Stanton McNitt?” Greenberg asked quietly, reaching him first. Azlynn was close on his heels, but stopped short as the smell of ozone drifted over her like grease, making her skin crawl. She fought to keep her expression neutral. She increased the power behind her glamour. When she calmed her pounding heart, she stepped forward, smiling demurely as Greenberg explained to him why they were there.
“Deacon said to meet you here,” he said.
“Did he?” McNitt was staring at Azlynn now, his small eyes roving over her face greedily. She saw his fists clench at his sides, and she had to force herself not to send him through the window. She could sense every vile thing that McNitt had ever done, or wanted to do and it made her stomach churn. And it increased her fear tenfold. Chief Lawson’s team was skilled, certainly, but they had no idea what they were getting into. Yes, they had finally made a break in the case recently, figuring out that McNitt was heading the Western branch of TFS, but what they hadn’t uncovered was that McNitt was not just a deranged bigot.
He was a demon.
The True Form Society was virtually untouchable. They were not, as a whole organization, prone to announcing their existence, and many of the people who were members were wealthy, influential, and had plenty of people to cover up their dirty deeds, and the expensive lawyers to bog police down with red tape when the cover-ups failed.
The main reason that the group was known about at all was because of a group of followers who, over a decade earlier, had gone rogue and murdered over a dozen shifters and skin walkers in Northern California. They had spray painted the name of True Form Society at the scene of every murder, bringing public attention to the existence of the group. However, the only rogue member who had been caught had been shot when he tried to attack an officer as they were escorting him into the police station. The world knew that the TFS existed; but it was nearly impossible to find out who was actually a member.
That’s why the chief and his team hadn’t been able to find enough evidence to charge the TFS with the recent killings. And it wasn’t as if they could just arrest the entire organization; they needed whoever was in charge and was directly behind the murders.
Azlynn forced herself to keep a polite look on her face as she and the agents were led through the halls of McNitt’s expansive home. They had been checked at the door, and Azlynn had held a nervous breath until they were all declared human. She sent a silent thank you to Gabe for putting so much emphasis on her glamour training.
“So what do we have to do in order to be accepted as initiates?” Greenberg asked McNitt. Azlynn made a point to trail a step behind the agents; when McNitt stood close to her the essence of demon nearly made her choke, and his eyes always roved over her in a hungry way that made bile rise in her throat. She vowed that when she got the opportunity, she would kill him.
“You have to prove that you’re truly champions of the cause,” McNitt said, a dark gleam coming into his eyes.
“How do we do that?”
Greenberg’s question was answered when McNitt pushed open a door that led into a room with all the carpet stripped from the floor, leaving only bare concrete underneath. Azlynn’s heart sank out through her feet. A baby mountain lion cub was chained up in the corner of the room. It was trembling and making pitiful mewing noises. It was clearly a shifter; the chains were a special alloy that prevented shifters from changing. The stench of old blood and death lingered thick in the room, and the agents knew just as quickly as Azlynn what McNitt expected them to do.
“Good God,” Donaldson breathed, horror in his eyes.
“Oh, he hardly has anything to do with it,” McNitt chuckled. He strode across the room and plucked a wicked-looking knife nearly as long as Azlynn’s arm from a stone altar and twirling it through his fingers.
“So, which of you wants to take the first stab?” he asked, a hideous smile on his face. None of them answered. He chuckled. “Oh, don’t look so shocked,” he chided. “Perhaps it is a bit extreme for an initiation rite, but we need to know that all our members belong here, you understand. Here, beautiful ladies first.” He bowed and handed the knife to Azlynn. She took the hilt in her hands and made her way slowly across the room. She knelt beside the struggling creature. Eyes full of understanding filled the cat’s eyes. Sympathy filled Azlynn’s being, but another emotion quickly followed it. Rage. Cold, wild rage that made her hands shake. That filthy demon stole this poor thing from its family, and now expected them to torture it. Without thinking, she spun around, the knife leaving her hands with a deft flick of her wrist. It hurtled through the air, burying itself up to the hilt in McNitt’s chest.
He gaped down at it in shock; as did Greenberg and Donaldson. Azlynn knew she was blowing their cover, but she would not hurt the mountain lion. Nor would she back out of the initiation and leave the helpless creature to be tortured and killed by the monster in front of her. Azlynn launched herself across the room, digging for her athame. Instead her fingers closed around her amulet. She gripped the chain tightly in her hand as McNitt began to pull the knife free from his chest. She seized her athame, but a flicker of recognition in the demon’s eyes stilled her hand. His gaze was fixed on her amulet. It was a full moon made of polished silver, with two crescent moons faceted with moonstones flanking it, facing outward, on either side. It was the symbol of the Guardians; her mother’s symbol. McNitt’s lips slowly lifted in a smile. The gesture reminded Azlynn of a snake wriggling out of its hole.
“How interesting,” he murmured. He reached out to touch the amulet, but Azlynn jerked it away from him. McNitt studied her face, excitement lighting his pallid features. “My, my. Not only are you a pretty thing, you’re quite special too, aren’t you?” His whisper was like icy wind across her skin. She backed away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped. “Give me the keys for the cub’s chains.”
“Make me,” he breathed. Azlynn flicked a glance at Greenberg and Donaldson, who were rooted in the doorway, watching with wide eyes and hanging jaws. Biting her lip, Azlynn sent a glamour their way. It settled over them, and made them instantly fall asleep. They would remember the night’s events, up until Azlynn‘s superhuman speed and her altercation with McNitt. Azlynn slammed her fist into McNitt’s chest so hard that he flew backwards into the wall. Stone rained down around him. Azlynn rushed to the chained cub, easily snapping the chains. She scooped up the cub and darted into the hall. She pushed Greenberg and Donaldson; who were both asleep on their feet; out of the room and slammed the door. She traced a rune on the door with Angelfire, temporarily trapping McNitt inside the room.
She knocked Greenberg and Donaldson onto the floor, the impact startling them free of the glamour. As they groggily began to sit up, Azlynn made the lion cub invisible.
“What happened?” Donaldson asked.
“They tried to inject you with something,” Azlynn said quickly. “I protested; tried to stop them. I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I just panicked; they wouldn’t tell me what was in the syringe! They grabbed me and tried to inject me too, and you both tried to rescue me. Three of them jumped you from behind and knocked you out. Then they threw us all out here. I-I guess they figured I wasn’t enough of a threat to worry about because I was screaming so much.”
It was a weak lie, and she knew it. That’s why she used Compulsion as she weaved the story; planting the memories in their minds. They both nodded and got to their feet. “We should get out of here before they really give us trouble,” Donaldson said.
It’s too late for that, Azlynn thought grimly as they hustled up the stairs and out of the house. They’re already far more trouble than any of you can handle.