Nerina's Destiny

Nerina is at the center of a tug-of-war for control over her shape-shifting powers. Now her boyfriend has been kidnapped. Can Tom Jurgen and Rachel stop a war?

Nerina's Destiny, Part One

“Just stay out here.” Willa patted Nerina’s shoulder. “Don’t shift unless there’s trouble.”

            Trouble? Nerine smiled. She was ready for trouble. But—“Where’s Roman?”

            “He’s on the inside team. But the place should be empty.” Willa looked across the street. “Stay calm. We’ll call if we need you.”

            “Okay.” Nerina nodded. “I’m ready.”

            She’d been training. Learning how to control her power. This was her first mission, but it wouldn’t be her last. Not if she did a good job.

            Nerina looked across the road. A farmhouse in the middle of the prairie. A long driveway. One bright light on the porch. Dim lights inside the windows. A pickup truck parked outside a garage. No trees to stand behind, so she just stayed near the van. Waiting.

            A few months ago she’d just been a college student. Then everything had changed. Now she was a Rossini soldier, training to fight the Raen. Even though she had Raen DNA in her blood. It was confusing sometimes, especially as she learned to control her ability to shape-shift into creatures that had never existed in nature. Reptiles with spikes and claws, flying dragons, giant scorpions . . .

            Tom Jurgen had helped.  A private eye in Chicago. She didn’t quite understand why he cared—him and his girlfriend Rachel—but he’d listened to her as she tried to figure out what was going on.

            Now there was Roman . . . She smiled.

            She wore boots, a short denim jacket and jeans against the early fall chill. Overhead clouds obscured the stars, but she could see the hint of a half-moon trying to shine through. No cars on the road, not for ten minutes. 

            She wanted to take out her phone and play a quick game of Angry Birds, but that wasn’t allowed. Her orders were to watch and wait and be ready to react.

            Nothing. Silence filled the air. 

            Then the house exploded.

            Nerina stared, gasping in shock. Roman! She clenched her teeth and began shifting. Dragon form. Long legs, long claws, spikes jutting her arms. Wings sprouting from her shoulder blades. She crouched down, then leaped up and flew across the road. 

            Scarlet flames and black smoke surged up into the cloudy sky. Nerina veered, her eyes looking for Roman. Instead she spotted Willa, staggering through the front door, her clothes burning.

            Nerina glided down to the ground and covered Willa with her wings, trying to smother the flames. Another explosion erupted behind her. A wall fell down, sending sparks and flames over the grass.

            “Is she—” It was Shelby, another Rossini soldier. “Willa?”

            “I think so.” Nerina was suddenly human again. “What happened?”

            Willa gasped. “Am—ambush.” Most of her short black hair was burned away, and one eye looked like a black hole in her face. Her leather jacket looked like it had protected her from the flames. “They knew—we were coming. It got Nola. And Julian.”

            “What about Roman?” Nerina looked over her shoulder at the burning house. 

            “I don’t know—wait!” Shelby pointed. 

            The pickup truck pulled out the long driveway, spun around, and hit the road hard and fast.
            Nerina stood up straight. Wings began growing from her shoulders again.

            “No!” Willa pulled herself to her feet. “We go back to base.”

            “They might have Roman!” Her arm spikes cut through her skin.

            “No!” She leaned over, gasping, and caught Nerina’s arm to stay upright. “We go—back to base.” She threw up on the grass.

            “You need a doctor.” Shelby helped her sit down. “Go get the van. Now!”

             Nerina looked at the burning house. “What about . . .” Roman. “The others?”

            “Get the van. We go back to base.” Shelby glared. “Now, Nerina!”

            Nerina looked down the road. The pickup was already out of sight in the darkness. But she could shift, she could fly, she could stop it . . .

            Another explosion of fire burst inside the house. Nerina jumped back. “No.”

            She completed her shift and rose into the sky, looking for the pickup. 

I was filling out an invoice for another successful, if boring, cheating spouse case. My phone buzzed. “Tom Jurgen speaking.”

            “Tom? Carole Rossigna. Have you heard from Nerina lately?”

            Uh-oh. “Not in a few weeks. Why?”

            “She’s disappeared.”

            Here’s the story: Nerina Ariane, a 19-year-old college student up until a few months ago, was a shape-shifter. She’d been raised by a family called the Rossini, who’d broken off from a family called the Raen hundreds of years ago. The Raen were a doomsday cult, obsessed with creating chaos—and possibly causing the end of the world. They could create mythical monsters and do other sorts of magic. The Rossini, with their own magic, had been fighting them for centuries.

            Nerina belonged to both strains of the family, with Raen and Rossini DNA in her genes. She’d been through hell in the last few months, uncertain of her heritage—and her ability to shape-shift. Carole had taken her into her home in Urbana, hoping to help her learn to control her powers.

            The last time she’d called her, Nerina told me they’d been training her for “missions”—whatever that meant, I didn’t want to know—and that she’d gotten close to some cute kid named Roman.

            The Raen were definitely dangerous, but I didn’t trust the Rossini’s motives more than I trusted a telemarketer to sell me life insurance. Although the Rossini did pay their bills promptly.

            “What happened?” I hit save on my computer.

            “Just let me know if you hear from her.” Carole hung up.

            “What’s going on?” Rachel, my girlfriend—red hair, hazelnut eyes, long legs in distractingly tight yoga pants, and a little bit psychic—swung from her computer. 

            I set my phone down. “Nerina’s missing.” 

            “Again?” She rolled her eyes. We’d met her the first time when the Rossini thought she’d been kidnapped. She’d actually run away with a boyfriend—and that had started everything. “Are you supposed to find her?”

            “I don’t think so. Just let them know if she calls.” 

            “Great.” Rachel turned back to her monitor. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

            “Me too.” I sent the invoice. 

            Nerina was just a kid, born into two families and a destiny she didn’t understand. Not my responsibility. But I couldn’t stop thinking that I should be able to help her. Somehow.

            So I called Andrew Russo.

            “Yes, I know she’s gone.” Russo was a Rossini leader here in Chicago, although Carole outranked him in the family. “And no, I don’t know where she is. She threw the necklace in a lake somewhere.”

            Russo had given her a necklace, saying it was from her mother, but it was actually a tracking device. It had helped us find her once. Apparently it wouldn’t now.

            “Look, Tom, I appreciate your concern.” Russo sounded busy. “But I don’t think you can help us now. If that changes, I’ll call you. In the meantime—”

            “Yeah. I’ll call if I hear from her.” I hung up.

            What could I do? I had her cell phone number, so I called. No answer. I left a message. After that . . . 

            “I’m calling Georgeanne.” I hit the number and put the phone on speaker.

            Rachel jumped up. “I’m right here!”

            We had a complicated relationship. Georgeanne was a Rossini soldier, tall, blonde, and sexy. Rachel was jealous the one time she kissed me. But she’s softened since then. They weren’t exactly meeting for cosmos, but . . .

            “Hi, Tom.” Georgeanne was out of breath. “What’s up?”

            “Nerina. What’s going on?”

            “Hi, Georgeanne!” Rachel leaned over my shoulder. “You okay?”

            “Hi, Rachel. Just . . . chasing someone.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “Nerina? I don’t know. I mean—I can’t tell you anything.”

            My stomach lurched. “What does that mean? Carole says she’s missing. Again.”

            “I’m in Ohio. I’ll be home tomorrow. I got a call from Andrew, but I don’t know much more. Just let them know if you hear from her. Bye, Rachel!” She hung up.

            “Chasing someone in Ohio?” Rachel frowned. “What’s that about?”

            “The Raen are all over, according to Russo. What does it matter?” 

            “Nothing.” She shook her head. “So what do we do?”

            “No idea.” I shrugged. “It’s not your typical missing persons case. Especially if no one will tell me what’s going on.” 

            She punched my arm. “And if no one’s offering to pay you, shamus?” 

            “That’s not fair. ” Rachel punches me a lot. 

            “Yeah, sorry.” Rachel rubbed my arm. “It’s just . . . “ She hesitated. “Okay, look: I was in high school when I started realizing I was, you know, psychic. It screwed me up for a long time. Nerina . . . “ She sighed. “She reminds me of that. She doesn’t deserve this destiny, not if she doesn’t want it.”

            “I get it.” I squeezed her hand. “Okay. There’s one more person I can call.”

            Elliot Barsch was Raen. He’d tried to rape Nerina, after her boyfriend at the time had taken her to Barsch’s house in Evanston. The Raen had some pretty repulsive ideas about genetics, especially considering Nerina was part, or mostly, Raen. According to Russo, they were trying to breed some kind of human/shape-shifting weapon. Apparently with Nerina, though, they’d already succeeded. 

            “Yes, Tom.” Blarsch sounded annoyed. “What do you want now?”

            “Do you know where Nerina is?”

            He snorted. “I wish I did. I know she’s making trouble for us, but I’ve been cut out after South Bend. If you find her, tell her to cut it out.”

            Trouble? “What do you mean?”

            “Ask your Rossini friends.” He hung up.

            What the hell did that mean? I looked at Rachel. “Trouble.”

            She rolled her eyes. “That girl has always been trouble. I mean, she’s just 19, but . . .”

            “Yeah.” I thought about calling Russo back. It was the first thing I would have done as a reporter. Then I realized what I should have done in the first place.

            I looked up Nerina’s number in my phone.

Nerina's Destiny, Part Two

Nerina dropped down on top of the high-rise apartment building. Still in dragon mode, she stalked across the sundeck, kicking her heels against the stacked sun chairs, and stopped before a locked door. 

She jammed her claws into the metal. After a few yanks and grunts, the door fell off its hinges.

            Nerina shifted back to human. Fortunately clothes weren’t a problem. She wasn’t sure how it worked with other shape-shifters, but she was really glad she didn’t have to walk around naked back in human form, like the cute guy who played the Hulk in the Avengers movies. 

            Although she kind of liked being naked. Especially with Roman.

She hustled down the stairs to the 14^thfloor, breathing heavily. Tired. Shifting took energy. Flying all night took energy.  She leaned against the door for a moment to caatch her breath, then pulled it open and stepped out into the hall. Focus, focus . . .

            Apartment 1402. She looked up and down the hall. Empty in the middle of the day. Nerina took a deep breath and shifted again.

            Sometimes it hurt. The spikes poking through her arms and jutting out from her knuckles. Right now she didn’t care. The pain actually helped. 

            Her head scraped the ceiling. She twisted the doorknob and ripped it away. Then she kicked, smashing the door back, and marched into the apartment.

            A man and a woman sat on a sofa in underwear, watching TV. SpongeBob SquarePants. 

            The man jumped up in his boxers, dropping the remote. “What the hell?”

            Talking while shifted was difficult—her thick reptilian tongue didn’t work right. But she could get the basic words out. “Where . . . is . . . he?” She stalked across the living room, the claws in her feet ripping the carpet. “R-R-Roman!”

            The woman rose. She wore a black bra and panties, and long red socks. “Don’t worry, Marc. I’ve got this.”

            Marc shivered. “Okay, Sharon. You’re in charge,”

            “Just get down.” Sharon smiled at Nerina. “Are you ready, bitch?”

            The Raen couldn’t shape-shift. Except for Dean, and Nerina had killed him in Barsch’s South Bend basement. She’d hated herself for that at the time. Now . . . she didn’t care.

            But the Raen could create monsters—or at least draw them from other dimensions. 

            Sharon swung one hand in a circle. Like Doctor Strange. Also from the Avengers movies.

            Then a giant spider rose in the middle of the living room on eight huge legs spread wide. It lunged forward, hairy legs scuttling across the carpet.

            Nerina had a split second to react. She ducked her head and leaped, narrowly avoiding the ceiling, and landed on top of the spider’s body. She slashed an arm, digging spikes down into the creature’s back. Black blood—or something like blood—spurted up over her face.

            Sharon shrieked, as if the spider’s pain hit her. Marc scrambled across the floor, picked up the TV remote, and hurled it at Nerina.

            Nerina ducked and tumbled off the spider, falling on her butt. The spider pounced on top of her, covering her dragon body with its hairy legs. Webbing spurted out of its butt, covering Nerina’s hips almost instantly and gluing her to the floor. She kicked uselessly. 

            Don’t panic. One of the first things they’d taught her in Urbana. Keep thinking, keep moving, keep fighting . . . but don’t panic.

            Nerina drove her clawed fists up into the spider’s wide abdomen and twisted. More black blood spilled down on her chest. The spider—or Sharon—screamed, and Nerina stabbed and twisted again. 

            Then she bit her lip and concentrated. She had one more weapon, but she’d never used it before. Come on, come on . . .

            A long jagged horn erupted from her forehead. Nerina lurched up, driving the sharp point straight into the spider’s narrow thorax. More disgusting fluid. More screams. The spider squirted more webbing, its body throbbing in pain and terror as Nerina pushed her horn deeper and drove her spikes harder. 

            “No!” Sharon shrieked. “No!”

            Then the spider was gone. Along with its webbing. Nerina clambered to her feet. 

            Sharon sat on the floor, sobbing. Marc wrapped his arms around her. 

            “Where . . . is . . . Roman?” Her voice was hoarse and raspy. 

“I don’t know.” Sharon moaned. “They said . . . something about Ohio.”

Ohio? Nerina had never flown that far. A few miles took everything out of her. But if Roman was there . . .

She turned to the door. “Tell them. I’m coming. Tell them . .  whatever.”

Out in the hall Nerina shifted back to her human form. She gasped for air. Shifting took a lot of energy. Both ways.

She punched the elevator button. Ohio? She rubbed her eyes.

Then her phone buzzed.

“Nerina? It’s Tom Jurgen.” 

“H-hi, Tom.” She sounded exhausted. “How are you?”

“How are you? Where are you?”

“I don’t . . . know. Somewhere in Indianapolis.” 

Rachel and I exchanged glances. “Nerina, what’s going on?”

“They took—they took Roman!”

“Who’s Roman?” 

Rachel snorted, as if the answer was obvious.          

“He’s my boyfriend! The Raen—we were on a mission last night, and the house exploded, and they took—they took him. I’ve got to find him.”

Oh hell. “You don’t know where you are?”

“I’m in Indianapolis somewhere. I have to keep moving. He’s somewhere in Ohio. They could be torturing him—”

“Nerina, wait!” Rachel leaned forward. “Ohio’s a big state. And you sound tired.”

“I didn’t sleep. I had to fly . . . And I only have a little money.”

Rachel pulled my phone toward her. “Why don’t you find a coffee shop or something where you can sit and rest for a while? Then you can call us and tell us where you are.”

What the hell? Indianapolis was a three-hour drive from Chicago. But Rachel was right. We had to do something.

“I can’t. I have to find Roman. I’ll call you.” She hung up.

I could have called back, but I was pretty sure she wouldn’t pick up again. 

Instead I took my phone and called Russo. “Nerina’s somewhere in Indianapolis. She’s headed for Ohio, because the Raen have kidnapped her boyfriend.”

“How did you—she wouldn’t answer my calls. Damn it.” 

“What’s Georgeanne doing in Ohio?” Rachel asked. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“It’s Rossini business. Look, just let me know if you hear from her again.” Russo hung up.

“Asshole.” Rachel bounded to her computer. “Let me look up the Raen stuff I have and see if I can find an Ohio connection.”

“Smart as well as gorgeous.” She’d compiled a file of data on the Rossini and the Raen a year ago, during my death race to Urbana for my first job working for the Rossini. It had sounded like easy money that night, but now I was regretting ever taking Russo’s first phone call.

I called Carole Rossigna and got her voice mail. Probably Russo was talking to her right now. I left a message. Then I called Georgeanne. Voice mail again. Another message.

So now what? Yeah, it wasn’t really my problem. But I liked Nerina—and she didn’t deserve what destiny had handed her. 

I watched Rachel working at her computer, but I didn’t bother her. She was perfectly capable of hurling her coffee mug over her shoulder without even looking up and whacking me in the forehead without pausing in her work. So I kept my mouth shut.

I thought about calling Barsch again, but I didn’t want to alert him to where Nerina might be headed. I didn’t trust the Rossini to have Nerina’s best interests at heart, but I trusted a doomsday cult even less. 

I tried to switch back to other work—paying work, background checks and the like, until Rachel announced, after a half hour, “I think I’ve got something.”

“What is it?”

 I didn’t exactly bound—I’m not as young and spry as I used to be—but I leaned over Rachel’s shoulder a moment later. 

“Dayton. Home of the Wright Brothers.” She pointed at a Google Map. “Pretty much a straight shot from Indy. Anyway, a guy named Cameron Ryan owns two houses in a suburb.” She showed me a profile picture of a heavyset man in his fifties. “He’s connected to the Raen. I may have, uh, hacked his email.”

“That’s my girl.” I kissed the top of her head.

“So do we fire up the Batmobile?” She hit some keys. “I’ll send the data to my phone—”

“It’s a long drive to Ohio.” How fast could Nerina fly? “Let’s think this through for a minute.”

Rachel sighed. “I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen very often.” I pulled my chair toward her desk. “Okay. Why did the Raen kidnap Roman?”

She rolled her eyes. “One, they just grabbed him randomly. Nerina said they were on some kind of mission, right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “We don’t know enough about the mission. Or, two—”

“He’s bait.” Rachel’s eyes blazed. “They’d love to get their hands on Nerina. They tried that in South Bend.”

“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. Barsch had tied Nerina up in a basement in South Bend, Indiana, and sent a young shape-shifter named Dean to attack her. Nerina won the fight, killing Dean—which only meant that the Raen were determined to find stronger, more powerful shape-shifters. Like Nerina.    

“Three . . .” Rachel ticked off a third finger. “Georgeanne’s already in Ohio. So something’s up there.”

“Yeah.” I wanted more information. And more coffee. “So we have at least two options: One, call Russo and tell him where Nerina is headed, or two—”

“Get to Dayton ourselves and figure out what’s going on.” Rachel spun around and started tapping keys. “You pack. I’ll get us on a plane.”

“It’s like you know me.” I stood up. This was going to be complicated. We were going in without knowing all the facts, which happened most of the time, but still—

I couldn’t fight it. We had to help Nerina. “You don’t mind if I go through your underwear drawer, do you?”

“Just get me something comfortable. And not too flashy.”

“Right.”

Nerina's Destiny, Part Three

So we flew United to Dayton (uneventful), rented a Prius (time-consuming), and made our way to the Ryan’s address (only getting lost twice).

            It was a three-story house on a tree-lined street with autumn leaves covering the big front lawn. Rachel parked down the block.

            “So now what, Kemo Sabe?” She turned off the motor.

            “Hell if I know, Tonto.” I peered at the front porch. The car smelled as if the last renter had smoked too many cigarettes. It gave me a craving that I tried to ignore. I’d smoked a long time ago. “What do we know about Ryan?”

            She looked at her phone. “Let’s see, let’s see—here he is. Contracts lawyer. Fifty-two, married to Eileen Ryan, formerly Wren, maybe a Raen herself. Twenty-seven years. Not sure how he hooks into the family tree, mostly because I can’t magnify it on this phone. Want me to get my laptop?”

            “Not yet. I peered at the sky, hoping to spot Nerina through the clouds. I crossed my arms. “So we’ve got at least two options—go up and knock on the door and ask if they’re holding Roman prisoner, or, you know . . . wait and watch. You got anything else?”

“Call Georgeanne? We know she’s here.”

It was tempting. But . . . “We’re trying to keep a low profile. Maybe later?”

Rachel punched my arm. “That’s twice you’ve been right today. Don’t make it a habit.”

“Yeah, my streak is probably about to end.” I rubbed my arm. “The key to being a good detective is knowing when to wait.” Also keeping a wide-mouthed empty bottle somewhere in the car on a stakeout. I’d snagged one while waiting for the car, without telling Rachel why. I hope it wouldn’t get to that.

She flicked through her phone. “Can we listen to music?”

“Keep it low. No punk rock.”

Rachel chortled and hit a key. “How’s this?” 

Lou Reed. “Perfect.”

So we waited.

After three hours, Rachel yawned. “Is being a private eye always this exciting?”

“You’d rather be fighting vampires?” I stretched. Night was dropping. No sign of Nerina. No activity in Ryan’s house, although lights were coming on. 

She sighed. “I guess not. I’m going to have to go to the bathroom soon.”

I wasn’t sure if my bottle would work for her. I’ve never understood how female detectives do it. “There was a gas station a few miles back—”

“I’ll hold it.” She grunted. “For now.”

            The street was quiet and dark. A crow circled overhead, just beneath the clouds. A few more songs went by. I saw two cars pulling into driveways.

            Then a black van pulled up behind us. Oh shit.

            Rachel straightened her shoulders. “Is that . . .?”

            The Rossini always drove black vans. I twisted around.

            The van’s back door opened. A black shape jumped out onto the street and walked quickly to our rented Prius. I hit the “unlock” button on the doors. After one or two tries, the lock opened. It was a different car, after all.

            “Hi, guys.” Georgeanne slid into the back seat. A tall blond woman, she wore tight camouflage pants, high boots, and a black jacket, zipped up to her neck. Probably hiding the handgun she usually carried under her arm. “What are you doing here?”

            “I could ask you the same thing.” I glanced around to smile at her, then went back to keeping an eye on the Ryan house. “You were here in Ohio first.”

            Georgeanne sighed. Then she unzipped her jacket, reached inside, and pulled out a handgun as a small cannon. “We’re trying to stop a war.”

My shoulders clenched. “Uh, Georgeanne? Could your please put the gun away?”

            “Sorry, no.” Georgeanne set the weapon in her lap. “We’re all on edge.”

            “Me too.” Rachel twitched in her seat. “I really need to go to the bathroom.”

I sighed. “So what the hell’s going on?”

            She shook her head. “The Raen are getting more aggressive. They’re capturing our people. Two days ago they attacked us in Urbana. Don’t worry—” She looked at me. “Carole’s fine, but Patricia? She got killed, and Luisa got taken prisoner. I know you don’t know them.” 

She shook her head, rushing on. “Last night Carole sent a mission to a house in Indiana. It was supposed to be empty, but it blew up. Killed two Rossini, and they got another one. His name’s Roman.”

            “Yeah.” Rachel grimaced. “We know about Roman.”

“Okay.  We don’t know why the Raen are escalating. There’s nothing in the stars, no asteroids coming near the earth, the Star is safe, thanks to you . . .” She looked at the house. “It’s like the Raen are trying to draw us out.”

            “Or they’re trying to trap Nerina. Again.” I shook my head. “She’s a kid. This isn’t Iraq, it’s Ohio.”

            “And right now it’s Ground Zero.” She pointed a finger at the house across the street. “Andy’s trying to negotiate to get Roman  and Luisa out of there. But if Nerina flies down and starts killing people to get her boyfriend out—this whole thing could erupt.”

            Rachel rolled her eyes. “Were you ever 19 and in love for the first time? What did you expect?”

            “I’m 24, and I’ve had had two boyfriends. And one girlfriend, too.” Georgeanne winked at her. What? “But that’s not the point. We have to stop Nerina before she starts an all-out war that spills out of the shadows. Some of the Rossini want to do it anyway, after Patricia and the others, even if Andy makes a deal for Luisa and Roman. Nerina could be the tipping point.”

            I hesitated. “Is there any chance that Roman could be Raen?” That’s how they’d gotten hold of Nerina in the first place—through her previous boyfriend, Ben.

            But Georgeanne shook her head. “We know him. He’s totally with us.”

            That was good news. For Nerina, at least. “So what do you want from us? Are you ordering us out?”

            “No!” Georgeanne gripped my shoulder. “Nerina trusts you.”

            “Fine.” Rachel turned on the motor. “I’m going to find a gas station. Tom can wait with you while I—”

            “Wait.” I pointed. 

            The sun was gone, and the clouds were black. But a small dark shape was gliding down, wings spread. “It’s her.”

Rachel grunted in frustration. “Damn it.”

            The doors of the black van behind us popped open, but Georgeanne was already out on the street. “Hold back!” she ordered, waving a hand. “We don’t want to spook her.”

            Rachel and I climbed out. “You okay?”

            She bit her lip. “I’ll be fine.”

            We crossed the street with Georgeanne. She slipped her handgun back under her arm, but I’d seen how fast she could draw it. I hoped she wouldn’t have to. 

            Nerina landed near the curb, bending over. We watched her body shudder and shake as she shifted back to her human form. 

            She wore jeans, sneakers, and a denim jacket. She trembled in the cold. Then she leaned back for a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, as if getting ready to shift again.

            “Nerina!” I called, hoping not to attract attention inside the house. “It’s Tom and Rachel!”

            “And me! Geogeanne!” She trotted in front of us.

            Nerina turned. “What are you—” She waved a hand. “Don’t try to stop me.”

            “You’re exhausted.” Rachel grabbed Nerina’s shoulder. “You flew all the way here from Indianapolis? We took an airplane, and we’re tired as hell.”

            Nerina pulled away. “Roman’s in there. I can . . .  I have to get him out. I can hear him screaming—”

            “Wait a minute, Nerina.” Georgeanne was right next to her now. “Let us take care of this.”

            “Yeah.” I said it to both Nerina and Georgeanne. “It could be a trap.”

            “No!” Nerina pounded a foot. “I don’t care! I have to—”

            “Oh, it’s definitely a trap.” The voice came from outside the door. 

            Suddenly three Raen monsters surrounded us—a huge dog with horns jutting from its forehead, a furry beast almost nine feet tall with long fangs and jagged claws, and a metallic robot whose arms ended in sharped, curved samurai swords.

The van’s doors slammed on the street behind us. Georgeanne drew her handgun. I knew the rest of her soldiers were heavily armed, too. 

            “Hang on a minute.” I staggered on the street. “Remember what you said about starting a war?”

            “Shut up!” A tall woman in graying hair marched down the steps of the Ryan house. She wore a long flowing green skirt that blew up from her ankles in the light evening wind. “You know your guns won’t hurt our monsters! All we want is Nerina! You can all stand down!”

            “Not going to happen,” Georgeanne said. 

            Nerina twirled around on her toes like a ballerina. As fatigued as she was, she looked ready to shift again and take all three monsters on simultaneously.

            I glanced over my shoulder. The Rossini from the van—two women, one man, all in black ninja-like outfits and armed with assault rifles, didn’t look like they were ready to stand down. 

            And Rachel and I were in the crossfire. Nerina, too, but she could shift and take pretty good care of herself. I lifted my hands. “Wait! Wait!”

            For a moment—thank God—everyone froze.

            Nerina crouched, hands on her knees as if about to collapse. “All I want—is Roman.”

            The woman—Eileen Cameron?—nodded. “Come inside, Nerina.”

            “Not alone.” But Georgeanne slid her handgun back under her jacket. “Guys! Wait out here!”

            Rachel put a hand under Nerina’s arm and helped her stagger forward. The monsters stepped back, but didn’t fade away. I followed them, Georgeanne behind me, up the steps onto the porch.

            “Eileen Cameron? Tom Jurgen.”

            A thin smile answered me. “I know who you are. You’re on our list of troublemakers.”

            I’ve been on that list most of my life. “This is my—associate. Rachel.”

            “Girlfriend.” Rachel was holding Nerina up. “Don’t mess with him, or you’ll see what a monster really looks like. By the way, can I use your bathroom?”

Nerina's Destiny, Part Four

Roman had short blond hair and a thin face. He lay on a blood-spattered leather couch, his hands tied behind his back, and his ankles duct-taped taped together. He moaned, barely conscious. 

            Nerina ran forward. “Roman! Roman? It’s me . . . Neri?” She wrapped her arms around his body. He groaned.

            A slender African American woman stood beside the couch where Roman was bound, a long dagger in her hand. Blood dripped from the blade. She smiled. “I’m Cecile.”

            “Where’s Luisa?” Georgeanne crossed her arms.

            “She’s upstairs. She’s fine.” Eileen crossed her arms too.

            Rachel stumbled through an open doorway, hitching up her jeans. “That’s better—hey, stop looking at my ass!” A stout man behind her held a stun gun—and he was looking too hard at her butt. She scampered over to me. “Okay, what did I miss?”

            Nerina lurched up, one hand on Roman’s trembling shoulder. “What did you do to him?”

            “He’s fine.” Eileen walked to a liquor cart and opened a bottle of wine. “Anyone else? Killing him wouldn’t be the point. Now that you’re here, we can all talk.”

            “About what?” Nerina swung around. “I want him out of here!” She jabbed a finger at Cecile. “You bitch! What did you do to him?”

            Cecile smirked. “Nothing fatal.” 

            “That’s fine.” Eileen sipped her wine. “He can go. And Luisa, too. But you have to stay.”

            “No way.” Georgeanne’s eyes flicked between Eileen, Cecile, and the other guy—Cameron Ryan. I recognized him from the profile pic Rachel had showed me. “Come on, Nerina. Tom and Rachel, you help Roman. I’m going up for Luisa.” She pulled her handgun. “Anyone want to stop me?”

            Eileen smirked. “I can bring all those monsters inside, and your weapons can’t stop them. But they can stop you.”

            Georgeanne pointed the barrel of her weapon. “I can start with you.”

            Oh hell. I looked at Rachel. She rolled her eyes.

            “Wait a minute!” Who was that? Oh, yeah. It was me. “I thought the idea was to stop a war, not start one.”

            “Nerina needs to come home. Along with the rest of our people.” Georgeanne held her gun steady, but I could see she was keeping her eyes on Cameron and Cecile.

            “This is her home as much as yours.” Somehow Eileen seemed calmer than me, even with a handgun pointed at her chest. ”You don’t own her.”

            “You just want to use her.” Georgeanne flicked a glance at Nerina. “Come on, honey, Let’s get out of here.”

            “You want to use her too.” That came from Cecile, who looked a little more nervous at the prospect of gunshots. “You and your people—”

            “Shut up! Stop!” Nerina jumped to her feet. “I hate all of you! I just want my boyfriend! I just want to—go home.” 

            She was trying not to cry. Roman struggled on the sofa. 

            I took a step forward. What the hell was I doing? I had no idea what I was going to say—but I said it anyway. “Look, the best way to ratchet this down is for both of you to let Nerina go and stop fighting over her. No more training—” I looked at Georgeanne—“and no more kidnapping.” I shot a glare at Eileen. “She’s just a kid.”

            “I’m not a kid!” Nerina stomped a foot. “You’ve seen what I am! I am more powerful than—”

            “Nerina, be quiet.” Rachel walked forward and put an arm on her shoulder. “You deserve to be safe with your boyfriend, and not be in the middle of some tug-of-war between these two.” She shot a glance between Georgeanne and Eileen. “You can stay with us. Both of you.” She looked down at Roman. “Don’t worry, the couch pulls out. It’ll be a little cramped, but—”

            “For I while.” I glanced between the two leaders too. “Both sides have to contribute funds to finding a place of her own—their own.” Our apartment had only one bathroom. It was already a problem when Nerina stayed with us, so one more person would create bathroom chaos. “Georgeanne, you said Russo was already negotiating for Roman and Luisa. Get back on the phone and talk. Just talk!”

            Nerina stared, as if frightened of me. Georgeanne lowered her handgun—just a bit. Rachel punched my shoulder. “I love it when you talk tough.”

            I was about to faint. “Are we doing this? Or just having a massacre that won’t solve anything?”

            Eileen sighed. But she actually looked relieved. She picked up a phone from the table next to her. “Stand down, everyone. Have some wine. Let me—they won’t be happy, but Jurgen’s right. Cut Roman loose.” She started tapping her keypad. “This is no way to start a war. Yeah, Andy? Your pal Jurgen has a proposition. You won’t like it, but I don’t either, so . . .”

            I didn’t believe it. Someone actually listened to me? 

            Georgeanne slid up next to me. “You stud.” She kissed me on the cheek.

            Rachel frowned. “We have to seriously talk about you kissing my boyfriend.”

            She grinned. “Anytime.”

Back home in Chicago, after a late flight, Rachel and I dumped our suitcases in the bedroom while Nerina and Roman collapsed on the couch. I opened beers for Rachel and me.

            And for Georgeanne. She’d flown back with us. Without her guns and knives, of course.

            Nerina and Roman were already asleep, their arms around each other. After midnight. We sat in the kitchen, talking quietly.

            “So now what?” I gulped my beer. 

            “Are you staying here tonight?” Rachel looked nervous. “It’s going to get awfully crowded.”

            Georgeanne yawned. “I’ll call an Uber.”

            “I meant about Nerina. And now her boyfriend.” I peeked through the door to make sure they were still asleep.

            Georgeanne shrugged. “You stopped the war, for now. Good on you. But you know it’s never going to be over for her.”

            Rachel nodded. “She’s stuck with this.”

            “We can put them up in a Rossini apartment for now, and help them find their own place. Maybe Nerina can go back to college.” She’d been studying photography at DePaul. “Roman? I don’t know. Young love.”

“I give it six months.” Rachel shrugged. “First crushes aren’t always easy. It took me a long time to find the right guy.” 

“I hope you’re talking about me.”She grinned and patted my hand. I restrained the urge to pull her into a romantic kiss. Too cliché.

            Georgeanne smiled. “You’re lucky. Both of you, actually.” She stood up. “We should go out for drinks sometime.”

            “Sure.” Rachel agreed before I could even process the question.

            She left. We had to wake the kids up to pull out the bed. We found sheets and spare clothes. “We’ll leave the door open so you can get to the bathroom,” I told them. “Georgeanne said they’d move you into another apartment tomorrow.”

            “Thank you, sir.” Roman shook my hand, and then Rachel’s. “I appreciate everything. Especially for Nerina.”

            “Thank you, Tom!” Nerina hugged me. “I don’t know what I’d have done. And you too, Rachel!”

            After a moment we extricated ourselves from what threatened to turn into an awkward four-way hug. We took turns in the bathroom, and finally I managed to give Rachel a kiss after we quickly got into T-shirts and underwear for bed.

            “Damn.” Rachel snuggled next to me. “After you stopped a war single-handled, I’m kind of hot for you right now.”

            “Sure you’re not just thinking about Georgeanne kissing me?” We kissed again.

            “Hmm.” She cocked her face. “Maybe.”

# # #

            

Nerina's Power

Nerina has a power she doesn’t understand—and can’t control. Will Tom Jurgen and Rachel be able to protect her from the people who want to use that power for their own purposes?

Nerina's Power, Part One

“Tom? Rachel? I’m sorry, but I really have to pee!”

            Nerina. She’d slept on our couch. Our apartment had only one bathroom—in here. I pulled a sheet up. “Come on in!”

            She yanked the door open, a sheet wrapped around her shoulders. “Sorry.” She scampered in bare feet and slammed the bathroom door.

            Rachel sat up, yawning. “Okay, I’m awake.” She swung her legs onto the floor. “She better not take too long in there.”

“Yeah.” I grabbed some sweatpants from the floor. “I’ll make some coffee. Can you lend her some clothes?”

            “Sure.” She stretched her arms. “By the way, I’m still not sure about that Georgeanne bitch.”

            I groaned. Georgeanne was a Rossini solder who, for some reason, had kissed me on the lips in front of Rachel last night. And kissed me on the cheek before that, although Rachel didn’t know about that. “Come on, we talked about that for hours. And she’s not a bitch.”

            “Fine.” She opened the dresser and tossed me a T-shirt. “Just make coffee. And breakfast.”

Nerina Ariane was a 19-year-old woman I’d been hired to find by Andrew Russo. She’d been kidnapped by the Raen, or so he said. The Raen were a sort of doomsday cult who could do magic, like creating monsters out of thin air. Russo was part of the Rossini, a branch of the family that had split off from the Raen centuries ago. They’d been fighting a shadow war for control of mystical resources that could control—or destroy—the world ever since.

            But Nerina hadn’t been kidnapped. She’d just run away with her boyfriend Ben. Unfortunately, Ben was part of the Raen, and he’d taken her to the house of Elliot Barsch, another Raen—who’d tried to assault her.

            Now Ben was dead, and Nerina didn’t know what to do, because she wasn’t really Rossini. She’d been born to the Raen, but raised by the Rossini.

            Also, she could raise monsters. Although she couldn’t control them. Yet.

            

I made pancakes. Nerina dug into them as if she’d been on a bread and water diet for weeks. “Thanks. I’m sorry about—everything.”

            “Not your fault.” Rachel sipped her coffee. “Good pancakes, Tom. Old family recipe?”

            “Mrs. Butterworth was my great-aunt. On my mother’s side.” I poured more syrup.

Nerina looked up from her plate. She was slim, with short red hair like Rachel, and a long thin nose. “I want to go home.” 

“Is that safe?” She had an apartment near DePaul University, where she was majoring in photography. 

“I can’t stay here.” She looked toward the living room. “I mean, thanks for letting me stay here last night, but—”

            “The sofa is pretty lumpy.” Rachel speared a pancake with her fork.

            Nerina laughed. “Thanks for the T-shirt, by the way.” Her previous T-shirt had gotten ripped when Elliot Barsch had attacked her. 

            “It’s Tom’s favorite.” Rachel winked.

             “I want to talk to Andrew, too. Will you come with me? I can’t—I have a little money, but . . .”

            “Don’t worry about it.” I probably wasn’t getting paid by Russo either. Although I was definitely sending him a bill—I’d done the job he’d hired me for, after all, finding Nerina, even if it didn’t work out like he’d hoped. “I’ll call him.”

            “Thanks.” She sighed. “I’m sorry about everything.”

The last time I’d been the house, Randall Russo had been dying. Now his nephew Andrew was in charge, apparently. At least of the Chicago branch of the Rossini.

            We sat at a big wooden kitchen table: Nerina, Rachel, Russo, Georgeanne, and me. I wondered where Mika was—another Rossini soldier I’d seen last night. A large scrapbook lay on the table. A ceiling fan swung gently overhead.

Russo served coffee and sodas, and a poured a big bowl of Doritos. At least he hadn’t made Georgeanne do it. She was unarmed, in a white T-shirt, black gym shorts, and sneakers. “Hi, Tom.” She winked.

            Rachel elbowed me in the ribs. I winced and gulped some Coke. “Uh, hi. This is Rachel. My . . . girlfriend. And associate.”

            Georgeanne smiled. “Hi, Rachel.” 

Russo cleared his throat. “Go ahead, Nerina.”

            She glanced at me and then stared at Russo. “Who am I?”

            Russo opened the scrapbook. “This is the history of Raen and the Rossini. There are charts here—too many to go through. But here . . .” He flipped through the pages. “The family tree, going back hundreds of years. My uncle Randall made me memorize this when I was 11. This . . .” He pointed. “Your father was Martin Renn. Martin’s ancestry traces back to the early days of the Raen.”

            Russo reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. “This belonged to your mother. Emma Pinkton. It was in the house where we found you, next to a photo of her. You should have it.”

            A purple stone on a silver string. Nerina stared, not touching it.

            “Excuse me?” I lifted a hand. “How do you know it belonged to Nerina’s mother? You said last us last night you found Nerina as a baby.” Inside a Raen house that they’d “raided.”

            “The resemblance was obvious.” He flipped a page and pointed to a photo pasted on the paper. “We confirmed it later. This is your mother, Nerina. And she’s in the charts. On the Rossini side.”

            Yeah, the older woman looked a little like Nerina, especially the red hair. I glanced at Rachel. She shook her head slightly, but said nothing.

            “Anyway, here’s . . .” More page flipping. “Ben Ajasic. A Raen cousin—”

            “So what?” Nerina reached across the table and slammed the book closed. “He was my boyfriend! He wasn’t—I mean, we weren’t in love or anything like that, but he—he tried to stop Elliot from—from . . .” She grabbed a napkin from next to the Doritos bowl and tried not to cry.

            “What does this have to do with Barsch?” I didn’t like what I was thinking.

            Russo glanced at Nerina. “Let’s take this outside.”

            “No!” She pounded a fist on the table. “I want to hear everything.”

Russo crossed his arms. “All right. Some of the scrolls we’ve recovered say that the Raen are trying to breed a—a sort of powerful version of themselves. They can create monsters, like you saw, and they’ve been trying to birth to Raen who can create more powerful ones. That means—”

            “Wait.” I held up a hand. “Nerina is already the daughter of a Rossini and a Raen. Do you think—was Barsch trying to . . . “ My stomach lurched.

            He shook his head. “I don’t know genetics, but some of our people do. The Raen have been getting stronger over time. There’s always been some intermixing, most of it—innocent. They sent Ben to make friends with Nerina and bring her to Barsch. We tried to tell her, but—”

            “Yeah, telling a girl she’s dating the wrong guy usually backfires.” Had this guy ever seen a teen comedy? “So what now? Are you going to introduce her to some nice Raen boy and hope for the best?”

            “We’re going to protect her! You.” Russo looked at Nerina. “Sorry. But we’re not the monsters here. We probably should have told you before this. It’s just—complicated.”

            Then abruptly it got more complicated. Rachel grabbed my arm and pointed. “Tom!”

            Rachel’s sort of psychic, so she can pick things up from people and her surroundings. This time she apparently sensed—

            A grizzly bear smashing through the kitchen door on two thick, furry legs It roared, and then lurched forward, long claws extending from its paws.

The Raen. They didn’t always deal in mythological monsters. Sometime real beasts—like bats—were just as deadly.

            “Oh my god,” Russo breathed.

            Georgeanne kicked her chair over, pulled a drawer and lifted a big automatic handgun from a silverware tray. These guys sure were prepared for anything.

            Nerina sat in her chair, trembling. More than trembling. Her shoulders jerked as if she was having a seizure. 

            Georgeanne fired three bullets into the grizzly’s torso. No effect. “Mika!”

            Nerina fell to the hardwood floor, still shuddering, groaning in loud gasps. Rachel crouched to cover her. I stood frozen, trying not to soil myself. 

            And then Nerina rolled over and sat up. Except she wasn’t Nerina anymore. 

            A giant reptile lumbered to its feet. Seven feet tall, maybe more, with a long snout, rows and rows of jagged teeth inside wide jaws, and razor-sharp spikes jutting from its arms.

            Georgeanne’s handgun boomed again. Three more shots, all straight into the giant bear’s chest. The grizzly barely flinched. 

            “Mika!” Georgeanne’s shout rose about the grizzly’s roar and the gunshots’ echo. “Bring the big gun!”

            Russo dropped to the floor, out of the grizzly’s path as it lumbered forward. 

            The grizzly shoved the table over, spilling the coffee and soda and Doritos all over the floor. Georgeanne dodged and kept firing. 

Then the reptile—Nerina?—stomped forward, swinging its spiky arms wide. 

            I ducked down as the creatures grappled with each other, roaring loud. Blood spattered the walls and the floor.

            “You okay?” I pulled Rachel close.

            She peered around my neck. “Stay down.”    

            I tried, but couldn’t resist. I twisted my head and saw Nerina take a bite out of the grizzly’s neck. But the big bear slashed its claws across the lizard’s chest, and blood spurted high in the air.

            Then another gun boomed. Not Georgeanne, but Mika. “Die, bitch!” She wore black tights and carried her long AR-15 assault rifle from last night.

            “No!” Russo lifted an arm. “Don’t shoot Nerina!”

            But Mika kept firing. Bullets plowed into the grizzly’s spine and butt. Nerina’s reptile monster howled with fury, jabbing its spikes back and forth. 

            Both creatures fell, and I yanked my foot away as blood flowed over the floor. Mika stepped forward and fired the last of her bullets into the grizzly’s head. Nerina’s creature rolled away, groaning.

            Russo staggered to his feet. “Mika! Georgeanne! Stand down!”

            Mika lowered her weapon. Georgeanne ejected the almost-empty clip from her handgun and set it on the counter, breathing hard. 

            The grizzly’s body shivered and shimmered. After a moment, it faded away—just like the dragon Barsch had sent to attack us last night. 

            Then the reptile faded. Nerina reappeared, panting. Fortunately she hadn’t ripped through her clothes like the Incredible Hulk. That would have been awkward. Instead she leaned against the counter, hands on her knees.

            “Wh-what happened?” She gasped. “Oh . . . oh . . . ohh . . . “

            Rachel held her shoulders. “You’re fine. Just breathe.”

Mika peered at the shattered kitchen door. “Should I go out? There must be someone out there—”

            “Wait.” Russo straightened up and shot a hand into his pocket. “I’m calling for more backup. Then we can go after them.”

            “No!” Nerina pulled away from Rachel. “No more shooting! No more monsters! I just want to go home!”

            “It’s not safe.” Russo punched buttons on his phone. “Let me find someone—”

            “Come on, Andy.” I kicked at a pile of crumbled Doritos. “Barsch—or whoever it was—sent that grizzly right to your kitchen door. Unless you’ve got a safehouse the Raen don’t know anything about—”

            “Of course we do. Lots of them. —Hello, Conrad? I need a team to take the subject to—”

            “Shut up!” Nerina stomped a foot on the hardwood floor. For a moment I was afraid she was going to transform again. Instead she dropped her head, gasping. “I just want to go home . . .” She grasped the necklace and shoved it into her jeans.

            Russo looked at his phone. “Conrad? Let me call you back.”