Fury Read online

  Fury

  Elizabeth Cole

  Copyright © 2021 Elizabeth Cole

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13:9798505400937

  Cover design by: Rebeca-Ira P.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To you, reader, thank you for taking a chance on someone who wanted to write stories she had never read before.

  To my husband and children for listening to every version of each idea without complaint. And to Sarah for her threats gentle nudges to finish this.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 1

  Isipped my iced coffee as I stood outside watching the man across the street. He wasn’t handsome, he didn’t look wealthy, maybe it was power he’d sought? His dress shirt wasn’t buttoned up all the way and the sleeves were rolled past his elbows, revealing black veins in his arms and neck.

  He’d made a bargain, and he hadn’t held up his end of it. Humans as a race were generally smart. But occasionally, an Oracle found one that wasn’t.

  Tossing my coffee in the trash, the bracelet on my arm twisted tight in anticipation.

  “Quit fidgeting, Fitz.” I mumbled, crossing the street as I headed towards the man.

  My snake did not stop fidgeting, no he kept right on moving. Coiling around my wrist like it had been a week since his last feeding, instead of a few days.

  The street was as empty as it was going to get and whoever he was waiting for wasn’t here so now was as good a time as any. Trying to get the targets alone was always difficult since they never seemed to be the trusting sort. I walked right up to the man, took his hand in mine and tried not to smile with pity in my eyes, knowing my face was going to be the last thing he’d see before he lost his mind. Fitz moved, his body turning from the metal bracelet into a living breathing serpent.

  “What the—”

  “Time’s up.” I said.

  Confusion flashed in his eyes seconds before understanding, but Fitz had already secured himself around the man’s wrist and just as he began his protest, Fitz sunk his fangs into the artery there. I watched as the black veins faded to their normal color with each draw. The man’s expression went blank and his body temperature cooled drastically.

  It was over in a matter of seconds. Fitz slithered back to his place on my wrist and solidified back into his bracelet form. He’d sleep until we got home.

  The man blinked a few times, dazed and confused after losing half his soul, then he spun on his heel and took off down the street.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, watching him as he walked away.

  It would take weeks for his sanity to disappear completely, but it was the agreed upon price. If you were smart enough to find an Oracle, you were smart enough to know they took their bargains seriously. They’d give you what you asked for, but they’d ask for something in return. If you didn’t deliver in the timeframe they allotted, they’d send a Fury like me to come collect your debt. Half your soul. Oracles were not the type of beings you wanted to mess with, but I still had a full-time job cleaning up after them.

  Making my way through the busy downtown streets, I detoured only for coffee and pastries before heading back towards the college campus I lived on with my two roommates.

  Furies lived in groups of three, each trio picked out by the Oracles.

  Iris, Calpurnia and I had known each other since we were in diapers. They were my family, and the three of us looked out for each other.

  We’d been lucky to score a three-bedroom apartment on the first floor when we’d been accepted into the university last year. It was just off campus and filled with other students. I walked through the common room and straight to our door, letting myself in and setting the pastries and coffee on the counter, before pulling the caramel latte out of the holder and headed to Iris’ room.

  Walking into her room always felt like walking through a blizzard. Iris liked white. Scratch that, Iris was obsessed with white. White rugs, white pillows, white comforter. White. Her room was accented with furniture that looked like it had been built with mirrors and the only color currently visible in the room was her wine-colored throw she’d draped on the back of her white chair. She must have been tired if she hadn’t folded it and stowed it in the trunk at the end of her bed.

  “Iris.” I said, in a sing song voice. “Wake up, I brought coffee. Plus, I got the soul this morning.”

  The lump in the bed moved and all I got was a grumble. I tried again, but she still didn’t react enough to have woken up, so I kicked the bed.

  “Cripes, can you get coffee out of a rug like this?”

  Iris rocketed up, pushing chin length black hair from bright green eyes as she scrambled to the end of the bed. She peered over cautiously, as if I’d told her Freddy Krueger was waiting on the floor, then narrowed her eyes at the spotless rug where I stood.

  “That was mean, Nyx.” She complained, sitting back on her heels and scraping manicured nails through her hair. “I almost had a heart attack.”

  “Classes start in an hour.” I said, handing her the cup of coffee as I smiled, “I’m off to wake up Callie.”

  I left her to her morning routine and snagged Callie’s coffee on my way across the apartment.

  Callie and Iris were polar opposites. Iris, with her neat, white room, made Callie’s room look like a rainbow threw up in it. Iris hated mornings, Callie’s version of sleeping in was six A.M. Iris was all seductive curves and pale skin she made work for her and Callie was long limbs, thin build and sporting cheek bones models would be jealous of. I was convinced if you combined the DNA of Tyra Banks and Halle Berry, Callie would be the result. Her warm, toffee colored skin and dark curly hair caused her ice blue eyes to pop dramatically. She was easily one of the most striking people I’d ever known, and the kindest.

  Callie was sitting at her desk when I walked in, going over the papers in front of her.

  “Hey, coffee?”

  “Thanks, Nyx. How did it go this morning?” She asked, not even turning to look up.

  I set the coffee on a book next to her since there was no free space on her desk and shrugged, “No problems.”

  “Good, because we got another letter with three more names.”

  Callie was our mama bear. She kept us organized and put together. She received and sent all the correspondence to the Oracles so Iris and I didn’t have to deal with them and she was also the one who collected the souls from our vessels and sent them to the Oracles. Twice a year, she also reported in person.

  Their local estate was located in the center of a hundred acres of grass and trees in northern Vermont. The red brick colonial house was huge, the two lakes on the grounds were beautiful, the interior had been lavishly decorated and the thirty bedrooms were too. I’d been twice, and if the Oracles hadn’t been there, I would have enjoyed my stay.

&nb
sp; Iris, like me, hated the Oracles, but Callie saw them as our patrons and she didn’t mind them. If she didn’t love the work so much, I’d feel bad we put all the formal stuff on her, but she thrived off of pressure and the feeling of being needed.

  I wish I could say I was born with her passion for the job. I wish I could say I liked working on the mystical side of life and I was happy with my lot.

  But when had wishes ever come true?

  I loved Callie and Iris, I even loved Fitz, but I didn’t love taking souls or knowing I was a collector for the mob bosses of the magical world, and I hated that as Furies, we weren’t allowed choices or freedoms.

  I was at this university because the Oracles believed in higher education. I was taking the courses they had chosen and was here on their dime since we weren’t allowed to work closely with humans.

  My life had been laid out for me and if I strayed, even a little, I’d bring Iris and Callie down with me.

  Callie handed me a slip of paper with a new name and address on it and I did my best to smile, but it was more a grimace. Lucky for me, she was preoccupied and didn’t see it.

  “Thanks. Classes start in an hour, so can we get this done so I don’t have to sit with the soul all morning?” I asked, holding out the wrist Fitz was curled around.

  Her gaze softened, the same way it did when she dealt with any of our vessels and she smiled as her finger reached out and stroked his head.

  “Fitz,” she said, her voice a gentle murmur. I felt him stir, his body beginning its change from his metal state. The shiny silver gave way to scales almost the same color as he grew three times the size of the dainty bracelet. He yawned, his black mouth not looking nearly as scary without the matching fangs.

  I was definitely biased, but Fitz was the cutest vessel in the house as far as I was concerned. Callie’s hawk, Leonardo—named not after the famous painter, but the ninja turtle—was almost as fierce and no nonsense as Callie was. Iris’ fox, Thor, was gold and while he was the size of a baby he possessed every ounce of craftiness a fox could. But Fitz’s face as he looked up at someone melted my heart every time. He looked trusting and loving, he was a prima donna to be sure, but he was sweet. Yeah, Fitz definitely had my vote and I’d thought it since the moment we’d all received our vessels at thirteen.

  “Hey, little guy,” I said, watching him slither from me to her hand. “Did you have a nice nap?”

  His tail flicked, a response to tell me he heard me as he curled himself into her palm like soft serve ice cream and waited. She placed her other hand over him and green light began to emanate from within him until the soul had been pulled from him completely.

  My stomach roiled and I squeezed my eyes shut as my vision began to spin. My body’s typical reaction to being this close to a soul without the protection of my vessel.

  She muttered words in the language of the Oracles under her breath and the soul vanished.

  “Thank you, Fitz.” She said, and he moved back to my wrist, curling around it as his body changed back and he fell asleep once again. Transporting souls took a lot of energy from them. He’d sleep for the next few days, wake up hungry and then we’d go hunting again.

  “There are pastries on the counter,” I said, shaking off the dizziness I still felt.

  “You’re the best.”

  “Truth.”

  “Did you wake up the princess?” Callie asked, grinning at me.

  I returned it, “Yeah, I had to tell her I spilled coffee on the rug she bought last week.”

  “The one that looks like she skinned a yeti for it?” I nodded and her smile widened, “That would do it.”

  “I’m going to go change and then I’m going to smoke off the effects of the soul. I’ll meet you guys outside.”

  “Sounds good.” She called, going back to the work on her desk.

  I abandoned my t-shirt and jeans for something cooler. Even this early, it was hot outside. I eyed the red dress in my closet Iris had set in there after her shopping extravaganza last weekend. I kept putting it in the back and she kept pulling it out. If I had Iris’ black hair and milky skin it would have looked gorgeous. Callie would have turned it into something red carpet worthy as well, but with my red hair and fair skin, it didn’t work.

  By no means did I think I was ugly. I had well defined muscles in my thighs and arms, my waist was tapered and my butt was full enough I filled out jeans and shorts like they’d been made for me. But I never tanned. I burned, easily, and then ended up just as pale as I had been before I’d joined the lobsters of the world. I did count myself lucky that my freckles were just a light dusting over my nose and that my hair wasn’t the traffic cone orange it had been when I was younger. It had darkened over time, and now leaned towards a deep mahogany. Still, I steered clear of all things red.

  I grabbed a black racerback tank and some shorts from my closet, dressed and then pulled my hair up into a heap and secured it with a hair tie. The only thing I could say about my hair was it was thick and humidity didn’t affect it. Something Iris pointed out every time she had a bad hair day and Callie would comment that I didn’t have to worry about my curls going flat. She was right, but only because I didn’t have any curl to my hair. It was pin straight. Lucky me.

  I packed my books into my backpack and pulled on my shoes before grabbing the pack of cigarettes out of my jeans and left the apartment.

  Nicotine took the edge off the queasy feeling souls left our bodies with. We weren’t Oracles, our bodies weren’t up to dealing with the pieces of souls. It’s why we had vessels, but even they couldn’t take the feeling away completely, so we smoked. Alcohol had the same effect, but it took copious amounts and walking around drunk every few days wasn’t conducive to living.

  I sat down on the bench behind the apartments and lit a cigarette, focusing on my breathing so I didn’t throw up.

  Our vessels made sure that our bodies remained immune from human illnesses—cancer and liver failure would never be a problem—though none of this would be something we even had to think about if we weren’t forced to do our “jobs”. A Fury didn’t need a vessel to survive if we didn’t have to deal directly with souls. We could live a normal life, have normal families… if the Oracles would allow it.

  They didn’t.

  In addition to keeping sickness at bay, our vessels ensured we lived very, very long and healthy lives. Then, when the vessels retired—meaning their little bodies had had enough—we’d become Watchers.

  A Fury wasn’t raised by their parents or relatives. We were surrendered at birth to the Oracles who put three of us in a group and dropped us to the Watcher we were assigned to. The Watcher took care of us, trained us and taught us how to fit in with the world around us.

  Our Watcher, Ms. Ivy, was a beautiful woman who looked like a human Barbie doll. She’d loved us like we’d been her own kids, and even though she’d now taken on three new little Furies, she took time out of her busy days to call us a few times a month.

  “Those will kill you, you know.” A deep voice said from my left.

  I jumped, turning towards the direction the voice had come from, but there was nobody there.

  “Sorry,” the voice spoke up again, this time from my right, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I twisted back around to see a guy standing there.

  He leaned against the nearby tree, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. He wore a plain navy t-shirt that contrasted with his light skin but complimented the mess of blond hair that fell over his forehead and ears. He was tall, his eyes matched the shirt and he would have looked more at home with a surfboard tucked under his arm on a beach than standing on a campus. He wasn’t my type, I didn’t like to out muscle my men, but he was pretty nonetheless, and the confident grin he was giving me told me he knew it.

  “If your goal wasn’t to startle me, you shouldn’t have snuck up behind me.”

  “I guess that’s true.” He said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes whic
h had me raising my brows.

  “Those ones won’t kill you?”

  My comment earned me an arrogant smirk, “I’ve got a fabulous immune system. I was actually hoping you had a lighter.”

  I followed his gaze to my lit cigarette and teased, “No, I spurt fire out of my fingertips.”

  “Interesting. Can I borrow one of your fingers then?” He asked, pushing off the tree and taking a few steps towards me. He didn’t crowd me, simply stepped close enough he could use my lighter, but there was something wrong about it, about him. I could feel it.

  “I don’t show my super powers to people I don’t know.” I said, digging my lighter out of my pocket with the thought I needed to stop talking to him running through my head. “This will have to do.”

  He lit his cigarette and handed my lighter back to me, extending his hand, “Joshua.”