Fury's Valentine (Fury's Fire Book 1)
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
Epilogue
Fury’s Valentine
A Fury’s Fire Novella
Helen Scott
Contents
Copyright
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
Epilogue
Also by Helen Scott
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Fury’s Valentine
A Fury’s Fire Novella
Copyright © 2017 by Helen Scott
Cover Design © Natasha Snow
Editing by Courtney Umphress
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the brief use of quotations in a book review.
This book is intended for adults only. The sexual activities represented in this book are a work of fiction intended for adults. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously by the author. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
Something clattered on the apartment’s balcony, startling Ben awake. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table, the light blue luminous numbers practically screaming at his eyeballs. There was hardly any light coming into his room, it was so early. He was about to go back to sleep until the faint knocking sounded on the sliding glass door.
Groaning, he got out of bed, grabbing a T-shirt to pull on as he went to investigate. As soon as he exited his bedroom, he saw what had made the noise. Mia stood on his balcony, her hands pressed on her hips, and her visible foot tapping its impatient rhythm on the floor.
“Hey,” he said, opening the door as he pulled his T-shirt down, the soft gray material barely providing a barrier against the cold winter wind that rushed in through the opening.
“Hey? Really? That’s all you’ve got?” Her voice was sharp with anger.
“Um, yeah, you woke me up. I need coffee before I can figure out why you’re mad at me.”
“I’m mad at you because not only did you skip out on our training session this week but your phone is dead, and Hades has been trying to reach you with a case.”
“Shit,” Ben said as he rubbed his forehead. “I thought I’d put it on charge when I got home.”
“Well, apparently not. So now I have been sent to pass along the case details.”
“Thanks, Mia.”
“You are going to owe me multiple training sessions for this. Also, you should really keep your balcony clear. It’s hard to land when your shit is all over the place out there.”
He shrugged. His friend avoided teleporting as much as she could, hating the sensation, although he’d never found out why. Her short white-blonde hair was pulled away from her face and a little ratty at the ends, most likely from the wind that had been whipping it about moments earlier. “Coffee?”
She nodded. “Do you mind if I stretch out? It was a long flight.”
“Be my guest,” he said, gesturing to the open area that was his living room. Ben didn’t have a ton of space in his apartment, but it was certainly big enough for her to stretch and make sure her muscles didn’t cramp before her flight home.
He listened to the coffee percolate as she shook her wings out from her back, making them visible once more. They matched her hair in their bright blonde color, but the tips of her feathers were black, as though she’d been dipped in ink. She was a harpy, a messenger of Hades and a hound of Zeus. The king of the gods didn’t really give a shit about anyone but himself these days, so the harpies had become Hades’ tools, his way of keeping an eye on his furies and occasionally bringing people who had popped up on his radar to the furies for punishment.
Her taloned feet clenched on the carpet as she stretched first one long, lean leg, and then the other, while he poured the coffee. When he’d first met Mia, he’d thought she was beautiful. Now that they were friends, she was more like a sister to him, which was good, because he wasn’t the kind of man who could make it through all her bullshit to even try to be in a relationship with her. The woman had issues.
She shook once more, and her talons and wings disappeared, fading into the magic that kept them hidden from mortal eyes and allowed them to wear normal clothing, before coming into the kitchen area. He handed her the steaming mug of coffee.
“As black as your soul, just the way you like it.” He grinned.
He sipped his coffee next to her for a moment, just enjoying the silence and the company of someone he didn’t have to hide from. When a deep sigh escaped her lips, he knew that the coffee was just the way she liked it.
“You awake now?” Her cocky grin dared him to say anything other than yes.
He knew better than to fall for that trap. “Yeah, tell me what I’ve got,” he said before taking a long drink of coffee, letting the hot, dark liquid warm him from the inside out.
“Tommy Bradley. Hades is getting some major bad vibes from the guy. He hasn’t done anything yet that would bring him to our attention, but something is coming. He wants you to follow the guy, see what he’s up to, make sure the vibes are justified, and, of course, once he crosses the line, you can bring him to the Underworld to play,” she said as she handed him the piece of paper with all the pertinent information on it.
“Sounds good.”
“Justice has failed to punish him. Now that task is up to you. Will you take this burden?” She said the familiar phrase required between harpy and fury exchanges.
“I will.” Not that he had any other choice. If he so much as hesitated, then Hades would rescind the option for him to live in the mortal realm and confine him to the Underworld with the exception of hunting and tracking missions, which was definitely something he wanted to avoid.
“Good, now that’s done, I’ll let you get some more sleep. Just as a heads-up, though, the guy has been on the move a lot—don’t know why—but he’ll need a lot of attention.”
“Thanks, Mia.” He hugged his friend, and she went to leave.
As she closed the sliding door, she said, “Oh, and clean off your damn balcony. Or at least charge your phone!” With the door closed and winter trapped on the outside once more, she shook out her wings and took off.
Ben downed the rest of his coffee in two big gulps before heading over to his laptop. He needed to find out who the hell this Tommy Bradley guy was and what could have piqued Hades’ interest.
Chapter 2
Fiona didn’t want to climb the stairs to her apartment. She kicked the broken elevator door, sending a scowl at the “Out of Order” sign. The evening was not going to plan. Her workout at the gym had left her feeling wiped out, not to mention the woman who had been on the treadmill next to her had awkwardly patted her on the ba
ck when she went to leave, as though she was making sure Fiona was okay. Now, coming home to a crappy notice on the elevator advising her the stairs were her only choice, well, it wasn’t exactly her idea of a good way to cap the evening off.
She didn’t have another option, though, so she began to climb. By the time she’d reached her floor, her muscles were screaming at her. She had never been more thankful that her apartment was just around the corner from the stairs. Usually she hated it since she could hear everyone coming and going, but not at that moment.
As she slid her key into the lock, she felt the familiar clicking and sticking as she pulled the door toward her to make sure the deadbolt opened. All she wanted was a scolding hot shower and a glass of wine.
What she got was a cold sweat and the urgent need to vomit.
The door had swung open to reveal her entire apartment covered in roses, carnations, and baby’s breath. There were probably other flowers strewn about as well, but she hadn’t examined the scene closely. One thought kept banging its way through her head, over and over again like a train stuck on a loop.
He had found her.
There was no question in her mind as to where the flowers had come from. She backed away from her apartment door and knocked on the door diagonal from her own. A young woman opened up.
“Hi, sorry. I’m Fiona. I live in 304,” she said, gesturing to the open door of her own apartment. “Someone broke in, and I was wondering if you would mind if I called the police from your apartment.”
“Ohmygod, no, not at all. Come in!” She opened the door wide, and Fiona saw one of the more expensive apartments laid out in front of her. It was nice, but nothing she needed. She had loved her apartment, and now it was ruined. She was going to have to run. Again.
Her hands shook as she dialed the local police department, and her tears barely stayed contained as she reported the crime.
The operator was calm and understanding and advised her that a unit would be on its way over any second.
As she waited, the other woman, who had been kind and accommodating, chatted away. It all went in one ear and out the other, though, as Fiona’s mind was already working frantically to plan her escape from the city and how she could get away the fastest without shooting herself in the foot with unpaid bills or a vacant apartment, not to mention the job situation. No matter where she landed, she would need a letter of recommendation, or at least the option to put them down as contacts for perspective employers to call. God, she hated Tommy, hated that she’d ever spent more than a minute with him, and hated that he’d systematically destroyed her life.
When a knock came at the apartment door, Fiona almost jumped out of her skin. The familiar blue uniform of a police officer filled the doorway, and when he came in to question her, it was like déjà vu on steroids. She’d been in this situation multiple times now and could almost answer the questions before the cop asked them. Had this behavior occurred before? Had threats been made? Was there a history of violence with the suspect? Did she have a restraining order against the suspect? Had her property been vandalized? Did she know the suspect?
It was those last two questions where she could practically see the cop’s eyes glaze over.
“Can you tell me how your property has been vandalized?” the officer asked, pen resting on his notebook.
“Didn’t you see? There are flowers everywhere.”
“So, it’s been vandalized with flowers?” His eyebrows arched.
She nodded her agreement.
“And how do you know the suspect?”
“He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
His pen paused before jotting the last part down. “I see. Could he just be reaching out to reconcile the relationship?”
“He broke into my apartment. My apartment that I found after moving to multiple different cities, only to have him follow me.”
“Um hum.”
“I didn’t touch anything, so you can have whoever you want go in there and get fingerprints or whatever.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary at this time.”
Before she could respond with exactly what she thought of his lack of concern, his radio crackled to life. A tinny voice rattled off some numbers and a location that wasn’t far from where they were.
“If you’ll excuse me, ma’am, I have to respond to this call. Here’s my card. I’ll file a report as soon as I get back to the station. Feel free to call if anything further happens. Sometimes men just need to try, to test the waters. I’m sure if you don’t respond, he will leave you alone.”
“What the—?” she spluttered. “He’s a stalker. I called the police because I need you to actually do something.”
The officer sighed and turned back around. “What is it you’d like us to do, ma’am?”
“I don’t know. Leave someone here to watch the building? Track him down and make sure he leaves the city?”
“I’m afraid we don’t have the resources to leave someone watching your building until he decides to show up again, if he does at all, and we can’t force him to leave the city. All we can do is make sure he’s following the restraining order.”
“Fucking fantastic.”
“Ma’am.” The officer ignored her outburst and turned, walking away with a stride that ate up the hallway in front of him.
As she stood in between her apartment and her neighbor’s, she could hear the officer practically running down the stairs to respond to whatever the call was that had come over his radio. Maybe it was good that she’d be leaving the city, since the police there obviously didn’t care one way or another what happened to her.
Tommy would kill her if she didn’t respond to him. She knew that as sure as she knew her own name.
Chapter 3
Ben had been watching Tommy for weeks now. The man had been moving around the city and schmoozing with all different kinds of people. Schmoozing was maybe not the best word choice. He persuaded, cajoled, harassed until whomever he was talking to finally relented. The weirdest thing by far, though, was the flowers. He’d filled his rented minivan with flowers and proceeded to take them upstairs to an apartment. Afterward, he’d waited patiently for the woman to return home. If Ben hadn’t been set on him like a tracker dog by Hades, then he might have assumed the guy’s intentions were honorable, just a man doing a romantic gesture for his lady. But, Hades had set him on the guy, so he doubted very much that there was anything honorable going on behind the man’s dark eyes.
When the light in the apartment had come on, Tommy had stood up next to the van, the glow from his cigarette illuminating the smile on his face. A police car had shown up a few minutes later, and Tommy had backed up to a place he’d already marked on the grass. Ben didn’t know what that was all about, but he was going to guess it didn’t bode well for whoever was in the apartment that he’d covered in flowers.
In some respects, Ben loved his job as a fury. Dealing justice to those who escaped the law? It made him feel like a superhero. There was a lot of his job that he hated, though, specifically the part he was experiencing in that moment. The fact that Hades always wanted them to wait, to make sure that whomever it was deserved to be punished before a fury descended on them or even took them to the Underworld, never made sense to Ben. Hades’ instincts hadn’t been wrong since Ben had started working for him; not one of the furies who worked in the field ever came back empty-handed, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they reported to a god, since above all, Hades only wanted to mete out the correct punishment. So, why did he insist on the patience, on playing the wait-and-see game when he already knew the party was guilty and someone would eventually get hurt? Ben didn’t have any answers, but he was thankful that it hadn’t happened yet. At least, not for any of his cases.
He had no doubt that Tommy was dangerous. The man raised the hairs on the back of his neck like nothing other than a budding serial killer, or something similar, could do. When he’d first started following the man, he’d made himse
lf visible and bummed a cigarette from him, sharing an awkward smoke break with the man and a strange woman who he could have sworn was supernatural. When she’d slapped him on the shoulder, he’d felt a strange spark go through him. Tommy had just stared at the two of them with confusion clouding his features. After making eye contact with him, though, Ben decided following him while glamored was the best course of action. There was an empty rage behind his eyes. Nothing else. Other than the anger he could see burning within the guy’s soul, he was practically dead. It didn’t help that his skin was pale and his hair was almost as dark as Ben’s own.
After the police car departed surprisingly quickly, his quarry edged closer to the apartment building, his eyes still locked on the illuminated window. A woman made an appearance in the window, her curvaceous body highlighted by the backlight from the room, not to mention she wore leggings and a sports bra. She was beautiful in an effortless way, in a way that made him want to jump up to the balcony just to see if the beauty held true when he was closer. The thought made him shudder a little. He’d been spending too much time with the stalker. She was gorgeous, though. There was no denying that. All soft round edges and long wavy hair.
He glanced at Tommy, expecting the man to be happy now that he’d confirmed and essentially cornered his prey. He wasn’t. A vicious snarl was on his face. Something about seeing her had finally broken through his calm veneer. Part of Ben couldn’t help but wonder what it was that had pissed him off. Was it because she wasn’t crying? That she came back to the apartment undeterred by his attentions, his imagined gift of flowers? She came downstairs a few minutes later with multiple garbage bags clutched in her hands, flowers peeking up out of the gaps in the closures at the top of the bags as she tossed them into the dumpster.