The Wild Ones: Sinners, #1

By Louise Czarnobai

July 5, 1968 was just another uneventful post-Independence Day...one that completely changed the course of history. The story itself is still not clear, but everyone knows about the riot that broke out in the middle of downtown Phoenix, Arizona. It quickly came to be known that some among the ruckus weren't a hundred percent human. Shapeshifters, some claimed. Magicians, others said. As the era of unification came, these Supers, as everyone grew to call them, struggled to live as the minority in a prejudiced society. To ensure their safety and wellbeing, millionaire activists created SINS—the Supernatural Institute of National Security.

Louis Blackwood has been hiding his true nature all his life, lying to everyone and never daring to trust even those closest to him. When Louis is forced to use the powers he has always kept a secret to save his life, he's led to prison without any chance of ever seeing daylight again. Until SINS shows up.

Lucas Lopes is the most popular professor at New York Supernatural University. Charismatic and honest, he's renowned for his impressive control of his tiger form and impeccable good looks. Lucas is completely aware of the way he affects people with his charms and beauty, but it isn't until Louis comes along that his smug arrogance grows to be a problem.

When they both join SINS as part of a new elite team, they're led to a boot camp with ten other Supers to train their powers. Their personalities clash almost instantly, but as they proceed through their training and have to solve the mystery of who is trying to destroy their team before they even get started, their initial hatred grows into flourishing affection as they learn they're connected in many ways.

Content warning: rape attempt & side character addiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louise Czarnobai
• Release date: Jan 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781793066190

Book preview

I came alive when I embraced the reckless one that’s deep inside.

— Wildest Ones by Zayde Wolf.

PROLOGUE

JULY 12, 1968

President Lyndon B. Johnson paced nervously around his waiting room. Just outside, a horde of journalists waited for the press conference, ready to spread the exact news the president was afraid to tell. There was a huge chance that what he was about to say would cause panic throughout the entire population of the United States. That fear was one of the reasons he’d waited so long to make a statement on what had been happening around the country; one wrong word and this announcement could have disastrous consequences.

Mr. President. His press secretary pulled him out of his thoughts. It’s time.

Thanks, George, President Johnson said, bracing himself for what was to come.

Adjusting his tie with anxious hands, President Johnson faced the door with dread and, before he could talk himself out of it, walked out of the waiting room and onto the big dais of the press room. Nervously sorting his papers on the tall podium, he eyed the multitude of journalists, already eager with their recorders and cameras. As he faced them, he cleared his throat with a too-loud noise that almost made him cringe. He and his speechwriter had spent days on this. President Johnson hoped it would be enough to appease his country.

Good evening, everyone, President Johnson started. Immediately dozens of cameras flashed. As you all know, a riot broke out in downtown Phoenix one week ago. I can assure you the disturbance has been dealt with, but we all know that’s not why you’re here. In the wake of this riot, some people have been claiming to have seen creatures we always thought only existed in our imagination. He paused, taking in the room in front of him. It was dead quiet, everyone absorbing what he had to say.

I’ve seen the news and speculations that have been circling everywhere; some say it’s only hearsay, others claim our country is doomed, and a lot are clearly worried. I come here today to tell you all that yes, what you’ve been hoping to be pure fiction is actually true. The rumors that have been going around, while a little exaggerated at times, come from the fact that we have supernatural creatures living among us.

The room exploded in a cacophony of loud exclaims, cameras going off incessantly and some journalists shouting over the noise, trying to get a word with the president.

I assure you that you have nothing to fear, President Johnson continued, trying to make sure the sound of his voice was both loud enough to be heard from the outburst of journalists and also steady enough to hide how worried he actually was. These folk have always lived among us and caused us no harm. Now isn’t the time they’re going to start being a threat to us.

He felt sweat drip from his forehead and he hoped that people couldn’t see through his mask of self assurance to realize that he wasn’t sure of his own words.

I can promise you that our government is going to make sure all of us live peacefully together. My cabinet is taking this matter very seriously, and as we speak we’re arranging measures to ensure nothing goes amiss and no one gets harmed. Our laws stand and, in time, we’re going to do our best to adapt them accordingly. If any of these creatures commits a crime, they’re going to have to deal with harsh treatment.

But who are these creatures, sir? a journalist on the back row spoke up.

We don’t have that much information yet, sadly, President Johnson said. These creatures are very secretive, since they had to hide from us for centuries. Taking into consideration all the years of witch hunting and burning at the stake, I don't blame them.

That seemed to get a good reaction out of the mob of reporters. The fact that they had killed and harmed all these supernatural folk in the past showed they had means to retaliate against possible attacks. If they had done it in the past, they could do it again.

We’re in communication with them at the moment, he continued, and as we speak we can only tell that maybe witches and werewolves weren’t just legends after all.

As soon as he mentioned werewolves and witches, loud whispers ran through the crowd. He didn’t even need to listen to all the reporters because he knew they all said the same thing. Monsters. Animals. Threat.

But they’re stronger than us! They’re animals! How are you going to deal with the fact they’re a threat to all of us normal people? one of the journalists spoke up.

President Johnson took a deep breath.

They’re not going to be more of a threat now than they were before we found out about them, President Johnson repeated, trying to reason with the crowd. Now that we know they exist, we can watch them. We can understand their powers and know what to expect of them. We can protect ourselves.

But the truth, the terrible truth, was that he wasn’t sure of what he was saying. He didn’t know whether these creatures were going to be a danger to them, he didn’t know whether they had a reason to attack them, he didn’t even know exactly who these creatures truly were! He was in a pool of ignorance that he couldn’t ever let show, or else his country was going to combust into a bloody war from  fear.

Then what do you expect us to do about them? a pudgy, old man asked, rising from his seat. I’ve seen war. I’ve been through all of i, and I’ve seen how devastated our country was after it ended. I damn well know that we don’t want a repeat of that. How are you going to stop of a war from breaking out? What are we even supposed to do?

There won’t be any war, President Johnson was quick to say, desperate to stop people from following that train of thought. Everything will be fine. Let the government deal with this situation. We’re going to ensure laws are created that will keep these creatures in line, and there’ll be a no tolerance policy for any kind of transgression. If they know what’s good for them, they won’t get in trouble with our government.

Or so he hoped.

CHAPTER 1

APRIL 24, 2015

Over the last four years, since Louis established his office in north Atlanta, visits to Hashi have been frequent. The Japanese restaurant is Louis's favorite and since it’s only a few blocks from his apartment, Louis finds himself dining there at least once a month in the company of his secretary, Marie.

Like Louis, Marie’s favorite food is sushi, so it’s usually where they go to celebrate cases and unwind a little after arduous days of work. Today is no different.

On a Friday night, the place is packed. Every table around them is occupied by people conversing, eating, and laughing loudly, making the place buzz with excitement. They even had to make a reservation because they know well they aren’t the only ones who favor the place.

To your case victory, Marie says, lifting her light beer for Louis to cheer.

Louis picks up his beer and clinks it with hers. To my victory.

He laughs, which comes easily. If asked, he’ll say it’s because he’s happy with the positive outcome of his day, but truly it has to do with this third beer and his consequent lightheadedness. In other circumstances he’d probably never let anyone see him in such state, with his lowered guard and way too much alcohol in his system, but this was Marie. His only true friend in years.

Justin is the sixth Shifter you saved from prison this year, Marie says, pride thick in her voice. Did you know you’re getting a name among the Super community?

Louis takes a long sip of his beer. Well, one of the reasons I became an attorney was exactly for this, to help Supers when everyone has turned their backs on them.

It’s really admirable of you, Marie says, nodding. But I still wish you would save some of your time for yourself. When was the last time you went out? And going out with me doesn’t count.

Louis sighs. Marie always bugs him about his lack of social life, but his job demands a lot of his time. During his downtime, he’d rather be playing his piano than going out and socializing. The closest he gets to it is going to a gay bar and picking up a random stranger to spend the night with. He doesn’t care, though; between that and nights out with Marie, it’s all the social interaction he needs.

You know I’m not good with people, Marie, Louis says for what feels like the hundredth time. I’m happy dedicating my life to my job.

I know. Her shoulders sag, as she knows it’s a lost cause. At least you’re good at what you do. Today’s case? I didn’t know if you’d pull that off. You know how the American court doesn’t like Shapeshifter attacks.

But it made no sense for him to be charged with battery. The ordinary was trying to kill him and even if he claimed it wasn’t a hate crime, it was obvious I could claim that it was.

That’s because you’re good at what you do, Marie replies, smiling. You know how I admire your philosophy of helping Supers in trouble. While some people are out there grabbing pitchforks and trying to kill all of them, you’re trying to help them even if you’re not part of the community.

Louis has to stop himself from laughing at that. It’s ironic she chooses to admire him for that, because the truth that no one knows is that Louis is a Magician. And not a simple Gray Mage, who are more widely accepted, but a Red Mage - one of the worst things to be in this society.

Being a Super in the United States in 2015 is not easy. Yes, Louis has to be grateful that he was born in this age and not in, say, the seventies, soon after the Super community had been exposed. Supers have gained a lot of rights since then and even now if you had the bad luck of being born somewhere in Africa you’d probably be dead by the time you as much as forced someone to take a single step. But even if Louis's reality is better than those of most; the American society is still a nasty place to be a Super. Especially a Red Mage.

Such response, Louis knows, originates from the fact that ordinaries are terrified of what Supers are capable of. They feel intimidated and that has brewed the core source of the vast discrimination Supers suffer. Shapeshifters and Magicians have the leverage in any situation regarding ordinaries, and Louis's powers manage to be everything that they’re afraid of. Easily, Louis can take away all control they have over their own bodies and leave them completely at his mercy. Once he’s through with them, if they’re not dead, they’ll wish they were.

All of this explains why his powers are completely illegal. A simple limb control movement could lead any Red Mage to spend years in prison.

Taking all of that into consideration, he opted to live in secrecy, never telling anyone about himself. Especially after the outcome of his relationship with his parents. After everything he went through, even telling Marie, his only friend, is not an option, no matter how supportive he knows she’d be of him. Some habits are hard to break.

I’m just doing what I think it’s right, Louis says, for lack of a more truthful version. He shrugs for effect.

The only difference is that the reasons behind his motive are a little different than Marie thinks. After being disowned by his parents and realizing that he could never truly be himself, could never embrace his powers and live to be part of the Super community, he decided to focus his work on helping Supers in trouble with the law. Not every attorney takes such cases and once Louis saw the incredible demand for someone who would choose to side with them, he embraced the opportunity and managed to make a name out of himself for it.

It’s a shame Supers have to live in fear of using their powers. When they do, they end up on your doorstep, she says, frowning. "They should be able to use their powers as much they want to. They shouldn’t have a worse treatment than an ordinary. It should be equal. Everything should be equal. She sighs briefly, then extends her arm and points at the television on their right. Look, there. It’s one of the reasons why this society is fucked up. We are prejudiced against Supers but when it comes to exploiting them as circus freaks, everyone jumps into it."

When Louis looks at the television, he sees that America’s Got Talent is on. On stage, there’s a built man with a buzzcut and his body littered with tattoos all the way up to his head. The television is muted, but he doesn’t need sound to catch on what his show is about. On stage, the tattooed man is doing something Louis never thought was possible: he’s manipulating all four elements on screen. With his arms spread in front of him, all the elements dance together intricately, taking shape into some sort of beautiful lace pattern. The judges offstage are flabbergasted, looking at each other with dumbfounded expressions and pointing to the stage like they need to make sure all of them are seeing the same thing.

Indeed, such a display is worth the excitement. Louis didn’t know it was possible. Manipulators have always been a fairytale story, something people dream and write stories about. Not something real. Louis doesn’t even know what sort of Magician that man he is.

Yes, I was also surprised when I saw him on the show, Marie comments on Louis's surprised expression. I saw him last week and I was amazed. I didn’t even know Manipulators were real, I’ve only heard rumors.

What kind of Magician is he? Louis asks, interested.

Manipulators are supposed to be White Magi. They can enchant objects, so somehow this guy got control over the elements as well.

But don’t White Magi have to use runes? Louis inquires, confused.

Yes, they do, Marie agrees. That’s why he is getting a lot of attention. The internet is crazy about him. If you actually went on Facebook you’d have seen it already.

I hope he doesn’t end up attacked, though, Louis comments, putting down his chopsticks and adjusting his glasses. I bet some extremist groups would be happy to claim that they killed the freak of the freaks.

I hope we don’t get a repeat of the Audrey case, Marie says. Those five men that raped that teenage girl deserve to rot in prison forever. And all because she probably is the best White Mage of her generation. She shakes her head.

Powerful Supers shouldn’t go around fearing for their lives simply because ordinaries are too intimidated by their powers.

Marie agrees, nodding.

They resume eating, idly talking and laughing, until around eleven. Marie looks at her wrist watch and says, Ready to go? It’s already late and Noah will be waiting for me.

Yes, sure, Louis says, wiping his mouth with his table napkin. I know your boyfriend is a little bit possessive.

A little? She laughs. Yes. I think he doesn’t complain that much when I’m out with you, because you’re both my boss and gay. If it were anyone else, he’d end up throwing a hissy fit.

Louis laughs as well. I’m glad he understands that I’m not a threat to him, then.

Marie decides to grab a cab, since she’s on the other side of Atlanta. But Louis lives only a dozen blocks from the restaurant, so he decides to walk home.

He’s taking the last turn of his trek when, suddenly, someone grabs him from behind and holds a fabric against his mouth and nose—chloroform, he realizes before blacking out.

Regaining consciousness is a slow process. He doesn’t immediately realize what is happening, where he is, or who brought him here. At first, he only picks up on voices around him—men, and quite a lot of them, and all talking loudly. Instantly he becomes aware that he’s been bound.

He tugs on his hands to find that they’re tied together behind his back in a resistant knot. As expected, his legs are also restrained, leaving no space to Louis untangle himself.

It doesn't stop him from trying. He fights with the knots for a few seconds and only manages to tie himself even more tightly. This is not a good sign by any stretch of imagination.

When he finally opens his eyes, he finds himself sitting on the floor with his back propped against the corner wall of a very big and very empty warehouse, appearing to be in such pristine condition that Louis knows the cargo usually held here is valuable.

Right in front of him, he sees five shadows in the dim light. Men, as Louis recognized, all talking to each other, gesticulating and laughing as if they hadn’t just kidnapped someone and tied them up.

The men are quick to notice Louis's newly awakened state. At Louis's slight movement, one of them whips his head in his direction. A predatory smile forms on his face; it makes Louis shudder with fear.

One by one, the rest of the men in the room turn their attention to Louis as well. Their expressions aren’t any less ominous than the first and Louis starts dreading that they’re definitely going to kill him before the night ends.

Look who just woke up, the tallest of the men says, grinning maniacally as they all approach Louis.

Do you think he can tell who we are, Carl? a second man with a mustache asks, stopping right next to Louis. He crouches down, grabbing Louis’s chin and bringing it up so they are looking in each other’s eyes. Do you know who I am, Louis Blackwood?

Louis tries to place the man’s face, but his mind comes up blank. He doesn’t know how to reply. He’s too stunned to say anything. His mind keeps screaming that by the end of this, these men will only kill him and ditch his dismembered body in a ditch.

Do you, you little cocksucker? the mustached man asks again, grip on Louis's chin tightening to the point of pain. Does the name Donald Davis ring any bell?

At that, it clicks. He doesn’t know how he didn’t realize first, but he knows who all these men are. Now it’s clear exactly why and how he’s here.

His fear only boils into anger. His rage surges with such ease and so rapidly that he can’t even really control what he does next.

He spits on Davis’s face with as much gusto as he can muster—that, for lack of a way to bash the fucker’s head onto the pavement until he’s begging Louis to stop.

He knows spitting on him wasn’t a sensible decision, but seeing the outraged expression emerge on the shitbag rapist’s face is worth how badly he retaliates.

Davis staggers backwards before recovering and throwing a punch to Louis's face with the momentum of his whole body.

Louis's head bounces backward and cracks against the wall, sending his glasses flying. He lets out an agonized gasp, his hands spasming, trying to get rid of the ropes to touch his abused cheek.

You need to know your place, you little shit, Davis says, sounding happy with Louis's pain.

Fuck. You, Louis hisses out.

Davis’ response is a kick to the stomach. Louis can’t help the long moan that escapes his mouth as his body folds on itself in pain.

What did you want to say? Davis asks with a grin, using the steel toe of his boot to lift Louis's chin so their eyes lock.

For the second time, Louis spits on him. This time, the spit is red with blood from both blows. The pain doesn’t make him lose his attitude. Few things do, and he’s not going to show weakness to all these scum of men. He’s also not surprised when Davis kicks him in the gut again, the ache spreading through his body as he goes limp on the floor.

As he pants with the burn surging through him, another man approaches him. Louis recognizes him as, obviously, another of Audrey’s rapists. This one is short and pudgy, and Louis knows it’s Morris, the oldest of them all. As soon as he’s next to Davis, the man gets a fistful of Louis's long blond hair and brings him up until he has no other choice but stand, a sharp bout of pain spreading from his head to toe at the movement.

Do you think he’s going to scream just like that girl? Morris asks the other men, which Louis knows is a rhetorical question. No one replies.

What Louis isn’t expecting, what starts building a desperation in his chest, is that Morris uses his free hand to touch Louis's lips. His thumb insistently breaches Louis's mouth, touching his tongue in a way that Louis can only describe as sexual.

He looks the man dead in the eyes and the realization hits him in his chest. These are the men that raped Audrey and now they’re going to rape me.

Who gets to go first? asks a blond man with an amused expression. It’s Barnes—the one in the end that Louis most despised. He wasn’t the average person, no, he was a goddamn pastor. One from those religions that treated Supers as demon spawns. Probably the kind of person Louis most abhorred in this biased society.

I’ll do the honors, says a fourth man, Owen, appearing from the corner.

That’s when Louis starts panicking. Being kicked and punched is one thing, being raped is a completely different one. He realizes then that these men are probably going to spend hours torturing him, and by the end of the night Louis knows he’ll be asking for them to kill him.

He becomes even more desperate when Owen grabs him by the waist and shoves him onto a nearby table. He manhandles Louis until he’s bending over the desk. Then, with one swift motion, he cuts the ropes binding Louis's legs so he can spread them apart.

Louis is so distressed he loses track of his surroundings; he can only hear men cheering in the background and feel Owen’s disgusting hands and body surround him. He’s left stupefied from fear, his hands and legs shaking in struggle as he starts tearing up in despair.

As the man gets rid of Louis's pants, Louis tries hopelessly to think of a solution. Owen shoves Louis's pants and underwear to the ground, and Louis truly starts crying as he feels the man’s hands touch his ass, fondle the smooth skin and eventually spread his cheeks wide to facilitate the touching. Tears roll down Louis's face as he tries to find a way to get away from these men, try to get to safety—there just has to be a way.

That’s when he remembers something that he’s tried to bury, tried to forget about himself: he’s a Mage. A Red Mage. He’s stronger than any of these men, strongly than all of them combined. Courage builds him. He’ll get away and not only that, he’ll teach these men a lesson.

Before Owen can violate him, Louis flexes his hands and the touches automatically stop. He closes and flexes his fists again, and the man that was trying to rape him lets out an agonized shout. Louis smiles—without even seeing him, Louis knows he looks like a kid’s doll with its limbs contorted in impossible ways.

Being a Red Mage means controlling blood, in any kind of way. It means Louis can not only move anyone at free will, but also do whatever he likes to people’s insides. If he’s very creative, he can inflict basically any kind of pain on anyone. Everyone has heard the stories of people who survived an attack of a Red Mage, and everyone knows that you should never fuck with one if you give any value to your life and sanity.

The four men remaining start shouting and Louis gets a type of satisfaction he never thought he’d feel again as he hears the men’s confused and scared cries. A satisfaction from using his powers. Just like when he was a teenager, playing with the squirrels, horses, and cattle on his parents’ farm, learning how to kill them in all sorts of ways. A satisfaction from being powerful. Being feared.

While his exterior is of a frail guy with hardly any muscles, deep down Louis can kill anyone with one wave of his arm.

He gets a thrill from it all, and suddenly his fear and desperation are replaced by the desire to make sure these monsters pay for what they’ve done.

The men quickly catch onto with what is happening. They shout to restrain Louis, screaming that he’s one of those bloodshedders, and that they need to kill him immediately.

They’re too late, though, because the seconds in which no one is touching him are enough for Louis to regain his stance and obtain eye contact with all of them.

With his arms still bound and in two movements of only his hands, all of them suddenly stop everything. They become dolls, bodies taut and erect. Dolls that Louis can easily play with just like children play with Barbies.

Before returning his attention to them, Louis finds a knife and cuts through the ropes on his wrists. Blood magic is tied to eye contact and movement of his arms, and he’ll need to be in his best form to pull off what he intends to. Once he has his hands free, he quickly puts on his pants and underwear again.

So, y’all, Louis says around a smile. He walks among all of them, most shouting and cursing him. Who wants to go first? He laughs. Wasn’t that what you said? He turns to Barnes, who immediately turns red from anger.

You’re an abomination, he accuses, face twisted with disgust.

An abomination that will kill you in only a few seconds, Louis says. If you beg, I promise I’ll make your death painless.

Go fuck yourself.

Louis's smile never fades. Oh, that was the wrong thing to say. He shakes his head.

In one swift movement of his arm, Barnes’ body becomes as taut as a bowstring. His eyes widen in horror as blood starts spurting out of his mouth and pouring on the concrete floor. He coughs a few times as blood falls just like drool, uninvited tears coming out of his eyes. It only takes a few seconds for his body to sag under the control Louis has over it and his eyes lose the spark that tells you whether someone is alive. Barnes is left a blood-drenched mess.

Two dead, three to go.

You see this guy over here? Louis points to the dead man. I destroyed all his internal organs. With just my hands. Do you want the same fate as him?

A few shake their heads, but Morris only glares at Louis with scorn.

Louis walks to him. Do you want to die just like your little friend?

I’ll die knowing you’re going to rot in hell, he says firmly.

Well, at least I’ll know while I’m there that I rid this world of the worst kind of rapists.

Louis waves his right arm and balls his left hand into a fist. The man immediately lets out a long wail as Louis watches both his femurs snap in two like twigs.

Quite pleased with the way Morris’ whole body convulses in pain, Louis opts to continue the movement of his arms, now each one flying in opposite directions. The man’s response this time is a long mewl, eyes widening so they’re almost popping out of his skull. Louis's smile only turns brighter as he takes pleasure in seeing the Z shape the man’s arms are now bent into.

Incoherent words and shouts leave Morris’ mouth as he drowns in blinding pain. Louis, acknowledging he has already gotten his point across, closes his fist one more time to cleanly snap the man’s neck.

Three dead, two to go.

Louis turns around to see the remaining men. One is Carl, the first to speak up to him, with his taller figure towering over Louis. It doesn’t intimidate him anymore, especially when he has all this power on the tip of his fingers.

The other man, bald with a pot belly, is the only one that still hasn’t said anything since the whole ordeal started. Louis recognizes him as Jenson, the janitor of the high school where Audrey studies.

Do y’all want to die like the other three or are you ready to start begging? Louis says, gloating at the men’s terrified expressions.

Please, Jenson says desperately. Please. Don’t kill me. I have a family! I— I have a daughter!

Audrey is someone’s daughter, Louis hisses, striding slowly in Jenson’s direction with narrowed eyes. Do you think Audrey deserved any of what you monsters did to her?

But she’s a monster, Jenson whispers. You’re a monster.

No, Louis says, shaking his head with conviction. Can’t you see? The only monster here is you.

Louis flexes his fists and immediately Jenson’s eyes explode out of their socket, gore dripping all over his face as he yells louder than any of them had.

"Ah, now you can’t see."

Ju-just kill me—already... Jenson lets