Snake Charmer

By Kate Hill

Skye: I’m a lone wolf, but I’ve left the forest to fight against demons who’ve taken over the world. Right now I’m with a pack in Baltimore, but their alpha respects my ways. I take assignments from him, but I live alone and fight alone -- until the night I’m attacked by a swarm of bat demons and a hot little snake dancer jumps in to back me up. For me, it’s lust at first sight, but it’s more than that. I think this adorable little tough guy is my mate, even though he’s not a wolf.

Erik: I’m called Snake Charmer. Dancer. Contortionist. Spirit twin to an alien serpent who has always been my protector. My life has been a series of horrors with some beautiful experiences tossed in. I’ve learned to be independent, especially after my best friend and I were brutalized in an attack that left her dead. Now I’m out for revenge, and it’s brought me to Maryland, directly into the path of a gorgeous werewolf who makes me feel things I never dreamed of. It can’t last, though, and nothing, not even desire this deep, will come between me and my vendetta.

Warning: While set in a futuristic paranormal reality, Snake Charmer includes references to previous child abuse, rape, and murder that may be triggers to some readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: May 22, 2020

Kate Hill

Kate Hill is a vegetarian New Englander who started writing many years ago for pleasure. When she's not writing, she enjoys reading, watching horror and action movies, working out, and spending time with her family and pets. She also writes under the name Saloni Quinby.

Book preview

vendetta.

Chapter One

Wind snaps in my face and whooshes around my ears. My bike vibrates between my legs and around me the city is a blur of neon lights and towering shadows. Sometimes it’s hard to believe there’s no speed limit anymore. Since the demon occupation, there are few rules and almost none of them protect what’s left of Earth’s original residents. Or were we here first? Since those fucking towers went up we’ve learned a lot, and so far none of it has been good.

Angels. Demons. They were here a long time ago and driven off in a battle long before my time. The past doesn’t matter much anymore, because they’re back and have been for a few years now. I never really kept track of time. Strange as it sounds, I have more purpose now than before the fucking demons took over. It’s nice to be useful, but not part of a pack -- at least not all the time.

This city stinks. It’s not like the mountains where I grew up. The smell of gasoline was rare. Smog and smoke? Never. I was happy there. Free. Rogue wolf, they call me. I’d rather live alone than belly up to any alpha, but when the demons came, when my kind was threatened, everything changed for me.

It’s still unbelievable. Like a nightmare. Wolves hunted on our own land, rounded up and slaughtered or imprisoned in the hellish towers that have risen all around the world. Rumor has it that my kind are used as entertainment -- pitted against each other to fight to the death for the amusement of demons. After all I’ve seen, there’s nothing I wouldn’t believe anymore.

Someone’s screaming. Even with my heightened senses it’s hard to tell the difference between a cry for help -- and there are so many -- and shrieks of demonic joy mixed with general pandemonium.

I slow my bike just enough to spin around and fly down a dark side street. Three pale-faced, dark-eyed demons toss around a black-haired vampiress. She hisses, cat-like, and fights back, but they toy with her, letting her land a few blows before smacking her down. She smashes face down on the pavement and even before I cut the engine on my bike I hear her nose break and smell blood.

Gagging, she pushes herself weakly to her hands and knees, but one of the demons -- a gangly blond -- presses his booted foot to her back, pinning her to the ground. He and his two buddies turn to me.

What are you staring at? a dark-haired demon sneers in my direction, his black eyes glittering.

I don’t speak, but stride toward them, hands flexing at my sides. My inner wolf awakens. Time for my nightly workout.

Hey, ugly, are you deaf? Mute? Maybe you’ve lost your tongue? taunts the blond.

Ugly? I nearly laugh at that bullshit insult, but I’m not about to break my silence because it can be more intimidating than the loudest words.

The three pull daggers -- common weapons for their kind. They like to kill up close and personal. Right now they probably have bigger hard-ons at the thought of gutting me than of raping that vampiress.

I let them come at me. Shifting to that place somewhere between man and wolf takes a few seconds, but at that moment the stink of their lust turns to the sweet scent of fear. They’re low-bred demons, and what little magic they have doesn’t work on me. Werewolves are immune to mind-control and most forms of magic. These demons are stronger than humans -- most species are -- but not a match for me.

Their blades cut me in a few places. It stings, but I’ve had worse. My claws rip through their leather clothing and flesh beneath. I kick one into the brick side of an abandoned deli. I rip out the blonde’s throat, and the third takes off running.

Scarcely winded, I bend to help the woman who has pushed herself to her knees.

You okay?

She nods and wipes her bloody nose with a shaking hand. I offer her a clawed, hairy hand, but she shrinks from me, pushes herself to her feet and runs off.

You’re welcome! I shout and shake my head. Then I pause and sniff the air. Aw, fuck.

Giant bat-like demons drop from the deli’s rooftop. They swarm around me, slashing me with needle-like claws. Growling, I shift to full wolf form, hoping the thicker fur will protect me. I lash out at them, claws swiping leathery flesh and my teeth gnashing at the wind. I try to make it to my bike, but I can barely see through the mass of dark bodies.

The demons shriek and turn away from me. At first I don’t understand what’s happened, and then I see him. Dressed in black, his face covered in a fitted hood that leaves only his eyes exposed, he kicks and strikes at the demons, his lithe body twisting into unnatural positions. He attacks and defends with the speed and precision of a raptor or a snake -- maybe some weird combination of both. He isn’t like any creature I’ve seen before, demon or otherwise.

I don’t have much time to think about it. Shoving aside the few demons still clinging to me, I bound toward my bike.

What the hell am I doing?

I turn toward the shrinking swarm. The remaining demons continue attacking my rescuer. I might be a lone wolf, but abandoning someone who’s lent me a hand isn’t in my nature.

Growling, I gallop back toward the scene, shift to my half man, half wolf form again, and reach for the masked dude. He glances at me with eyes the color of my favorite lake back home -- a combination of dark blue water tinted by the reflection of the surrounding evergreens. His eyelashes are so damn thick and long -- prettier than the fake ones worn by the strippers at the club down the street from my apartment. A pang shoots through my chest.

Come on. I grasp his arm -- it’s thin enough for my fingers to touch, but hard, like flexible steel. His shredded clothes are sticky with blood, exposing bits of torn skin beneath. I’m ripped up pretty bad, too, but my accelerated healing has already kicked in. These superficial wounds will be all but gone by morning. I don’t know how quickly my wiry friend here heals. He doesn’t smell completely human, but that means nothing. Even some demons have a short lifespan, meager strength, and limited powers.

I drag him toward my bike and he quickly falls into step with me. I jump on and he dives on behind me and grabs my belt loops. His lithe body presses to mine as we fly down the street. A demon or two swoop down at us, but once we hit the main road, they either don’t bother following or aren’t able to match the bike’s speed.

Let me off! my passenger shouts above the engine and the roaring wind. I don’t answer. Are those assholes right? Are you mute? So, he’s been watching me. How else would he know about my scuffle with the rapists? Hey! Stop the fucking bike!

I turn down the street to my apartment -- a rundown place in the middle of abandoned factories on the edge of the city. Few people live there, and demons use what had once been a communal parking lot as a bone yard.

I park my bike in a garage I’ve claimed. He dismounts and takes a few unsteady steps toward the door. He’s pulled his mask off, revealing thick reddish-brown hair. Several strands cling damply to his face and neck. He sweeps a slim, graceful hand over his face, brushing back his hair. Shit, he has a nice face. Unusual, but nice. A square jaw line, sharp cheekbones, and a prominent nose give him a birdlike look -- like a hawk or an eagle. Those eyes are something else, though, gorgeous and emotional beneath his heavy, arched brows.

Hang on. I stride past him, pull down the garage door, and lock it.

I’m not your prisoner.

Prisoner? What are you talking about? You’re hurt. So am I. We need to get cleaned up.

I’ll take care of myself. He continues toward the door and stoops to raise it. Grunting, he presses a hand to his side.

Yeah, well, I could take care of myself with those demons, but you just butted in. That means I owe you, so I can’t let you leave until I know you’re okay.

He straightens, clearly annoyed, and those soul-stealing eyes fix on me. My car is still sitting on the side of the street where those things attacked you. Everything I own is in there and thanks to you it’s all probably stolen or trashed by now.

That was a problem. "Okay, let’s get patched up so we won’t bleed to death and then we’ll get your stuff. Come on. I don’t bite -- well, that’s obviously a lie. I bite pretty frickin’ hard, but I won’t bite you."

After a moment, he nods. Okay, but don’t try anything weird, because I bite hard, too.

Excitement shoots through me and I draw a deep breath. Down, boy. He’s not staying around. We helped each other -- a rare thing in this fucked up world -- and once we lick our wounds, he’ll be on his way and we’ll never see each other again.

The garage is attached to my building, so I lead the way to the basement. Just four other people live here -- an old witch who refuses to move and a small human family, one of the few without powers who have survived the demon occupation. The city’s alpha wolf owns the building itself. When I arrived a year ago to offer my services, he let me have the place in exchange for helping his pack keep watch over this particular part of the city. It’s been a good deal for me. I can help fight the good fight, and he has agreed to respect my freedom. Sometimes I attend mandatory meetings, but usually I work alone.

I lead the way down the dark corridor to the stairs.

You can put your hand on me. We don’t keep lights in the hallways at night. Demons. Thieves. Why let the nasties know anyone’s home? I don’t need a flashlight because I can see in the dark, but --

So can I.

I glance at him over my shoulder and raise an eyebrow. What are you, anyway? No offense, but I’ve never met anyone like you.

What a shock, he says under his breath.

I tap my ear. Exceptional hearing, too.

Makes sense for a werewolf.

Yeah, so I’m obvious, but getting back to you.

I’m human.

Okay, so you want to lie about it.

I’m not lying. My mother was human.

What about daddy-o?

He laughs, but doesn’t answer. Maybe he doesn’t know. I decide not to push. It’s not like I’ll see him again after tonight.

I live in a second floor apartment -- an easy jump to the street for me. On my way, I listen intently to the normal sounds and smells from my neighbors’ apartments. The witch chants softly amidst the aroma of incense and fresh chili. The family’s television plays the local news -- demonic version, since that’s pretty much all that’s available since the occupation. They had hotdogs and beans for dinner. Nowadays there’s no telling where the lips and butt-holes in the hotdogs came from, but I’ve never mentioned that the few times they’ve invited me over for a meal.

Outside my door, I pause to insert the key. Just a warning, I’m not the greatest housekeeper.

It’s not like I’m staying.

Good point. We step inside and he glances around while I lock the door. My place smells kind of stale. I haven’t been around