Chapter Three

Wyn

This is my kind of place. The music is going off, the crowd is electric, and the women, of course, are absolutely gorgeous. Not that I would expect any less from a party being thrown by a major film studio. In Hollywood, there's no shortage of actress and model wannabes willing to throw themselves at any man they think can give them their big break.

Almost makes me wish I was a studio executive instead of what I am -- a Dragonborn Ranger.

Not that I have regrets about what I do. I'm proud to have been the youngest to ever pass the Trials. Being a Ranger is something I dreamed about when I was a younger. I worked hard to get to where I am. Worked hard to be one of the elite. One of the very best.

The only regret I have right now is being placed in Warden Quint's territory. I mean, I respect the guy and everything, but he's an absolute hardass. And I don't think he likes me very much. He's always on me about something. About everything, really. I can never seem to do anything right. Or at least, it seems like I can never do anything up to his standards.

It's exhausting. And frustrating. I work hard and do my job. I'm the youngest to ever pass the Trials and become a Ranger. And yet, Quint sometimes treats me like I'm an idiot. Like I'm a nothing. A nobody. Just another grunt who's only purpose for existing is to do his bidding.

Although I'm under Quint's thumb right now, that's not always going to be the case. Eventually, he'll have to step down as Warden. Which means, I might have a shot at becoming a Warden myself. If not, then I'll ask to be assigned somewhere else. Chicago. New York. Anywhere but here.

Which is why I make sure to have fun when and where I can. And I've always had a good time blowing off steam at the clubs. Not only do I enjoy the energy pumping through the atmosphere, but I usually find some gorgeous woman willing to keep me company for the night.

I almost didn't get into Club Ice tonight though. I'm obviously not on the studio's approved list. But a little persuasion and a few bucks go a long way. Robby, the guy on the door, has let me into Ice when he's not supposed to on a few different occasions. He's a good guy.

I'm not much of a dancer. When I'm in the club, I prefer watching people. Observing human interaction – something I find endlessly fascinating. Humans in general are fascinating creatures and I never tire of observing them. Some of the other Rangers seem to think I'm so interested by humans because secretly, I want to be one. Which only makes me laugh, given how many of them have taken human mates – like Warden Quint.

“How ya doing?”

I'm leaning against the bar, watching the crowd, and turn at the sound of the woman's voice. She's a tall, leggy blonde with an amazing body. I look her up and down approvingly and then flash her a wide smile.

“Better now,” I say. “Buy you a drink?”

Her smile is almost predatory as she holds her hand out to me. “Sandra,” she says. “And I'd love a drink.”

I take her hand and caress her knuckles with my thumb, never breaking eye contact with her. She's looking me up and down, apparently enjoying what she sees.

“Wyn,” I say.

The blonde steps a little closer to me, purposely pressing her breasts against my chest. She leans forward until her lips are inches from my own. She smells of citrus – and cigarettes.

“So, what do you do with the studio?” she purrs.

I give her a smile and lean back from her a bit now that I see what her angle is.

“Nothing,” I say. “Because I'm not with the studio.”

Sandra frowns and quickly takes a step backward, taking her hand out of mine, a sour look suddenly crossing her face. Without another word, she turns and walks down to the other end of the bar where I see her launch into the same routine with a guy who's got thinning hair and glasses thicker than the tumbler I'm sipping my scotch from.

All I can do is shake my head and laugh. Actresses.

I'm standing there sipping my drink when I feel a strange energy come over me. It a magical energy not like anything I've ever felt before. It's powerful and overwhelming. And it makes me feel almost lightheaded. I scan the crowd around me, searching for the source.

As I look around, my eyes fall on her – and I find it impossible to look away.

She's got dark hair and very fair skin with a deliciously curvy body accentuated by a tight black dress. She's got toned legs and a tight body – it's easy to see that she takes great care to stay in shape. She's absolutely gorgeous, but that's not what draws my attention to her. At least, it's not the only thing that draws my attention to her.

It's the bright, vivid aura of colors I see swirling around her. I've never seen or felt anything like it before and I have no idea what to make of it.

She turns and our eyes meet and it feels like somebody had touched a live wire to me. My body trembles with the energy that courses through me. I stand rooted to my spot, wanting to talk to this woman and see who – or what – she is, but somehow feel unable to move. All I can do is stand there and watch her.

The woman looks away and I find that I'm able to draw a breath again. My pulse races and a torrent of adrenaline rushes through me. The colors around her keep swirling and pulsing, growing more vibrant the longer I stare at them.

I shake my head and tear my eyes away, trying to collect my thoughts. I've never encountered a human like her before and I know – without knowing why – that it's significant. It's definitely something I need to report to Warden Quint. But I also know I can't report it without having additional, relevant information – that'd just be another thing for him to climb up my ass about.

I turn back, determined to break this paralysis I'm feeling, when another wave of sensation passes over me. And this one, unlike the mystery woman's energy, isn't pleasant. When I see him approach her table, I'm overcome with feelings of despair and despondency. Anger and rage. It's a dark, greasy feeling that is entirely repellent. It's such a terrible feeling, I feel nauseous.

Setting my drink back down on the bar, I take a few deep, steadying, cleansing breaths. Part of me wants to summon my own magic to wash away the bleakness this newcomer has inspired in me – but something makes me hesitate. I know, without understanding how I know, that to summon my magic would be to give myself away – and I can't afford to give myself away. For some reason, I just know I have to stay hidden. Masked.

I force myself to look at the newcomer – a man. He's tall, but somewhat slight of build with stark white hair and an almost sickly looking pale complexion. Although his hair is somewhat unique, it's not the most compelling feature about him. No, the thing that catches and holds my attention is the aura around the man. Like the woman, it's vivid and stands out to my eye. But whereas hers is bright and colorful, his is dark. Malevolent.

It just feels – evil.

I stand and watch the pair of them talking for a little while, seemingly unable to move. It's like some unseen force is making me stand there and bear witness. But bear witness to what? What am I seeing? Having never seen an aura around a person in my life, I'm now standing there staring at two – auras that seem to be from opposite sides of the spectrum.

When I see them stand up, I want to cry out. I want to tell the woman not to go with him. That something isn't right. That she's putting herself in danger. But when I open my mouth to speak, no words come out. It's like I've lost my voice entirely.

I don't understand what's happening to me. But as I watch her link her arm through his, a look of near rapture on her face, I know that whatever is happening isn't good. I somehow just know it – all the way down to my bones.

It's only when they're gone, probably out of the club entirely, that I feel the pressure in my chest, the weight that had settled down around my shoulders and pressed down on me lift. It takes a moment for the fog in my head to clear, but after a few moments, I feel more back to normal. I'm able to think, speak, and move like normal again.

I know I need to get out of there. I need to get back and talk to Quint. Something isn't right. Something bad is happening, but I don't know what it is. And going back to him with a story about colorful auras and bad feelings isn't going to go over well. Quint is a very hard man who deals in facts – not feelings.

But the woman and the pale man are gone. I have no idea who she is and no idea how to go about finding her. I'm growing frustrated and angry, but feel completely impotent. I don't even know who to be angry at.

I'm about to leave when I see a beautiful blonde woman stop at the table. She looks around as if she lost something – or somebody. Now that I seem to have recovered my powers of speech and mobility, I walk over to the booth and give the blonde a small smile. She looks at me, an expression of concern on her face.

“Excuse me,” she says sweetly. “Did you happen to see the dark-haired woman who was sitting here?”

“Oh, do you mean...”

I let my voice trail off, subtly encouraging her to fill in the blank. It's a tired old trick, but one that still proves to be effective enough for some reason. And sure enough, right on cue, the woman steps up to fill that void.

“Kaitlyn?”

“Right,” I say. “Kaitlyn – I'm sorry, I can't remember her last name.”

“Howard,” she says. “Did you see her?”

I nod and snap my fingers. “That's it,” I say. “Kaitlyn Howard. Yeah, I saw her leave a couple of minutes ago with a guy.”

“A guy?”

“White hair, pale skin?”

A worried expression crosses her face and she looks at me. “You don't know his name, do you?”

I shake my head. “No, I'm sorry,” I reply. “Is there a problem?”

“That's not like her – leaving with a random guy.”

I shrug. “I don't know if he was all that random. They seemed pretty familiar.”

Her smile is rueful. “Trust me, he was random,” she says. “Kaitlyn doesn't – she just doesn't.”

“Listen, I can ask around for you,” I say. “See if I can track her down?”

The blonde bites her bottom lip and looks at me. I can see the worry in her eyes, but she's quick to hide it away as she shakes her head.

“No, it's okay,” she says. “I'm probably just being paranoid. As usual. But, thank you anyway.”

Taking a pad of paper and a pen out of my pocket, I jot down my phone number and hand it to her. She looks at it for a moment like it's a snake, coiled and ready to strike. And I guess I can't blame her all that much. Being a beautiful woman in a nightclub like Ice, I'm sure she's used to having guys fall all over themselves to get her into bed.

But I'm actually not interested in her. It's her friend that draws and compels me.

“My name is Wyn,” I say. “If you need anything, or want me to see if I can find her, you let me know, okay?”

“Are you a PI or something?”

I shrug. I'm definitely not a PI, but I have to think that given the crazy energy she and that white-haired creep were putting out, I might be able to track it and find her that way. Of course, I'd probably have to ask somebody like Quint for help – but, so be it.

“I just know a lot of people in the city,” I say. “A guy that looks like that – he tends to stick out a bit.”

“Thanks, I'll keep it in mind,” she says.

Her tone tells me she thinks this is just some lame come on and is going to toss my number the first chance she gets. That's fine though, I have what I need. A name. Kaitlyn Howard. It's not much, but it's something I can take back to Quint – and he has people who can find out everything else about her.

I can't explain it and don't understand it, but something about this Kaitlyn Howard is significant. It's important. I know it beyond the shadow of a doubt.

Now, I just need to find a way to somehow make Quint believe that she's as significant as I do. Which won't be an easy task.