Authors: Trinity Night
Shifter Witch On Hell’s Road
Velvet Sky Publishing
Copyright © 2013 by Trinity Night
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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I drove south from Seattle down Interstate 5,
jamming to my girl Kesha and singing at the top of my lungs. My new VW purred under my ass as I flowed down the pavement. I felt relieved and grateful. Driving was way better than taking the bus or hitchhiking.
I had to give it up to Julia. She sure did save my ass on this one. Handing over a new car, a
crap load of clothes, and a gold card would make my road trip a hell of a lot more comfortable. My back seat was full shopping bags, stuffed with new clothes and shoes.
I flipped my
died black hair over my shoulder and rubbed my tongue over my lip ring, making it twirl inside my lip. I liked the feeling of it moving through my flesh.
The rain picked up s
outh of Tacoma. The highway was boring farmland dotted with Douglas Fur trees. I knew they were Douglas Furs because my daddy used to take me fishing with him before he died. He taught me a lot of stuff, like the names of trees and how to gut a fish.
That was before my mom married that douchebag Kevin who liked to sneak into my bedroom
at night. Fucking cocksucker. If I’d let him, the ass hole would have popped my cherry when I was fourteen while stinking of rum and cigarettes. I didn’t though. I let some other boy do that.
he last time I saw Kevin, I cracked his nads pretty good. I had to cut out of there fast after that. It was going to be a dirty old dick inside me or a fist in the face.
I knew my mom wasn’t going to leave
the bastard. She had her own problems— as in, drinking problems. And she counted on him for rent and food and booze money.
Whatever, my mom was a bitch. I think she knew about Kevin’s nocturnal visits and didn
’t do a damn thing about it.
After I left,
I spent some time with my friend Sun in a ratty house in South Seattle. She got me into my first strip club to dance on Amateur Night. They were pretty lax about checking ID’s that day, but wouldn’t hire me until after my birthday. I moved up north into a shared house in the city with a few college kids, a musician, and a middle aged dude who still worked at a coffee shop. I guess he was a writer or something dumb like that.
It was all going pretty good until
sex witch Julia showed up with her sexy pirate boyfriend. He was Russian or something and looked just like Johnny Depp to me. God. I didn’t mind that they put a spell on me because I would have fucked them anyway. That’s when things started to go bat shit crazy.
The morning after Julia and Alexi did their sex magic thing on me, I turned into a bird. An honest to God bird. A raven. I was scared as hell for days. Then this weird dude showe
d up and followed me everywhere— I mean everywhere. The club, the bathroom, you name it. I was like, “Get the Hell away from me.” But he just kept telling me
, I lost my job and my house and everything. I was living on the streets. My mind started to crack, and I wasn’t sure if I was still alive or not. I thought maybe I was dead or dreaming. Sometimes I figured I was on a bad acid trip that wouldn’t end. When you turn into a bird and then start getting stalked by a guy who blinks in at any moment, it can stress you out.
I had to learn how to control the bird thing fast because
it could happen at any moment. I would suddenly shift and end up breaking shit and blacking out. Those nights on the street taught me a lot, and I figured out how to manipulate my shapeshifting. It was a damn good thing too because it was the middle of December.
I learned to fly up into the warm spaces in buildings and sleep there
at night. I pecked at scraps from the ground to keep my stomach full. It’s not so gross when you’re an animal. I survived it. But that dude, his name is Balthazar, kept showing up and freaking me out. That’s when I went to Julia for help.
’t expect she’d help me so much— giving me a car and clothes and a credit card. I guess she felt kind of responsible since she did technically make me what I had become.
truck buzzed past me on the road, and I gripped the wheel. Kesha belted out my jams, and I felt pretty darn good.
“Hello Eva,” said a
“God damn it. Not you again.”
I glanced over at the passenger seat and there he sat, naked to the waist exposing his chest, abdomen and arms of lean, oiled muscle. His lower half was wrapped in a red print sarong that showed a noticeable bulge under the thin fabric. I rolled my eyes and looked back at the road.
“How many times do I have to tell you. I’m not going to fuck you
, you half-demon freak.”
Everything will work better when you do,” he said flipping through the MP3s on my new phone.
“Hey, don’t touch that,” I said, slapping his hand.
He pulled it back with mock injury. A sly grin grew on his face.
“Eva. Dear. I’ve come such a long way. It is
who has summoned
. I must be with you. I have no choice.”
“Not with the lame ass story again,” I said, glaring at him hard so he knew I didn’t give a crap what he “must” do.
“Why must you resist me so? It pains my heart.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes, barely able to keep my focus on the road for how annoyed I was.
I snapped my eyes back on the road. The car motored south, and I stared straight forward. We sat in silence as we whizzed past open fields. I felt hungry when I saw a sign for fast food in Olympia.
I took the exit and waited at a red light. He sat silently in the passenger seat, then said, “
What up, yo?” When he changed the way he talked like that it made me insane. I growled again.
“I’m getting a burger. You might want to put a shirt on.”
The light turned green, and I pulled onto the street lined with the fast food restaurants. When I looked over at him again he was dressed in saggy jeans, boots, and an over-sized red sweatshirt.
“Much better,” I said, under my breath.
“I’m so pleased it pleases you.”
“Would you stop it!”
“One minute you talk like some dude from a movie with big dresses and the next you talk
“That’s just how I roll.” He laughed like ha ha ha ha.
I pulled into a Wendy’s drive thru and waited behind a line of cars. I looked over at his chiseled face. His skin was bronzed tan and highlights streaked his spiky, tousled chestnut hair. His strong chin had a day of stubble. He had full lips, high cheekbones, and piercing black eyes. I already knew he stood over six feet tall.
“What do you want
, freak?” I said after fully drinking him in.
“Fries and a vanilla milkshake, if you please,” he said, smirking.
I gave him a warning glare. I pulled up to the menu and ordered our food. When we got to the order window, the girl stared at Balthazar for way too long, and I gave her a step-off bitch look. I handed my traveling companion his food and beverage and got back on the highway.
We drove along slurping
our milkshakes. The salty fries and greasy burger filled my empty stomach. I felt much friendlier after eating. Baltazar looked satisfied and set his milkshake cup in the holder and leaned back in his seat.
I supposed he wasn’t so bad. A guy like
him could come in handy while doing my strip-club tour. After Julia gave me the car and the gold card, I didn’t really need the money anymore. But I needed something to do with my life, some kind of focus to keep me from going bat shit crazy. Might as well let him tag along.
“So, Balthazar. I’ve decided to let you be my bodyguard.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, yo.”
Hey, freakazoid, pick a time frame.”
“My humble apologies. But the rouge of your face is ever so
attractive when you are miffed.”
I growled again and stared at the road. His way of talking was beyond annoying.
“Is there something else I can call you because your name just screams freak-fest.”
may call me Zar.”
“Like a Russian
Emperor? Not a chance.”
“It’s good to see your education wasn’t completely wasted,” he snickered, “
But no, that is Czar. I suppose it sounds similar enough to be confused.”
“How about I call you B-Zar. Like Bizarre. Get it?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“B-Zar it is!”
Yes. One for me.
I crossed the Columbia River into Portland at dusk. A wide gray river passed below a wide gray sky. Portland looked even more dreary and damp than Seattle in the middle of winter.
Christmas lights framed the windows of shops and restaurants downtown. They twinkled on the puddles that collected from the
heavy rain. I felt a cold shiver thinking of being alone at Christmas, in some strip-club.
B-Zar glanced over at
me and gave me a big toothy grin. I swear his eye actually twinkled. I let out a long exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes before pulling into the parking lot across the street from Club Rouge.
The downtown foot traffic was busy
for the last few shopping days before Christmas. Everyone was out and about to buy their last gifts for family and friends. Gleeful faces passed me, tucked under umbrellas and waterproof parkas. I grabbed the backpack with my stripper gear and headed straight for the front door of the club. B-Zar followed right behind me.
We made it into the front entrance of the club and were met by a short muscular bouncer wearing a fedora. I told him I was a featured dancer and B-Zar was my bodyguard. He gave us some verbal jabbing but finally let us pass
without paying the cover.
Inside the music pulsated. A girl with full sleeve tattoos, nipple rings, and a clit ring walked delicately around the pole. Her pink hair was styled like a 1950s housewife.
I still wore my street clothes— skinny jeans and a patched, black hooded-sweatshirt. B-Zar was suddenly wearing a three piece suit that made him like he should be doing business on Wall Street or something. I smirked at him and realized I must have looked like shit.
I asked a waitress
with horn rimmed glasses and pigtails for the manager. She pointed to a dude with curly, black hair that was so wet with product it left damp marks on the back of his purple silk shirt. I approached him with B-Zar at my back twirling my lip ring with my tongue.
“Hey, what up?” I said, trying to get his attention. He was absorbed in a conversation with a girl in the tiniest
polka dot string bikini ever. He looked up at me like I was a disgusting street rat.
“Can I help you?” He said
, all annoyed.
“I’m Eva. We talked on the phone. You said you
would host me as a featured dancer tonight.”
“You’re Eva? You don’t look like your picture.”
“Dude. I’ve been driving all day, and it’s raining like a bitch outside.” I pulled the hood down off my head and gave him a puckered sex smile. He looked me up and down. His eyes lingered around my crotch.
“Ah. You’re the girl with the pole tricks. I expected you to be more… athletic.”
“Can’t a girl loose some weight without everyone thinking she’s on crack?”
“Fine. Just go get ready,”
he said flipping his hand and motioning toward a closed door.
I took my queue and made for the dressing room. I pushed
open the door and a wave of cheap perfume hit my nostrils and made my head swim. The door swung shut right in B-Zar’s face. I heard a scuffle outside and opened the door to see some bouncers manhandling B-Zar.
… He’s with me. He’s my bodyguard.”
“He can’t go in there. He should know that.”
B-Zar pulled his arms away from the bouncers and looked at them like he was about to swat away some annoying flies.
“He’s a little… slow. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
“Slow?” Balthazar said, raising an eyebrow and straightening his suit and tie.
“Fine. Just don’t let it happen again,” said a bouncer
who was probably a little slow himself. They walked away and B-Zar glared at me as I stood in front of the dressing room door.
, fool?” I said.
“I should go in with you.”
“Ain’t going to happen. Just go watch the show. You’ve got a dick don’t you?”
He gave me
frustrated look and walked toward the stage. Finally, a little privacy. That dude didn’t know how to take a hint. He was seriously a supernatural stalker. Believe me, those are the worst kind.
I went back into the dressing room were about seven girls in various stages of dress
chattered and gossiped. A long makeup mirror covered the wall with a counter in front of it that was covered in curling irons, makeup, and hair spray.