Talon (Talon 1)

I retreated to the bathroom and slipped into the suit, holding my breath as the fabric sucked and oozed over my skin, almost like paint.

At first, it was warm and disgustingly slick, but after a few moments it smoothed out, molding to my body until I could barely feel it.

Creepy.

I returned to Scary Talon Lady, who gave a tiny nod of approval and gestured to the seat again. “Good,” she announced as I perched on the stool with my normal clothes in hand, feeling almost naked. “It fits. I want you to wear it for the rest of the day, so it gets used to your shape and body type. You can put your regular clothes on over it.”

I frowned, not entirely certain I’d heard correctly. “Wait, you want me to keep it on tonight, so it gets used to me?”

My trainer nodded, as if that was a perfectly normal explanation.

“Yes, hatchling, but don’t worry. After a few minutes, you won’t even remember you have it on.” She smiled tightly, as if from personal experience. “Only certain members of the organization receive this special clothing,” she continued as I squirmed, “so consider yourself lucky. The suits are very valuable and very expensive to make, so do not lose it. It will be your training uniform and, later on, it will be your work uniform.”

I was still trying to wrap my head around the thought that my suit had to get used to me, like it really was alive, but something about that last sentence caused everything inside me to go still. “Work uniform?” I asked quietly. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, but I felt the only reason you needed a suit like that was to Shift from dragon to human quickly and quietly. It was, for all intents and purposes, a ninja suit. A magic ninja suit that clung to your skin like it was alive and molded to your body, but a ninja suit nonetheless.

And there was only one position in the organization I could think of that came close to that type of “work.”

My trainer smiled her most evil smile yet, and pushed the folder at me, flipping it open. Swallowing hard, I looked down at the first line.

Subject: Ember Hill.

And below that…My heart stood still, my veins turning to ice. I stared at those five letters, willing them to go away, to be something else, anything else.

“Congratulations, Ember Hill,” Scary Talon Lady mused over the desk. “Welcome to the Vipers.”

Garret

I was finishing a report to Lieutenant Martin when there was a knock at the door.

On the couch, Tristan straightened and shot me a puzzled look.

Two empty pizza boxes already sat open and nearly empty on the counter, so it wasn’t the delivery boy. And the Order always called if they were going to show up. There was no reason anyone should be at our apartment at this time of day.

Warily, Tristan pulled his 9 mm and slid into the hallway, gesturing for me to get the door. I reached for the Glock that always sat close by and eased across the room, ready to bring the weapon up if the door flew inward. The knock came again, four rapid blows against the wood, but it didn’t sound like whoever was on the other side was trying to break down the door. Hiding the gun against my leg, I reached for the knob and opened the door until the chain caught it, peering through the gap.

Ember’s brilliant green eyes met mine through the crack, and my heart leaped. “Hey, you,” she greeted softly. A bike leaned against the wall beside the door, tires firmly inflated this time. “I was…um, just riding around the neighborhood, and I saw your apartment and thought ‘Hey, Garret lives there! I wonder if he’s home now?’ And…that sounded pretty bad, didn’t it? I’m not stalking you, I swear.” She rubbed her arm looking tired and subdued, unlike her normal self.

“Well, maybe a little. Can I come in?”

“Hang on.” Shutting the door, I quickly stowed the gun in a closet and closed the laptop, as Tristan vanished down the hall into his room. Unlatching the chain, I opened the door and stepped back.

“Are you all right?” I asked as Ember came inside, gazing around curiously. “What are you doing here?” Not that I wasn’t pleased to see her; I was. But Tristan would not be happy with a potential target roaming around our base, seeing things she shouldn’t see.

He prowled out of the hallway then, thankfully unarmed, smiling stiffly as he walked into the kitchen. Ember jumped when he appeared. “Oh!” she exclaimed, as Tristan arched a brow at her. “Tristan, right? I didn’t realize you were here. Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Sadly, I’m not the party animal my cousin is.” He gave me a tight smile. “Garret, come here a second, will you?”

Frowning, I followed Tristan to the living room, where he bent close and hissed, “What is she doing here? You didn’t invite her, did you? Did you tell her she could come?”

“No,” I replied, glancing back toward the kitchen. “I didn’t know she would show up today.”

“Well, get rid of her! We can’t have her snooping around.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

A soft flutter from the kitchen drew our attention, and we looked back to see Ember leafing through one of Tristan’s gun magazines on the counter. Beside it was my laptop, where I’d just sent off that mission report to St. George.

“So, Ember,” Tristan said, quickly striding back to the room. I followed warily. “What brings you here? Do you and Garret have something planned?”

As he talked, smiling and holding her gaze the whole time, he smoothly picked up the laptop and tucked it under one arm, like he was going to take it back to his room. Ember flipped the magazine shut and shook her head.

“No, there’s nothing. I just…um…wanted to see Garret, that’s all.”

She gave me an apologetic glance, perhaps sensing the subtle tension in the room. “Sorry. Is this a bad time? I could go…”

“No, you’re fine,” I said, as the magazine joined the laptop under Tristan’s arm. He gave me a pointed look, raising his eyebrows, and I nodded. “Come on,” I said, motioning her out of the kitchen. “We can talk in my room.”

As she turned away, Tristan shot me a glare over her head that said Call if you need help. I gave him another tight nod and led Ember down the hall into my room, shutting the door behind us.

“Wow,” she mused, turning in a slow circle, observing my shelf, my dresser, the neatly made bed in the corner. “Your room is so…clean. Not even Dante is this neat.”