Court of Aether and Shadows (Crowned Monster Trilogy #1)

1. The Canary’s Song

The Canary’s Song

~SPARROW~

T he warehouse loomed before us, a hulking mass of corrugated metal and shadows in the industrial wasteland of the city's outskirts.

I crouched behind a rusted shipping container, my heart pounding with a familiar mix of anticipation and dread. It was insanity to get a high from this constant fight for survival, but this was what kept a roof over my head and food on the table.

This was it.

Another job, another chance to prove my worth to the family that wasn't really mine.

"You ready for this, Sparrow?" Liam

whispered beside me, his lean frame coiled with tension.

My best friend of five years, the only person in this godforsaken world I truly trusted. He flashed me a grin that didn't quite reach those beautiful eyes of cyan and green. Matched with his stunning platinum blonde strands of shoulder-length hair, you’d expect Liam Miles to be a surfer model, making millions in the industry of chiseled hotties and swimming trunks.

I always tell him he’s too hot to be on the streets like this. He’s even lucky his face remains flawless as ever compared to the acne shitshow I always deal with the moment anything nasty touches my flesh.

He hates putting me in dangerous situations, but there’s nothing either of us can do.

This is our livelihood.

"Time to sing for our supper."

I nodded, forcing a smirk.

"Always ready to perform, Darling. You know me."

I have to give him a wink to uplift the mood. I know he can read me like an open book, but a bit of humor in tense situations like this never hurts.

"If you two are done with your little love fest," a nasally voice cuts in, "some of us would like to get this job done before sunrise."

I bit back a retort, turning to face Marco, the third member of our little hit squad.

His rat-like features were twisted in a perpetual sneer, beady black eyes glaring at us from beneath a greasy mop of dark brown hair. Not only was he not my type, but he always had the cockiest attitude. As if he’s the leader of our unit when he can barely carry out a mission without screwing up somehow.

How this prick had managed to climb the ranks was beyond me, but here we were, stuck with him.

"Enough."

The word cut through the air like a blade, silencing us all.

Our boss, Vincent, stepped out of the shadows, his face an emotionless mask. If his emotionless eyes didn’t make you shiver in fear of upsetting him, it’s always the huge gash of red across his face that reminds everyone he’s been through shit that wished to end his existence.

That red slash is why his left eye is almost blind, and yet he somehow manages to carry 20/20 in his right eye. That’s probably why his sniper skills are legendary in this industry of killing your target now and asking questions later.

Or never.

"You all know the plan. Get in, find Daniels, extract the information, and get out. No unnecessary violence, no heroics. Am I clear?"

We nodded in unison, professionals despite our differences. This was why we were chosen, after all. The best of the worst, thrown together for the jobs too dirty for the higher-ups to touch.

They’d rather risk losing us homeless scum than send their more valuable elites.

Vincent's cold eyes swept over us one last time, a spark of acceptance with the way he blinked his right eye three times.

The sign of approval.

"Move out."

We slipped through the shadows like wraiths, approaching the warehouse from different angles. I scaled a drainpipe with practiced ease, my lithe body moving on autopilot as my mind raced through the plan.

It’s a good thing my frame is so petite at 5’2”. Adding my physique that’s slim and yet packed with hidden with muscle, I can fit in tiny places but win a fight if necessary. I don’t need to most of the time because Liam’s huge in comparison. I’m surprised he still fits the tight alleyways.

Zoning back into the mission, I’m repeating what needs to be completed in the counting timeframe ringing in our earpieces.

Find Daniels, the accountant who thought he could skim funds from the Family. Make him talk. Get out.

Simple. Clean. End of story.

Until it wasn't.

The first sign that things were going sideways came as I slipped through an upper window. The warehouse floor below was a hive of activity, far more men than our intel had suggested.

Fuck…this is going to get messy.

I tapped my earpiece twice, our signal for unexpected company.

"Looks like Daniels brought some friends to the party," Liam's voice crackled in my ear. "I count at least fifteen hostiles."

"Stick to the plan," Vincent's cold tone brooked no argument. "We adapt and overcome."

I snorted softly.

Easy for him to say from the safety of the getaway car. Sure, he’s earned his stripes and the Commanding position of our little assassin crew, but you’d think he’d hold a bit of sympathy as he sits in the safety of our bulletproof truck.

But orders were orders, and I was nothing if not adaptable.

Moving silently along the catwalk, I spotted our target – a portly, balding man in an ill-fitting suit, surrounded by muscle. Just seeing him quiver on his feet like a trembling mouse waiting for the owner to catch him in their makeshift trap, has me smirking mockingly in the shadows.

Those muscled men weren’t going to be tricky to take out. They looked like the typically hired bunch that talked bullshit and had no skills to bring to the field of ‘murder on sight’. They would be easy to take down.

Time to get creative.

I pulled a small canister from my belt, a little concoction of my own design.

Part smoke bomb, part hallucinogen.

I called it my Siren's Song.

Mixing chemicals and shit was always my thing. Maybe if I had the privilege to last in school and get a proper education, I would have become a scientist or chemist of the sort. Instead, I enjoy the joys of illegal concoctions that can murder a crowd of villains in seconds.

That and my ability to sing like a canary singing the world to slumber seems to be helpful for situations like these.

"Cover your eyes and hold your breath," I whispered into the comm. "Canary's about to sing."

With a flick of my wrist, I sent the canister arcing through the air — enjoying that shimmering flicker of metallic blue and red; the glimmer catching the attention of only one of the plentiful guards.

The poor dude doesn’t have a chance to register what I’ve just unleashed in their little nest of protection. It hit the ground at Daniels' feet with a soft ping .

And let the chaos erupt…

Thick, purple smoke billowed out, mixing with miniature explosions of red and blue, and black to drown the space with a dense cloud of confusion. It fills the warehouse floor in seconds igniting shouts of confusion turned to screams of terror as the hallucinogen took hold.

Through the haze, I saw men swatting at invisible assailants, others curled into balls, whimpering.

I dropped from the catwalk, landing in a graceful roll. The smoke burned my eyes, but years of exposure had built up my tolerance. I moved through the confusion like a ghost, headed straight for Daniels.

The accountant was on his knees, blubbering incoherently. I grabbed him by the collar, hauling him to his feet.

"Time to go, sunshine," I growled. "You and I need to have a little chat."

A meaty hand clamped down on my shoulder. I reacted on instinct, driving my elbow back into a solid wall of muscle. The grip loosened just enough for me to spin, my fist connecting with a jaw that felt like it was made of concrete.

The mountain of a man staggered back, shaking his head like an enraged bull.

I didn't give him time to recover, launching into a flurry of strikes aimed at vulnerable points – throat, solar plexus, groin. He roared in pain and fury, swinging wildly, but missing rather poorly.

I end up ducking under a haymaker that would have taken my head off, using his momentum to flip him over my hip. He hit the ground with a satisfying thud, and I brought my boot down hard on his temple.

Lights out, big guy.

"A little help here!" Marco's panicked voice cut through the comms. "I'm pinned down!"

I swore under my breath.

Of course, the useless prick would need saving.

"On my way," I grunted, dragging a still-dazed Daniels with me.

The scene that greeted me was almost comical. Marco was cowering behind a stack of crates, taking potshots at three goons who had him surrounded.

His aim was shit, unsurprisingly.

I shoved Daniels unceremoniously into a corner.

"Stay," I ordered, as if he were a disobedient dog. Hopefully, he’ll behave if he knows what’s coming for him. Then I was moving, a blur of deadly grace.

The first goon went down with a knife between his ribs before he even knew I was there. Speed has always been my motto. The second spun to face me, only to catch my heel in a vicious roundhouse kick that sent him sprawling.

The third managed to get off a wild shot that grazed my arm before Liam materialized behind him, snapping his neck with brutal efficiency.

"Cutting it a bit close there, Darling," I quipped, ignoring the burning pain in my bicep.

Liam's eyes narrowed, taking in the blood seeping through my sleeve. "You're hit."

I waved him off.

"Flesh wound. Now, let's get what we came for and get the hell out of here."

We regrouped around Daniels, who had finally started to come out of his hallucinogenic haze. Marco stood over him, puffing out his chest like he'd done anything other than cower and waste ammo.

We really have to start wearing bodycams so Vincent can witness what a shitty waste of space he is on the team.

"Please," Daniels whimpered, "I'll tell you anything. Just don't hurt me."

I crouched down, fixing him with a predator's gaze.

"Smart man. Start talking."

The next few minutes were a blur of information – account numbers, passwords, and names of other traitors within the Family. I recorded it all, my mind already racing ahead to our escape.

"We've got what we need," I said, standing. I hated wasting any more time once information was retrieved. Gives too much room for error and ambushes. "Let's move."

We made our way out of the warehouse, stepping over groaning bodies and skirting puddles of blood. There’s an odd layer of satisfaction you feel when you walk away and acknowledge the damage you’ve instilled in the midst of the night.

A sense of victory that makes you feel alive.

But also a sense of dread that confirms you’ve lost that sense of humanity that was once merciful and forgiving.

The cool night air hit me like a slap to the face, and I suddenly felt lightheaded. The adrenaline was wearing off, and with it, the numbness that had been masking my injury.

Vincent was waiting by the car, his face impassive as ever.

"Report," he barked. He can’t sense the agony tempting my senses, and I have to make sure to keep it that way. As the only female on the team, you always gotta prove you’re not the weakest link because that’s just how it is.

Fuckers like Marco get away with the bare minimum, but a genius female with a makeshift degree of bomb concoctions, waivers a bit and she’s not fit to kill, lead, or be a part of a team of killers.

Sexist pricks.

I rattled off the key points of Daniels' confession, my voice steady despite the growing weakness in my limbs. Vincent nodded, satisfied with the relay of valuable information.

"Good work," he said, though the words held no warmth. "Marco, with me. We'll deliver the package." He gestured to a bound and gagged Daniels in the trunk. "You two clean up here."

“Yes, Sir,” we say in unison.

As they drove off, I finally allowed myself to sag against the wall.

The world was starting to spin, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.

"Sparrow?" Liam's voice sounded far away, but the level of sudden panic in the depths of his tone made my stomach flip in unease. I hate worrying him. Feels like a slap in the face. "Hey, stay with me!"

I felt his arms around me as my knees buckled, but I couldn’t fight the way gravity pulled me down. How it feels like I’m still sinking, despite being in strong, safe arms.

"S'okay," I slurred, realizing how far away even my voice sounded. Like an echo that keeps humming in the distance. That’s not good. "Just a scratch, remember?"

"Like hell it is," he growled, lowering me gently to the ground. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like I’m lying down. Feels like I’m on fire while floating and falling at the same time. Mindfuckery, I tell you. "You're burning up. That bullet must have been laced with something."

I tried to focus on his face, but it kept blurring into someone – something – else.

Horns. Golden eyes. A crown of shadows.

What’s even weirder is how the being alternates between an unknown creature of mystical beauty and then my best friend, who also looks so different. Stronger? Lethal? A mix of possessive control and dominance in his flawless face and golden eyes.

I can’t grasp it long enough before the image switches again.

Back and forth, like some sort of guessing game, but when it stalls for a few seconds, I’m looking at a being of black with flesh that glows with symbols of red and orange. Beautiful displays of artwork that burned against the coal flesh and hummed for recognition and admiration from all those who laid sight on their drawn masterpiece.

"Who hurt you, my little bird?" The monster's voice rumbled through me, equal parts fury and concern. "Tell me, and I will tear them apart."

I smiled deliriously, reaching up to touch a face that wasn't there. He was so stunning to look at up close, especially now that I can stare into those molten eyes of power and might.

"My hero," I murmured, sounding delirious. I must have lost my fucking mind, or maybe whatever laced that bullet was a hallucinogenic that my system wasn’t used to. New drugs to take us out were common, so this could be something trending around in the underground.

"Shit, you're really out of it," Liam's panicked voice cut through the fantasy, but he’s fading away again. Just like his image that returned for only a moment. Gold eyes, beautiful lips, sharp jaw, and tattooed neck? "Stay with me, Sparrow. I'm going to get you help, okay? I've got you. I promise."

I didn’t feel a sense of worry because I knew Liam had me.

He always has my back. No matter what.

But something was definitely wrong with me.

As consciousness slipped away, I lost the will to fight the welcoming darkness that struck me from all angles. Like a comforting embrace, only it spread frost at its touch instead of the warmth I craved.

Like the being from my dreams and the warmth, he ignites with each touch.

O ne last whisper echos to me; a promise that sent a shiver of dark pleasure through my fading mind.

"Rest now, my love. When you wake from slumber, we will make them pay. Every last one will feel the wrath of hurting what’s mine."

Mine? His? Who…are you?

The world went dark, and I fell into dreams of shadow and vengeance.