Cliff

Copyright © Bailey Bradford 2014. All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing. Obeying had never been Cliff’s strong suit. He knew the Fates didn’t particularly want him breaking into the fertility clinic and snooping around, but he was going to do it anyway. Not just for himself, either. There were two female shamans being held in the building against their will, their eggs being used to create litters of shifters. It was rape, as surely as the word existed, and Cliff wasn’t letting it continue. And if he found some information that applied to himself, well, that was a bonus. Anyway, there was no good reason for him not to break into the place. If it burned to the ground or something, there’d be vital information lost. “Wouldn’t want that to happen,” he murmured to himself as he studied the building. It was going to be easy for him to get in. There were alarms, but he could handle those. He could handle just about anything. Sometimes he thought he was a goddamned superhero. Cliff snorted softly. There was probably no reason for him to worry about being real quiet, because the building was empty except for the two female prisoners. He still didn’t make any more noise. Quiet as a moonbeam… Nah, that sounds too wussy. But, fuck it, quiet as death is clichéd and overused, even if it is bad-assed… Cliff reached the side of the clinic and sank into the shadows. Quiet as a shadow. Fuck. Quiet as the shadow of death. Does death even have a shadow? It’s not like death’s a tangible thing, an actual being. Is it? As he moved down toward the back entrance, Cliff’s mind kept going, spinning out silly shit to keep him amused. Boredom was anathema. Cliff would rather be in agony than be bored. Maybe. He recalled some instances from his past and gave a mental shrug. Okay, so maybe not. The outside security lights were a joke, just like the alarm system. Cliff silently sent up a request to whoever for stealthy hands. He rubbed his palms together and blew on his fingertips, then went to work. He had everything shut down and was inside the place in under three minutes flat. He sniffed and winced. The heavy odor of chemicals lingered in the air. He couldn’t even scent the two shamans he knew were there. Deliberate, he suspected. The two doctors who ran the clinic were shifters, and obliterating scents would be wise of them, considering. Considering they had to know someone would be coming after them. Fuckers. Maybe they didn’t. People could get cocky, and shifters in particular could be right cunts about it all, thinking they were above everyone else and every law on Earth. And these particular shifters had been getting away with implanting shifter eggs into human women, all under the guise of in vitro fertilization. Well, it was still IVF, but the human couples didn’t know what they were getting. Cliff wasn’t sure of the why of it all, but it couldn’t be anything good. He cocked his head and listened intently. There was the electric hum of appliances and shit, but he quickly blocked that out and zeroed in on the rasps of breath and scrape of metal on metal. A shiver tried to work its way down his spine, but Cliff refused to give it such freedom. He was made of much sterner stuff. Usually he listened when his instincts told him to get out, but he couldn’t very well leave those female shamans now. Keeping all senses on alert, Cliff moved in the direction he thought the women were in. Common sense dictated that it had to be them. There was no one else in the place other than him. Every hair on his body tingled with alarm, but Cliff couldn’t detect a reason for it. He checked for traps, security systems, cameras, people… There was nothing obvious. Which made him just a tad nervous. Either his senses were whack, or the Fates were fucking with him. Probably the latter. Regardless, he wasn’t going to be deterred. By the time he reached the heavy door to the room he knew the shamans were