The Elinyari Chronicles

Chapter One

The outside of the bar was dingy and slightly disgusting. In its heyday, it had probably been gorgeous. It had been made of thick red bricks sandwiched between two office buildings. Now, the office buildings were abandoned and derelict. The bar was covered in a heavy layer of black grime, squatting beneath the weight of the years. Garbage littered the sidewalk outside. It was an unsavory place. Not only the appearance of the place, but also the clientele. The bar was a front for the illegal trafficking of Supernatural beings-or Elinyari, as we preferred to be called. Hunters brought in their catch then stayed to drink. It was dangerous. An Elinyari would have to be brainless to willingly walk in. Brainless or bold.

I'm not sure into which category I fell. I was a wolf-hybrid and a bounty hunter in my own right. I worked for other Elinyari, doing the dirty work deemed unfit for others. I was looked down upon by the rest of my people, but it paid the bills. Tonight I was doing a private case for an old friend. She had turned me onto a peculiar series of kidnappings. A male and female of each race had been taken. The kidnappings were quiet for the most part, but for the last two. Werepanther twins had been taken from their home under the nose of their sleeping mother. The mother had been one of my first friends after I left home. She was the one who contacted me. It took very little digging to find out that two of every race had been taken except for Dragons of both genders and a female Light Elf. There were very few dragons on the earthly plane; most preferred the solitude of our home to the bustling chaos of the mortals. I'd tracked down two male dragons to the island of San Dago, just off the coast of Northern California.

My target tonight was the weaker of the two. He was named Ivan Drunslov. From what I'd gathered, he frequented this bar every night for about an hour before heading back to his small apartment. He had little magic, which made him less of a target to Hunters; however the kidnappers didn't seem to care about power. They took the easy prey. Ivan would be my first target. He followed a set pattern, he lived alone, and he had little way to defend himself. My job was to convince him that he needed to go into hiding.

I stepped off the sidewalk and strode across the street. The cool ocean air was unable to completely cover the scent of trash. I held my head high as I pushed my way into the bar.

The inside was just as dingy as the outside. The walls were plastered with disgusting mustard colored paper. Thick black smoke hung in a haze over the heads of the patrons. The lights were dim and filthy. A broken metal song played in the background. The bar was a low wooden structure being kept by a large bald man. A long scar ran from his temple to his chin, raised and ropy.

I ordered a Jack and coke as I straddled an empty bar stool. He looked at me with a sideways glance before serving the drink in a dusty glass. I took a sip and barely kept myself from wrinkling my nose. There was barely any liquor and the coke tasted of nearly pure syrup. The sweet liquid coursed down my throat as I surreptitiously studied the crowd.

Most of the patrons were nursing bottles of beer. They were collectively a dangerous looking group. I'd never seen so much leather in one place. Every man and woman had on heavy leather coats in varying lengths and most wore jeans or heavy leather pants. I took a deep breath and wrinkled my nose at the bitter scent of gunpowder and steel. It combined with the foul smell of old sweat. The tang of blood underlined the stronger scents.

The door opened, letting a wave of cold air clear the scents away for a second. A portly man dressed in an obscenely tight shirt, a pair of old jeans, and a tattered leather overcoat waddled in. His pasty skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and a pair of beady brown eyes focused on the bar. His hair was stringy and blonde, hanging limply on his forehead. He huffed as he sat a few seats down from me. I wrinkled my nose as sour sweat and the unmistakable scent of woodsmoke poured off him. This was Ivan. I had no doubt; only dragons had the scent of woodsmoke engrained so deeply into them. Now I understood why he felt safe coming here. He was weak and quite frankly, one of the foulest creatures I'd ever seen.