A Gray Area Read online

  A Gray Area

  Amy Sumida

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  More Books by Amy Sumida

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  And dive further into the worlds of the Godhunter, Twilight Court, and Spellsinger, at Amy's website

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  A Compression of Color

  Chapter One

  Grammar Giggles

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 Amy Sumida

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781794377387

  Legal Notice

  This book is copyright protected. It is only for personal use. You cannot amend, distribute, sell, use, quote, or paraphrase any part of the content within this book without the consent of the author or copyright owner. Legal action will be pursued if this is breached.

  More Books by Amy Sumida

  The Godhunter Series(in order)

  Godhunter

  Of Gods and Wolves

  Oathbreaker

  Marked by Death

  Green Tea and Black Death

  A Taste for Blood

  The Tainted Web

  Series Split:

  These books can be read together or separately

  Harvest of the Gods & A Fey Harvest

  Into the Void & Out of the Darkness

  Perchance to Die

  Tracing Thunder

  Light as a Feather

  Rain or Monkeyshine

  Blood Bound

  Eye of Re

  My Soul to Take

  As the Crow Flies

  Cry Werewolf

  Pride Before a Fall

  Monsoons and Monsters

  Blessed Death

  In the Nyx of Time

  Let Sleeping Demons Lie

  Beyond the Godhunter

  A Darker Element

  Out of the Blue

  The Twilight Court Series

  Fairy-Struck

  Pixie-Led

  Raven-Mocking

  Here there be Dragons

  Witchbane

  Elf-Shot

  Fairy Rings and Dragon Kings

  Black-Market Magic

  Etched in Stone

  —Complete Series—

  The Spellsinger Series

  The Last Lullaby

  A Symphony of Sirens

  A Harmony of Hearts

  Primeval Prelude

  A Deadly Duet

  Macabre Melody

  Spectra

  Spectra: A Cynical Superhero

  (A Gray Area)

  Erotica

  An Unseelie Understanding

  Fairy Tales

  Happily Harem After Vol. 1

  including:

  The Four Clever Brothers

  Wild Wonderland

  Beauty and the Beasts

  Pan's Promise

  The Little Glass Slipper

  Other Books

  The Magic of Fabric

  Feeding the Lwas: A Vodou Cookbook

  There's a Goddess Too

  The Vampire-Werewolf Complex

  Enchantress

  Sign up for Amy's Newsletter and get a free gift:

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  And dive further into the worlds of the Godhunter, Twilight Court, and Spellsinger, at Amy's website:

  AmySumida.com

  Follow her on Bookbub to get news on latest releases and discounts: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/amy-sumida

  Chapter One

  Washington D.C. was bustling with activity despite the snowfall this morning. D.C. isn't the first place people think of when they think “snow” but it does make an appearance. Usually. a light one that quickly turns to slush, but that's the way I prefer it. Hello, Snow. Goodbye, Snow. No scraping off windshields or wrapping yourself in ten layers of clothing just to get your mail. That being said, this January seemed colder than others, and Washington D.C. had shivered its way into a rare white wonderland.

  Which may have been why I didn't notice the gray immediately.

  I was outside the Supemarket—the secret section of the city that was reserved for Supernaturals and was magically-hidden from humans—doing some window shopping now that the rush of present-returners had slowed. A handbag had caught my attention, and I had paused to admire it through the glass of a store window. I preferred classic designs—Chanel, Dior, Gucci—but every now and again, something a little more wild would catch my eye.

  I cocked my head and considered the adorable woven bucket bag with its smooth leather trimming and tooled leather flowers adorning the rim. Isabella Fiore did beautiful but unusual handbags and lately, I was enjoying all things beautiful and unusual. My current love interest was the most unusual man I've ever dated or met, for that matter. He's a Bleiten prince. The Bleiten are a race of alien supernaturals who are better known to humans as Demons. Although, when I say they are known to humans, I don't mean that humans know they exist. At least, not anymore. Supernaturals as a whole have hidden from humans for centuries. Only certain humans—world leaders, government officials, special forces teams, and some higher-ranking military officers—know about Supes these days. The rest think we're fairy tales, myths, or imaginary monsters.

  Back to Malik. He could look very demonic when he wished to; all of the Bleiten have battleforms so terrifying that they led to the creation of the demon myths. Malik's battleform was a massive, monstrous body with taloned hands and feet, great leathery wings, and two sets of horns upon his head. He also had a tattoo of a crown on fire on his chest that actually burned for a few moments when he shifted into his battleform. It was a link to his father, King Lucifer, and proof of his royal lineage. I found the whole look terribly arousing; a fact that most women would probably find shocking. But there was something about Malik in that form; he was fearsome but didn't frighten me. I knew Malik would tear off his wings before he allowed himself to hurt me, and that knowledge made the monster sexy. That and the fact that I loved him.

  I smiled as thoughts of Malik replaced the handbag, and I was about to turn away when I saw the reflection of someone passing behind me.

  Perhaps I should explain further before I tell you about this reflection. There are three types of Supernatural: Evolved (also k
nown as Mutants), Transformed (through experiment or accident), and Alien. I'm a mix of two: Alien and Transformed. I'm half Triari (you may know them as Angels). My Triari father had been a scientist—a royal one, no less—and in his efforts to develop a vaccine that would allow his people to colonize a toxic planet, he created an immortality elixir by accident. His brother, King Jovan, wanted to give the elixir to Triari Royalty and members of the Host (their military) who he found to be deserving of eternal life. My father had disagreed; he thought that no one should be immortal. He destroyed all of his notes and the Amaranthine Elixir and then fled so he couldn't be coerced to recreate it.

  My father came to Earth, where he met my mother and had me. Everything was great; I was a bright child with an aptitude for languages. But then I started slurring my words. It was brain cancer; inoperable. In his desperation, my father brewed up another batch of the Amaranthine Elixir—an elixir that I was ironically named after—and gave it to me despite his belief about immortality. Ideals fly out the window when your child is dying. I made a full recovery and then some.

  A short time later, a group of Triari—acting without the King's authority or knowledge—tracked down my father. When he refused to give them the elixir, they killed him and my mother. Then they made it look like a Bleiten attack by burning down our house. Bleitens have an affinity for fire and are the known enemies of the Triari. I hid in a cabinet during the attack and probably would have burned to death if it hadn't been for the elixir. And Landry. My father's closest friend braved the fire that could have easily killed him—he's part tree—and saved me. Then he raised me as his own daughter. Yes; he's a damn good man.

  My apologies; I've gone off on a tangent. The information I was trying to lead you to is that not only did the elixir make me immortal, but it also made me something else. It had been intended for pure Triaries, and I was only half. My human blood reacted to the elixir and in addition to receiving rapid healing, I also gained the ability to manipulate colors. I could use color wavelengths to create illusions and even hide people completely. I could alter auras; change someone's mood, physically hurt them, or even heal them. I could also see the entire color spectra; from ultraviolet to infrared. Thus, my codename: Spectra. But now, I've gotten ahead of myself.

  Recently, I was recruited by the President of the United States—myself along with some of my friends and Malik—to protect the U.S.A., and possibly the World, with our abilities. We are the first supernatural special ops team: First Extraordinary Abilities Regiment or F.E.A.R. for short. Previous to that, some friends of mine had been patrolling the streets of D.C. for free; calling themselves superheroes and fighting the good fight. I had thought that was super ridiculous, but now I was a part of their team. I refuse to call myself a superhero, though; I'm an armed contract protective security officer. Basically, that means that I work for the U.S. Government as an independent contractor. Who also happens to have a codename. And supernatural powers.

  Back to the reflection.

  The man who passed behind me had a reflection completely devoid of color. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light but then I realized that everyone around him had reflections of muted but normal colors; the sort you expect to see in a pane of glass.

  I jerked around and saw him clearly; trudging his way through the other shoppers. He looked forlorn; hunched shoulders and head dropped low. It added another miserable layer to his gray appearance. And I mean gray; the man looked as if he'd stepped out of an old black and white film. It was surreal to see him walking among all of the normal, healthy people.

  I frowned as something else occurred to me; no one else noticed how he lacked living colors. I stared at all of the passersby carefully. It wasn't that they were ignoring the man; people glanced at him and then kept going as if there were nothing wrong with him.

  I rushed after Mr. Gray.

  I followed the gray man for a few blocks before I decided to approach him. But just as I was closing the distance between us, he turned a corner and everything took on shades of gray. I don't mean that in a Sadomasochistic way; there was nothing sexy about this scene. And just to set the record straight; there are far more than fifty shades of gray. I saw over a hundred of them on the block where the gray man lived. And he wasn't the only gray man there. People slipped carefully out of their homes and schlepped down the street; all of them as gray as the man I'd trailed, and all of them looking as if life had lost its meaning for them.

  Then I heard it; nothing.

  There was an eerie quiet to the neighborhood; no wind blew, no birds sang, and no dogs barked. It was so silent that I could have heard a cricket chirp except there was none to hear. I walked carefully down the sidewalk; glancing left and right as I looked for any spot of color in the bleakness. No colors existed there but gray; not even white or black. I scowled as I realized that my earlier assessment had been wrong. This wasn't like a black and white movie because there was neither white or black there. It was a gray area in both color and definition.

  I shivered as a woman passed me; staring down at her dragging feet as she went. She didn't glance at me even though I openly stared at her. Her forehead was wrinkled deeply and her hands were clenched together before her; almost as if in prayer. But she looked beyond even that hope.

  “Are you all right, Ma'am?” I asked as I touched her shoulder.

  She jerked as if I'd burned her and looked up at me with shocked, round eyes.

  “I'm fine,” she stuttered as she stumbled away.

  “What fresh hell is this?” I whispered as I turned in a complete circle.

  It felt as if it were a nightmare come to life, and it was a nightmare for me. For someone who relied on color as heavily as I do, seeing a world where only gray existed was more terrifying than an alien invasion. And believe me; I know all about alien invasions.

  I picked up my pace; practically running to the end of the block where I could see the colors of the world I knew and loved. There was such a clear distinction between the colorful world and the gray one that it was as if a line had been drawn between them. As soon as I stepped back onto the vibrant streets of D.C., I breathed deeply in relief. Then I looked back.

  No one with any color to them ventured into the gray area; people would start to head in that direction and then suddenly change their minds and turn around. Only the gray people wandered past the clear line of demarcation. With great trepidation, I turned my gaze upward along the tall condos and apartment buildings; half-expecting to see the sky above the zone turned gray as well. It was a pale, wintry blue, but it was still blue, and I took comfort in that. Whatever had stolen the color from that neighborhood, its effects were limited to the ground.

  My hands trembled as I pulled out my cellphone and texted President Matthew Colton; Houston, we have a problem.

  Chapter Two

  “If you continue to speak to my dvarra in that manner, I will fucking—”

  I gave Malik a wide-eyed head shake.

  “Expel you from this establishment,” Malik swiftly amended his threat, “and you shall never be allowed to return.”

  Under Secretary Alexander Connolly's throat worked violently, but he managed to keep his stare steady on Malik's furious face. He'd been verbally lashing me about my texting the President instead of calling him; our FEAR liaison. He happened to be right; the whole purpose of our team having a liaison was so that we wouldn't be bothering the higher-ups until absolutely necessary. And President Colton was about as high-up as you could get. Still, Connolly could have stopped with a single sentence of reprimand instead of dragging it out.

  Malik knew all about handling troops; he'd commanded numerous missions for his father over the years. So, he was familiar with proper procedure and understood Connolly's anger. However, Malik didn't allow anyone to abuse me; not in any way or for any reason. It was one of the numerous things I loved about him.

  The establishment Malik was threatening to expel Connolly from belonged to my foster father,
Landry Ash. It's a bar called the Wilds and above it is the apartment I grew up in. Connolly had come into the Supemarket to meet with us; the members of FEAR. Davorin—codename: Gargoyle—had gone to the crimson arch that served as the Supemarket's entrance to escort Connolly past the ward that hid our huge area of downtown D.C. from humans and kept them out. The U.S. Government knew about it, but even they couldn't get in without an invitation or escort. If we kicked Connolly out now, he wouldn't be able to return until we allowed it.

  And that wouldn't please the Secretary of Homeland Security; Connolly's boss.

  “Fine.” Connolly held up a hand in surrender. “That may have been too harsh. But the President now wants to be involved in this investigation, and we would have preferred to have kept him out of it.”

  “We don't even know what it is,” I pointed out. “Perhaps we should focus on that instead of a mistake I made the very first time I encountered trouble as a FEAR agent.”

  “Fair enough,” Connolly said. “My apologies, Ms. Madison. I'm really not this much of a hard-ass. It's just that this situation has us all a bit spooked.”

  “Apology accepted,” I said crisply. “Now, do you have any information for us?”

  Connolly set his briefcase on the round, bar table that we were gathered around. The leather looked bright against the rough, scarred wood. In fact, Connolly himself—dressed in a tailored suit and tie—looked completely out of place in the supe bar, but he didn't seem to notice. He was a younger man with an impressive job and that had given him a confidence that most people lack. Not quite arrogance but close. Connolly flipped the locks of his briefcase and pulled out several stacks of folders.