Shepherd’s muscles looked like boulders as he continued doing his reps on the pull-up bar. He’d done about sixty. Shep always worked out in either track pants or sweats, but he never wore a shirt. His scars and tattoos blended right in with his gruff demeanor and stony look. His buzz cut made his square jaw and stern brow stand out even more. He was the kind of man who made people cross over to the other side of the street. Rough around the edges didn’t begin to describe Shepherd Moon.
We had an awesome gym. All the workout equipment was on the right side of the room, and the floor mat in the center. There were kettlebells, pull-up bars, jump ropes, and the climbing rope. Since the gymnasium was big enough, we used it like a track, making sure that nothing obstructed the path along the walls. Sure, the property outside was large enough to run, but nobody liked jogging on uneven terrain. Especially in the rain. Unlike your typical gymnasium, ours had weapons and target boards mounted on the walls. It kept things fun and allowed us to sharpen our skills.
Christian took a seat on the weight bench on the far side of the room. The rest of us were clustered together. Blue and Claude continued their game of rock, paper, scissors from their seat on the floor near Shepherd.
The door slammed as Wyatt made a dramatic entrance. Clutching a shirt in one hand, he hitched up his sweatpants. Judging by his messy hair and unshaven face, he obviously hadn’t been awake when Viktor had sent everyone a text to meet in the gym. Punctuality wasn’t his strong suit. “What the immortal hell is so important that I have to get out of bed this early? I didn’t even get to brush my teeth.” He yawned wide and sat next to me. “Is this all your fault?”
I threw my arm over my eyes, shielding them from the bright overhead lights. “Maybe this has to do with your cannabis farm that you think nobody knows about.”
“Don’t let us interrupt your workout, Rocky Balboa,” Wyatt said, ignoring me.
I heard Shepherd’s feet hit the ground. “This isn’t a workout. I’m warming up.”
Shepherd liked to work out alone. He also meditated in his room alone. He used to spend more time with Christian than anyone, but Hunter had been bringing him out of his shell.
“Someone should have brought food down,” Blue remarked.
“Mmm, blueberry pancakes and maple syrup,” Gem drawled.
I pushed myself to a sitting position. “Bacon and french toast with powdered sugar.”
Wyatt rested his arms over his knees and locked fingers. “Buttermilk biscuits and homemade gravy—but only the way my granny made them. You know, I’m still not sure to this day what kind of meat she really used to season it.”
Claude crossed his feet at the ankles. “Beignets and hot chocolate.”
Shepherd gripped the bar over his head and wiped his sweaty forehead against his bicep. “A big plate of sausages and coffee. Not those flat patties but the real ones.”
Niko crossed the floor and leaned against the wall by Shepherd. “Natto, rice with eggs, and hot tea.”
“A breakfast burrito,” Blue joined in, licking her lips. “I can still remember the first one I ever ate.”
“Was that before or after your first kill?” Wyatt quipped.
I glanced over my shoulder. “What about you, Christian?”
He gave me a frosty look. “Pepto-Bismol.”
Viktor entered the room in dark slacks, loafers, and a pressed grey shirt.
“What about you, Viktor?” Blue fumbled with a pocket on her black cargo pants. “What’s your breakfast of choice?”
He sat down on a weight bench, and we shifted to face him. “Your scrambled eggs.”
“Nothing from your homeland?” While she was pressing him for an honest answer, his compliment lit up her eyes.
“Breakfast was vodka in my boyhood,” Wyatt answered in an exaggerated Russian accent that made Gem cringe.
Everyone else chuckled. Everyone except Viktor, whose mind was clearly elsewhere.
He ran a hand over his short beard. “I have accepted an important assignment.”
Shepherd took a seat on the floor beside me. “What about the shit we’re working on now?”
Viktor always had us working on smaller projects. Gem and Wyatt handled a large bulk of that work, so they stayed busy day and night. The rest of us fought like jackals over whatever we could get between big assignments. Sometimes it was investigating crime scenes, other times it was tracking criminals. I preferred the latter. But we also looked into extortion, fraud, and once a case of stolen identity. A Mage had murdered his Creator, who just so happened to be his twin brother.
“Gem will continue with her special project,” Viktor said.
Gem held the rope with one hand. “Do you still want me to translate that recent book I found?”
