Apex Basilisk Read online

  Apex Basilisk

  Terry Bolryder

  Copyright © 2021 by Terry Bolryder

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Credit: https://www.yocladesigns.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Sample of Onyx Dragon

  Also by Terry Bolryder

  1

  Gunnar hated small spaces like this.

  As bars went, Willie’s Corner was more of a hole in the wall than a proper bar. All around Gunnar, the smell of unvarnished wood and must mixed with the scent of shifters and humans milling around him, which encroached on his senses and made him more on edge than he normally would be in this sort of situation.

  As a basilisk who’d lived for centuries on his own out in the wild, barren wilderness of West Texas, being around groups of people was far from one of his strongest suits.

  Then again, he and his other two basilisk companions weren’t here in the little town of Clawson’s Creek for fun.

  They were here on a mission.

  In fact, this was their first assignment as a squad of awakened monsters who’d known nothing but protecting their whole lives. Only now, instead of protecting the beautiful Texas land from forces much larger and more dangerous than humans or shifters, they’d emerged in the modern world with the singular desire to protect people from more practical problems than the ones he and the others had faced long ago.

  That and to hopefully see if basilisks could have mates.

  Have people always been this short? Gunnar thought to himself as he took another look over the bar, keeping track as both wolf and bear shifters made small talk in separate groups, speaking in hushed tones amongst themselves.

  To the right, several tables had been lined up next to each other, and he could see papers that had been set neatly over them. Closer to the small bar on his left, the other tables had been grouped up, and a dozen or so patrons sat at different intervals as an air of nervousness and anticipation filled the space.

  Their mission, according to the double dragons Troy and Jack who’d put Gunnar and the basilisks up to this in the first place, was to oversee the signing of a peace treaty between two rival shifter groups that had been causing problems in the town with their feuding for decades.

  As he’d been told, a powerful family of bear shifters had settled into this remote part of Texas several generations ago, only to be challenged by a large wolf pack that moved in afterward on the other side of town.

  Ever since, they’d been going at each other’s throats like bears and dogs, putting the humans that lived in town in the middle of the conflict.

  With luck—and a little bit of basilisk oversight (thanks to their terrifying and unmatched strength)—the two groups had a shot at finally setting aside their differences once and for all.

  Gunnar scoffed to himself at the idea, though. He’d observed people for a long, long, long time. They were pros at making trouble out of nothing at all, and the people gathering here in this little bar were no different.

  At another corner of the establishment, Gunnar could see Diesel, the second basilisk that had awakened, keeping lookout as more people filtered in. His deep-blue eyes were alert, watching for any sign of trouble, and there was always something primal in the way he moved or looked down at the people around him.

  At the other end, Ajax had sequestered himself in a dark corner of the bar. And while he munched on bar peanuts slowly, his two red eyes seemed to glow with cool disinterest toward the things going on. But the third and final addition to their crew missed nothing, in Gunnar’s experience, and he just had to trust that the savagery he’d come to know Ajax for worked in their favor, not against it.

  Thankfully, after a long summer of living and working at Thunderwolf Ranch with Reno (a rogue wolf who’d earned Gunnar’s begrudging respect) and his mate, Dani, Gunnar and his friends knew a lot more about modern humans and their practices than they had before they’d awoken mere months ago.

  “You smell funny, you know that?” Gunnar’s attention snapped forward and down, settling on three young wolf shifters in their twenties, all standing at least a half foot shorter than him.

  “Like rocks and old dirt and stuff,” another one chimed in with a sneer.

  Crush them, the voice of Gunnar’s basilisk boomed in the back of his mind, rumbling like the sound of nearby thunder.

  But Gunnar restrained himself. After all, he was the alpha. He needed to set the example for his friends, or else their whole plan to go out into the world and harness their protective instincts would turn sideways real fast.

  Then they’d never find out if basilisks could have mates.

  Instead of taking his basilisk’s suggestion, Gunnar just leaned over the first wolf and growled, baring his teeth in a snarl.

  Reflexively, they cowed in an instant, bowing their heads and practically shivering with fear as their inner wolves responded to the energy of something much more ferocious and much more deadly than anything with fur could ever be.

  “I-I-I’m sorry,” the first wolf stuttered, and as quickly as they’d appeared, they left, skittering like rats toward their friends at the other end of the bar.

  Gunnar just huffed. It was the way of the wild, after all. And he had no compunction against putting upstarts in their place without mercy.

  Across the bar, he noticed a bear shifter female with bright-blond hair appraising him with warm interest. And when she winked at him, Gunnar looked away, annoyed by even her preliminary advances.

  Ignore her, his basilisk rumbled. No disagreements on that one.

  Gunnar hadn’t been around humans like this for very long. But he knew the effect he had on women of all types from the first time he and his friends had tried going to a hoedown at Dani’s suggestion a few weeks ago.

  That particular outing had only lasted five minutes and resulted in a fiasco the likes of which Gunnar had no intention of repeating.

  Instead, he focused back on the mood in the bar. The glares he could see being thrown back and forth between the half dozen bears and the twenty or so wolves crowding the different ends told Gunnar this rivalry probably wouldn’t end with just a piece of paper.

  In his experience, violence was the only universal language everyone seemed to understand.

  What the hell do they need three basilisks here for? Diesel’s voice interrupted Gunnar’s thoughts as the ground beneath his feet trembled slightly.

  Back when they’d been titanic guardians fending monsters off of their territory, the basilisks had communicated with each other over long distances with low, unearthly sounds that only they could understand. But in the weeks and months since their awakening, they’d discovered they could do the same thing in their human forms so long as they were touching the ground.

  To make sure things go smoothly, he replied. Though, as the second-in-command, Diesel had a point. One basilisk was overkill for this job.

  There was a low chuckle that wasn’t Diesel’s voice. We’re just a freak show to these people. The double dragons are just using us as errand boys, Ajax chimed in, the sound of his voice cool like ice even as his red eyes blazed from his corner.

  No one asked you, Ajax. So shut it, Diesel said back with a growl.

  Or what, you’ll stand on a chair so you can’t hear me anymore? Ajax sent a smirk in Diesel’s direction, and Diesel glowered.

  From the moment he’d awoken, Ajax had had a knack for getting under people’s skin. And he used that talent every time he had the chance.

  If you don’t both get in line, I’ll use those antlers hanging behind the bar to pin you both to the wall so I don’t have to put up with your shit, Gunnar said, and he watched as Diesel and Ajax appraised the aforementioned large rack of antlers in unison.

  Diesel scratched the back of his neck and went back to watching the front door.

  Ajax rolled his eyes and threw another peanut in his mouth but remained quiet.

  Just then, the small bell above the front door chimed again, and a middle-aged man in a dusty gray suit with greasy black hair strode in, looking as nervous as a squirrel in a dog park. He looked around, spotted Gunnar, and hurried forward, carrying an aged briefcase that had seen better days.

  Punch him, his basilisk ordered, and Gunnar’s fist tightened, then relaxed at his side.

  He’d been alive long enough to get a good idea of people from his first meeting with them. Like a dog that could smell cancer, he just knew if someone looked and acted trustworthy or not.

  But just because this person possibly deserved a fist to the face didn’t mean that it was in Gunnar’s best interest to hit everything his basilisk said had it coming.

  After all, his basilisk was a violent, albeit
extremely protective, bastard.

  “Mayor Mansley at your service,” he said in a nasally voice, adjusting thick glasses on his face as he looked up at Gunnar in awe and fear. “You must be one of the basilisks that Troy informed me would be here.” He reached out a sweaty, trembling hand that Gunnar didn’t take.

  Instead, he grunted in response.

  It was odd to Gunnar how people in this town openly knew about things like shifters or double dragons, whereas the rest of the world was still slowly waking up to the fact that beasts and monsters lived in their midst.

  “I see your friends are here too. Good, good. If you’ll excuse me, the pack leaders will be arriving soon. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” With a bow and a nod, he hurried over to the tables that were set up at the back and began to rifle through papers.

  The idea that humans had “elected officials” still confused Gunnar. In the wild, it was survival of the fittest, and only the strongest survived.

  Which explained why he and the other basilisks had lived for so long, he supposed.

  Just then, a woman came around from behind the bar, carrying a tray with cold beers and other drinks with her, and something jolted Gunnar’s insides.

  At a glance, her appearance was fairly nondescript. Long, frizzy light-brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Black jeans and a black shirt with a name tag he couldn’t see at this distance.

  But she was far more than her haphazard, almost frazzled appearance seemed to show. Beneath her worn clothing, she had sumptuous curves that made the cool skin on his fingertips suddenly go warm. And her face, heart-shaped and cute, was oddly expressive (though she tried to hide it), with little dimples that showed when she smiled even slightly and full lips he wanted to drink deeply from and never stop.

  And her eyes, framed by dark, arched brows, were a light blue-gray, the color of an overcast winter sky that seemed to utterly captivate him in a way no person ever had before.

  Gunnar scented the air and could tell she was all human, though her fragrance seemed to rise above the dust and sweat and booze of the bar like a water lily on the surface of a muddy pond, fresh and scintillating to his senses in odd, unshakeable ways.

  Protect her. The familiar voice inside boomed like an earthquake in his ears.

  We’re not here for that. Gunnar tried to reason. Though, there was nothing reasonable about his initial response to her.

  PROTECT.

  Gunnar just ignored his basilisk, instead focusing on watching as she gingerly weaved her way between tables, chairs, and people alike, delivering orders with surprising grace.

  When she reached the last table, not far from where Gunnar was standing, she set down the oversized plate and handed out beers to several wolf shifters that appeared to be in their thirties and forties, men and women that were higher in the pack hierarchy than the young pups he’d scared off earlier.

  “Thanks, April,” the man closest to her said with a cordial smile.

  So that was her name? Curious.

  But behind April, where she couldn’t see, Gunnar watched with disgust as the same man’s hand reached toward her backside with lascivious intent while she unknowingly handed out the other drinks.

  In that instant, Gunnar saw red.

  With a flash of unnatural speed, Gunnar rushed forward to catch the man’s wrist in one hand and yanked it backward to the sound of a loud pop, while the other hand grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face down onto the heavy table with a thunderous THUD, smashing him into the heavy wood. Around him, the bottles on the table leapt upward, some landing miraculously upright, others toppling onto their sides or falling onto the ground with clinks and crashes.

  Beside him, April leapt off her feet even farther than the bottles had, squeaking in surprise and dropping a notepad she’d had in her hand to the ground, her gray-blue eyes going wide with shock.

  But Gunnar didn’t care. He’d pound this wolf shifter to a fucking pulp just to make a point if he had to right now.

  At the table, the other wolves just watched agape as Gunnar leaned into the man’s ear.

  “Next time, this will be your neck,” he said with a barely contained growl. Then he twisted the arm he had trapped harder, and an even louder snap resounded through the eerie quiet of the bar as everyone just watched, totally silent.

  The man’s crushed nose was spewing blood onto the table, and he whined in pain but didn’t move. Not that he could even if he wanted to.

  Suddenly realizing he’d gone from silently watching the bar to threatening to break someone’s neck in less than a second, Gunnar stood back up, still holding the man down. “That goes for everyone in here,” he said, his voice low but loud enough to be heard clear as crystal throughout the small space.

  Then he let go of the man’s arm and neck, letting him slump forward onto the table, and folded his arms.

  Beside him, April just continued to stare, mouth hanging open, hands trembling, eyes wide with terror, shock, or probably both.

  Then, to his surprise, she reached down and picked up her notepad quickly, not taking her eyes off him for a second, then bolted past him like a mouse cornered by a cat and disappeared behind the bar somewhere.

  The rest of the room remained silent for a moment as Gunnar made his way back to the corner he’d been enjoying just fine before some handsy fucker had set off his protective instincts like a bomb.

  And after a moment, everyone went back to what they were doing as the wolf shifters at the table helped their shaken friend with the busted arm and nose.

  As a shifter, he’d heal. Probably.

  It wasn’t Gunnar’s business either way.

  He was just here to make sure some papers got signed, after all.

  But as he went back to watching over the bar and trying to focus on his assignment, he couldn’t shake his curiosity at how a person, a tiny human woman of all things, could have possibly had such an effect on him.

  Or why, in spite of himself, he couldn’t shake a growing feeling of dread inside him, even as he hoped he’d be able to catch another glimpse of the girl with the gray-blue eyes one more time before their mission was over.

  2

  Keep it together… Keep it together, April told herself as her entire body seemed to practically shake with tension from what had happened mere moments ago.

  Even hidden from the bar’s view in the small kitchen that served as her hiding spot when things got a little too hectic, she could still feel dual-colored eyes watching her in the back of her head. One sapphire blue, clearer than Crystal Lake up in the hills at summer. The other deep red, like a ruby lit by fire from within.

  The gaze of the basilisk as he’d appraised her with what looked like intense curiosity or disdain. Or both.

  She could still hear the crunch of Bill’s face on the table beside her. Could see the fury in the basilisk’s eyes as Bill’s hand—which had been inches away from groping her—had been wrenched backward in a motion that almost made her gag with the unnatural direction it had been pulled by the much larger, much scarier man.

  April grabbed a spare glass and tried to fill it with water, fingers trembling. When she tried to lift it to her mouth, though, she almost spilled it all over herself and opted to instead put it down while she tried to catch her breath.

  After all, it wasn’t the first time someone had tried to get handsy during one of her countless shifts at her uncle’s bar.

  This was just the first time someone had actually done something about it.

  “So those three big guys are supposed to be the huge, rocky monsters that showed up on TV a few months ago?” April’s co-worker, Tiffany, interrupted the relative quiet of her reverie, appearing from the back with a new box of beers. She set them down, then peered around the corner of the doorway to catch another glimpse of the towering monsters patrolling her family’s bar like guardians.